Monday, March 07, 2011

Panis Angelicus

Sometimes I get on a good full-scale rant. Something else takes over and types out hateful words before I quite know where I am. The worst thing about this is not the words I write, but how unconscious the process is. Everything I've read about Zen or any of the "Be Here Now" philosophies seem to extol the evils of unconsciousness. Because when you wake up and survey the damage, well, it's usually too late isn't it? You move the broom, sweeping up the debris, wondering how you ended up here again.


Except that of late, a voice has started to pop into my head. A good voice. It says, is that really what you want to say? So I re-read and think, dang, that's so not what I started off wanting to say. How did I get so derailed?

Something, somewhere triggered a neurosis. And I had to worry it like a pimple. Couldn't let it rest until it became a full-blown, OK, full-blown whatever this is.

How does one become conscious?

All the Roshis say to sit and observe your breathing.

My breathing is shallow. Then my heart starts to pound and then anger builds up like cement pushing through my veins. My fingers start to tingle. The rage builds up until it has no place to go.

So I explode. Onto the page, onto the stage, who knows?

Or I freeze the fire and store it someplace; someplace else that I do not have to revisit anytime soon. That's the way hate goes. We're talking about massive amounts of energy used to support my denial. Is it any wonder that I find myself sleeping most of the time and tearing up at the most inconvenient places for the dumbest of reasons?

So, sit, watch your breath, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

What is the elephant in the room?

What is it I'm trying so hard not to see?

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