Monday, November 12, 2012

Alone in the dark, with myself.


I could not see in the dark, but I could sense the nearness of the thing there. I could hear the low drawing of breath, and could almost feel the bristled fur against my skin. How long should I wait before reaching out to it, before stroking it? How long would I last in the darkness against such a fearsome and ancient creature? I steeled myself against it, and rose to my feet.
There, in the dark, I touched something fearsome. There, in the dark, I braved the chance of never seeing the light again.
There, in the dark, I let ran my hand over the gnarled flesh, feeling the framework of bone beneath. I let the fur run between my fingers like blades of grass. I imagined lying in the sunshine, warm and sleepy, with my arms outstretched. I could almost smell the earth beneath me, could almost see the blue skies above. I remembered the feeling of slipping away into slumber, unburdened by fear.  But that was a long time ago. I had let the fear grow into this that lie before me – A beast of its own, fanged and clawed and dangerous. I came down here when I was feeling comfortable in life, stroking the fear awake and watching how it still writhed in the greasy black. Fear, and nothing more.

In the gloom, the fear was almost beautiful. A glorious, wretched thing I nurtured and tended in the depths of my mind, now vibrant and powerful. Fear without reason, without cause. Fear that had no logical place in my life, yet it gathered and formed with a ferocity that surprised me.  Now you have these fears, too. They might not be the same as my own, but they are formidable beasts all the same.  Do you venture into that night and stroke them? Do you wander bravely into their lairs and coax them out into the brightening sky?  I do. I need to understand them.

And they need to understand me. 

2 comments:

  1. Yes, we need to make friends with our darker elements, not bury them, out of sight. Otherwise, they have a way of rising, unbidden, and creating chaos in a most unsavory way...I visit mine twice a month, usually. Sometimes more.

    Although, it's me that I visit. They are not separate creatures; they ARE me. Closest thing I have come to making an image of this is a self-portrait as Medusa, indiscriminately turning everything to stone that looks in my eyes (pre-cursor to the weeping angels?). I oughta hang that one up...

    Only when we tell the truth about the darkness inside can we keep control over them, and not let them rule our psyches, and ruin our relationships, in Infinite Chaos...

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  2. I tend to live with mine... A change from the person who used to bury and avoid them. I can't afford to do that anymore. Visiting doesn't work so much - out of sight, out of mind. Living with them, seeing them regularly, sometimes daily - that seems to work best. And when they need addressing, address them.

    I agree with G in that they ARE me - pieces of me, anyway, and regardless of how much I may dislike those pieces, the sooner I accept them and work with them rather than against them, the better off I am in the long run.

    Sounds dark, but it does make them smaller and way more manageable in the long run. Sometimes upon further examination, I find that things I've been trying to bury with the intent of keeping the peace are really pieces of me that I find valuable, and I choose not to bury them anymore.

    Nicely written. Good food for thought... <3

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