[A bit of free writing from my journal, just a few hours old]
It is my second day back in New York, but it almost feels like I never left. Of course, time went on in New York in my absence, but it still feels like nothing has changed but me. Being on the morning rush hour train didn't feel quite as crowded or dirty as it used to. I feel quite underwhelmed by this city now, and I miss Dharamsala with every atom. I had lunch with Andy this afternoon and he said he's never seen me looking so great, that my aura has been revitalized. I went to the Rubin Museum after lunch and walked around, saw statues and thangkas and other artifacts. It was a small comfort, but not too impressive after having been in India and seeing what the temples had on display. Right now I'm sitting at the flagpole in Union Square killing time until I can pick up my photos I had developed this morning. I've never felt so heartsick in all my life. There is a heaviness weighin on my chest that is beyond my capacity to express. I can try to explain to my friends how I feel, but I think they're probably mostly baffled by it. I feel like I've abandoned a lover. I'm not interested in anyone or anything I see. Everything here seems so vapid; the merchandise, the fashion, the conversation. And I ran into Michael at the Bean this morning. I was telling him how amazing the trip was and how much I loved it; he said he would have to put the pressure on so I get my senior work done. It didn't seem like the right time to tell him I no longer want him to be my advisor. But if I intend to pursue graduate work in Tibetan studies, and I do, then it seems like a waste of time to write about anything else. So I'm going to do what I have to do and hopefully the school will cooperate with me. I also briefly mentioned to Grandma my intention to move to Dharamsala once I finish college, and she said how she thinks I should do Birth Right before I get too old to. It was kind of random, but even if I spend a year in Dharamsala I'll still have enough time afterwards to still do Birth Right. I am so drained right now, physically and emotionally. The time difference is kicking my ass. It's already 3:30 am in India, and my body feels it, too. I really just want to go back to the apartment and rest, but I have to wait another hour for my photos. I could wait until tomorrow but I'm already here and one more hour won't kill me, though I really wish I could go somewhere to lie down. But if I did, I would run the risk of falling asleep for hours. My ass is numb from sitting on this stone and I'm so tired of sitting in cafes and paying too much for tea just because I want somewhere to sit for an hour or two, but I'm too tired to walk around, and browsing in stores seems pointless. I have nothing else to do but just wait. Interestingly enough, without even noticing, I sat directly on top of the Indiana stone around the flagpole. I miss Tibetans.
I am in a fucking bardo state. I just want to go back to where I feel at home!
Showing posts with label transformation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label transformation. Show all posts
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Respite
While I was Indianapolis I was fortunate enough to come to several conclusions about the present situation of my life, and the dissatisfactions I have been struggling with for the past year.
First, that I need to live in a more natural setting. I need trees, big skies, water, and quiet so that I can think and feel clearly. I need these things for spiritual fulfillment. This lead me to my second conclusion: that I need to leave New York once I graduate. I have been chronically unhappy for the past year, and until I returned to Indianapolis, I couldn't figure out why. I changed my concentration, I moved around a few times, I struggled for a meaningful relationship, I took psychedelics and traveled through the stars... all to no avail. My depression and loneliness persisted. But after a few days at home, my mind had quieted and my spirit had calmed, and suddenly I could hear my thoughts and feel my feelings. The source of my unhappiness had nothing to do with the circumstances of my life in New York, but directly to do with the fact that I live in New York. The sense of uprootedness and alienation I felt was a consequence not of my inability to connect with others, but rather of the general disconnectedness inherent to living in this city. Alienation from others, from nature, and from myself had plagued me for months and months, and I convinced myself I was responsible. But being surrounded by trees, calm and quiet, seeing large skies with breathtaking clouds, I finally understood what was missing from my life New York could never grant me.
My third conclusion had indirectly to do with the others. After accepting the previous two facts, suddenly an opportunity presented itself. I ran into a man who I had not seen since we were children. Our siblings had been friends as long as we could remember, but time and circumstance had kept us out of each others lives for thirteen years. On New Year's Eve we reconnected, and spent the next four days savoring each others company while we had the chance. Never had a man looked at me in such a way. Never had a man's touched ignited such a powerful fire beneath my skin. Never had a man's kiss weakened me so much. Never had a man held me so close and spoken freely of his feelings to me. On the fourth day we had to say goodbye because I was leaving Indianapolis for New York. Never had I been so reluctant to go, so loathe to return to New York. We made assurances to keep in touch, whispered how we would miss one another, savored our final kisses and the warmth of each others eyes. And then I was gone.
