Krishna's Planet

My little Hare Krishna Life & Death book explains it this way: The impersonalists leave the atmosphere of the Earth. They visit many planets, and stay for some time. They experience vast and untranslatable things. (In fact, I do not even remember all of the things I have experienced, much less have I experienced all of the things that have happened to 'me'.) Eventually, the impersonalists fall to earth- what a jolt!- without experiencing Krishna's eternality, his endless and timeless pleasure.

The personalists, on the other hand, have a personal love for Krishna. They worship at his feet. They pass the other planets, or perhaps visit with them, but know that those planets only grant differing variations on the life-decay-death scheme, and they continue on to Krishna's planet. Upon arriving, they stay forever.

The book contains no ideas on how one might begin this communion with Krishna, except through chanting. I'm curious because I myself left the atmosphere of Earth & found the Eternal Night Garden, the Heaven of Paths, the subjugation of all of my desires to one, with in its infinite wisdom purged and satiated me. And then it ended! Or rather, it didn't, as it had never "begun," yet certainly I no longer had my eyes open in its kingdom. Why?

It may have been a simple issue of timing, and yet it feels more logistical. I ran out of fuel. Partway to the planet, running on vapors, bailing out of the lander. I feel extremely vacuous. I know I don't have the "fuel" to make it the whole way. In fact, the way stretched out before me like a room crossed halfway each time--the last moments were the most critical to get through, the last minute was as thick as glue. don Juan: "You need drugs to provide the final amount of energy." But I have lost confidence that I am actually going somewhere reachable, to a real perch. I know drugs could extend my energy and concentration hours more, but it would just be more. Not everything, just more. I know I'm not running my life properly, often, but when I do run it well I ascend so quickly but on a staircase so rickety that I'm back to my starting point in mere hours or days.

So now I expect nothing. This is part wisdom, mostly fear. I still want badly to be perfect. My body is a suction cup, siphoning on to energy sources--lovers, people--using them to hold me up somehow, give me structural support. They won't, mostly, but I quietly build bridges of my thoughts, of my created and fantasized material about them, and use it for support. It works, mostly. It gives me something to hang on to.

More Feelings in Your Soup

I guess I must talk about my feelings more. Namely, that I am sick of greying them out like I do; sick and angry!
I feel like folks schooled me in not having or expressing strong emotion. I am careful to keep all things very casual, including relationships, as everyone else seems to. Sometimes they are not casual for me and I feel very strong love. May I say so?

I talk with Lewis and sometimes I cry and he doesn't seem to mind. I cry because I'm scared, and I think of the past and I feel doubtful.

I try to keep in mind that I chose my life as it is now, and no one forced me to it. Nobody took away anything from me, either; I chose to end those things. I do not know if my reasons were good or not.

I taught myself all my life to be stoic in dramatic matters. It seemed really noble to me, since my parents were out of control. In relationships, too, and when others attempted to hurt me, I have always strived toward total nonreactiveness. "It doesn't matter," is a theme, but not neccessarily a real deep-seated belief that brings joy.

I've been around the block a couple times and I don't have the same naive as I did before, but I am still aching to experiece the marrow of life, and to go back and get at the blood and beauty of all the past situations, too.

I went to Millenium Park in Chicago, IL today and saw the two brick towers that water streams down. Each tower, on its facing side, has a video that runs of a child's face, mostly still but then moving in an expression. The two faces speak to each other or move and grin or sometimes spit water out.

Above the brick towers there is a balcony overlooking a restaurant's outdoor area and it holds a giant statue of a reflective bean/blood cell shape. The surface is so shiny as to look almost like a flat living photo of the things behind it. It is incredible.
It is a very good statue for a city because its outside surface shows a huge, curved panorama, but inside, as you walk under in the curve, it shows just yourself and your friends and you become the stars of the show. I think it nicely contrasts the way of being part of something extraordinarily large and the way that enables a total focus on just oneself and one's peers.

Greyed & Broken Links of Sky

I am longing. I spend a lot of time in analysis, in sputtering through past memories, but barely glazing their emotional surface.
The things in my near past bring warm tears to my eyes if I merely discuss them for a minute or two.
But for the most part, I am good at feeling nothing. Depression is 'nothing.' Anxiety is 'nothing.' But mostly, I spend my days feeling worn out, bored, and uncomfortable. These are not emotions. They are states of non-emotion.

I would like, perhaps, to feel again but haven't any idea how to start. I can tell you why I stopped. I reached the point where (through feeling my feelings & loving my self) I had moved beyond needing to experience many of my feelings. But since I did not stay there in that mental place, I returned and again had feelings, yet could not or would not acknowledge them. What is wrapped up in feelings? Joy, and sadness. I feel both of these, yet neither.

Inventory

I'd like to get two piercings in each ear w/ silver rings and one in my nose (right side); chest surgery and then get my chest tattooed with lines; more body hair (on my belly especially), be in very lithe and muscular with no body fat.

I am still so disoriented with this female body, no matter how I have tried to become used to it.

Hearts & wire & clover

I love you I love you I love you I love you

I had forgotten how to breathe lately
I still don't know how, completely.

I felt like life required batches of courage such that I was overwhelmed and left
beached and worthless, empty shell of courage on the tides.
I would cough up ocean-water and then the water would be swept away on its business on the other side of the world, and I would be drowning dry on this beach.
Is that really what happened? Did God go & abandon me, leaving me to find company
among mollusks and insentience?

I miss you I miss I wish you;

wings of desire; nod of knowledge,

Chicagoland

escaped from the parents in central maine, took a train to a city full of tracks
What is it about trains--perhaps they remind me of dinosaurs.

Is it fair to devote one's life to the complete study and knowledge of a scientific field of study, without pausing to take into account complex social or emotional issues?

Could I excuse myself into a life of studying paleobotany?

Deathbringer

she's got five wings on
five eyes
that stick out like needles
in a pincushion

& there's very little that can be said about it
there's very little but the knives that are stuck in the soil
there's very little blood, really

and she's knocking on the wooden door
she's got four fingers wrapped up in a fist
she's got four fingers against the door
i can't resist

she's got me crushed into blood

i can't come white & sheetlike in the blonde sapphire breezez
i can't come clean in my own hands
i got on top of a wooden crate & looked
in 3 directions over the levee
& found the tugboat & shlepping white flags
waving skulls & crossbows against the darkening indigenous skies