The Revelation

22.12.13

The sun these days is gone before we get a chance to notice it.

This day, Sunday, I began with relative cheer, and worked languidly. It was enough to have a private audience with my darling and to see her face break into lines of smiles. At one point it almost felt satisfying. We consumed each others words and images greedily.

Again, we deconstructed, analysed, critiqued and proposed all manner of opinions on our budding relationship. Our anger, our passion, our frustration. We had shared a beautiful sunset, though she had to make do with the pixellated version. We felt close, gazed at each other, and let our hearts fill with each other.

And after it all, I was left empty again. Sometimes it is hard, there's no escaping it. But by the time I drove home, I was in poor spirits. I had worked sluggishly. The van packed on autopilot, motivation lost. I knew I should do more with my time. But it was late. And then the really negative thoughts began. Like a temptation of satan; seeping into my brain and spreading like a tumour. Eight months and then what. She will see you like this, then you know what happens. How long will you try to keep up the facade? You're not strong any more and you know it. The demon on my shoulder spoke to the darkness, and I was alone.

The cold rain made my windows fog from the inside, but I ran the wipers anyway. I thought of her. I became more sad.

I crept back into the house, where my father placed good food on the table and a warm welcome, but I could hardly make eye contact. I ate in silence and withdrew to my lair. I began to resent my own attitude. After all, what is there to complain about, really? Not a single physical problem, yet I see no light. I was ashamed of myself.

I began to realise what she meant by self-hate. Perhaps I also carry this strain of disease. More than I cared to admit. I wondered if perhaps we were ideally mis-matched. Perhaps we would only offer each other gloom. I wondered if it's true what the superstitious say, that there are negative demons. Maybe they were attached to she and I, and now they play together.

I reached for my virtual world, and found the connection dead. I was too ashamed to go and correct the online blockage.

I reached instead for the book. She had given me it. And strangely my mind rebelled against reading. It craved internet, oblivion, habit. Addiction. It was an almost visceral disgust with reading this book. I caught on to what was happening, and realised that were it not for the internet being down, I would have locked on to another couple of hours of oblivion in facebook and absurd cat photos. But there was no opportunity for my mind to do this. And so, some part of it rebelled and screamed... Interesting.

I closed my eyes and felt the sensation. I felt the pang of habit, held it aloft and examined it. Was ever a human urge so strong as an over-fed habit. I could see the habit in 3D in my mind's eye. It wriggled before me, like a maggot. It screamed and flipped. I realised I was on the verge of sleep. I allowed myself to breathe slowly, going ever so slightly under. Easily. I must have been tired. For how many hours was I in this unproductive, semi-zombie state?

How much of every day do I spend in this wasteland. Not mindful, but floating. Waiting. Of course. Always waiting for something, or someone. And my life slips by like that of a sleeper at a bus stop. I resisted sleep, meditated, and found I could flip my mind between states. Passive. Active. And there were more states, I felt. On the periphery of experience.

But as I concentrated, I felt these two mental states:

Passive. The unconscious slumping in front of the internet. The idle thoughts and half hearted work. The self which hates itself. The trailing off of enthusiasm. The black curtain. Unproductive consumption. The cave.

Active. The mindful state, the practice where intent, values, and purpose are focussed into a single beam. And as I held myself in this state, I felt her all around me. Her love, and my love for her, my beacon, my fuel. I used to burn in this state all the time, many years past. I used to be strong. My fires burned not only with love, but with righteous anger. They had been good days. Love, and rage.

I could have those days again. Or could I?

But how to maintain that, when a thousand pessimistic demons grasp for limbs, to pull you into the mud. A thousand parental curses echo through the years and hold you fast. Paralysis sets in and you turn to stone, slowly.

How to love, when fear is also present. It's nigh on impossible. Two opposites of the same continuum. How can I stay mindful when I feel her departure inevitable, some day. How can I stay on point, when I feel every criticism sting me so hard. She turns off my wipers. Some day she will have had enough.

I reminded myself of my exercise in this relationship. You are entitled to nothing. You will give selflessly. Maybe some day she will leave. So be it. You are strong enough not to be moved by her. Your deeper self was also not moved last time. You are her rock on which she may break her waves. But the rock never asked anything of the sea.

'I have had enough of that' my passive state screamed 'I am entitled to something – fuck that bitch, she will take it all! They always do! Have I not bled enough!'

Objectively, I listened to the fat, greedy maggot screaming. Impassionately, I crushed it.

How to live, and breathe, as love incarnate. That is the challenge. And then I heard my mind put forward two quotes, strongly.

'live for the sake of Allah'

followed quickly by another booming voice

'How could I not long for eternity. The ring of the return'.
The two fused into an understanding of divine love, creation itself, higher than any and without equal. And far above the religious sheep with their doctrines of hate and jealousy. Without a deity – who has need for idols? Only existence itself, in raw, bloody technicolor. The affirmation of life in all its tragedy, pain and beauty.

And for a moment there burned a love so bright that I knew I could use it to light my way, keep my focus. And that I was closer to full strength than I had realised. The demon shrank away, taking with him the spirit of gravity which had tainted me.

I came crashing out of my train of thought, suddenly awake. The whole process had taken seconds. Perhaps less.

'Well, that was weird'. I thought. And began writing.