There is an anchor that weighs down the left side of my body. I am torn.
I wish to ignore it, force it to dissipate through sheer exclusion of awareness, until I am free of its burden (when I can float through walls and transform into fantastic shapes).
I wish for things that contradict that repulsion. I wish to live in harmony with my being, so that I may avoid suffering. I wish to live in harmony with my being, so that I may form relationships and not exist in perennial solitude.
The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.
(Joseph Campbell)
This is not the sudden burst of a diver’s leap. This is the slow travail of Atlas’s eschatology.
There are ideas I want (wish, need, desire, insist, hold to be self-evident that I do) not to care about.
There are emotions that I deny (wish, need, desire, insist not) caring about.
If I care about something then something controls me, makes me weaker, exposes a vulnerability.
If I experience an emotion about something, then I care about it, am responsive to it, and vulnerable to its whims and malice.
“Why should I ask myself to hurt myself,” says the voice. And I am sorry for its sadness.