Of course, we made no commitments to each other. Such a thing would be unfair to ask of either of us. Still, I can say the experience was valuable for one very important reason. In all of my failed romantic endeavors, I had always wondered what it would feel like to be treated the way I deserved... with adoration, respect, curiosity, and mutuality. As a being rather than an object. And I can safely say I now know that feeling, the ease and comfort that accompanies it. Over and over again I have wasted my time rationalizing my hesitations and ignoring my better judgment for the mere sake of attention and affection. And I was always left feeling foolish and undesired. No longer do I feel it necessary to spend my time always questioning a man's intentions, questioning my own interest in him, questioning always questioning, is this what it's supposed to be like? No. It's not.
So maybe our connection was real enough that it can endure the distance of our separation. There is a very real chance he will visit me here in Brooklyn in the spring. However, if it proves to have been a fleeting thing, as amazing as it was, I am still left with the fact of what we had. And I am willing to wait until I meet another man who stares at me with the same warmth and gentleness, whose gaze alone makes my stomach flip, whose touch electrifies my skin, whose kiss turns me to rubber, whose eyes meet mine and are not afraid or withholding. A man who is not afraid of his feelings, who has courage and confidence. I have received one of the most valuable lessons of my life, which will not soon leave me.
Lastly, I came to a conclusion after I returned to New York which follows from my decision to leave the city after graduation. I have reconnected with my desire to spend my life surrounded by books. I have long had an intuitive attraction to antique books and aged texts. I have long said that all I need to be happy are books, good company, and nature. So, I am getting serious about the idea of becoming a literary archivists. I have not done any research yet, but inevitably I would have to get a masters in library science. Yes, that's right. I am almost entirely certain that I will become a librarian. For the first time in my life I can foresee a future with a career, and it does not terrify me. And I can pursue it practically anywhere. The relief is intoxicating.
First, that I need to live in a more natural setting. I need trees, big skies, water, and quiet so that I can think and feel clearly. I need these things for spiritual fulfillment. This lead me to my second conclusion: that I need to leave New York once I graduate. I have been chronically unhappy for the past year, and until I returned to Indianapolis, I couldn't figure out why. I changed my concentration, I moved around a few times, I struggled for a meaningful relationship, I took psychedelics and traveled through the stars... all to no avail. My depression and loneliness persisted. But after a few days at home, my mind had quieted and my spirit had calmed, and suddenly I could hear my thoughts and feel my feelings. The source of my unhappiness had nothing to do with the circumstances of my life in New York, but directly to do with the fact that I live in New York. The sense of uprootedness and alienation I felt was a consequence not of my inability to connect with others, but rather of the general disconnectedness inherent to living in this city. Alienation from others, from nature, and from myself had plagued me for months and months, and I convinced myself I was responsible. But being surrounded by trees, calm and quiet, seeing large skies with breathtaking clouds, I finally understood what was missing from my life New York could never grant me.
My third conclusion had indirectly to do with the others. After accepting the previous two facts, suddenly an opportunity presented itself. I ran into a man who I had not seen since we were children. Our siblings had been friends as long as we could remember, but time and circumstance had kept us out of each others lives for thirteen years. On New Year's Eve we reconnected, and spent the next four days savoring each others company while we had the chance. Never had a man looked at me in such a way. Never had a man's touched ignited such a powerful fire beneath my skin. Never had a man's kiss weakened me so much. Never had a man held me so close and spoken freely of his feelings to me. On the fourth day we had to say goodbye because I was leaving Indianapolis for New York. Never had I been so reluctant to go, so loathe to return to New York. We made assurances to keep in touch, whispered how we would miss one another, savored our final kisses and the warmth of each others eyes. And then I was gone.
