Distraction Between

It's funny how the sky is so rarely black in the city. I think e lost the night when we succumbed to the village being larger than we were. The lights have veiled the blackness into a deep blue that is beauteous in its own way, but distracts us from the primal night that we all know deep down lay just beyond. Every now and then, we have to go beyond that blue veil and into the starlit night because it is truth.

I had such distraction forcibly taken from me yesterday in a moment that very well could have gotten me killed. I fell onto the train tracks near my office. Listening to my iPod, completely not paying attention to the moment as I thought about my day, I tripped. Wet wood, high rails all prevailing against my complete state of unawares to send me into a face plant in the rocks. SPLAT. FUCK OW. The very act of falling was in severe slow motion, as if a part of me wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't, and then came the pain. I had enough presence of mind to brace myself for it, and thankfully neither head nor face ever touched the rocks or the rail. Something that very easily could have knocked me out, leaving me prey to the oncoming trains. No one would have known where I was. No one would have ever known I'd been hit until it was far too late. Between the two sets of tracks, I could have been missed by trains in either direction, or I could have been obliterated. Instead I walked away with four scratches, three bruises and a dead iPod. I got off LIGHT.

I allowed this to happen. It sucks even saying that to myself let alone writing, it, but I allowed this to be. I allow myself distraction because it’s easy. It's pretty and easy and time-consuming and fun and it doesn't serve me as much as I need but I don't care. That not caring almost got me killed yesterday.

And yet today, amid a flurry of distraction, I came across three very distinct and equally scary truths at the beginning of this night: I'm dangerously close to being in love, I'm dangerous close to either breaking someone or being broken by them from 2500 miles away, and I have no idea what I want in either case. That was the beginning of the story.

I will not use names out of respect. Lets us call them Jason and Eric and Dana. Jason is 2500 miles away and an enigma sight-unseen. Adrift in the wake of a very bad relationship, he has made the healthy choice to bunker in and heal before venturing outward again. And yet his agile mind and spiritual kinship latched onto me like an anchor tie, and I could not but hold it by my very nature. And yet now the boundary must be set. I cannot be what he needs, and I cannot help him heal in the way that he must. To do so would intertwine me in his healing, to make me a part of his whole that would be difficult if not impossible to disengage from without breaking again. Heals wrong, break the bone again and set it right. I can't be that wrong healing, and I will not be a part of any dependency situation. Not again. NEVER again. No matter how much I care for him, I cannot be what he needs in this way. I have to let go that tie and bleed as it pulls free, taking bits of skin in the friction.

And so to Eric, who all but fell out of the sky and into my existence. Esoteric and charming, intelligent and bold, yet a force onto himself in his silence and solitude, the lone tower in the storm. He keeps those around him safe while allowing them their own journeys. He takes apart the puzzles to know how to make them better. He pulls sci-fi from the heavens and makes it his own. Sound familiar to anyone else? And he is here. Before me. Interested. Just as scared as I am about how well our faults fit together. We have managed in a short time to find such a healthy balance of faults to compliment each other and become this understood thing that neither of us can name and yet we both already knew.

And then to Dana, who is a force onto herself, so fiery and child-like and potent even in her darkest moments. Forked tongue to cut the air itself, yet a laugh that could make the dead grin. So quick was our understanding, and so deep has out passion been that I have to wonder which one of us is more frightened: Dana, Myself, or Eric. Good thing they're already together, or this might be a very tragic story. Dangerous close to love in two corners, and perfectly content, yet allowing enough for distraction that it nearly cost me everything.

And so the night went on...

I have learned to ignore the obvious because it cannot possibly be so simple. It is in fact. And the simpler it is, the hard it is to wrap my head around. I bring complication where there is none, mathematics and numbers and words unneeded in the mere presence of simplicity. It is, and that is all there is to it. I allow things to get so complicated that distraction is the only way to deal. My own need for complication is the key. Why do I need it? Why must I have it? What purpose does it serve? My need to understand gives the expectation of complexity where none exists. It is this expectation that allows for the distraction to take root. No more of this circular nonsense. If it cannot serve the Will it is cast aside or cut clean, bloody and wet and lifeless at the roadside. And though I may bleed from the culling, I will heal in time, carrying the scar of memory as an understanding of NEVER AGAIN. and yet the path is not so lonely anymore, not so desolate and not so complicated, even withe the obvious change. Awareness is not complication. Awareness is just that.

So may basics understood for so long I forget how integral they are until one of them loses feeling. Like when my arms falls asleep and I try to move it. Always knew it was important. barely thought about it until I was without, and then it suddenly becoming vital in the way only an epiphany can. And yet it is not so grandiose. It simply is.

An evening of words and pictures and so much muck. Time to weed it out to the barest bits, in this time when the veil is thinnest.... oh, wait. I have all winter. Good, enough time to make sense of it all before I head west again…