The Furious Spinner

Misery does not love company. At least not my misery. I try to run, run, run from it. Alone. I spin from that to this. Stillness is the antithesis of what I am. Not of who I am. What I am.

Finally, tears streaming down my face, I sit but can't be still. Fall into the computer. In the background Boozoo Bajou pounds. We just finished watching Happy Endings. Sometimes it just does not seem possible to stand all that is happening in the world. And I am one of the lucky ones.

Spinning, spinning, spinning.

Today someone sent me an essay by David James Duncan. He has decided that he will do no great things. He writes, "I have no faith in any kind of political party, left, right, or centrist. I have boundless faith in love. In keeping with this faith, the only spiritually responsible way I know to be a citizen, artist, or activist is by giving little or no thought to things such as saving the planet, achieving world peace, or stopping neocon greed. Great things tend to be undoable things. Small things, lovingly done, are always within our reach."

I keep forgetting that. Love, love, love. I forgot it today after reading Duncan's piece, so wrapped up was I in loss: grieving one more loss of integrity, trying to uselessly resuscitate my place of employment back into something meaningful, imagining the world after global warming, trying to quell the sickness and depression which fogged my being.

I was alone all day. No friend or foe called. Not that I wanted anyone. Mario came home on his breaks and tried to connect with me. I was off somewhere spinning that cloak of misery around me. Like a crazy straight-jacket.

So now I've stumbled away in my aloneness and I fall into the Journal of Mythic Arts. There I find the beauty I crave. I read that which needs to be screamed at me, apparently, for it to sink into my beautiful suffering body:

"Whichever road I follow, I walk in the land of many gods, and they
love and eat one another. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me.
Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands." Linda Hogan, from Dwellings

It is on the same page as an amazing piece of artwork by Mark Wagner called "Offerings."

I will try to sit in stillness, let the misery wash over me. Will it wash all of me away, or just enough? Too much. Then I will remember. I am the result of the love of thousands.

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