Beyond the mask…nothing

My delay in writing has been due to moving into a cabin in the woods that I was excited about a couple of weeks ago.  It is such a lovely, quiet place. Unlike the dwelling of the Unabomber, my cabin has more than one room, running water and electricity…and I am not seeking a primitive lifestyle; only quiet, semi-seclusion.  For the record, I have no interest in making bombs either. These days, I’m more of a hazard to myself than others.

I have been contemplating the question by my therapist: “Who am I when I am not wearing a mask?”  I am still no closer to an answer than I was in 1986 when I first began therapy. Seems it is automatic for me to define “self” according to whatever behavior I may be engaging in at the time or whatever emotion I might be experiencing at any given moment.  

Several months ago, I attempted to discover self through meditation.  According to some Youtube videos, I could achieve this by “looking within”.  Although I must admit, I don’t know where “within” is exactly. I don’t see anything when I “look within”…just blank.  My therapist suggested that I might have a “blockage” and that could be why I can’t “see within”. Blockage? Why can’t it be that there’s nothing there?  Where am I supposed to be going, anyway? I’m not even clear how meditation works. Perhaps it requires a different skill set I have not yet acquired.

I am pretty good at psychological projection onto inanimate objects though.  Which I suspect is somewhat akin to religion. Speaking of which, I wrote a type of poem about the goddess Morrigan after reading about her through the study of Celtic mythology and beliefs.  It is a mixture of how she is portrayed by others, as well as my own search for self and attempt to see beyond my own mask.

Morrigan, Morrigan

Phantom queen.

Binding my fate

And setting the scene.

Morrigan, Morrigan

The one not clear.

Challenging me

To overcome my fear.

Morrigan, Morrigan

Who ignores demands.

They run through my fingers

Like grains of sand.

Morrigan, Morrigan

Weaver of time.

Creating a mountain

Then hurrying me to climb.

Morrigan, Morrigan

Shifter of shape.

Constant lessons

I cannot escape.

Morrigan, Morrigan

The one who knows.

I follow your path

But see only shadows.

Morrigan, Morrigan

I must open my eyes

If I’m to see you

Beyond your reflected guise.

©Shadow

Memories

Holding the faded photograph

Of a moment I cannot recall

From a time long ago

Of when I was small.

 

As you clutched her in your arms

My face is turned from view

We all posed for a picture

But everyone looks blue.

 

What was it all about?

And why do we all look so sad?

Were you unhappy about,

The family you could of had?

 

We all had our secrets

Hidden behind our frowned face

But now, for the last time

I must leave this place.

 

It’s funny how

Bad memories are erased by years

And sometimes the mind creates good ones

From a time there were once tears.

 

©Shadow

Who am I?

Since I moved out of my former apartment after only a short while, I had to find something else before my father’s house had to be put up for sale.  Lucky for me, there is this guy at work who just so happened to have a one bedroom cabin on his property that he is willing to rent to me. I went to look at it and when I arrived and got out of the vehicle, the first thing I said to him is “This is a paradise!”  I love nature and love being in nature…and in a rural area…I don’t like city life, as I might have mentioned before. I don’t know how people function with all the distractions and noise. Anyway, he had trails all through the woods. A great place to find a sit spot and observe nature I thought.  I looked at the cabin too since that was the purpose for my visit.  It was a rustic cabin that look like something straight out of the movies.  The area is quiet and I absolutely love the place.

It is so perfect for me that I am waiting for something to go wrong before I move in on October the 1st.  Or even for something to happen and not be able to rent the place. Maybe I think I don’t deserve it and that is why I am being so negative about it.  That all I deserve is some crummy apartment in a noisy city. Maybe I am just always thinking I should not get my hopes up. That sometimes good things happen to people but I am not usually one of those people.  

Stay positive, I tell myself.  Everything will work out.

In other news, I went to see my therapist yesterday.  The question I am to consider is: “Who am I when I am not wearing a mask?”  Hmmm, that is a really tough question. Seems like I am always wearing a mask.  I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have them. And someday not wearing one of them seems scary.  I don’t know who I am without them. Maybe I am nothing. Surely I do not wear them when I am alone.  But who am I then?

-Shadow