I have been running away from myself for a few weeks now. I first noticed it when I began to break my morning routine. Usually when I wake up I do my Ayurvedic oilpulling (google that) for twenty minutes, drink a large glass of filtered water with two teaspoons of apple cider vinegar, meditate with the Buddha for thirty minutes and then walk outdoors for another thirty minutes. I then feel invigorated and happy and can face the world head on with no fear or concern. Lately, however, I've been racing out of my house as fast as I can upon awakening.
I don't like how all this feels, this change. I have been weaning myself off my antidepressant for three months now, which means my serotonin level in my brain is at an all time low. This is the first time I've actually weaned properly, where I reduce my dose by ten mg every two weeks. I have three more days at five mg and then I'm finished with this med. I've been on antidepressants for twenty-two years and I want to give my body a break from pharmaceuticals. I have attempted to quit the antidepressant before but I never did it properly before now, so previously I would end up building up to such an internal rage and overwhelming sadness that I invariably went back on the med. This time, however, I've been weaning properly and have mostly felt really good about it. The reduction has all gone fairly smoothly, until now.
Now I just want to go out and spend money I don't have and order expensive fresh juices at juice bars. I haven't been exercising and I am dreading Mother's Day because I am worried about the possibility of not hearing from my thirty-two year old son. He and I have not been getting on well for the last two years and even though he's always taken me out for brunch on Mother's Day I am not so sure I will even hear from him this year. Mother's Day is fast upon us, this coming Sunday, and honestly, I don't know how well I can bear not hearing from him if he doesn't call. I don't want to feel this possibility at all so I've been running away from me. More fresh green juice here, please, and more new shoes. I need more money, too, while we're at it. More money to spend on new ear plugs and punk rock shoes.
I don't know if it's the low serotonin level in my brain that is causing me to feel so apprehensive and angry and flighty. I am completely aware of how to start to remedy this desire to escape myself and yet I have been refusing to do it. There's a part of me that likes being a bad girl who refuses to do what's good for me. I have this unrelenting streak of rebellion that has always refused to go to bed or accept other people's suggestions and solutions to my seeming dilemma. In fact, this rebelliousness can be so strong I simply flat out refuse to consider any alternatives to it other than just allowing it to run its course. Talk about headstrong. "Don't start with me. You will not win." Mmmmhmmm...
So, I've been saying Fuck You to me. Part of me has been enjoying that and another part of me is loathing the inevitable outcome: extreme anxiety and major depression caused by this behavioral fuck you addiction. No wonder I've been running away from me. I know too much about myself and why I'm running. If I stay in one place then there I am again...in my pain of simply being...
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Friday, April 11, 2014
El Che's Heart
Commandante Ernesto Che Guevara once said, "Let me say, at the risk of seeming ridiculous, that the true revolutionary is guided by great feelings of love." There is no ridiculousness in his idea here at all, not even one bit, and yet, at the time he said it, revolutionaries were certainly not speaking of love but of war, hence the risk he mentions. He stood out in the forefront of so many other revolutionaries because of his deep love for humanity and it was his great love that threatened the US government so much. Governments can't have popular revolutionaries with hearts full of love at the end of the day, apparently, especially the US government.
Every picture I have ever seen of Che shows this deep love in his eyes, and it is this uncompromising love that caused him to be such a beautiful human being. He was never afraid to let his deepest self show through and so many were drawn to him for this. His love was never hidden or disguised in any guile or display of machismo or ego. His love was full on at all times and especially in his fight for freedom.
Today I've been calling on his spirit to uplift mine, in the face of all the grave injustices of the world, all the sadness and pain caused by human suffering, to give me the hope and inspiration and strength to carry on my own fight against oppression in every direction. Today I have felt deep sorrow as I've contemplated what we humans do to one another in both our personal lives and in the theater of war, how cruel we are to one another and to our animal relatives, and how destructive we are to Mother Earth. I've been overwhelmed with grief in my awareness of how far reaching is the arm of human greed and madness. So I continue to call upon Che's heart to see me through this devastation and to lead me further into action for peace and justice everywhere I turn.
Che's heart and spirit knew no bounds and moved forward even in discomfort and exhaustion. He didn't allow himself the luxury of stasis or complaint and lifted up his comrades whenever he saw them flagging. He knew intrinsically what must be done, to move forward no matter the cost to him. And here I grieve over my own small challenges, my own emotional doubt and suffering, my own small world of Geraldine, when my Irish sisters and brothers are being flung into prisons in Ireland daily, often for nothing more than speaking out or standing in opposition to the British system; when my Native American sisters and brothers are continually marginalized, abused and imprisoned simply for existing and questioning the American system; when my African American brothers and sisters are being incarcerated daily simply for being unwhite and in defiance of racism; when my sisters are being mutilated and raped all over the world by males; when my homosexual sisters and brothers are being discriminated against, attacked and beaten or killed all over the world for simply being homosexual....when does it ever end? Our generation has no special corner in the arena of human suffering nor has any generation. It is the plight of humanity from conception, samsara and suffering.
