exfoliating words into the ether

There’s been something of a lull since my initially flurry of postings, perhaps as with most blogs, the initial novelty soon expires. The relative anonymity of these things is an encouragement to write, perhaps it’s an opportunity to express what goes by, normally without comment or expression. Perhaps it’s some kind of therapy, getting stuff off the chest so there’s a little more room for other stuff to come in, an exfoliation of things passed.

There is the opportunity for personal reflection but the shortcoming is that one ends up with a monologue rather than a dialogue and the sparks and flashes of a contrasting perspective, echoes of personal experience and so forth that might arise, unexpected.

Publicity is at odds with anonymity and inhibition so I have mentioned the blog to few of the people I know, not that I’ve been tempted to veer towards bitching or cathartic confessional. I don’t think I’m yearning for affirmation, fame or notoriety but am intrigued by the idea of comments arising from serendipity. There are however a lot of blogs in that sea and, not having anything particularly provocative that I want to say here, perhaps being merely mental, melancholic dandruff, there are unlikely to be that many nibbles, let alone followers!

dead man talking

In recent years, through bad health, betrayal and a myriad of other unfortunate circumstances I have increasingly found myself in a joyless, depressed, anxious place with rising panic in response to the rolling catastrophe of my day-to-day life, unable to do anything to redirect it to more pleasant pastures.

Depression and anxiety have been lifelong companions although I had found that meditation offered an alchemic method of rediscovering joy within this wasteland. Health problems have severely challenged this, subverting my efforts with struggle and so amplified a sense of panic of losing my principal means of digestion.

Last night's edition of ‘Feasts’, based in Mexico, however, offered me a fresh approach. It related how their celebration of El Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) was based on the ancient Aztec view that death was our true state of being whilst life was merely a fleeting, aberrant interlude. Whilst this might initially appear macabre and nihilistic, I found it (like the locals apparently do) strangely uplifting.

I found that embracing this view, relieved my life of the burden of unfulfilled promise, the claustrophobic struggle to repair what is falling apart and profound feeling of shame of my failure to achieve anything in that regard. At least, momentarily, this have given me a sense of joy and appreciation of the the things life is offering right now, freed from some of my expectations, however reasonable those might appear.

I should add, this is not entirely new to me as it seems consistent with the buddhist view of emptiness and that the nature of our minds is unborn and that, if we ease off clinging to the imagined permanence of things and denial of death we become more free to celebrate life for what it is rather than what we wish it were. However, within life’s turmoil, it has been easy to lose this perspective, amidst the pain, and this fresh view has renewed a heart connection and brought me some lightness of being to be a dead man talking.

[ Photo: A gogo gone dancer by Terry Jones http://twitpic.com/33sjm ]