Et tu?

[chelidon]

Et Tu?

Oh yes, plenty of pain there
(my own and other's)
and an always choice, whether to see
in each and any moment, the joy and love, or the suffering and sorrow
(my own and other's)

The deep, murky yawning pits of hopelessness, cynicism, of loss and bitterness,
(my own and other's)
call longingly with their ancient siren song of inevitability,
sharp smells of salt tears, absinthe, bitter regret,
(my own and other's)
how easy it would be to put away hope

When does optimism become foolishness,
when does hopefulness become stupid blind faith,
when does a deliberate stance of openness
become a giant Kick Me sign to the universe?

Do I hope too much, or too little?

This I know: Courage is not enough. Abstract commitment to well-intentioned principles is not enough.
And, this, too: empty words, half-hearted platitudes, easy lies and weak-willed fantasies are definitely, absolutely not enough.
There must be more.

Will, Intent, Desire, all the noble beasts
in line, pull, pull, pull
the Chariot of life surges forward in fulminating passion

Some pains are earned, others come in the night like unexpected, unwelcome anti-Santas who sneak
down the chimney and take all the toys away, leaving empty aches behind.
Leaping like a fool from the cliff, the ground rising up SMACK! to meet beneath is no great surprise
(though to fly would be a wonder), but then
come moments of unexpected blindsiding,
back-stabbed, gut-shot,
the wind sucked from the sails, knocked off course, all forward momentum slowed, stopped
for. a. moment...
and teeter, wobble, compass drifting, course uncertain, at the whim of small
careless motions of
wind and wave.

Moments of pain are an opportunity to change direction.

Pain can open eyes, carries a message, widens your horizons.
So, too, can joy, love and ecstasy expand vision.
Either can obscure and veil as much as they illuminate --
it all depends on how deeply open you are to them.
I shut down. I am blind.
I open up. I see.
I feel. I know.

But blindness has its purpose, too
At times, the mind, the body, the souls, all say, "enough." Too much.
Stop.

The eyes close, I am blind,
alone here in the quiet dark,
nursing my wounds, my sorrows
healing, burying, composting,
trying not to let the cleansing turn sour, into
rot and corruption
But even decay is a part of life,
Pain, pleasure, joy, grief all
serve their purpose,
have their place
need their day
What is dead must rot
so new life can arise
And it may smell for a while,
not like a flower

Can I always give thanks for the pain, the Dark Mother's gift? No, though perhaps I should.
It is easier to be thankful for the lessons the pain carries --
harsh words, but true ones,
the scraped knee
the broken bone
the bruised ego
the bleeding heart
the aching soul
not good in themselves,
but in what they teach

That which does not kill us
may hurt a hell of a lot more than we feel we can bear
and may wound deeper than we know, persisting in
ugly scar tissue, numbness, stiff and tender places
sore aches of ancient wounds that come when it rains,
when we smell that odor,
hear that song

Oh yes, plenty of pain there
(my own and other's)
and an always choice, whether to see
in each and any moment, the joy and love, or the suffering and sorrow
(my own and other's)

The deep, murky yawning pits of hopelessness, cynicism, of loss and bitterness,
(my own and other's)
call longingly with their ancient siren song of inevitability,
sharp smells of salt tears, absinthe, bitter regret,
(my own and other's)
how easy it would be to put away hope

When does optimism become foolishness,
when does hopefulness become stupid blind faith,
when does a deliberate stance of openness
become a giant Kick Me sign to the universe?

Do I hope too much, or too little?

Et tu?


(written on the occasion of the 3rd anniversary of the death of a dear friend and brother)

Comments

[morrigandaughtr.livejournal.com]

Condolences on the anniversary of the loss of your friend and brother. Wherever he is now, may he be blessed and happy.

And may many people feel in your words here an invitation and opportunity to open.

xo

[chelidon.livejournal.com]

Thanks, very much, I appreciate it :>

It's a hard road to walk -- I know I sure struggle with it.

[lauraleanalle.livejournal.com]

This really resonates with me, trying to find balance, the third way.

I added you a while ago, saw you on some friends lists and liked the things you talk about.

[chelidon.livejournal.com]

I'm glad, thanks and welcome! It's not an easy road to walk, that's for sure. But we can all be signposts and allies to one another, to help each other find the way.

[lylythe-strega.livejournal.com]

Here's to Kirby, our beloved friend and brother...we love you.

