Friday, April 22, 2011

But... go.

Vacation day, today. School's out for Good Friday.

Yesterday, I had plans about spending the day working on a composition that I just started last... week. Yeah. A week ago. Haven't worked on it since 'cause I spend so much time in bed, exhausted, often recovering from whatever it is that keeps me up for hours at night.

That was yesterday. I spent today... in bed. Exhaustion and headaches.

Maybe... maybe... I'll be able to write some music this evening. Maybe.


But here's the thing... Day after day, I feel like every day, my creativity is being stolen. That my life is being stolen. Stolen. A day gone; a chance gone. Gone and gone forever.

And I feel nothing. Yeah, I'm kinda darkened by it but, basically... nothing. No rage; no grief. And I don't think that's right.

Judy shares her rage at M.S. in haiku. I've been told I should express my feelings about my own condition in music.

I would, if I only had any.

But here's the thing... I know that my feet, my legs feel things as they always did. It's just that the message isn't getting through. I have to assume that I do have feelings about the losses that I'm living. They make me sad. They make me angry. They make me something... but they're just not "getting through." I feel them, somewhere deep; but at the top of my awareness, I don't feel them.

And that's not right.

And I don't know what to do about it.

Is it possible that I'm spending a lot of energy repressing everything? Probably. Do I know how to stop doing that, either? Nope.

The road I'm clinging to isn't working. Another road needs to be taken. The words that come to my mind as I type this are "Walk into the darkness. Embrace the void." Because sometimes, the way out of the darkness is through it.

And I don't know how to do that, either. The things one practices come so easily, and what have I been practicing? Denial. Avoidance. Clothed in high-mindedness; ah, such nice clothes. So comfortable. So well-fitting, so perfectly tailored. I make sure they fit perfectly--every day.

Funny, when the road becomes clear... by leading into darkness. When it says, "Go where you do not know where it will take you. Except... it's going to be unpleasant. You're not going to like it."

"But... go."


Peace Be With You said...

Thanks for the link to my poem. As I read your post where you say about expressing feeling, "I would, if I only had any," I wonder this: whether the unacknowledgement of the rage is the wall blocking the feeling that is still there. If being a music composer is anything like being a writer or an actor, it is the sometimes uncomfortable place of intense feeling that permits the most brilliant art. You say, "sometimes, the way out of the darkness is through it." I have this image that there is in me a huge reservoir of unexpressed art, physical capacity, etc. that if given free rein (even to the point of pain and darkness) might just help the healing process. It would be an ironic thing that an illness which actively deadens could only be healed through active pursuit of feeling intensely.


nicole said...

I'll meet you there.