The good kind
We’re here to buy cheese — the good kind
Part of me feels this is all so stupid — the games we have to play, the lanes we have to stay in, in order to make it day to day, as a human being, in this life.
Part of me senses the more-ness — how this cavern of constriction I feel I’m living in, just trying to ground myself on this planet, to make the bucks, to buy the things I need — to survive — is just so insignificant in the scheme of things — things beyond this mundane and discombobulated human experience.
When you get glimpses of the other-ness of existence, the soul weeps for all the ways human life is counter to what exists beyond the scope of this world — this realm.
“What is this sadness?” I’ve often wondered. Sure, there are moments in my life that, if I cling to them too hard, I can pin the tail of my melancholy on.
But there is an otherness to this feeling. And I’m starting to understand it’s because I’m simply living what every other human being is living: a dichotomy.
When I look at astrological charts, I often wonder, How? How is this person supposed to do what the chart is suggesting they do? How could that possibly be actualized? It seems like such an impossibility.
And then the human beings upon which the symbols represent show me how.
Despite all the resistance, all the pulling they feel towards a road that is familiar, they persevere in the name of an elusive yet ever present call of the soul — to do something different in this life. To individuate from the known.
It hurts. It is so painful, the work of accepting the need to end what was in order to live out a seeming impossibility, of which the soul demands. The inner resistance is beyond profound — it is monumental. It is a central bank system — it does not want to budge.
But the soul carries us — it supports us. It is the one thing we can have Faith in. It’s privy to information and understanding that this dense realm, which requires of us seemingly insignificant modes of conduct in the name of coffee and bread and a brick of cheese — good cheese, the kind you buy on pay day — knows not of. And so there is an energy, steadily supplied to us, guiding us and motivating us. Often through deep frustration. And a desire to flip a table — if only on the inside, but wouldn’t that be a good stress reliever?
Everyone has something they feel melancholy about — something they feel homesick for. It’s the impossibility of life — when you feel it, you know you’re in connection with every other human.
This doesn’t mean your suffering is insignificant. It means you are courageously having a human experience.
So we breathe, and we mourn this thing we struggle to understand the source of — the suffering — yet still exists. And then we put fingers to keyboard, or metal, or cedar, or yoga mat. And we do what we need to do, to buy cheese.
The good kind.
