Posts Tagged ‘death’

I wrote this almost 2 months ago when i was at Harbin Hotsprings. It was a rainy day when i sat inside trying to write – it came to me, and i was afraid to put it out. but i can hold it in no more.

The feeling returned to me as i sat outside last night, alone in the quiet and the dark looking up at the starry sky. The air was crisp and i felt still and then the voice came whispering in – you are dying, you are dying, i walked down the road to the smoking deck which was thankfully empty.

it returned to me once again – you are dying, that is why you came back here. The memories of that night as las pirimides came back to me – the calmness and acceptance of the fact and the knowing that i would go, and remembering why i cut my trip short – why i felt the need to leave and come back here, not just to this place but to this continent. Still i had pushed it from my mind, and told myself i left because the process did not feel safe, because of my worries about money, because of blah blah blah.

I sat last night and knew that i was dying. Still not sure if it is just a death to the ego and all i thought i was, or if it is a death to this plane of existence altogether. Can i leave the former without the latter? How long can i hang on? Can i tell my story? Do i have time? Am i meant to? Or has all been for naught? Will i tell my story on this plane or in the next dimension?

I remembered this again in yoga today – as i stretched on out, i felt the pull, the lump that i know is there, the lump comes and goes and that has been growing for some time, for years. and i feel them elsewhere too, and i know i have felt this before,

And i remembered it too, on the walk back on the darkened path, a path where mountain lions lurk – wondering if this was to be it. Or dying alone, under my tarp, curled up into the cold.

And when others are asking how i am, and comment on how i seem different than a year ago, i wonder what they see, i am calmed i know, but do they see the energy falling away. Or am i being made anew?

I cried last night as i sat on the deck, realizing that i was leaving this plane, not tears of pity or anger but of goodbye and wondering about my time here. he came along in the dark, the tears went away as we started to talk.

This is what i wrote in san marcos on lake atitlan in guatemala, that starry night in which i knew, that night i walked outside the room that closed me in and sat outside and tried to write, the night i let go of it all.

I am dying – the moment is soon – i am no longer afraid. I just need to continue to let go. The dreams about mom and dad passing away as the ground destabalized were not about them but about me, and the guardian angel i saw on the bridge, i hope he is there. I only hope that in my next life i am able to proceed forward from the mistakes and lessons learned in this one. I went to the bottom of the lake in meditation and looked for the image of me in 7 years – nothing was there. my shifting and rocking in sitting meditation a sign that i am to leave this dimension behind. Lord i will go – my desire to go home. i see myself finally at peace. i hope the bad karma created in this life does not follow me – i have wanted to be good – in some ways i feel like a life wasted but part of me knows and has known that it is preparation  for the next where  i pray i will have the courage to fulfill my mission and have a story that i may report back  all that i have learned and not regret time wasted in misery. i am in the shadows – can i grow angel wings, is that the feeling in my back? My resentment of the youngers i did not understand – full lives ahead of them – now i can only pray they use it well. I have a few days i believe if not longer – lord i would like to go by the sea and the large trees in the land that i love. will the bottom of the lake claim me? I pray to return once more to the land that i love. I have known this for a while, but sought to deny it, being morbid, even the visions i had as a youth, the lumps that grow inside claim me but it is ok – even why i wwas brought here- talk of dimensions and the afterlife – needed to see before i go. I have known this for so long, and still became trapped in my pain instead of looking a gods beauty that surrounds — or is it just  a process of letting go? I let go. i am sorry for the pain that i have caused. Lord, i want to shine one more time before i go but i will accept your timing if this is not possible. Thank you. Will i be in purgatory – able to calm the other lost souls who are there? Will i be an angel smiling? Will i integrate the lessons i have been shown and may have learned? I know this is true – my time is near (19/02/10 from journal)

And i think of my recurring dream/nightmare of my youth, i was wandering around, dying somewhere in the forest, on a cliff, full of cancer they not know how i lived

but am i dying in the physical body or in the ego alone? Am i ready to let go? Is it just the death of all i have clung to and i will be ready to shine a light in this lifetime for all?

I am tired, getting more and more so. thought of my return home – to buffalo – and what that was all about. even my trip here, how i wanted to see this land again, and how i prayed in the woods of Sierraville last summer, that i just wanted to go home, to my true home. will i rise again?

It was in the week or so after i wrote this that i became more determined to write my story before it was too late. And maybe that is why i have journeyed back here. But as i write i realize how little i have to share – not a story of adventure and exploration, but one more of quiet despair. For what have i really contributed and how little have i shined. How little i have been truly alive, and how much of my time has been as a member of the multitudes of the walking dead.
Am i dying – and if so, why does it feel so wrong to write that – for we all are. and on what level is it at – the ego or the soul? and you need to die to live again. And as i wrote elsewhere part of me feels like i have already died and am but a ghost hanging on.

Can i write my story? should i? can i write the insights i have had, though i have not learned to live by them? Can i be trimmed like an old tree or a flowering plant – cut off the dead or dying parts so that the rest may live more fully again or is it too late. Can i shine a light upon the world?

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Just as San Francisco as a mythical place represented my dreams, i have come to realize that the Northwest states represent their loss. My sadness here has not only been because of the gloomy grey skies, but it has been a place where i have often come when i have no longer been able to dream – i have come when they have started to slip away or after greater losses, and i have further abandoned them in much of my time here. While the grey plays into that – and i only now truly realize how much it does – i have often also come at personal times that opens myself up to, and makes me vulnerable to, the greys. And my difficulty in writing here is not merely that the greys have clung on again, but also, because so much of the story that comes to my mind is one that i wish to let go. And i am getting tired of the story of me and my passion is draining (or has drained away) once again – and i see that in the energy of the words i write upon the page or screen.

