An inexplicable heaviness, and the widening self.
Before I dive into the navel-gazing, LOOK AT THIS GLITCH EVENT! It's blue\x80, the
/`fu:bar/ expo-adjacent glitch art event happening in none other than Paris, France.
I regret to say that I won't be able to make this one or
/`fu:bar/, but I can say that it was easily one of the most fun, joyful experiences of my life, to sit around with a bunch of nerds, drink way too much, partake of completely legal drugs, and make glitch happen. If you're in the area, you should go.
Today I'm frustrated. The rain has finally come, literally; uniform gray skies drizzle with a liquid equilibrium. The coffee shop I'm in has the Slippery Caution Placard out, a glass on a table and a bus tub on the floor to catch the water that squeezes its way through the roof. I'm reading--or attempting to read--books on writing, and contemplating the goal of self-expression. To talk in stars, in my chart Saturn opposes my 1st house Moon; this is a dramatic symbolization of the fact that I always feel restricted, unworthy, pressured in anything to do with my self-expression.
Ironically (or, perhaps, obviously), I'm an improviser and a performer, and I'm surrounded by other performers constantly. People who seem to flower, to glimmer, to glow, and frolic with one another. I often feel like I don't fit in because I constantly feel like I am under a weight, a powerful vice that seems to say that it's either inappropriate, or unsafe, or unseemly, or in/um-something. And yet, I need expression; it squeezes itself out like a weed through concrete in furtive poems on Facebook, a shining acted moment, a pose I hope appears statuesque. In my newsletter.
The Knight of Cups, reversed: a task of the heart run awry. The Devil: a sensation of chains, stuck, bound to a lower nature. 7 of Wands, reversed: a call to release, to fail through, to surrender.
Many of my emotional aspirations are about becoming something else. Becoming more like those I admire: playful, free, unfettered. See, I know that I'm clever, quick-witted, and not too shabby-looking--but it's the weight that slows me down. The intensity and burning importance of the middle ground between me and other. The heaviness is what destroyed my relationship. I'm OK with that; the heaviness is not itself a problem. It's more like a stone in the middle of a trickling creek: I must find ways to widen myself. I want to expand my vision, my heart, and my self to be so broad as to blend the heaviness with lightness, and perhaps one day, chip away at it.
I think my restriction must be painful for others to witness. I stumble into conversations with people I want to know and immediately halt. In some ways, I became complacent and turned it into my posture, withholding and playing the silent card, hoping against hope that someone would notice me, see me. Of course, I know by now that that isn't how the universe works; what you hope for remains a hope.
I would be better served either leaning in, again, to effervescent aloneness, or to that elusive expansiveness. (I can't shake the feeling that this is all related to money, somehow. Or at least--my anxiety about money.) Most of all, I think it is about choosing something and committing to it with fervor. (And verve, and all that good stuff!) Here we are: the process in motion.
I'm not sure what the purpose of discussing all of this is, except to make a statement of my presence by sharing. I'm here to stay, so I'd better figure out how to be OK with the act of being here. I hope in some way, it opens something for you, too.
Anyway--this is cool: