Choices

Every once in a while the universe manages to give me a semi-brisk swat upside the head, a reminder to please pay attention. Starts off gently, but if I ignore it for too long the reminders become less gentle and more profound. Having learned quite some time ago that there really are no such things as coincidences, I slowly begin to acknowledge what I've apparently always known. My work here isn't done yet, as much as I'd like to coast at my previous accomplishments of mucking out the stalls of my past, I'm reminded, nope, not done yet, not by a long damn shot. As much as I like to believe I've accepted the past as reality, there are aspects of it that I go out of my way to avoid thinking about, feeling about and exploring in order to have them fit into the whole as opposed to monitoring their expulsion to the corner. Unbidden they roar to the surface, and I'm off on a roller coaster ride but this time of my own volition. Reminding myself that equanimity is nice fucking work if you can get it, but not at the cost of numbing out. Having spent as much time as I did as a blackout drunk, I know that numbing out doesn't really work too well for me. Nor did the rage addiction style of numbing out, nor is the bulk in which I've wrapped myself to help preserve the illusion of invulnerability by keeping most ordinary kinds of vulnerability at bay. Nor does this whole bliss kitten meditation addicted trip I've been on of late. Which I was trying to pretend that I didn't know. So it's time for me to wade on into the middle of the tumultuous essence that I've been skirting the sides of for a little too long now. The good news to me at least is that I will get out of my head for a bit and back into my body and who knows, perhaps my right goddamned mind. Whatever that is.