• Finding Zen in the forest of a mind-fucked life

    I’m off my game.  I’ve been tossed from my horse into the dirt. The  horse has one hoof throat firmly planted on my throat while the other hoof keeps kicking me in the head.

    There of course is no horse standing on my throat. That would be preposterous and silly. I would never get close enough to allow such an intimate exchange of touching between myself and a member of the equestrian group. The horse is, symbolically, my life, its choices, battles and even the mundane day-to-day living. I’m overwhelmed by my life.

    This was not something that occurred recently. This is the ongoing investment of poor life choices. Like my credit score, I stare at in confusion.  The score did not drop overnight. It was year after year of robbing Peter to pay Paul when Peter and Paul should have been paid, and the years of an abundance of income should have been stored away.

    I cannot find Zen. I sit lotus. I burn sage. I pray to Goddess, Sun, moon, stars, Buddha, the funky Hindu guy. I pray to Jesus, Mary and Joseph. That would be the Joseph the stepfather of Jesus, not Joseph the son of Kathleen.

    Although sheer desperation for spiritual and mental peace could lead me to erecting a temple to my middle child out of desperation.  I gangster rapped to God the father and offered up a sacrificial last two spoonful of mint chip ice cream to Chuck Norris.

    There is no peace to be had.

    Nary a symbolic spiritual head is listening to my cries.  I squirted holy water in my eye. Nothing. I squirted it on my tongue. Slightly lemony, interesting really. Note to Self: start column on lemony holy water served with a bevy of kosher hotdogs on unleavened bread.

    No peace. It is not to be had. The hoof stays firmly planted on my throat.

    I had a dream of a friend. He was, and is, so much more, yet not in the conventional sense with which everyone loves to apply a label. He brought me down the quiet moss-covered path to my own spirituality. He took me to the woods and spiritually held my hand while he physically waited in the truck for me to come to grips with who I am, what I believe in, in the middle of a tree-lined path in the pouring rain.

    We were taking a bath in the dream. Physical sexuality with this individual was always overkill. Not that it wasn’t delicious fun, just simply overkill. It wasn’t necessary. You don’t need to use the penis and vagina when you can mentally and spiritually make love to  each other. The problem transpired when it turned to spiritually and mentally fucking each other, which elevated to spiritually and mentally fucking each other over.

    Fucking Pagans — always a drama.

    We did this for months until nothing was left of our minds or souls but sheer will. Neither built to bend, we could only break.We broke apart violently yet quietly, so quietly, few ever even noted that we had melded together in the first place.

    I am in the tub with him; my back is pressed to his chest. His skin is warm and I can feel the protective radiating energy of his soul flowing from his chest into my back, I am like a Volkswagen Beetle who has jumper cables connected to a Mack Truck. The water is comfortably warm and lightly scented with eucalyptus bath salts. He leans forward, brushing my wet hair back away from my face. His fingers gently touch my cheek as he brushes the hair away. He whispers something in my ear. I don’t know what. I cannot bring back the words whispered in my ear. I forced myself awake, stumbling from the bed. I stared back at the bed in confusion. It’s supposed to be the bathtub with him smirking, brow lifted.

    In awakened reality, I’m greeted by my female cat, the lovely Rose. She blinks her eyes open, disturbed from her slumber beside me. She purrs. She stretches out her legs and sharpens her nails in the mattress.

    Meow!

    I really needed to pee.

    I peed.

    It’s time to clean up my life.

    I’m throwing the Volkswagen Beetle into reverse.  I am correcting the misjudgments, poor decisions that have compromised the quality of our lives. I am developing a one-year, two-year, five, ten and fifteen year plan.  I embrace this place I am in life and the responsibilities that go with it. I will buy a house. I will leave my children and grandchildren financially secure with independence.  I’m going on a spiritual quest with my children. We’re going to visit every type of place of worship, including my temple, the forest the trees. I will give them the tools they need to find their own sense of God.

    In my quest for righting wrong, I may try to heal the fissure in the relationship with my co-bather, I may not. I will apologize to those I’ve hurt, wronged. I’ll do everything in my power to right any situation that was a wrong created by my hand.

    In the interim, I think I’ll take a bath. Pass the Eucalyptus bath salts.


      • Maya North

      • August 8, 2014 at 4:40 pm
      • Reply

      Growing pains hurt, love, but they’re worth it. <3



    • I wonder if it hurts a caterpillar to become a butterfly.



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