Center, where are you? You are not where I left you.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shiiiiiit.
You have moved, migrated somewhere new, gone missing altogether.
In my hysteria, I ask a tree, my most perceptive source these days, “how do I get back? I implore you, guide me back to my center.”
This hysteria is not new to me.
In fact, the more I allow myself to descend into greater levels of peace and light, the greater the ensuing hysteria. With the peace comes a clearer vantage point of the delusions. There is a larger disparity between chaos and order and the chaos simply cannot survive in the light.
A spontaneous reorganization, an upgrade of sorts MUST happen; like water turning into ice.
Scientists say such self-organization occurs when critical density patterns arise within a given system.
Well, my system seemed to peak in density last week.
A new level of peace has made for a center adrift.
Delusions, delusions, so many delusions poised to leave me now.
GAME OVER, disempowerment, you have not survived this upgrade.
Do NOT pass go. Do NOT collect $200.
Terror hovers over the liberation of my unfamiliar sight.
How do I navigate life from this place?
When is my next tool-set going to arrive?
I’m wobbly and don’t know where to lean.
I want to hide. Ride this out in solitude. But I can’t.
My in-laws are staying with us for the long weekend.
I fear I’m too “full” for their presence.
Quietly I watch my hysteria and wait patiently as the stories of disempowerment rage in my mind.
They scream, shout and taunt.
They urge me to not run away, to move into my heart so that they can cycle out once and for all.
I take turns between warding off these disempowering thoughts and plunging into surrender – what feels like 100019394 times a minute.
I bear and grin and fight back the anger that comes with feeling lost.
Everything triggers me.
“Don’t look at me.” “Don’t talk to me, I won’t be able to respond pleasantly.”
I want to explain and excuse myself.
I want to tell my in-laws, “I’m sorry for being less than hospitable, there is a pattern of disempowerment leaving my system and the resulting spontaneous reorganization has me feeling quite manic.” Instead I say, “Can I pour you more wine? How about another piece of pie?”
I breathe air into my soar stomach that refuses to digest today’s food.
I feel my feet on the ground.
I let gravity comfort me and trickle into one cell at a time.
Relaxation is slow to come. I vow not to force it.
Instead I go back out to the tree and ask once again, “Please guide me back to my new center.”