I have been home two weeks now. It may appear that Texas never happened, as I’ve been transplanted from one day to the next, from warm sun and a high azure ceiling, to an overhang of grey and continual wet, from mist to hard hitting, pounding rain. But that’s not the problem. I’ve loved to be back in this Autumn again, and Fort Langley is home. I’m struggling with an overwhelming ennui. What next? And where is the energy to do it?
Today I looked through all my Osho books, searching for a particular section that had resonated with me. Osho continually encourages people to meditate, saying that if 1% of humanity became meditative, our world problems would end: the poverty, the strife, the wars. That our inner conflict as individuals manifests itself globally. Clean up our own acts and it would reflect accordingly. Psychologists became aware in both World Wars 1 and 2 that suicide rates dropped, murders and madness stopped. Possibly all of these potential acts were diverted into the armies. But then there is this theory, that humanity accumulates madness and neuroses, and wars are humanity gone mad as a whole, and then collectively it has to be expunged.
The reason I am thinking of meditation is because my thoughts are scattered. Right now I have freedom, and I have become very aware of the two sides to freedom. There is freedom FROM and freedom FOR. I am free of tiresome employment, a stultifying marriage. My children are well and gone. I am free of ill health or any other kind of hardship. My freedom FROM has brought me now to a place of sadness. One cannot remain in limbo for too long, hesitating and wondering where to go and what to do next. I’ve known for a while what my answer is, to go deeper into myself. I have gone wide for a long, long time. Even with the chattering of my thoughts I can hear very clearly the call of myself. And there is the dream too. My summer was spent free FROM and I revelled in it. I discovered that all I really want to do EVER, is live and write, write and live. I can’t be the only one who’s wondered why (really, why?) can’t I be paid (needs met) from somewhere (the universe?) just for being ME? So that is my FOR, but still I languish.
Perhaps there must always be that in between time to regain balance. The last two months in Texas had its own extremes. Now here I sit in the attic. But my meditation has never taken that form. The moment I step outdoors I am in my meditation. I walk whenever I am called, I am undeterred by the hour, the dark, the rain or the cold. I have always appreciated Julia Cameron’s semantics in “The Artist’s Way.” Not surprising that a walk is good for us, our soles/souls touching the earth. And I believe that writing is a meditation, to know oneself. And I believe by writing I am being true to myself. The world then has one more happier, authenticated human being.
I did find that passage in my Osho book, about disconnection. About sitting and disconnecting yourself from all your connections. Remove them one by one. Do not label yourself as someone’s wife or mother. Do not think of yourself in terms of what you do, I am a teacher, a carpenter. Disconnect. You are not married, employed, male, female, young, old, Russian. Disconnect. Disconnect. And then you are alone. You are in your aloneness. There are no more connections. It has all fallen away. And the chattering falls away. I think of how we struggle with this. It can feel like so much negation. It can feel like one is free falling. And that is the line we walk, the difference between falling and being in your aloneness.
I’m going to take one more shot at Texas, and then be done with it. I just finished Larry McMurtry’s “In A Narrow Grave – Essays on Texas,” written almost forty years ago, but I still snickered at the accuracy of his description of Midland…”Midland is a new oiltown, a community of some 70,000 nervous people located many many miles from anywhere…” “Its unpleasantness quotient is very high…” Not for naught did I spend so much time and energy scratching at its oily gold surface, looking for the soul I wondered lived underneath.
I am leaving for Ontario on Tuesday. A further reaction to the experience of Texas? An attempt to keep walking and writing, giving in to my resistance to finding employment? Or does John Le Carre’s observation make the best sense of all…Coming home from very lonely places, all of us go a little mad: whether from great personal success, or just an all-night drive, we are the sole survivors of a world no one else has ever seen.
Good Life
diane
“Disconnect” is a REAL challenge, I find. Somewhere you talked about wide and narrow – I feel like I’ve been trying to spread myself very widely in an attempt to find some comfort – to no success so now I’m getting narrower.
I liked your poem for your Dad.
Ireland’s one of the places I want to get to – once I have no ties. Did you read Law of Dreams?
Hi Diane. Still read your blogs. Love them. I no longer have your e-mail but would like to get back in touch.