Longing

Proud beyond words, triumphant thoughts made love to ecstatic feelings. Suddenly I was at a party – no, the party. People, happy people, did what was expected at a normal birthday party – they talked, laughed, drank, smoked and enjoyed themselves. The music was normal. Everything was normal. What was so damn special about normal? Balloons floated by uplifting spirit. Lapping up my vision like a thirsty dog, breath slowed to impulse. Nearing orgasm, each inhalation infused the senses with renewed clarity. Everything I was being allowed to see, absolutely everything, was a trophy of their love and friendship for Zack.

The magnitude of such a realization nearly broke my heart. Such profound love and devotion for simply coming together and sharing common everyday feelings and experiences was perplexing in its simplicity. I hardly had time to grasp such a concept before noticing something was missing. I wasn’t in the picture. Instead, I was where I typically was – on the outside looking in.

Whimperings of unfathomable emptiness called out in harrowing tones in the depth of my heart. The terror of seeing what was buried that deep paled in comparison to not heeding its call. I wanted to ask for help, but didn’t know how. Now, after years of carefully and not so carefully evading personal responsibility through booze, drugs, judgments, denial, sexual pleasing and fear, ‘all roads led to Rome’. In a last ditch effort, I asked what the consequences of refusing to walk such a path would be. The answer came in true picturesque form: like a dying flower I’d wither away and be no more.

It hurt to see I’d been wrong, that real life was about participation and relationship – just like Krishnamurti had said. But how could I do that and keep what was left of my pride, integrity and independence intact? I thought about stealing what I needed from others, but couldn’t now I knew. Ignorance truly was bliss! Lost and confused, my inner child silently wept. He wanted to go out and play, but something was holding him back. The Universe asked why I thought playing always had to be childish. I didn’t know and didn’t even know if I wanted to know anymore.

With that one of the party-goers reached down, picked up a straw and snorted a line from the table. Realization hit me like a freight train. I couldn’t breathe; I forgot how. All that remained was silence … deathly silence.

© Michael J. Varma, The Gong Show, 2011 –

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Michael J. Varma and The Gong Show with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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