I’m going to write this evening.
I’m ignoring Halloween
And the multitude of other tasks I have on my plate.
I’m emotionally exhausted from sitting at my computer all day.
But I feel that is a good thing. It shows passion. If I wasn’t exhausted from my work, I’d fear I was indifferent towards it–something I loathe.
I am really going to have to leave my other job very soon. Because I’m becoming indifferent. I hate that feeling. It is like not caring. I can’t not care. Caring is in my being. I feel it is part of being a human being. When we do not care we simply cut ourselves off from our humanity. Not caring is not feeling. Feeling is at the core of our being. We are communal animals. We empathize. We feel. We care.
I hate that so much or our modern life asks us to cut that natural instinct off. I hate it. The business side of things. Business face. Straight face. It hurts my heart. My heart cries. Tears from my heart.
I feel deeply. I hate admitting it, but I empathize deeply. I try to act like I don’t. I don’t want others to know how vitally I can feel their pain and their joy and their angst and their frustration and their fear and their anticipation. I feel it like I feel the sun on my skin at the beach in the middle of the day. It penetrates me. It permeates me. I have to put up makeshift walls to protect my vital feeling organs. I don’t know what they are, but I feel them–in my gut and in my heart and in my genitals and in my eyes and in my ears. I feel them.
I feel the woman in red and white plaid shirt and black scarf sitting next to me on her macbook wearing her mala beads on her right wrist studying her computer screen so intensely. I feel her intent. I heel her energy. I feel her determination. I feel her strength. I feel strengthened by her…I let her affect me. Same mistake every time. I let my feeling guards down and let energy run amuck with in me. Wreaking havoc on the forts Ive assembled to protect myself. They get torn down again by the storm of feelings I let overtake me.
But, I also dance and delight in the rain and the wind as it rushes into my inner being. I can sing and smile in it if I let it be. I will only cry out in pain and anguish if I try rebuilding in the midst of the storm.
If I let the lightning crash within me, something just might be created out of the destruction.
That is the Shiva.
I welcome the storm.
But maybe too often.
Maybe I like destruction more than I do creation.
Maybe I like the rush of the storm around me like a whirlwind.
Maybe I like being thrown about not knowing where I will land
Maybe I don’t like having my feet on solid ground.