Of course, we made no commitments to each other. Such a thing would be unfair to ask of either of us. Still, I can say the experience was valuable for one very important reason. In all of my failed romantic endeavors, I had always wondered what it would feel like to be treated the way I deserved... with adoration, respect, curiosity, and mutuality. As a being rather than an object. And I can safely say I now know that feeling, the ease and comfort that accompanies it. Over and over again I have wasted my time rationalizing my hesitations and ignoring my better judgment for the mere sake of attention and affection. And I was always left feeling foolish and undesired. No longer do I feel it necessary to spend my time always questioning a man's intentions, questioning my own interest in him, questioning always questioning, is this what it's supposed to be like? No. It's not.
So maybe our connection was real enough that it can endure the distance of our separation. There is a very real chance he will visit me here in Brooklyn in the spring. However, if it proves to have been a fleeting thing, as amazing as it was, I am still left with the fact of what we had. And I am willing to wait until I meet another man who stares at me with the same warmth and gentleness, whose gaze alone makes my stomach flip, whose touch electrifies my skin, whose kiss turns me to rubber, whose eyes meet mine and are not afraid or withholding. A man who is not afraid of his feelings, who has courage and confidence. I have received one of the most valuable lessons of my life, which will not soon leave me.
Lastly, I came to a conclusion after I returned to New York which follows from my decision to leave the city after graduation. I have reconnected with my desire to spend my life surrounded by books. I have long had an intuitive attraction to antique books and aged texts. I have long said that all I need to be happy are books, good company, and nature. So, I am getting serious about the idea of becoming a literary archivists. I have not done any research yet, but inevitably I would have to get a masters in library science. Yes, that's right. I am almost entirely certain that I will become a librarian. For the first time in my life I can foresee a future with a career, and it does not terrify me. And I can pursue it practically anywhere. The relief is intoxicating.
Monday, January 5, 2009
homesick
Being back in New York feels strange. I hesitate to use the term "home" now when I refer to it. I no longer know where that place is that home is supposed to be.
No, I know where it is. But it is not a place where I can pack up and move to. It is only a place where I can be. In your arms, my head nestled against your chest, hair bristling against my cheek. Our limbs entwined, our skin glowing red and melting into each other. Your kisses peppering my salty forehead and cheeks and nose and ears. You and I in our nakedness, pressing as near together as we could, and still you whispered "I can't get close enough to you."
And here I am, far away from you, sitting alone in my large empty bed. In the darkness of early morning, alone. The sounds outside my window seem so harsh and foreign and unrelenting. The sense of ease I felt with you lingers in my memories and yet here I am. Restless. Longing. Homesick.
I miss you already.
No, I know where it is. But it is not a place where I can pack up and move to. It is only a place where I can be. In your arms, my head nestled against your chest, hair bristling against my cheek. Our limbs entwined, our skin glowing red and melting into each other. Your kisses peppering my salty forehead and cheeks and nose and ears. You and I in our nakedness, pressing as near together as we could, and still you whispered "I can't get close enough to you."
And here I am, far away from you, sitting alone in my large empty bed. In the darkness of early morning, alone. The sounds outside my window seem so harsh and foreign and unrelenting. The sense of ease I felt with you lingers in my memories and yet here I am. Restless. Longing. Homesick.
I miss you already.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
briefly
Sorry for the radio silence the past week or so. School started up again and I've been very busy with that as well as rediscovering what it's like to have a regular social life. Also, I had an incredibly profound experience this past Saturday that I am still processing and it will take a little while longer before I'll have it sorted out. Some of you who are my close friends already know what I'm talking about. As a result, I've been drawing almost nonstop (for instance, I skipped class today to work on a drawing) so look forward to more of my artwork being posted in the near future.
On a different note, I hope you all of you New Yorkers/East Coasters are enjoying the transition to Fall. I know I am. It is my favorite season, and there is little I love more than the crisp smell of leaves and the chill of a cool breeze stroking my cheeks.
See you all soon, before the trees are bare of leaves.
On a different note, I hope you all of you New Yorkers/East Coasters are enjoying the transition to Fall. I know I am. It is my favorite season, and there is little I love more than the crisp smell of leaves and the chill of a cool breeze stroking my cheeks.
See you all soon, before the trees are bare of leaves.
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