I had a dream once and in it I wrote the most amazing piece of poetry ever. The words fell upon my soul and said exactly what I have been feeling these past months. The dream was only a week ago. It is frustrating to wake up and not recall the words in any form. It makes me wonder what power of creativity lurks beneath my waking moments. That if I could harness what I create in my dreams who would I be? What hearts could I touch? Could my own be at peace?
Questions without answer. This is part and parcel of my life these days.
Today my anxiety and panic manifested itself in the belief that my nerves in my leg (which felt they were on fire) were creating a blood cot and sending it to my brain to give me a brain aneurysm to bring my death. Sadly, this one isn't new. But I was so, completely, absolutely convinced for about three hours of my imminent demise. (Which is much better than two months ago when it would have been from the moment I woke up until the moment I finally fell asleep.)
This week my therapist and I discussed mortality and my fear of my own death. We are working on using it as a positive force in my life. We talked about how as one becomes more aware and in tune with their death that person CAN become less petty, more loving, more honest, more tender. When faced with the reality of each moment not being a given then the fact that our spouse or friends or parents do something annoying diminishes in the light of the importance of here and now being possibly the last moment shared with that loved one. He wrote a blog post saying pettiness shrinks in the light of death. I like that idea. I like that my panic and my anxiety CAN give me the power to be more aware of my moments with loved ones.
I used to get angry at my parents when I was younger and without fail would get over my anger within an hour. And every time I would pray, hope, will it the best I could that my last interaction with them would not be one of anger. I was obsessive with stories about people's regret and deep remorse over losing a loved one after an angry fight. It terrified me and fascinated me. It has always kept me in line with my interactions with people. My fear of death really has guided me far more than I ever understood until the past couple of weeks.
Right now I'm rolling around in my mind the idea of pettiness. How terrible we treat each other as human beings. How fleeting everything really is in this life. I'm thinking that if we could harness the reality of today not being promised, let alone tomorrow, then perhaps we'd be more kind, quicker to forgive, more patient with people's questions, gentler with one another's hearts. I know I'm a bleeding heart for the world at large, but it burdens me deeply that WE are so insensitive and rough with the lives of others, with the souls of others. And I do say we, for I am not excused. It burdens me deeply that WE always think WE are right and THEY are wrong. It kills me that we are quick to accuse and slow to admit our own failings.
I had a dream once that I wrote the most amazing piece of poetry ever. If I could, that's what I would share with you instead. Something tender, uplifting, beautiful, positive. But since it was but a fleeting moment in my subconscious I can only share with you what my waking mind finds itself doting on. It's something at least.
My deep joy of the day: Dinner and movies with friends. It's odd and so refreshing that Newberg is FINALLY feeling like normal life. A place where I'm not on edge. With people I feel comfortable and cozy with.
My surface joy of the day: Cinnamon Whiskey and Ginger Ale is a surprisingly delicious drink.