My relation to sickness, illness, ability has imbued life with an entirely new manner of operation. The politics of it all-- the way I learned long ago that the personal is extremely political. An injury to one, representative of all. Interconnected existences, strained through a convoluted gospel of separateness and innate difference. The basics of us is quite basic. To rely on any practice of dehumanization is condemning us all. The mad and misfit among us tell the biggest stories-- repeated and mutated through generations, waiting to be absorbed. Providing guidance and reassurance, exceedingly amidst the splintering hopelessness that may otherwise drag one into oblivion. And also, some manner of rabbit holes and shadow spaces are entirely instructive-- trials of unrestrained honesty and reckoning. From this view, it's now impossible to not attune to the many ways the foundation is so very sick, claiming to be the normative path. The relative conspiracy of it all, at times, comical (see: absurdism) and all together deeper and [yet] explicit to the inquiring eye. I've identified bits of hope and imagination in fantasy and sci-fi, in depth psychologies and archetypes, in alone-ness and indifference to how I precisely manifest. The immediate accessibility of self care vs soothing. Intentional reunions with historical, cornerstone persons. Initiating bouts of creative pursuit and practice. Poised upon the tightrope of risk, faith, and a balancing of the breadth. Indubitably, there exists a multidate of paths available to grapple with the void-- I'm quite comforted by and proud of this very one.
All these things I've collected (as I so often do) to identify parameters, interrogate internal hypocrisies and contributors of dis-ease and disconnection-- with myself and external connects alike. The many lists and promises and pleading demands stemmed largely of shame, the most toxic kind. This new space is accountable, yet honest and restful, realistic and less fixated on the treacherous, false comforts of perfectionism and control. Dare I say peaceful, and not the bypass-y kind privy to in days past. If you build it, it will come. Highly likely and not entirely predictable-- all in the let go, the let be, the wait and see. And what of patience? An entirely unruly beast, yet one to befriend as any other. The rewards are not to be depended upon, they come in waves, and are likely already happening right under our noses. Looking back and in the now, an expanded capacity to absorb and proclaim gratitude. I'm no imposter in this life, I'm the only one who can fulfill the role. The only promise is that we are here, we will one day no longer be (in a currently identifiable form)-- left with only an ability to influence what's within the hyphen.
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