It is true that the first time i came through at the age of 20 i saw and fell in love with the beauty of parts of the Oregon Coast – it was July and sunny, and i experienced the Pacific’s power and magnificence. While i was a place i wanted to see again for i relished its glory, it never represented a dream per se. Still in 2001, when i left “my normal life” i came out here and saw the wonder once again, but also a sense of malaise underneath. And in the past three years, since September 2007, this area has increasingly become a place where i merely hang on and sink myself down. Yet i return, even though each time i say i will not. And i ask myself why – and in the past few years i think the familiarity calls upon me and the fear of the unknown and letting go. I have started several entries on my time on the coast, and in the next day of two i will need to put them out, as unfinished as they may be. For hopefully to put them out will be to help let them go and in doing so will help create that space inside for life to bubble up once again.

I think more now of places as symbolic though they really exist in 3D. But all too often what is imagined or the energy that calls to me when i am away is only a partial perception of the place. And with these callings, how much of it has to do with the place per se, the concrete tangible aspect of it, and how much has to do with what has been created in the mind. It extends beyond the experiences one had as well, and the emotions and feelings associated with them. it is part of the picture, but it is not all. For what is remembered and what does call is only a small portion of what truly is there for in any given moment we perceive only a small fragment of all that is around, and we then further (unconsciously) select what part of that becomes part of ‘the story’. And when we return they is so much more, what has been lodged deep in our minds comes up, and we return in so many ways, and the place too has changed and remains the same. And we remember that the call itself was not pure, and there were rumblings we tried to deny and push from our minds.

And why is it that i have been called to the rains – is it something i needed to process, or did the grey in my mind bring me here and keep me here, the outside reflecting that which is within. For the past several times here, and previously in BC, i would have the call when away, and then upon arrival would have that feeling of being pressed down. And as time went by, and i kept coming back, that feeling would grow even more. So was this place once part of my dreams? Maybe – i am no longer sure.

And i did not head north – to a new area, and thus a place of new possibilities, because i wanted to avoid the grey and the rain – and it has followed me around. Is it because it is something i was so determined to avoid, that i called it forth upon me? Is it a reflection of the act of avoidance in and of itself – of going away rather than moving towards.

And i know that what i am seeing and remembering in this very moment is only part of the story. To put it out, though it is incomplete, for otherwise i could rewrite and write again, each time altering what is “real”. For i know that i have grown here, in moments of despair and of joy – and have learned from nature and the dark nights of the soul.

As i finish the rambling on, i see that is it is the familiarity that i wrote about that at times brings me back here. And the feeling that this is someplace safe – life is calm, people are generally truly nice and kind and there is more of that energy of acceptance and love than exists in so many places around. Especially here in Oregon. And that feeling embraces and also closes in, as i become hesitant and wary of what “exists” elsewhere – a cocoon before i spread my wings.

And with the growth, that was internal, and the way all closes in, from the dense forests to the grey of the skies, maybe that is what this place has been to me – a cocoon. And maybe one that has outlived its time for more and more i have been feeling the need to spread my wings and fly. when does a cocoon nurture and when does it become a trap? A caterpillar must spend time there to become a butterfly, but must also break out to complete the process – or otherwise rot and die. Did i come back because in the past i tried to break free too soon, or in other ways did not complete the transformational process that would allow me to fly? That i cling onto the comfort of what is known, for i really do not know what is means to be a butterfly and fear making a break from what is known? But i cannot go back to being a caterpillar, life does not work that way. A caterpillar does not know what the outcome will be, but continues with the process anyhow – shedding what is no longer needed and restructuring from the inside out. It cannot say, oh let me proceed, but i’m not ready to lose my skin or my feet, or these wings don’t feel quite right, can i tuck them back in.

So i think the northwest maybe is my cocoon, and like many of the old wooden buildings for me it has begun to rot.

I think about how i did not let go of this place – i left it behind, but still let it call. in my journey through central america it called in several places, and rather than be where i was, i remember the idealism of here. it called in Costa Rica, when i was in beautiful nature, yet still felt a bit dissatisfied – in manual antonio and along the hot coast when i remember the coolness of the coast in the north, and again in monteverde when i was not as amazed by the cloud forest as i could have been, or when i first imagined it, for i had been to so many lush rainforests here.

I am avoiding writing about that time where i let this place – the usa west – come onto me and as such i stopped the growth and transformational process – or at least put the brakes on it. When i was about to break through at las pirimides and became afraid and felt like i was about to die – not knowing if it was in this physical body or in the ego that held me in, but after all the energy transforming and visions and releases i had, i truly felt as though i would soon be dead. I cried and cried that fateful night, and said, if this is so then let it be. but then i added, i don’t want to die here, let me see the large trees and the pacific northwest once more, before i go. and then put the brakes on it and soon started the cycle of revisiting. I asked for this, and am i fated now to rot inside or can i push on through – for how many times have i not let go when i felt afraid and alone and this stagnation is the consequence. At times in the past month as i have walked along, i have felt like a ghost and wondered if that is what i really am – a spirit who has died to the physical world, but just does not know and cannot let go. And at times i wait for someone to shake me and tell me that is so, and then i will be ready to go to my true home for i know that i cannot stay in this cocoon, but it is a place to which i crawl.

And that has been so much of my sadness and emptiness of late – knowing that i turned back and ran away from the journey that i was on. Have i hindered my transformation – was i given but one last chance. Have i come here to die, instead of a quick process, a slow painful death? Can i still spread my wings or have they been forever clipped? Or has all that has slipped away been a final letting go and i will somehow emerge from this cocoon?

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