I was up for it. I downed my whole bottle chunks and all. Ready for the weird breathing that would result.
We chatted about girls and boys and jobs and holidays as we walked away from town.
The snow began to contrast. White with deeper blue definition in the foot steps ahead.
We walked under a bridge and the sound of the river and birds echoed. The icicles we walked under where a fascination. Then i knew it was coming.
"Oh heres that feeling that im dying. I knew this would be intense. But its ok. I know now death doesn't happen. By the way we are not going to get home before im fucked."
"Yeah i can tell" my friend says.
We keep talking. Sit in a snow drift in the sun until another snow flurry comes. The slope brilliant white with distortion dancing above.
As we walk a little harder my breathing is shallow and it kicks in.
Ive seen this before. Once before i had reflected on how im not:
my stuff, not my job, my thoughts, my memories, i realised im not my emotions. Not even my body. Im all thats left and thats everything else. Experinces are just are just passing through. It was like deconstructing a house from the roof down. And i realised i am not the bricks or the foundations. Im the earth it stands apon and that earth is infinaely deep and wide.
It was like that. But sudden. Acute. I was trying to tell my friend about my weekend but i couldnt talk. I was trying to say to him.
"I cant, the words are broken i cant make words. I wonder if this is what its like to have a stroke" i joke. "Maybe i am!"
I looked across the river and it came in a moment. It lasted a moment but i could still go back and see it.
I was gone. Me. All the things that made me where gone. I had forgotten myself. I had no language to describe myself. All of me had fallen off like a loose dressing gown falling to the floor and leaving me naked.
My mind snapped back. Recoiling in fear at what it might mean to loose me. Psychosis? I could see how that could happen to some.
But i haddnt been gone. Because i had observed it. I had watched it happen. And i had seen the river and heard my friends footsteps. Was this what animals saw? No thoughts, no words, or past or future. Just open experience.
I can see my friend can see something in me. He chats about the park trying to keep me focussed. but i cant answer. I force out an explanation.
"When i try to make words they dont come. I know but cant say. When i hear the words i do say they mean nothing to me".
We get home and strip of our wet stuff wobbling around laughing about trying to pull off my boots. I end up in bed. My safe place. For a short time. Gradually my words return and i say what happened. He also finds it hard to talk and hard to follow. I can think but can say less.
We talk more like we usually do. Sex, life, politics and purpose. We talk about the worlds impression of my culture.
Imperial war mongers making money by blowing the shit out of his country. We have often talked about the state of the world and culture.
But in that moment i look into his face as we talk about his home becoming the epicentre of hell. I see a deep chasm. I feel a sadness that will last 300 years. He is flat too and goes for a smoke. I lay under the blanket with pain in my chest.
The sadness is mixed with compassion and the desire to help. Though i cant. I tell him to come lay on the floor so i can hug him. I have to tell him im sorry i cant make it better. He dosnt care he says. As he does. Thats him. Back to normal. and i say "thats ok you can not care and i will".
The new mission for him is getting weed delivered in a blizzard. The sadness stays with me. I wonder if its for any good purpose. We chat on the floor and i find some thc oil for him. I wonder. What happened there. Is that vicarious trauma? Does it help for me to hold some of his pain?
Its still here. All of it. It was interesting and sometines difficult. I would do it again. What a kaleidoscope of experience we are capable of. I wonder how i will be a week from now.
Edited by tuftygrasses, 02 March 2018 - 12:38 PM.