But in what? For what? I sometimes wonder if the people and events around me are mere fantasies, and This is actually the Bardo. I could blame it on a lack of sleep, but what passes for life these days is so sharp and remarkable that it could easily be an unreal state of transition. Perhaps I died last May, and what I thought was a monomyth is actually an intermediate existence, sort of like being a sophomore in high school, only without zits.
Possessed and caressed, I am. I feel drenched by the endless rain. The key is to keep moving no matter how hard the downpour; to stop means to drown in the pools of sorrow (or waves of joy, depending on your point of view). Sometimes the movement is a measured careen into oncoming traffic. Other times I really lose control. As I wrote a few days ago, it's capricious behavior — but really, who cares? The world as I always knew it ended in early 2011, when I became enchanted and was lost, or found. Everything from that time until now has been original, a life's trek through unmarked territory. Had I not become enchanted I would have missed out on so much life. Despite the scars the journey is worth it. It has led me to this place, where I stare into the clear light and appreciate the void and cloudless sky.
I sure hope I make the finals.