Here comes Autumn with its mushiness effect. I am feeling so mushy and mallow and soffffft. What is it about this time of the year that makes me crave cigarettes though I'm a non-smoker. I am longing for nesting, I am having cravings. What is it about the mild cool whether that makes me feel so ultimately at peace. Today I am excited about the words that are yet to be born, potential words that might potentially come out of the mouths of some potentially cool people. That mind of mine is always wanting to escape me, I am holding the reigns now, I keep pulling at it every time it wants to go its own way. I can't lose it again, I gotta be in charge, keep at it, this taming thing, teaching it new ways, re-wiring, re-programming. All the horrendous things our mothers did to our brains, all the horrible things they allowed. As I was drifting to sleep last night I remembered the mentioning of that one particular medicine I once heard some family members talk about it been given repeatedly to my brother Aref and cousin Athar as infants. They did it to force them to sleep. It must have been inconveniencing to them mothers, having crying babies! Both of them are super sensitive, gentle, soft and nice people. Could you imagine what could have been happening for them to cry so hard? Could you imagine what happened to their system and brains as babies taking medicine that is almost against the law to prescribe for infants. Both of these beautiful people have lived a hard life and suffered due to their soft side, but also their mind. As I was contemplating and recalling some memories, it hit me that, knowing clearly from talks and retelling of past events, that I myself was an extremely sensitive baby, and I would cry a lot, never allowing anyone to touch me save from my close family. You don't think they gave me this medicine? Hell yeah, and other things too. It isn't just the emotional trauma that has left its marks on my brain, but also the shit they put in our system. Not to mention the terrible diet! I spent a big chunk of my life as an infant and child in the hospitals, I had heart problems. Have you any idea how bad these must've affected me? I do. I am horrified to even go there mentally. For now, I will just try to mother myself, give myself the loving, care, and nurturing that I need. I dug several of my journals yesterday, one of them I haven't touched since last year, it's titled The Book of Self-mothering. It's a part of several healing note books I have started in the recent years. Recognizing what could have been or is going wrong with someone's life is one thing, actually receiving what is needed, is something else altogether. What I am trying to do lately, is fooling my mind. Yes, because I've got nothing else to offer. If it's been fooled long enough to believe it's limited, worthless, unnecessary, waste of space, sure it can be fooled to believe it's loved, worthy, cherished, needed, desired, safe? In any case, I got nothing to lose at this stage. Perhaps I am meant to live another 42 years like I often thought, I will only be reversing the damage done during those 42 years. Perhaps I will die at 84, having dissolved the damage done from this society, and the people, and the system, and all the thread pulling evil shits and their control. I'll be then free truly, with a neat, tidy, and clear ending, just the way I like it.
Today in the morning in bed before I got up, I imagined being embraced by a huge man with a dark, soft skin and mysterious, loving eyes. I laid my upper body against his abdomen, he rocked and swayed me right and left, back and forth, as he rested his chin on my head, and hummed for me. He sung me lullabies and caressed my palms gently. He sniffed my hair and breathed me in. He said a heartfelt Ahhhh every time he exhaled. His deep voice vibrated through my whole body and being. Every time I wanted to get up to get working, making and doing, he would pull me back to bed, tells me I am safe and looked after, and that I don't need to worry myself with any action or doing anymore. That I am only to get busy when I feel like creating for the sake of self expression. He told me that he'd look after sorting the creations out for me himself, to be received in the world through him. He assured me that I don't have to worry about dealing with people anymore, or their world, nor intercepting their words, or handling their money.
I've been glancing at the mirror in front of me every now and then as I was typing away. I spotted the new changes to my face recently, aging is showing, new grew hairs I haven't noticed before, sagging here and there, weight loss and weight gain. I like how the skin looks like it's giving up, no more stretching and pulling, it just lets itself hang now. And the freckles, so many of them, new ones too, although I hardly got proper sun exposure this whole year. I long for the day when my body on the inside does the same as my skin; it drops the weight, lets go of the fat and stops holding on, pulling and stretching to keep things together. It recognizes that none of it is needed anymore, the puffing, the preserving... It disconnects itself from the old distorted mind programs.
To let go fully, to have that special someone massage all the nooks and crannies in my body, all the tense parts of me, to squeeze fear and pain out of me. One day at a time, one loving session at a time, one moment at a time, in a sea of what seems to be endless moments...
I will do the same for his body, which will be skinny and saggy all over towards the end of our journey.
And I would love every bit of it,
and our beautiful shared moments,
in this horrid ugly simulated existence.
We would occasionally say to each other, and perhaps at the start of the journey more so than towards the end...
Let's reverse the shit out of this, baby!
(Amen)
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