Helplessness

Feel your feelings, otherwise forever be stuck in illusion.

Yesterday I walked home during a suddenly overcast early evening to the inexplicably simultaneous sounds of fireworks, church bells, and ambulance sirens. As I returned home I saw two crows fly off the top of my house. I just don't remember seeing this many crows in my neighborhood. The other day I saw an enormous one. It had to be at least 10 pounds. It flew past me while I was in a daze, after I learned about the abduction and detention of the Turkish grad student.

Neptune moved into Aries today, the same place it was during the Civil War. I saw the place we are today from a decade away. I wasn't the only one. There is the phrase "those who do not know history are doomed to repeat it." And how about: those who know history are doomed to watch it repeat. There is no covering it up anymore: I feel helpless.

Parts in the mind-body system will do anything to not feel helpless. I was going to write that the whole body rejects it, but that is not really true. Sight keeps seeing. Hearing keeps hearing. It's really only certain factions of the body and the mind that reject it. But they are so full of emergency and singleness of purpose – to not feel this – that they become the loudest things in the room. Frankly, we might all die. We might experience horrors that we only read about, have seen in movies, that can't be shown in movies. That feels like it's on the map, much more than it ever was before.

For me, vulnerability is typically immediately reacted to with hardness, anger. Fight. But I'm exhausted. The anger that arises feels impotent; it doesn't believe in itself. And yet something in me has always wanted to be here, to touch into this deeply uncomfortable vulnerability. Anger has for a long time acted as a buffer to the world. Reinforcing the separation that keeps this being, whatever this is, bound.

Actually, without being able to feel vulnerable, there is likely no possibility of freedom. This hardness creates an inside and an outside. The harder and more insistent it is, the more separate these imaginary places of inside and outside feel. I feel it in my chest.

There appears to be nothing to do but to feel helpless right now. I was always so slow to tears. I'm trying to let the tears come.

It is beautiful. It is scary.

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