When does optimism become foolishness,
when does hopefulness become stupid blind faith,
when does a deliberate stance of openness
become a giant Kick Me sign to the universe?

When it's least expected. When you mistake someone for someone else. When mistakes are made. When we're doing the best we can. When you think everything's going right.

Or, when people who love you fuck up badly.

[chelidon.livejournal.com]

Ah-yup. We're all human, we all screw up, and hopefully own what we do, whether intended or not, take our lumps and make amends, and move on.

Part of where I am with this, though, is that I've found that personally, openness, optimism, hopefulness, can be cop-outs too, when taken too far without balance. There's an energy-flow balance that has to be maintained, and an aspect of common sense-- if you go walking in Central Park with a jacket covered in $20 bills, you can expect to get mugged. There is such a thing as too open, in certain contexts. There's a fine line between optimism and naivite, between being open to the moment, and being inadequately self-protective. It's a hard balance -- when does openness conflict with common sense? And on the flip side, when is "common sense" used as an excuse to avoid the challenge of openness?

[draiguisge.livejournal.com]

*hug*

*sob*

[chelidon.livejournal.com]

I hear ya. Hugs back to (with) you.

[coraljune.livejournal.com]

Oh. Ow.

*bawl*

[coraljune.livejournal.com]

That which does not kill us / may hurt a hell of a lot more than we feel we can bear

Yeah. *reaches for tissues* True words. Thank you for sharing this. And, my condolences go out to you.

[chelidon.livejournal.com]

Thanks. And I agree with your LJ post -- folks who blithely quote Nietzsche can come across as smug and out of touch with reality. That which does not kill you may in fact wound you so terribly you spend the rest of your life dealing with the aftermath, instead of actually getting on with your life. It's like the catch-phrase an old sparring buddy and I came up with after hearing one too many lunk-headed idiot spout, "no pain, no gain." Our version was, "no pain, no permanent crippling injury." ;>

On the other hand, looking at pain as an opportunity for growth can be a positive response.

[mystfemme.livejournal.com]

Even in your grief, such beauty.

I am so sorry about the loss of your friend. I wish you comfort.

[chelidon.livejournal.com]

Thank you, I appreciate it. That which is remembered, lives, and we all cross that veil, sooner or later. It's just especially hard for those left behind when it happens sooner, and suddenly. Sorrow is one of the prices of embodied existence. And so is joy :>

[erskine.livejournal.com]

R-

That was nice.

-E

[chelidon.livejournal.com]

Thanks, bro'. And happy birthday, you not-so-old reprobate! I wish I could life one there with ya, but will have to do the honors from here.

Choices?

[mab-of-dream.livejournal.com]

In the end, I don't think you can hope too much or too little. Life deals its knocks and kisses in equal measure. I believe that just about everything is a matter of perspective; thus you can choose to live your life curled tight inside a pessimistic protective shell, so afraid of being hurt by others, that you do it to yourself constantly. Our own minds and imagination can be far more brutal to us than the most sadistic of others.

Or you can choose optimism, roll with the punches and persuade yourself that you have the strength to ride out the latest storm. It's not ideal, but we're human beings with emotions living in a world that's not always kind, so I think it's the best of our choices.

I also believe in the ripple effect, that smiling at someone in a corridor will solicit a smile in response and THAT smile may still be on their face as they pass someone else. Another smile, on and on, rippling out like a stone dropped in a lake. Telling yourself 'I Am Not Afraid' may just ripple out into a world where you aren't quite so afraid.

I love your ponderings, Chelidon.

'That which does not kill us
may hurt a hell of a lot more than we feel we can bear'

Yes. It also teaches us that we are quite wrong with our judgment about just how much we can bear. I love (in retrospect, when the scars have faded a little) those times when the Dark Lady teaches us just how strong we really are.

Re: Choices?

[chelidon.livejournal.com]

Yes. It also teaches us that we are quite wrong with our judgment about just how much we can bear. I love (in retrospect, when the scars have faded a little) those times when the Dark Lady teaches us just how strong we really are.

Ah-yup. that's when I know I've really internalized a lesson from the Dark Mother, when I can be genuinely, truly grateful for it.

Our own minds and imagination can be far more brutal to us than the most sadistic of others.

Oh, yes. Absoutely. There are no hells stronger than the ones we build for ourselves.

Telling yourself 'I Am Not Afraid' may just ripple out into a world where you aren't quite so afraid.

Yes again -- "you are alone in this," whether "this" is grief, love, sorrow, pain or joy, is the Great Lie.