it has been heaven, and it has been hell. on entering the dojo last friday i was asked how it was. i said that the weather was fabulous. it was!
they said that that was a very diplomatic answer. it was. but then i also get tired of calling it something or other. tired, yes, i am tired. i feel like i am plowing through molasses and that the end of the tunnel is in sight but that it is not getting any closer. i am tired of the struggle. i shall give up the struggle. i am not tired of life, i am tired of the struggle. most of all i am tired of qualifying it all. is it good? is it bad? is heaven? is it hell? it is.
still in the last few days i have had a very humbling experience and i find myself stunned and bewildered. stunned and bewildered!
remember 2004. or was it 2002? somehow that is when i quit my daytime job. no, it was not what one calls frivolity or levity, it was necessity. at stake was my survival. either the job had to go, or i was going to go, why?
anyhow, it is a good thing that i keep my resumé online, i tend to forget in what year i have done what. i quit my last salaried job in 2002! wow, that was a long time ago, it is time to get back to where i thought that i wanted to go. actually, back then i did not have a clue. i just threw in the towel. sometimes you have to. at least that is how i felt then, and looking at it four years down the road, that was the right decision. but then, i also do not know what the wrong decision would have been. i am frankly getting tired of this long and unbearable thread of lamentations!
i just got back home after a school board meeting where i felt a bit out of touch with it all, mostly i felt out of touch with myself. i do not like this. i like to listen to "weather report" and try to collect my thoughts, if not the scattered pieces of my soul.
it does not take much to make me happy: the rain, the sunshine, the sand on my feet at the beach, an email from a dear friend, the voice of another on the phone. i saw the cherry blossoms for a few hours four weeks ago and i fell in love with it all once more, again. again in love. why do i love life so much when i find so little sense in it?
i went through some serious pain last summer, this spring brought in some more serious pain. i call them pains the pains of growing up and opening up my eyes. i am frankly tired of the pain. it has been even less than two weeks when i finally could understand what brings a human being to consider suicide. it is like this, when on the edge of the abyss one can see that the fall would be fatal, to jump is still a matter of choice at that point provided that there is no ravaging wind throwing you over the edge. all the zazen, all the aikido, all the tantra, all the good friends and all the introspection have created a peace that keeps me aware of the abyss and that counters the stormy winds.
still, today on the way to that meeting i kept on thinking that i really wished that i did not have the ability to feel the pain of others. in 2004 i wrote thousands of words in trying to get rid of the pain of another that had gotten under my skin. yes, the pain got under my skin. do you know what it is like to have another's pain under your own skin? i felt doomed with an obsession that i did not even want.
"You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, "Who is that man?"
You try so hard
But you don't understand
Just what you'll say
When you get home
Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You raise up your head
And you ask, "Is this where it is?"
And somebody points to you and says
"It's his"
And you say, "What's mine?"
And somebody else says, "Where what is?"
And you say, "Oh my God
Am I here all alone?"
Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel
To be such a freak?"
And you say, "Impossible"
As he hands you a bone
Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To just give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations
You've been with the professors
And they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of
F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well read
It's well known
Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan"
Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Now you see this one-eyed midget
Shouting the word "NOW"
And you say, "For what reason?"
And he says, "How?"
And you say, "What does this mean?"
And he screams back, "You're a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home"
Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin' around
You should be made
To wear earphones
Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?"
Ballad of a Thin Man by Bob Dylan
Copyright © 1965; renewed 1993 Special Rider Music)
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