Time To Stop Running
I’ve been running since forever. Running and running and running. Running away from things and running towards others. Running away from people and places only to run into others, of course.
I can’t stop, you see. It’s how I survived the abuse. Yet I know I have to stop, and in doing so that I will ‘remember’ the rest of what was done to me as a kid. It’s shit – knowing you have to go further into darkness before you can emerge into the light.
Yet emerging into the light, shaking off the last of the psychic scar-tissue wrought in the screams and supressed rage and sadness and hate of my childhood – these things I know I must do. I must do them for myself, but that is transitory. I must do them for others, which is a part of my path as a Buddhist. And, I must do them for I made a pact with the universe to do so. That was before I was a Buddhist but after I was an atheist. It’s the same as the Bhodhisattva vow.
Yet I can’t do it. I can’t stop. I have forgotten how to sit, how to meditate. I used to know how but I am scared to do it. I am scared to remember, to heal, to be healed. I am scared of the void that appears in my mind when I try to think in positive terms about the future. There is nothing there.
Except to find a partner and have kids and get enlightened. Which is a nice impossible dream that keeps me running …