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The spirit of desperation July 25, 2008

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Uncategorized.
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Since my last post, once again I have gotten in touch with a certain sort of creativity that Thomas Moore alludes to in Care of the Soul that lies inside the deep, dark heart of depression.  I experience mood swings, it’s true.  Really, don’t most sensitive folks who have to somehow accommodate this vulture-culture, this vEmpire exprience depression, if not the bipolar aspect as I do?  Chances are I am among a throng of creative people who can be enthralled by being “in the zone” and then, when we have to return to ball-and-chain-matrix world, crash into the rocks of despair, if not a Scylla and Charybdis of doom and gloom.

It’s interesting how someone taking me seriously about my financial issues can help me to dig deeper into the situation facing not only me, but a lot of people many years younger than myself.  I know that I’m not the only person facing $50K in student loan cunting.  The vampires out there enticed me into their web, and in retrospect, I see that the profs at Now You’re Underearniversity Tsk-tsk-tsk (play)Skool de les Jerques may have mostly been unwitting accomplices in the creation of more debt-slaves spewing from the doors of buildings along Broadway and Washington Square. 

Or maybe they’re not.  I don’t know.  There’s also that unfortunate “I gotz mahn, lol ;p” mentality, especially among the Hahvahd-ucated.  (Or should that be Harva-cuated?)

Disclosure:  I’m I.V. League Inucated myself.  I say “Inucated” because I don’t think I received any sort of educing at Dartmouth.  Inducing of feelings of entitlement, yes.  I was an insufferable 20-something who was slowly gaining weight until I tipped it at 300 pounds at age 39, and whose “searing intellect” led me to a place where I wanted to be dead.  It still leads me there sometimes, because I have this imp inside me that desperately wants to believe it’s somehow different from everyone else.  Ironically, the only way I’m “different” is that I am one of those rare individuals who genuinely desires (and per Thorn Coyle, de facto needs) to have faith that people are mostly good and in our sterling moments helpful albeit in a selfish way. 

“Service isn’t service unless it’s serving you.”  The successful love-giver understands the amplification of the God Self that exists in love and service freely given out of a “selfish” need to love.  Not for nothing is it the initial point on the Pearl Pentacle.

I also know that the darkness that exists in each of us serves multiple purposes, not the least of which is that it literally cools us down.  I’m not the first person to acknowledge that my heart, liver, lungs, digestive system, etc., involuntarily work under the cover of darkness.  The muscles in my fingers that type these words are covered by the skin.  I need what is under the skin, that which I can not see, but “know” is there because of all the information that I glean from my environment.  And the muscles, bones, lymph nodes, veins, etc., don’t directly require light to perform their functions.  In fact, if they are exposed to direct light, something is wrong.  My skin, my eyes, my nose, mouth, external membranes–these all need direct light, true.  Best during diurnal rhythms at least in my case.  But these provide light that’s been sufficiently processed for internal use.

And so it is with the dark feelings that my overdrawing my account elicited a couple of days ago.  I have written to a couple of people about my feelings of failure and sorrow and my flailing about feeling bereft.  This person made an awesome suggestion which I will attempt to take up.  But gosh, I have felt so dismal over the past couple of days.

Last night, things did perk up with the opening of the play.  So in a way, I’m doing a reverse of my post yesterday where things started off well, then moved into the place of sadness.  And last night the play went VERY well, if I do say so myself.  We had a smart and appreciative house, and even 14 year-old boys were quoting from David Ives’ The Universal Language (“Harvardyu?  Du doppa da diddly bop epp ya doppa da bop da-wow da-wow da-wow!”)  (Hets arf flantastico!) 

And I do get to enjoy the beauty of a wonderful apple orchard each day we go down to Altamont.  I am very much grateful for the life I lead, even though I sometimes feel desperately unhappy with how I spend my days.

Perhaps that will start to change.  A new direction is burgeoning with all the various forms of creativity that are emerging in and around and through and alongside me. 

I truly am blessed.



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