Dancing with the Universe

The cycle continues. At least approximately.

Six years ago I went through redefinition, including a new personality and a new view of my gender.

Seven years before that I went to Burning Man for the first time, and met The Man.

Seven years before that I moved home after my chemical injury.

Seven years before that I graduated high school.

...

The period between high school and the chemical injury was tumultuous, but my health problems really started with the stress of college, and everything else -- coming home, failing to thrive, my first identity crisis, having to stop working -- came from that. That was who I was at that time, and high school me was shocked and devastated because there was no way I could have envisioned that kind of disaster out of my bright hopes for the future.

The chemical injury remade my world again, into something I probably wouldn't fully recover from, and I decided to make the most of what I had. I tried getting involved again, went back to school, and fought against my disability every step of the way. That was the way life was, and was going to be.

And then The Man happened. From the first sense of swelling immensity in my soul, to going back again because it felt like the wood might speak to me, to having its words tear my world open over, and over, and over. I let my black beast loose because The Man said so, though I was certain it was nuts. I learned to drop my armor because of what The Man said. I learned courage, and beauty, and how to discover who I was.

Without that guidance, I would never have lost my grip on my sense of self. I would never have been able to build a new person to replace it, and have the courage to embrace my reality and pin it with labels which don't fit the outside world. I spent several years just getting to know Sam, and settling into what my gender and sexuality actually mean.

And in a year, I'll be about to move away from the place I thought I would grow old, to a new place which will shape me as surely as I will shape it. A place I need, which needs me. And I will become someone I never envisioned, again. I've had a few glimpses, but I can't see what the full reality will look like.

In 2028-29, several of my older relatives will be at the end of their lives; I wonder whether that will be the next big shift, and how it will change me in ways I can't predict. Or perhaps it will be someone new, or some new direction. All I know is that I can't see there from here.

Seven years.

I sit.

I don't just mean that my butt is in a chair; I mean it like the Zen masters mean it. I sit. Not every day, sometimes not for months. But whenever a crisis passes and I'm finally able to breathe freely, one of the first things I do is to sit. I'd love to be in a situation where I have the opportunity to sit every day.

I taught myself. That means what I do is not Zen; that requires a teacher, and a lot of tradition. I'm not sure what to call what I do. It's not meditation, at least in the way that most people mean it. It does give me calm, and peace of mind, and lowers my stress level. How does it do that? I just... sit.

Anyone can do it. That doesn't mean it's easy; anyone can learn to play chess, too. But it is accessible. Even the first attempt can be beneficial, and every time you do it it gets easier, even though the first few times teach you how hard it can be to simply sit.

( How do you do it? )

I dreamt about Spock.

( There's a message here somewhere )

Last night I had dreams of catastrophe.

( Tonight's feature )

I think that sitting still is the hardest skill I have ever tried to cultivate.

( The art of being )

How one plays Ingress is a reflection of one's personality.

( The third team in a two-team game )

Sometimes I can be an idiot, and I end up second-guessing myself. The trick, as now, is in determining whether I was an idiot to start with, or an idiot for second-guessing.

I managed to fall off the edge of myself for the first time since August. I'm mostly done with the reconstruction work now, and it gets easier each time, but it's been a long night. Every time it happens, I panic, sheer blind fear. Last time I was at a party and couldn't run, so I retreated into my mind instead. This time I was in the car, so I ran. All it took was from Orinda to the end of Marsh Creek Road; by the time I turned around at Los Vaqueros I was mostly numb, and starting to heal the damage. I had something to eat and made tea, focusing on self-care. Now I'm well into processing, with most of Sam back in place, and some tentative framing at the edges.

I have put aside the cause to think about later. I can't think about it without stepping off the edge again, so what I'm doing is focusing on the abstract. The biggest question currently is, am I happy on my own? When I say I'm not looking for a relationship, is that just a placeholder, or does it actually mean that I would consider turning down a relationship in favor of staying single?

Oddly, I think the answer is yes. It seems consistent; when I think about the various aspects of having an intimate committed relationship, I feel like I don't really want that right now. I say oddly because I have never felt that way in my life -- this is so strange that I have to keep poking at the answers, but they don't change. I know that the positive aspects tend to smooth over the rest, at least in a good relationship, but I'm not craving those. I've said that if one dropped into my lap (as it did at least a couple of other times) I wouldn't say no, but I'm really not that interested at the moment. It feels right but my mind says wrong, and I need to iron that out.

I still feel a little wobbly internally, so I want to revisit it later; I don't know how shaky I'll be tomorrow. I want to be really solid in my understanding before I do anything else.

Everthing comes with a cost, and I suppose this is the price of having a custom-built personality.

This is probably going to get reposted to Tumblr, because it's personal-political.

( A Chronic Fatigue/ME rally as a watershed moment )

I went to a play party last night.

( Vague sexual references, identity stuff, and general musings )