Fear of start.
Tag Archives: fear
I can resurrect the feel of fright – tightness, hollowness in the chest, circulation stops to the extremities. Pounding. Swimming Head.
june 21, 2007 Summer Solstice
Hesitance – so typical.
“Coming Soon – Tony’s Deli”…
“Office Space for Rent”
“Sanda’s Cleaners – Free Pickup”
(scared) (scarce) (spotlight) (frozen in)
After all I read “Shaking the Pumpkin” in Nantucket
in the winter closed Nantucket
feared by all the life preservers.
may 5, 2007
Trepidation starting to write—iron chains, bit in my mouth, torture devices all around my head—
wind blows fluff past these windows
struggle
it seems ceaseless
I am unwilling at this point.
Unwilling on campus. Irrational fears. There is no healing balm for everything. So just get used to it. The most unpleasant thing of all is—heart dropping from fear. If I could avoid that automatic heart-drop from now on, I would. Do egrets have it? Flamingos, herons, other long birds? Birds with hearts that beat so fast and so unknown. Birds with eyelashes and bird dogs, slim.
Nothing left to say to you. This is how it feels—a ragged stomach-hole. Some kind of pressure. Some bit of proud that he’s so uncommon. Some bit of fear. Some bit of panic, that I just want all of this to go away and that (my friend), detachment. Hard-hearted. Fuck. Jesus Fuck.
Demons into Allies—
| money | -> | beauty -> | clothes home |
| -> | sharing -> | Blair, Kiva? | |
| -> | saving -> | 401K, pay off debts |
| impatience resentment |
-> | my koan. My obvious opportunity to yearn for liberation |
Buddhism really figures in here.
| my passivity at work |
-> | don’t get involved in tempests, gossip. Step up to motivation. Spend time with the winners. |
| two days a week at home |
-> | Discipline. Housework? Chores calling me? Exercise? Errands? I don’t think I can work 8 hours at home. Maybe that’s not the point. |
| Creative time | -> | most rewarding projects have been in fragments. |
Sam deserts me often in the evening, sleeping. I can do a lot with a short period of time every day. The daily effort is my ally. I fritter away time on Tues and Thurs, flounder.
I know I’m going to do this.
I am afraid.
I have a fear of not being able to keep myself clean when I’m old, old and too proud to be seen.
The foxes coughing in the mountains. The evil fox light. Lost lore of animals lost lore of fears. Our superstitions are gone now, transformed into bombers from the air. Our strange fear of foxes or wolves following, met with turbans and robes. We do not learn much about any of this, we don’t push through it. We just take it as it lays.
I hiked into St. Lucia. I have done some hiking. I was scared on Mount Baker. Scared by Ken, I suppose, essentially. I’ve been scared on the lake. Many times. But I won’t quit.
Returning to the sadness, the persistent sadness. The sadness of short sentences. The sadness of employees. The sadness of elderly eyebrows. The sadness of muted achievements. Of not knowing your place. The bewilderment of multiple remotes.
The fear of not ever having a home. Not at home here.
I went for a walk in the neighborhood. I’ve spent a lot time walking in this neighborhood. The streets were quiet, just glazed with honey rain. Faint smell of donuts. I was glad to see the Dunkin’ Donuts was open. I didn’t encounter anyone, just heard someone in a car picking through people’s recycling for returnable bottles. I didn’t want to greet that person.
The only time I was afraid was when a brief yellow leaf fell onto my arm.