I don’t run this human, I just work here…inputs and outputs…sweetness
More adventures in “I don’t run this human, I just work here.”
Over the last few days, I finished a scene I’d been struggling with for a while, and it went better than great. Just lovely. One of those “ah yes, you ARE an actual writer” moments, where all the random-ass bullshit I put myself through lines up and I get to write waaaay above my known skill level without fucking it up.
But I didn’t know what to write after that. That was fine. I probably needed a day to reorganize my thoughts anyway. I did a bunch of mundane shit yesterday. It was fine. I sat down to write, suddenly felt down, did my normal things to try to sort myself out, failed, gave it up and took a bath, finally went to bed.
This morning I woke up, felt worse, decided not to go for a walk but to do extra yoga instead, but first to finish a video from my queue, one on complexity (the math stuff). The subconscious me kicked in, grabbed most of the mental resources, and ran it hard.
…
Input: tail end of last night’s melancholy + a video on complexity.
[Black box processes involving yoga and a new dance move]
Output: Need to know the difference between Turkish delight/lokum, taffy, and marshmallows, STAT. And I need a candy thermometer, some lavender, and a bunch of honey. Maybe some bitters. Do I have bitters? I do not. I *do* have chili powder, though. So maybe chocolate chili lokum, lavender honey lokum, grapefruit lokum? I don’t have grapefruit. Added to list.
…
This makes perfect sense to me, somehow. Ray laughed at the dance thing when I showed her. I’m going to hurt tomorrow. I know how to start the next scene in the WIP now, but not how to end it (fair). I wrote down stuff as I was doing yoga and dancing. It sort of looks like poetry, but it’s really more a series of outputs that one feeds back into the program until it’s “done” than anything else, so it will probably make about as much sense as the babbling of a person on hallucinogens. There’s more still to “run” but it feels like I have the maximum amount of stuff I can handle in my processing queue, and I’ll need to write fiction, heal up from the new dance thing, and make a bunch of Turkish delight before I can “run” the rest. I have a headache but most of the knot at the base of the neck is gone.
…
Here’s what I wrote while I was in the middle of whatever it was:
Is this bearable?
Is this something I’ve always been bearing?
–Tears, it is true enough, that
I’ve always been punished for.
Anger and grief–joy, too–
the long dance of aeons–
the impermanence of froth
Fafnir eating the universe–ouroboros–
the white wyrm whose blood
speaks all tongues, snake handling,
–the vampire queen who dances with snakes
in that old Rodriguez movie–
all things that rise must converge
but down at the floor there is fungus
there are cuts, infections, fertilizations
–it feels, it hurts, that to open one door
is to close another, but no–
all great things are true.
hot flashes, backaches, tears and sweat
electric oceans controlled by mudra–hand signs–
there is no risk, no doubt, yet unknowing
it can be released. there is no ending.
in between safety & security there must be stretch & flow
the grief of the world, the fear, the sorrow,
deep down you know, there is no ending.
–not heaven’s light, nor hell’s suffering–only sweetness
that mingles with fire, with laughter, with sorrow.
…
Now that I reread this, I can see how the flavors line up:
–Just plain sweetness: lavender honey.
–Fire and sorrow: chocolate chili (they go together today, mentally).
–Laughter: grapefruit (I’m going to candy some peel; it makes the mouth feel funny).
I started out with my chest hurting; then my back hurt and I had a massive hot flash (at the place referenced). Then I “got” the dance move just after the “stretch & flow” line; something new let go, down around the base of the spine. I tried a dead-man’s pose after this; with knees up and arms over my chest, I can now touch the floor all the way up. With legs and arms down, there are arches at the base of the spine and across the shoulders. The move is that thing that hula dancers do that makes you “wait, no, that’s not how it works, is it? ahahahaha.”
I’m getting better at the belly roll, still not professional level. I now have a hope in hell of doing the sinuous side-to-side thing, although it currently fries my brain.
The name of the Rodriguez movie is “From Dusk Till Dawn,” and the dancer is Salma Hayek. I don’t practice mudras while I meditate or anything, but I kept making the same gesture while dancing so I looked it up: Shuni mudra seems the closest, but not exact. I’ll check it out more later.
Yeah, I dunno. It’s been a long time since I’ve been *like* this, other than a few bits and pieces that break through no matter how much I fight it. I shut it down around the ex, that’s for sure. A bunch of people have told me now that I’m just more aware of this stuff happening, but it happens either to them or to people they know. I think I’m just going to stop worrying about it. Other people practice religion; I get this, whatever it is, connecting random-ass shit in big intuitive leaps, maybe.
Later today: groceries, class videos, words. Goth Girl’s up next.
…
I particularly liked this selfie.
A bee of sweetness.