Are you worthy?
What do you value?
What if there is no one standing on your stair step with you?
They say it’s lonely at the top.
I have to say, by anyone else’s standards, I have to be an epic failure, on nearly every possible level. “Ew! What trash!” and I am trash, and I prefer to not hang out with people in the upper four quintiles, because most of them just do not get it. They never had to go hungry, go without heat or proper clothing. They don’t feel guilt and have mini panic attacks when they spend money.
I see people having children and raising children, the majority of them as unsuccessfully as my parents, and I can go ahead and judge that, because I know, for sure, that I will never again be a parent, but what makes them more successful than I could ever be, even when they are doing horrid things like furburizing their infant, is that they hold a belief that they have enough to provide the type of life they were raised to expect for their family. Whereas I can sit here, for myself, scribble a budget on a piece of scratch paper, and know, for certain, that it is impossible for me on a financial level. I can’t even afford a cat. I can’t even really afford to feed myself properly. Sure, I am alive. Sure, I eat better than the majority of Americans, but I am not in a position to reach my highest potential or highest genetic expression. You want to bring another life into this world, when I can’t even feed myself, because, oh, the oxytocin is going to overbalance the inevitable suffering that child will endure? You want to create more trash like me? You think you are different and it won’t happen to you because you are better than that?
No, these people are still sleeping, or are coming from very different perspectives. They are not coming from generations of abuse, neglect, and poverty.
You’ve come along on your journey. Screaming, without compassion, at idiots to roll up their sleeves and get to work, to be genuine, to be authentic, to stop trying to escape. You get out of abject poverty. You get out of abusive relationships. You finally get a real job. You start attracting different types of people into your life. People who are just as clueless, but these people lack any understanding of what it’s like to come from the bottom of the pound scum, and you can’t just scream at them, because in the eyes of society, these are the successful ones, the handful that haven’t been toppled off their pile of shit yet.
As you’ve stopped watching television, stopped listening to the radio, stopped playing video games, stopped reading the newspaper, limited your time shopping at large retail chains, stopped going out and giving away your resources, you realize the requirement for isolation grows. If you can find someone close enough to match your vibrational level, fantastic. It becomes increasingly difficult to manage that with more than one human being.
In any case, I am feeling very judged outside of work and home. Very, very judged. I have one friend that I have been able to continue to interact with after switching jobs without feeling like I am coming away coated in the black tar of everyone else’s “issues.” It’s as though everyone’s insecurities about themselves are being flung at me. “Oh, you mean an education doesn’t translate to a higher income? Oh, you mean hard work doesn’t pay off? Oh, my children and grandchildren could end up like you? Oh, you have a plan. You have a man. You could end up in a better place than me when you get to my age. You are too poor and the wrong size to find durable active wear so you just wear men’s clothes you got at the thrift store and you are okay with that? You are a fucking fatass, but you can out-hike me? You make a quarter of what I do, and have 4 times the debt, but you offer twice the gas money? You’re so smart that you make me uncomfortable, yet you went around begging for landscaping jobs because you were so broke? You are just shy of 200 pounds, but your waist circumference is smaller than mine? You ate 5 bananas as part of your breakfast?” What the fuck!?!
I am really bad at reading Mr. X, most of the time, but that is most likely because it has nothing to do with me. He’s still agitated, depressed, mad, etc… it’s just that I think it’s my fault when it’s not. However, I am probably right about a lot of the above. It’s just time to step away, take a deep breath, and know that more, and more wonderful people will be flowing into my life again. It’s just that this summer is going to be pretty asocial.
The universe keeps sending this message, through various sources, recently:
PRODUCE, CREATE MORE. CONSUME LESS.
Hence, here I am, before I eat breakfast, before I poop, finally posting to WordPress again, for the like two people who will look at this, and who will not read even this far.
More and more, I am considering, “How can I produce? What can I create? Will it be valuable to me? Do I need to bring it into the world to facilitate someone else’s journey?” Once upon a time, the music, art, writing had to come out, because there was a vital message that had to get out, part of it was coming through me, and part of it was me working through my shit and trying to work through shit of my ancestors, I feel especially through my maternal grandfather’s line and through Taylor’s line. I am sure somewhere back in the 1840s or so, we have a common ancestor. Anyhow…
I had this dream last night where Native Californians had blocked off my typical access to the back 40 of the property I was staying on. There were pop-up tents everywhere like at a market, and a temporary fence had been set up. There was a narrow trail left along the creek. One of the Wintu elders comes up to me as I step out of the back porch looking all perplexed and starts telling me how great it is now that the darkness is gone, referring, I assume, to someone who had held a great deal of political and monetary sway within the group of Native Californians in this part of the state. He looks incredibly young, mature, but nowhere near his 80+ years. It is as though it was this person’s abuse of power that had aged him the small amount he had been. I am thinking like, “look, for all intents and purposes I am white. I am a transplant. It just causes problems when I get politically involved with Native California stuff, and no one trusts me because I try to act as a mediary, so no one tells me anything, but I know people like you know that I know through my own means, and I am sorry if you have a beef with this property owner, but I take walks out here everyday, and I want to get permission to participate in the salmon run, but I wasn’t expecting my backyard to be fenced off..”
And he’s like, “Let’s go find “blah blah” (plant guy). It’s time to start teaching you. Of course you can participate in the salmon run now that the darkness is gone. No one can say anything that you are here. The fences are up because the guy that owns this property has been a jerk before about us camping out during the salmon run, so we thought we would like to give him a taste of what limited access feels like.”
Isn’t telepathy wonderful?
Then I wake up. There’s lots of possible interpretations to this, but I thought it was portent, because I have a great deal of respect for this person (and yet I feel it’s okay to be writing this here now, which normally I wouldn’t), and I never meet him in my dreams.
Then I had a dream that Jonathan had asked me to be in his wedding (even though he is already married). I am back east and this woman is from like Asheville, so that’s where the wedding is. I have never met this woman before, but in the dream, we became close friends after Jonathan met her, and that is why I am in the wedding party. Since the wedding is in Asheville all my cousins are there and then my sister, brother-in-law, mom and dad and Wisconsin cousins came too. I have no idea why, but they were there. The whole while I am just sort of wondering why I agreed to this because I at one time had a very emotionally intimate relationship with Jonathan. It was probably the last time I had been unguarded with anyone, and now I am at his wedding, as a bridesmaid? But I am like, “She is a very sweet and wonderful woman and is a much better and more fulfilling partner than I could ever be to him, and I love them both. So, I am uncomfortable. Oh fucking well.” I have this turtle picture that I finished in 2010, and as I began working on it, I knew that it was meant to be for Jonathan’s first born. In the dream, I had brought the picture with me, and was like, “I know how people hate at weddings when everyone is already talking about babies, but I am not coming back east for a long while. I hope you can take this finally and keep it for when the time is right. It doesn’t need to be sitting in my office.”
Both were such weird dreams. I now want to check on the health of this elder, and make sure we didn’t lose another amazing light-filled, wise soul, and check and see if Jonathan and his wife are expecting.
I feel bad to give away the picture, but it really doesn’t belong in my office, so I guess they should take it if they want. Otherwise, I need to find a new home for it.