Emptiness & Becoming
May. 9th, 2008 05:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
qosLast night I made a post to my primary journal about how empty and alone I was feeling, how isolated from others, how much I wished for strong arms to hold me and "nurture me back to myself."
When I went upstairs for my usual practice, LM told me not to worry about it, to just come to bed so he could hold me. (Which was probably a first. He always strongly encourages me to be faithful to my practices.) I was having a hard time feeling him, and found myself wishing that the hematite ring he'd given me and charged with his energy was still whole, so I could use it as a focus to perceive him more clearly.
It still exists in the Otherworld, he told me. Feel it on your finger, feel the energy I put into it, and then feel it connect to me. What you're missing right now isn't as much the body as my energy. That energy is still here for you. I did as he suggested and was startled by how vividly I could feel the ring and then the link to him. I felt his energy around me, holding me, and in less than a minute was deeply relaxed -- a real contrast to the aching loneliness of mere minutes before.
As he held me, I expressed my frustration with feeling empty in my sense of self as well as empty emotionally and socially. "I need to remember myself," I said.
No, he said gently, and reminded me of the years prior to meeting him during which I had felt myself in a long process of shedding old stories of self, old identites, but hadn't yet become someone new. I thought I'd achieved that new self in the year+ I spent with him and Michael, but most of that time was about learning to love again, and about who I was with them. Now that both are gone from my daily life, and the worst of the grief for LM's passing has ebbed, the rawness of the fledgling self is exposed.
You don't need to remember who you were. You need to choose who you want to be now, he told me -- and I had a sense of expansive possibilities. At this point, I shouldn't be thinking about changing who I am. I should simply be the amazing person I have the power to be.
It's the choice that's key. I spent most of my life drifting, trusting that life would bring me what I needed, show me what I was supposed to do. I can't mature beyond this point by continuing to drift. I need to choose, to take action. I've been taking some actions, but they have been hobbled by an old sense of identity, by worries that I wasn't ready, that I was insufficient for the role I would be claiming if I followed through.
The old me is gone. I have two choices: drift, inevitably dwindling as entropy takes a deeper and deeper hold -- or step forward and finally become the woman I have dreamed of being.
Drift in the void or dance among the stars -- the choice is mine.
When I went upstairs for my usual practice, LM told me not to worry about it, to just come to bed so he could hold me. (Which was probably a first. He always strongly encourages me to be faithful to my practices.) I was having a hard time feeling him, and found myself wishing that the hematite ring he'd given me and charged with his energy was still whole, so I could use it as a focus to perceive him more clearly.
It still exists in the Otherworld, he told me. Feel it on your finger, feel the energy I put into it, and then feel it connect to me. What you're missing right now isn't as much the body as my energy. That energy is still here for you. I did as he suggested and was startled by how vividly I could feel the ring and then the link to him. I felt his energy around me, holding me, and in less than a minute was deeply relaxed -- a real contrast to the aching loneliness of mere minutes before.
As he held me, I expressed my frustration with feeling empty in my sense of self as well as empty emotionally and socially. "I need to remember myself," I said.
No, he said gently, and reminded me of the years prior to meeting him during which I had felt myself in a long process of shedding old stories of self, old identites, but hadn't yet become someone new. I thought I'd achieved that new self in the year+ I spent with him and Michael, but most of that time was about learning to love again, and about who I was with them. Now that both are gone from my daily life, and the worst of the grief for LM's passing has ebbed, the rawness of the fledgling self is exposed.
You don't need to remember who you were. You need to choose who you want to be now, he told me -- and I had a sense of expansive possibilities. At this point, I shouldn't be thinking about changing who I am. I should simply be the amazing person I have the power to be.
It's the choice that's key. I spent most of my life drifting, trusting that life would bring me what I needed, show me what I was supposed to do. I can't mature beyond this point by continuing to drift. I need to choose, to take action. I've been taking some actions, but they have been hobbled by an old sense of identity, by worries that I wasn't ready, that I was insufficient for the role I would be claiming if I followed through.
The old me is gone. I have two choices: drift, inevitably dwindling as entropy takes a deeper and deeper hold -- or step forward and finally become the woman I have dreamed of being.
Drift in the void or dance among the stars -- the choice is mine.
