An Excruciating Night of Sucked Guts

Ask me how many times I have started this blog in my head already this morning and I’ll answer, “hella”.   Now it’s ten forty eight am and I’m sitting at Gaylord’s cafe on Piedmont Avenue, blasting harp music in my headphones so that I’m not rubbed too raw by the loud rock and roll they’re playing.  I don’t have a lot more rawness left to rub.  I’m drinking peppermint chamomile tea to soothe my nerves.  I only got about four hours of sleep last night and they were wrought with dense, shadow-strewn dreams of corpses and addictions and secrets.

 

Last night I turned off the lights, crawled into bed and called Ed.  For the first half an hour, our conversation danced along on the surface, like a graceful waterski show.   And then the quintessential part of me who feeds on plumbing the depths and divulging truths growled up from inside me and slobbering, demanded a meat-laden bone to gnaw on.  “Tell me something…”, I sang to Ed.  Yes, my voice at this point was still saturated to dripping with oxytocin induced contentment.  “I mean something REAL… Like how are you feeling about me and T (his wife)?  What do you really want?”

 

And then the gears officially shifted and my guts sucked in on themselves as he offered, “I want coffee AND milk… I want you both.”  Now, I know that actions speak louder than words and given his sustained, covert care to maintaining BOTH worlds, I SHOULD HAVE REALIZED THIS.  Maybe I did.  I am seeing that there truly is no single, solid “I” who is always in my driver’s seat.  Sometimes it is “Saint Mary Athena” (haha I find that title brilliant and so funny btw), sometimes it is a tiny, desperate child version of me who is clenched in the perceived threat of abandonment.  Sometimes “I” am an unbridled and lust drunk temptress…or a freewheeling master of joyful play… in some sacred moments I am a clear channel of universal love, compassion and wisdom.

 

Anywayz, back to the part about my guts imploding.  It was actually quite brilliant, if I was to take on the role of the impartial observer.  Such a powerful feeling… like the entire core of my body, from my pussy all the way up to my heart was being sucked into its own surprise black hole.  And props to me for staying so awake in the immediacy of the sensation.  You see, I had been living in the delusional, cotton candy-rainbow construct that it was only a matter of time before Ed would leave his wife for me and ride me into the orgasmic splash of painfully vivid colors formerly known as sunset on his whiter than thou clydesdale unicorn, where we would proceed to live happily-er ever after than even the most sickeningly blessed fairytale heroes and heroines…

 

I know, that’s ridiculous.   But god, this socio-tribal programming seems as hard as herpes to shake sometimes!!!!  And you could stand OVER THERE, in YOUR hip, designer moccasins and peer into my world and think to yourself that my current life circumstances are the perfect textbook case of so many contemporary, garden variety neurosis and cliches.   They are.  But I’ll tell ya WHAT- from inside, the landscape looks way different than the ariel view of tidy, strategically placed topiaries and rectangular cuts of lawn.  And furthermore, I am not your average victim of circumstance.  I am one who has a foot firmly planted in each world.  One in the Play, and one in glorious calm of pure consciousness.  Om namah shivaya!

 

I have said to myself on more than one, more than seven, even MORE THAN A HUNDRED occasions, that above all else, I want Self Realization.  I want to suck from the maha jugular of all meaning and purpose here on planet earth.  Sure, there are infinite games, and endless landscapes of play… but only ONE that is of any real value.  Awakening.

 

A Course in Miracles teaches that in Reality, this is the ONLY purpose, concealed within the heart of every lesson, every challenge, every circumstance of life: to forgive and reveal the true oneness of Love.

 

I tried to remember that while I was on the phone with Ed last night, feeling like I was dying… Or was it the feeling LIVING?  How does one go about telling the difference?  Honestly, it doesn’t matter.  What matters is that by the Grace of God, I was pressed right into the roaring center of my own bullshit fantasies and it terrified me.  (Haha, listen to this: this guy just walked into the cafe and set his stuff down at the empty table next to me.  He looked at me and grinned HARD.  “Are you thinking,” he asked me.  I nodded a fervent yes!  Still beaming, he said he could tell that I was deep in the throes of my own world in that moment.  Ahhhh… praise the simple truth of connection.  It always trumps all of the isolated worlds that we are constantly building and destroying in our addicted little minds!  Grin.)

 

So now what?  Oh yeah, I was terrified as I confronted my own bullshit as reflected back to me by the “archangel Gness” (Ed).  What the hell else even happened in the conversation after that?  It’s not coming back to me right now, and as you may already know, I’m not always a fan of the play by play recount approach to story telling.  Now is the juncture in this confessional where I ask myself what is truly important?

 

What is truly important is that I just took a deep breath.  What is truly important is that while I want Ed to be my husband and baby daddy and knight-in-shining-officer-of-the-peace-uniform, I can’t honestly stand for that delusional outcome with full conscience.  I know his life is complicated.  I know that his family is an imperative and pervasive aspect of who he is.  I know he loves his wife, and that their bland dissatisfaction is a result of inherited beliefs and values and strategies of a limping and terminally ill relational paradigm, of which I am [almost] as infected as the next bloody-handed mistress.  So?

 

So, Ed made it abundantly clear that A) HE LOVES ME ENTIRELY FROM THE DEPTSH OF HIS SOUL and B) that he’s just as strewn with schizophrenic voices and conflicting motivations as the next kinked tangle of conditioned selfhood.  He said if he was made to choose, it would be me, hands down… and yet…

 

I know Eddie…  Thirty years, two kids, extended family and friends and…and… and… a fuck load of life gets tamped down into a dense brick in thirty years.  And then there’s the million dollar question:  If he was fully available, would I even want him with the same full throttle, exponentially-cylindered gravity?  I doubt it.

 

I doubt that my desire would be laced with the same aching intensity… but I DON’T doubt that I would be deeply satisfied by a life in sacred partnership with him!  Fuck no!  We resonate on SO MANY LEVELS.  He’s my best friend and playmate, my sexy, SOULFUL lover, my fellow seeker and sacred servant… I have *never* felt such worlds within me move and become and dance as I do loving with this man….

 

Live,

A

 

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Geoffrey
    Feb 28, 2013 @ 09:32:00

    crikey Athena, the kind of love you seek and indeed deserve, cannot be shared – just my view with the benefit of a lot of hindsight 🙂

    Reply

  2. Darrell Robinson
    Feb 28, 2013 @ 23:09:38

    I remember how deftly you mined your way into my soul the first time we talked. I tried to show you only surface, but your intention and your lovingly-challenging questions gently scooped beneath the veneer. You never dug hard enough to hurt, but just enough that in a few moments, on a summer day, in the sunshine at the park…a little of *me* was exposed…to both of us!

    Ed never had a chance. 🙂

    As I sit with this conversation-moment you have shared (besides wondering if you are more coffee or more milk), I notice I have taken several deep breaths as I look across my life reflected in the shards of past relationships, and I feel the joy and fear that stand side-by-side in every such moment as the one you described.

    The REAL thing that I have to say after reading your words is that I love you in a way that I never could have before you scratched off a little of my surface, and I want you to know that I am here–not here on my butt on the side of my bed–but here, in every non-local way that means silently with you.

    I know you will taste every morsel of this experience and walk away with its secret ingredient…

    Darrell~

    PS: I think coffee. Much less “acceptable”, but way more interesting!

    Reply

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