Diving in

I started the week off in a pretty deep, dark cavern. And it’s felt like a wild ascent back to the surface ever since.

I’ve done some things in the last few days that have me questioning who I am. But in the kind of way that’s like, “where did SHE come from?” There’s a whole new side of myself emerging that I didn’t know existed. And I want to keep getting to know her.

I’m realizing that some other questions are finally getting answered. They burn like rage, but might just be clarity. This is a whole new discovery, too.

Through all the tumult, I’ve been trying to practice equanimity—not letting either side of the scale tip too far in one direction. Holding all things with kindness and balance. Remembering that everything is impermanent. It all passes, the good and the bad.

It hasn’t been working so well.

I’m finding myself clinging to, infatuated with, my own unexpectedness. It’s juicy and bold and an incredible high. The more I taste it, the more I want.

At the same time, I’m also clinging to the rage and fury. I’d like to let that side go, but the bitterness is just as hard to shake.

How can pleasure and pain both captivate me in the same way? Is it the actual feelings that I’m drawn to, or just that I’m feeling anything this intensely at all?

I have no insights yet. I crave one, and I hate the other. But here they are, dancing on the same stage. Whichever one I give oxygen to is the one that’s going to stay.

The rage is easier to let linger. I know how that operates. It’s much more predictable.

But the juiciness—that’s the one I’m going to breathe myself into, hoping that it doesn’t swallow me whole.