The Door

It doesn't matter what I do, what I think, what I feel, how much I try, how much I believe, how much I want. It doesn't matter whether I meditate, whether I visualize, whether I claim. It doesn't matter if I sprinkle fairy dust on myself and jump from the window, or if I follow the rules and take a more sensible approach...

I have believed with my entire being and worked at keeping all negative thoughts from my mind. I've chanted, prayed, meditated, and tapped myself raw. I've Norman Vincent Pealed and Secreted and Universed and Gratituded myself until I'm riddled with spiritual/mental/emotional indigestion and still, I continually come back to this place of abandonment, this feeling of being closed out of life. When I open my eyes and look around, I find that I'm still standing outside a door that no one and no-thing will allow me to enter. It's like a bad acid trip, or being raving mad with brief moments of lucidity. It's exhausting. It will pass, I know, but every time I wake up and find myself here I feel just that much more disillusioned, just that much more baffled, just that much more beaten down.

I don't want to hear about Mercury retrogrades, astrological transits, karma, or universal lessons anymore. I just want to open this door and get inside where it's warm and safe, and where I can get off the street. There's more than just physical homelessness to reckon with in this life. As above so below, as the saying goes, and I've been homeless in this regard for most of my life. I don't care why, I just want this damned door to open.

I probably shouldn't post when I feel like this, but there you go. It's all part and parcel of who I am, and sometimes I just have to take off the red rubber nose so that I can breathe. And I want this blog to represent me in all my humanity, glory and buffoonery alike.