I try and take the feelings away by absorbing myself in the mundane: cooking, cleaning, going for a walk, having a cigarette; but this only leaves me feeling hollow.

I fear to indulge myself in this, I fear to try and find any richness or beauty in it, where I would’ve abandoned myself when I was younger and wiser. Perhaps it is that I fear not living up to my own standards, or that I don’t think I can reach the stars anymore. I don’t think I can do what I need to, what is both necessary and appropriate.

I think it provokes something close to ‘rage’ in me, however little I understand of that feeling. I have to stop myself, and try and deal with the world for just a second just another second until it stops and calms and stops and stops and just fucking shuts up and

Then I am myself again.

There is a poem by Dennis Lee called Deeper. A quote would not be inappropriate:

Often at night, sometimes
out in the snow or going into the music, the hunch says,
I don’t know what it means.
Just, “Push it. Go further. Go deeper.”

I thought that this poem represented what I’ve been feeling, and although the poem still speaks to me in some ways, it isn’t what I thought it was. This is not a hunch I feel I should follow; it is a drive, something as primal as sex and somehow more complex, more jaded.

I could exhaust all the words I have ever known trying to capture its essence, to trap it in metaphor. The notion itself is so inadequate as to be laughable.

But still, I find myself typing.

I wonder if those around me have the patience or capacity to tolerate me, if I withdraw and soul search. If I settle into meditation, speaking only koans, or begin to act with excess, would they understand? Would they think that this was a choice I had; to feel, to think, to be forced to act on this?

Perhaps they would assume that I am choosing to exercise what I consider to be ‘freedoms’, when in fact I am finding myself with none. When I find myself forced into a path of action, without recourse.

Perhaps a worse fate would be to find myself in the thick of melodramatic prose.

Still, I am urged deeper, against all logic or emotion.

Beyond choice, desire, or rationale, it is my fear that if I do not go, I will lose myself in the effort of keeping my head above the water, and that would be the greater loss.

It is simply a question of whether I choose to prepare for it, and take a breath before diving, or find water tearing the air from my lungs.

3 thoughts on “Deeper

  1. If you decide to go, your real friends don’t desert you. Find the time, ride the wave, whatever. You always come back to that place of welcome, high in whatever clouds you deem necessary to create. The only problem is that you can have em, only if you want em.

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