It Wasn’t Me!

On a cool spring evening twilight after the first warm day of spring, I look out the front window and there I see my garden chair alone, quiet facing the now non-existent rays of the Sun. I was there earlier, in the warm part of the day; with my shirt off, blessing my skin with some vitamin D. I’m now standing at the window looking at the lonely chair; I could sit in the chair, but I’m inside feeling the effects of the Sun warming my cheeks. It seems to me now that it wasn’t me there earlier, how could it have been – the chair is empty and the Sun is gone?

Today I read, for the mega-millionth time, that the Buddha said life and experience are illusory. I’m sure that for as many times that I’ve read this notion, I have logged a different interpretation. Last night I stood next to my bed and realized I was separate from the person who all week had written, edited, taught and surfed. All those things – didn’t matter, don’t matter. It can be disheartening to put incredible amounts of energy into something, only to realize – that one hadn’t really done anything at all.

In that moment by my bed, I was rendered unable to get into bed or explain to Amanda exactly what it was I was experiencing – I was momentarily and slightly catatonic, I was depressed. In almost the same moment, I realized how liberating this epiphany could be. For, this meant that the author of my future works will be working and completing while I’m away and present at the same moment. I will be in two places at once. But, now I’m left in a quandary.

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About onepercussive

I'm 48 haven't stopped moving since 2. Born in New Orleans, but have traveled the world. Please look for my upcoming work Coalfire Diaries. View all posts by onepercussive

6 responses to “It Wasn’t Me!

  • zoltana

    You’ve described how disconnected I feel from myself sometimes and how removed or unremoved I can be when I’m doing something I thought was significant or substantial at the time I was doing it then I come back to reality and it can sometimes be such a downer. I don’t know what I’ saying.

    • onepercussive

      I think it is being on the edge of something psychologically ugly; therefore, I will not name it lest it become self-fulfilling. Suffice to say we are in a majority with the creatives of this world – once the inspiration is out and manifested, we feel the drag of re-entry after having left our capsules.

      • Zoltana

        Exactly! You described it exactly! I like the high and drug-like state I feel when in the “process” of my creativity and when it is finished I become agitated and try to feel and be in the next moment to get back to “that world” I feel I belong and want to be in always. Thanks again. 🙂

      • onepercussive

        Sometimes, the desire to return is the thing that is uncomfortable. Desire, desire and desire is endless in our kind and will never be sated.

  • dianneebejer

    But the urge/desire not to return could be much more dangerous, correct or would it then turn in to a self fulfilling prophecy? Kind of scary, yes?

    • onepercussive

      I think so, Dianne. I move in circles of tense (write) release (finish writing) and then bask of the wonder of where I’ve been
      and wonder if, one day, I won’t come back – it is the latter that may lead to a subconscious avoidance of writing. For
      now, I write to see what happens next.

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