a real blow

For the past three days, there has been a thickness, re-introduced. Physical. Not like fisticuffs. More like swimming in ether, while remaining still very much engaged with the "Now"...like, waking up, and there's fog all around your feet. Or being airborne on a rollercoaster, your stomach full of crystals.

As if a giant gauge has loosened its grip, the caliper of winter releasing. And concurrent with this loosening is the fission of moments splitting apart. I can roll a moment around in my pocket like a marble. Marble with a bright, round burnish to it.

So far this has been the year of falling apart in this very slow, dissolved, dissociating kind of way (hence the title of this blog, in a sense). Like white noise. This erosion has left me with some grit in my teeth, some blood on my knuckles, and it's all OK really. The result has been this residual unearthing of the beauty of...vacuity. I used to look at my hands and feet and believe they were not my hands and feet - there was no connection. I would try to place an aura around my limbs in the bathtub. I tried to remember. But then I told myself that not remembering, not having any hands at all, or perhaps having new hands, is no worse. Some believe the locus of suffering is in the grasping after things.

For me, it is the acceptance of illusion.

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On a side note, my ability to read has come back! No more re-reading sentences 300 times in a blurry haze and eventually giving up!

Here is what I am currently reading or re-reading...I'm usually reading 3 or 4 books at the same time, 'cause I get all ADD and can't read just one in isolation:

Shamanic Journeying, Sandra Ingerman
Under the Banner of Heaven, Jon Krakauer
Glass, Irony and God, Anne Carson (her best)
The Power of Now, Eckhart Tolle (yeah, OK, my therapist recommended it)