30 years ago, I died. It was mid-March of 1994, as I recall. I was 18 years old, and this may or may not have been about the 5th or 6th time I had been in a situation where I could have been over and done with this life — and yet, I decided to remain, or to come back and keep on keeping on.
Tag: personal history
Over the past few years, I’ve done a great deal of harm to myself. I feel it in my body and I can see it in my face. My avatar’s lifespan has probably been shortened by several years, if not decades, due to the intensity of psychic, psychological, and emotional energies that have been emerging and culminated in the paradigm-shifting events of 2020–2021. The psychological warfare we all went through (and will continue to be subjected to daily) was undoubtedly a peak experience, but for people like me and those who are similar to us, this is just a part of the ongoing inner/outer mental/spiritual struggle that we face throughout our lives.
There’s the dream
That’s been shadowed
By the rain
By the constant weight of fear
Do the echoes break my stride
There’s the dream
That’s been covered
By the skin
By the weightless swell of tears
Can you hear the crying shame?
It’s funny how life faithfully keeps us shifting and twisting and questioning and breaking the mold. The more we awaken and become aware, the faster it comes.
There are many things we aspire to be or do in life. Little things, big things, epic things. That which lies in the arena of the latter is likely the blessing and the curse of our personal legend.