July 4 writing practice continues... weather and the virutes of solipsism

The storm clouds are lifting outside -- some light brilliant against a grey background. The wind music has started up again.

I can't help feeling my moods connected deeply with the weather. Sometimes it seems like my moods create the weather -- but the scientist in me believes vice-versa. that my moods are reflected in the weather, and that when it changes, so do my insides. Oh, for the summer to finally arrive and unhinge me from myself.

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I have such an urge to be torn asunder. I want nothing left, only the void, and my crystal-clear body consciousness.

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I'm in no position to talk about anything but myself. If I become slightly detached at this point, I still only come to myself honestly as subject - matter. I cannot, at this point, speak honestly any other way.

I rely heavily on Kabir, "In his twenties, Kabir was very concerned with Kabir."

Fucking great -- because I am. The cult of the I -- what am I anyway -- what is hiding under my grandmother's sunday skirt. Where are my hobgoblins, those beautifully unruly bullish parts of my personality that run unchecked through my darkest sleeps. I want to meet them -- not in my own film, either.

I came up here to test my sanity, amongst other things. To "come up against it" as it were. It surprises me when it happens. Normally am amplification of my Judge's Voice "You are insincere, you are a faker, you cannot even begin to realize the beauty in a flower, much less commune with it." i don't know where this voice came from, or what it's doing here, or what it's afraid of, but I'm tired of it, and instead of killing *myself* -- I might attack it instead. I don't want to be understanding, it isn't. I want it gone -- if that means understood & assimilated (psychological birdsong & flowers) then fine. Let's Do It!!!

Whatever it is that's keeping me from flying into the glare of that lake in the distance & going through that light into a fullness and voice so far incomprehensible to me; what ever keeps me from flying through the glare and into the voice -- universe -- reality beyond. I want to deal with. Kill, destroy, love, understand, heal, nurture -- I don't care, I am tired of not living. Now.

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