There is really no way to describe how it happened. Words are going to fail, but I have to use them or I will never solidify in my own mind all that has happened to me. This post is not ready for the public blog, so you get it here.
I've been going through a really hard time and my faith has been so sorely tested that I have been struggling toward actually giving it up in favor of the understanding that nothing is real, so anything is possible. Knowledge does not equal understanding, and I've been terrified, depressed, and struggling to believe for just one moment that anything I ever did or will ever do could possibly matter.
I've been in the Abyss, so to speak and on a smaller scale, of course, for 2 to as long as 4 years now. It's not my first visit to hard times, either financially or spiritually, and generally I manage to muscle through, but things have been much scarier this time. My faith in some sort of meaning to my life or my contributions, my faith in my personal evolution, always got me up and moving when it seemed all hope was lost. And with this looming paradigm shift or whatever this is, my biggest fear has been that it will all become meaningless and I'll have nothing else strong enough to keep me fighting.
This whole mess is ongoing and unresolved, but a couple of days ago (when I started this post on paper), the most extraordinary thing happened. The mail that day included my copy of Damien Echols' new book, Life After Death. If you don't know who he is, you should find out. Those of you who've read my blog for a long time know that the WM3 case was an atrocity that I felt strongly about.
There are parallels in our lives and his story resonated with me. You probably have read my stories of how
but I may not have mentioned that there is even a sort of prison parallel, because I grew up around ex-cons and my first boyfriend served time, as did my current best friend; I've written to people in prison since I was 16.
Anyway, so the book arrives, and the first thing I do is look for a photo section. There is one, of course, and at the rear of it there's a photo of Damien and Johnny Depp showing off matching tattoos. It's an I Ching symbol, I can't spell it and can't be bothered to look it up right now, but I'm sure Google will find a photo easily enough. It consists of 3 unbroken lines, one broken, and 2 unbroken (starting at the bottom, and I forget how to read I Ching). It symbolizes release after suffering, to simplify it. I read the info on it in the shittastic book I have, and something just slammed into me. I got up that very second, grabbed Mel, and went and got a tattoo. It's not a mimic, okay? I was doing several things when I did this:
The tattoo is a red sun thingy I pulled off the wall and modified to contain the I Ching symbol within the center. (I was never all that into I Ching so I forget what the symbols are called. Sue me.) It's on my arm, in plain sight, and my mother is going to absolutely kill me. She lives near here. I'm 51 years old and still worry what my mother will say. Sigh. Anyway, I wondered wtf I was doing the whole time, but I had to, it simply had to be done. Mel got one too, but his is in a series of interlocking triangles.
I haven't stopped feeling crazy since I did this.
I'm gonna post photos when the bruising fades and so forth. It looks a mess right now. I got it in a tender spot.
I think I'm crazy.
I've been going through a really hard time and my faith has been so sorely tested that I have been struggling toward actually giving it up in favor of the understanding that nothing is real, so anything is possible. Knowledge does not equal understanding, and I've been terrified, depressed, and struggling to believe for just one moment that anything I ever did or will ever do could possibly matter.
I've been in the Abyss, so to speak and on a smaller scale, of course, for 2 to as long as 4 years now. It's not my first visit to hard times, either financially or spiritually, and generally I manage to muscle through, but things have been much scarier this time. My faith in some sort of meaning to my life or my contributions, my faith in my personal evolution, always got me up and moving when it seemed all hope was lost. And with this looming paradigm shift or whatever this is, my biggest fear has been that it will all become meaningless and I'll have nothing else strong enough to keep me fighting.
This whole mess is ongoing and unresolved, but a couple of days ago (when I started this post on paper), the most extraordinary thing happened. The mail that day included my copy of Damien Echols' new book, Life After Death. If you don't know who he is, you should find out. Those of you who've read my blog for a long time know that the WM3 case was an atrocity that I felt strongly about.
There are parallels in our lives and his story resonated with me. You probably have read my stories of how
- I wrote the Christian reverend (an author whose book I'd read) in high school and we corresponded for a time as I struggled to find a place within Christianity, but ultimately failed because...
- that same year, a friend of mine was killed doing something really stupid, and the Christians condemned him to hell and he was denied a memorial in the yearbook; I was on the staff and fought hard for one but lost...
- My mad adventure giving away all my possessions and living in a tent for a month in an effort to unencumber and find myself...
- My lifelong interest and feeling of rightness in the occult and getting my first tarot deck for my 12th birthday, and seeing my mom out of her body when I was five...
but I may not have mentioned that there is even a sort of prison parallel, because I grew up around ex-cons and my first boyfriend served time, as did my current best friend; I've written to people in prison since I was 16.
Anyway, so the book arrives, and the first thing I do is look for a photo section. There is one, of course, and at the rear of it there's a photo of Damien and Johnny Depp showing off matching tattoos. It's an I Ching symbol, I can't spell it and can't be bothered to look it up right now, but I'm sure Google will find a photo easily enough. It consists of 3 unbroken lines, one broken, and 2 unbroken (starting at the bottom, and I forget how to read I Ching). It symbolizes release after suffering, to simplify it. I read the info on it in the shittastic book I have, and something just slammed into me. I got up that very second, grabbed Mel, and went and got a tattoo. It's not a mimic, okay? I was doing several things when I did this:
- Showing my support with a very small version of the same character, a tribute, a salute
- Reaffirming my faith that, one more time, I would hold on, I would persevere, and I would make it to the other side
- Performing magick that I would by god make it, and it would start getting better Now.
The tattoo is a red sun thingy I pulled off the wall and modified to contain the I Ching symbol within the center. (I was never all that into I Ching so I forget what the symbols are called. Sue me.) It's on my arm, in plain sight, and my mother is going to absolutely kill me. She lives near here. I'm 51 years old and still worry what my mother will say. Sigh. Anyway, I wondered wtf I was doing the whole time, but I had to, it simply had to be done. Mel got one too, but his is in a series of interlocking triangles.
I haven't stopped feeling crazy since I did this.
I'm gonna post photos when the bruising fades and so forth. It looks a mess right now. I got it in a tender spot.
I think I'm crazy.