El Che walked with his comrades over many mountains and down through many valleys, always putting one foot in front of the other, always moving, always led by his heart so committed to the revolution. He never faltered until he was cut down. And nonetheless, his heart still lives on in every single one of us, never dying, the rhythm of the drum inside our veins leading us to find a way toward his great love, our love, our movement toward true peace and justice, the alleviation of our suffering.
So I sit in daily meditation, seeking to simply allow my own heart to live, to send my blood through every vein and back again, keeping rhythm with all other beings, and allowing myself to fully feel the compassion I've so often run away from and refused to give myself or others. By sitting with my breath I know I do not want the gun but only peaceful revolution, one breath of healing at a time.
Every picture I have ever seen of Che shows this deep love in his eyes, and it is this uncompromising love that caused him to be such a beautiful human being. He was never afraid to let his deepest self show through and so many were drawn to him for this. His love was never hidden or disguised in any guile or display of machismo or ego. His love was full on at all times and especially in his fight for freedom.
Today I've been calling on his spirit to uplift mine, in the face of all the grave injustices of the world, all the sadness and pain caused by human suffering, to give me the hope and inspiration and strength to carry on my own fight against oppression in every direction. Today I have felt deep sorrow as I've contemplated what we humans do to one another in both our personal lives and in the theater of war, how cruel we are to one another and to our animal relatives, and how destructive we are to Mother Earth. I've been overwhelmed with grief in my awareness of how far reaching is the arm of human greed and madness. So I continue to call upon Che's heart to see me through this devastation and to lead me further into action for peace and justice everywhere I turn.
Che's heart and spirit knew no bounds and moved forward even in discomfort and exhaustion. He didn't allow himself the luxury of stasis or complaint and lifted up his comrades whenever he saw them flagging. He knew intrinsically what must be done, to move forward no matter the cost to him. And here I grieve over my own small challenges, my own emotional doubt and suffering, my own small world of Geraldine, when my Irish sisters and brothers are being flung into prisons in Ireland daily, often for nothing more than speaking out or standing in opposition to the British system; when my Native American sisters and brothers are continually marginalized, abused and imprisoned simply for existing and questioning the American system; when my African American brothers and sisters are being incarcerated daily simply for being unwhite and in defiance of racism; when my sisters are being mutilated and raped all over the world by males; when my homosexual sisters and brothers are being discriminated against, attacked and beaten or killed all over the world for simply being homosexual....when does it ever end? Our generation has no special corner in the arena of human suffering nor has any generation. It is the plight of humanity from conception, samsara and suffering.
El Che walked with his comrades over many mountains and down through many valleys, always putting one foot in front of the other, always moving, always led by his heart so committed to the revolution. He never faltered until he was cut down. And nonetheless, his heart still lives on in every single one of us, never dying, the rhythm of the drum inside our veins leading us to find a way toward his great love, our love, our movement toward true peace and justice, the alleviation of our suffering.
So I sit in daily meditation, seeking to simply allow my own heart to live, to send my blood through every vein and back again, keeping rhythm with all other beings, and allowing myself to fully feel the compassion I've so often run away from and refused to give myself or others. By sitting with my breath I know I do not want the gun but only peaceful revolution, one breath of healing at a time.
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Starting Over
Over the last few months I've done a great deal of sorting through stuff--clothes, shoes, household items and books, and it feels quite liberating. It is Springtime, after all, and time to let go of anything that doesn't work anymore. Imagine my surprise today when I visited my old blog and was denied access! I tried and tried to get in but this site insists that I have no prior blog. I can go to my old blog's domain but I cannot access it to post or edit so in the spirit of Spring I am letting it go, too, even though I think its original name, Greenblood's Veins, was perfect when I came up with it. Apparently, not anymore!
As I am typing, my youngest cat, Smokio, is licking my head, over and over, grooming me, his mama. He is still something of a kitten at fourteen months so I humor him by sitting mostly still in my big recliner while he is perched on top. It actually feels sweet, his ministrations, and I close my eyes from time to time, realizing I am really a giant cat in human form, purring and relaxing in the sun streaming in through the living room window. There is nothing more I need in this world but light and feline dreams. Thank heavens I am no longer employed in construction! I relax these days, and write anything that comes to mind. Yes, I am starting over with my writing and it is a very fine feeling, this new Spring.
As I am typing, my youngest cat, Smokio, is licking my head, over and over, grooming me, his mama. He is still something of a kitten at fourteen months so I humor him by sitting mostly still in my big recliner while he is perched on top. It actually feels sweet, his ministrations, and I close my eyes from time to time, realizing I am really a giant cat in human form, purring and relaxing in the sun streaming in through the living room window. There is nothing more I need in this world but light and feline dreams. Thank heavens I am no longer employed in construction! I relax these days, and write anything that comes to mind. Yes, I am starting over with my writing and it is a very fine feeling, this new Spring.
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