114

4/30/02




My shoulder is broken. The pain is very bad and has been for the last couple of days, only helped by medications, hot baths and healing/cleansing rituals. Sage burning has helped me to relax better than anything else I have tried.



As I think back now, I wonder what really happened to my soul at one certain point. The point after realization of the impending impact and before the impact itself. A gulf of nothingness can be remembered of that night. The car accident that sent me into the dashboard cracking bones in my shoulder and crashing my face into the glass. I believe that this would be the only time I would careen into the back of a parked ambulance in the middle of the road. No brakes, no time and it was 3 am. I cried like a baby and was truly embarassed when the paramedics loaded me onto the stretcher. I feel as though I was a coward, the pain made me feel powerless at the moment. It surely made a fool of me. i am supposed to have a high tolerance for pain but was surprised by my lack of it in this case.



Even now, as I recount this, Oh, i guess 10 days later, I still scream in pain. Pain is controlling me and I hate it. I have to learn to focus better and conquer the feelings. I must numb myself beyond all reasonings and logics. Nothing must stand between myself and my tranquility. I have to find the hold within and fill it with nothing. Therefore I am nothing, you are nothing, this pain is nothing and we are all nothing--and one.



5/11/02



The trees, they speak to me. They create the most beautiful poetry that I have ever experienced. Waves of delight spread through the dancing green leaves.



Today I watched in wonder, amazed by the pure beauty of the innoncence of life. The spark of life emanating from the great fire. Death as life/life from death. Cleansing-soothing, whispering; they draw me near to witness creation. To know things unknown by others. These secrets inside the low roar that will not go away...They can hear it too, the children of father sun.



5/16/02



The sound I heard a couple days ago was a sound that I haven't heard in years. This low hum as though heavy traffic was passing through an extremely long tunnel, was like an undertone for the settings surrounding me.



They were here-locusts. Every 7-10 years they crawl from teh subterranean home of zigzagging tunnels, they shed their bodies and buzz around busily during the summer months. Facinated by their intricate detail, I examine their winged bodies carefully. Their legs seem to turn outward in a very comical appearance and their eyes search with an almost human curiosity and emotion. and the peacefullness they betray or portray as they look at me is astonishing. It they look at me at all, for they are surely blind and maybe I do not know.



At night they lull me to sleep, help me to forget about the pain coursing through my shoulder. During the day they sing to me telling me the directions of the land of the dead in their secret buzzing lingo. The low whispers carry me softly to the owrld of nothingness and guides me within those premises. Their souls, like messengers adn guides, quiet in the low soothing hum. I can understand their fitfull language as they speak to me. I know their voices and they weave them into an invisible net of sound which supports me and carries me swiftly away. I am dead to all others like me. Eyes starring mouth agape and lips numb-this is true learning,true finding of what truly matters. This which exists in non-existence.



Swiftly as they carry me away to true power, the energy courses through us all-connected. They are then swept away with themselves, seperate from me. large flying birds swoop down from the sky, claiming the locusts for their meals. They are oblivious to what happens to them. They are helpless, gobbled up but they do not scream.