This blog started over three years ago with me dissing Michael Jackson's face [while he was still alive, mind you] to celebrating Earthsong which I still just love to bits, even though Lee thinks less of me for it. But this is not about Michael Jackson - who I am convinced has gone to a much kinder, safer place.
And so to Love. Love is crazy-making. Brutal. I just don't know how people do it. I've sort of walked to the edge of Love and gazed longingly at that deep reflection of Self. It makes me bonkers. You see, I'm Needy. I'm Needy like Sunday morning [but you would almost not spot it as I have perfected the art of betraying myself and deceiving you in the process.] So here I am in Love and I'm just watching myself and this big drama unfolding all around me. The Highs, the Lows [ah, the distracting elixir of drama], the flatness in between [horrible, horrible with nothing but a small timorous self.]
I had a dream that I was lying next to my lover in the green, green of Spring grass. I wanted nothing from this Beloved and and nothing was wanted from me; we were equally happy in this place of rest. I awoke smiling and sitting up. It was - I had the feeling that - I brought the dream into real life or real life pulled me into the dream. I was beautifully disoriented. But I had this sense that Neediness is slipping out the back door.
In this whole process I'm noticing that my whole operating system of cynical witticisms [OS Cougar Hiding Its Craftiness, or OS CHIC] seems to crash an awful lot. I find it difficult to know what to do when Identity fails me. On the one hand there is a feeling of recklessness and on the other the spectre of annihilation is something more than terrifying.