this low feeling. all drift and melancholy. the old routine. jann arden singing: "give me back my heart." and the autumn rushing in. i can't keep myself engaged. so over and over it's this recreation of the trauma, the wound. a test to learn how to trust. i'm failing. i'm failing real bad here. or maybe there is no winning or losing. just this feeling of loss. this empty sensation. thrashing in bed. the beautiful sunlight coming through the cathedral windows . .ignored.
i can't go into a white castle. don't go near a target or wal-mart. i stay clear of the strip malls. sometimes i think of other places to be. a seashore and a roomy cottage. a cool forest. following a rocky stream. a bike path. i think of paris or ireland. i think of trains running through eastern europe. i think of taking pictures or writing in my journal. somewhere centered. witnessed.
i know i am loved. i get reminded all the time by the people who love me. but where is the wild magician. the brave spirit. the journeyman. the firewalker. where am i now?
