Everyone has a dark side, which is not necessarily a sad, suffering, evil, or unwanted part of ourselves but merely a place that is normally hidden from the light of day for whatever reason. I am a big fan of dark sides. I think they are the only thing that keeps the light side light. And not to promote some bullshit notion of the suffering artist, but for me, some of my most creative work emerges when my eyes are adjusting to the darkness at the bottom of a well. Although sometimes I just try and make something meaningful and creative out of the pile of raw sewage down here in order to get through the day. This post being a case in point.
But my day didn't start this way. It began with longing, desire, and transcendance--thank you perfectly fitting girl who is so much more than that. Indeed I felt transcendant through most of the day in the way Kant describes it--when our knowledge of something precedes our experience of it. How wonderful that is.
But then I dropped her at the train, did my grocery shopping, and suddenly I was a destabilized mess, wanting to cry, wondering why I hadn't really cried in some 4 months, feeling needy and insecure and hating myself for feeling that way--so not myself, but then if these feelings are not mine, whose are they?
A short jag of crying sufficed today, not the heaving sobs I know are down there, but it's a start. Part of me says what do I really have to cry about? Isn't suffering just part of a life filled with desire? But I don't want to negate my desire, and buddha didn't have two wonderful daughters to worry about.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
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