I know this woman, she told me once before that she sometimes thinks or convinces herself that she is Dead, walking amongst living. Not like Night of the Living Dead zombie “erm, brains” Dead but like not alive. Hmmm, I guess you’d have to ask her what she meant because I get the sense I’m butchering what she meant…
My ex told me a month or two ago, as she was encountering Dark Spirits and called me out of the blue to exorcise or scrye or sage or whatever her new place, anyway, point being, she told me I was never afraid. And that’s true in a sense. I’m not afraid of Death.
For awhile I was afraid of having not lived, cliche as that may sound, but I was never afraid of Death. I have often reflected on Death and if anything, we’re homies, and it’ll be the last Date I ever have in this life unless I figure out immortality but that is fairly and most probably unlikely.
That being said, sometimes, I do feel like I’m dead, like “really, is this it?” kind of feeling. I find beauty and joy in the smallest of things but I also do feel confined from time to time. I will admit that there’s an impatience that can arise, as The Wild One within howls, as I tend to move through experiences at a fast rate but I think what kills me (figuratively) is when I’m out of balance.
Balance is what I have the hardest time maintaining. I’ve learned to cultivate it but I’m as human as the next person and each random hero challenge hits and it’s either react or respond. In the past it was always react. When I reacted before, I tended to dig deeper holes, self-sabotage, the whole nine yards of inviting chaos to have drink or something. When I respond, I am more likely to accept and allow harmony to come over and hug me. It’s a hard practice and while I’m more gentle with myself and my choices, doesn’t mean a snap of the fingers and a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine of life lessons go down that much more smoothly.
But that’s life, you know? I once wrote I would dine on rage. And I did, a few periods of life, I overindulged in it. I have also snacked on depression, have had steady dose of melancholy on hand over the years. But the trick, the thing that helps me to keep going when it gets overwhelming is to breathe, ask the Spirit for help, and for sure make sure to get my daily session of happiness and laughter because that’s medicine too, even if it’s just a small bit of it.
So I’m not dead. But sometimes I feel like it. And that’s okay too, whenever I acknowledge and accept whatever I’m feeling, it usually sparks creativity and gets me to find humor amidst seemingly tragic happenings. Like last week, I was doing laundry with some crack heads, a 6’5″ tranny and her 5′nothing boyfriend, some kid with holes in his pants trying to sell everyone drugs, and a happy Micronesian family. It was an odd assortment of characters, not particularly pleasant but I imagined a scenario where Death was an entity like the IRS, and the average Death Collector was sitting there doing laundry, wondering, “Is this it? Really…”
So I laughed and now It’s cool.