| Subject: Oregano, Rosemary, and Time |
Author:
Chris
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Date Posted: 23:18:52 03/24/01 Sat
In reply to:
Cassie
's message, "This timeless instant yes!" on 16:57:04 03/24/01 Sat
Okay, this porch is a good view to some serious fireworks: big red bursts raining into the water, huge blossoms of fire, and this Red Zinger tea Cassie and Gill have poured me, spiked with Southern Comfort.
Tonight I was able to take a walk and work through a good Chris piece from this latest exchange, which I'll add to our soup so my flavor can be present.
In my timeless exhaustion, where I am fallen out the back of so many years of selfless dreaminess and merging with the other in shocked self-hatred, I find I can taste my being here right now. Tasting is what consciousness makes possible. Tasting tea, tasting terror - and everything in between. Hell, tasting my stapler....
Okay. Yesterday, reading your initial post Cassie, I stopped tasting and zipped into fear and my orbiting mind, as I imagined you might be hurting badly.
I spoke my messages to you from a zone of fear, hysteria, calm numbness, and deep worry that you might not be okay.
Then today, I felt ashamed at recommending therapy (it seemed invasive and unasked for, and after Gill's affirming e-mail, I felt like I had failed to just feel you where you are), and, ashamed, I self-consciously sipped blood tea and did my best to make amends.
Going for a walk, I discovered that I was suspended from the start in my survival strategy of suspended hysteria, and, as a result, was failing to taste my being here now, with you.
The pain of not being here - of being suspended in my mind - was, I noticed, enormous.
And I've learned that I need to taste first, think later.
I wish I could go back in time, and re-read your cry, and taste it. And then, on my way home, to taste my response. And then to hold all of that, and feel it to the ground. Not run to the rescue, but to go have a drink somewhere, and keep feeling it, tasting the whole thing.
As it is, I did my best to hold you - but looking back, I'm not fully there: I'm trying, based on really early life-patterns - I'm trying to make sure you stay here and don't kill yourself, like my father did. That's where I was coming from. But I didn't know it. And so, in stark fear, I panicked, and offered the therapy.
Another thing I do in that zone where I fear for the other's well being is to automatically hate myself. I realize now that had I waited before replying to taste everything, one of the things I would have been tasting is my own self-hatred, no matter if I responded to you or not. Anything I would have done would have been wrong. Such is the nature of my self-hatred.
Well, that this all fell open today in record time leaves me astonished at the recognizing power of consciousness. Just astonished.
I hope you can see that in saying all of this, I am restoring myself to my sense of taste. I cannot afford to allow myself to merge with others out of terror of their coming to harm, or my own. Instead, I must taste you as you are, and taste myself, here, exactly as I am.
I am so glad that you have felt seen here, and that you are here in you totality. As I am not the doctor I play on television, I realized tonight that to complete my being here with you for real, I need to articulate this piece.
And I may need to wait a day or more to respond to people, at times perhaps take a week off, so that I may be sure I am tasting this delectable soup, and this red, red tea. If I disappear for awhile, it is because I have spoon in hand, and am moving my tongue around.
I must be here. I must taste this contact and take whatever time I need to do so. Nothing less will do, for I am a chef.
Love,
Chris
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