Buddha's Burden

love, rage and the in-betweens

Will the death of the ego mourn itself only to give birth to a larger one?

All this new found self awareness has morphed me into a creature so defensive that I sometimes wonder if I should have just remained blissfully blind to all my flaws. I have convinced myself that with meditation and peace I can control my inherent loneliness into productivity, that I no longer need this community, that I am not aching to be held and I am not aching to be loved. I postpone this and say things like “it will happen when it needs to”, a mantra packaged as self-care, built to brainwash us into thinking that the Vitruvian being thrives in solitude. There is some truth in this unfortunately, discipline does good to a creature.

It is unfortunate for I have meditated enough for my primitivity to be silenced. It is unfortunate because I must be perfect or I must be nothing at all. My anger has been channeled into the ground below me - my body feels it more silently and I no longer recognise it at times. So the body often yearns for old familiar ways, to when she was free. But you see when a fire is lit, I offer it fuel. I guess the body reacts the way it is most familiar. The body hates all the people it is the closest to. The body will hate it all. See, the body has been poisoned. In my big body, I cry like a child. In the backseat of my parent’s car I am a wet cloth stuck to leather. Am I too old to paralyse myself like this? No, probably not, because I am god and you are you. I can cure myself. But no one can see this, no one can know this. Its all a protest, this raging silence that I punish you with. You have hurt me you fool, you flawed creature.

No, this is too erratic. Control is power. Bell Hooks was my Buddha. God is the same as love. If the life you live cannot seduce you then you know neither. But I am perverse with my god. I violate him often. Sometimes I eat a snack in bed after I brush my teeth just to test the limits, just to feel like I have broken some of my own rules. Because I am sick of being Buddha, this discipline is heavy and I can’t save you all. A rule is a ritual and a ritual is for the self, never for god. It is never for anything outside of the self - if it is then your god is false. They say if you meet the buddha on the road then kill him, am I to kill myself then? I must be forever in service of myself, of becoming and of my art. If I am to call myself an artist, am I not the weaver of a universe? I am not god for all nor do I want to be - I am only for myself. How selfish it is of me to become when I already am.