I feel more things than I was taught to comprehend, so the words that I must use to describe my experiences in life are always a pale approximation of the true moment. But truth is important. And truth is stranger than fiction, and naturally more interesting.
I feel more things. I feel people’s moods and emotions when i walk into a room, and sometimes I don’t know if I’m experiencing their emotions or mine.
So, I have to be careful and discerning. When I feel something, I need to step back from that feeling (thank you, yoga) and see if belongs to me. Then, I can decide how to proceed in a given moment.
It’s taken years of being alone to understand what feelings come from me. I’ve found that I’m not that emotional anymore because every feeling is tempered and sweetened by the peace which passeth understanding.
Is it wrong, then, to eavesdrop on other people’s feelings? They don’t know that they’re oozing emotion, and that I soak it up like a sponge. And I can’t really help it. I just become inundated with the energy around me.
That’s why I’m very careful with the people and environment around me. I want to be who I am: healthy, happy, creative and completely unafraid. Somehow, I’m not strong enough to be myself in an overwhelming environment. When I’m stuck with people who are fearful or angry or twisted inside, I start to become like that, too. I can usually tell, now, which energy is mine, and which is a lie.
All of it is an untruth in some way: all of these emotions are smudges on the clear glass through which the divine within us perceives this moment, this life. To see clearly, you’ve got to clean the smudges. But I do see, I have seen, the piercing diamond clarity of God. And it seems like God enjoys the smudges because they’re interesting, because they are all aspects of God.
Being God, is it not my duty to experience the infinite?
Of course I should climb the most dramatic mountains, search out the most idyllic streams, and find the loveliest views of this grand country. Of course, I must spend hours basking in the sun and the Source, existing in the purity of nature – that’s where it’s easy to be God.
It’s less easy and more interesting to be God in a house full of different aspects of God. I am so lucky (SO lucky!!) to be amongst people who are not deeply twisted or angry or fearful. These fellow inmates of mine are kind, honest, and fun! I am endlessly grateful for getting stuck with such lovely people.
It was probably the third evening when Miriam (the mother of the little family) and I were talking over dinner about the dynamics of the group. There are 3 or 4 of the young Israelis who are less enthusiastic about cleaning, and we were considering the balance of effort in our group.
“I can tell that the girls are going to be the problem,” Miriam told me, “They’re difficult.”
She pointed her chin at Natalie, whose delicately authoritative face shone with the light of aloof youth. Did she sit more and work less than the others? Natalie seemed cold to me at first, but I somehow was blessed by affection from her. I say that completely without cynicism – her true smile was a pink rose blooming, and I am so grateful to know her.
The girls were in the minority: 10 to 12, if you count the children. Four available young men, and only 3 available women: me and the 2 super-Christians, Jessica and Christine. So, most of the women have men, and they can afford to slack off because they have their men to cover for them. They’re young; drunk with the power of fresh relationships and expendable incomes. It’s fine. They’ve all been through the army and they know cooperation. I trust these young ones to put in as much effort as I will. After all, I’m the only one taking Shabbat off. Maybe nobody’s noticed – I haven’t been called out yet.
Nobody’s perfect. Most of them are quite young – just trying on adulthood for the first time. They do well! Everyone cooperates with our cleaning duties, more or less. Nobody has a sour attitude… Except my roommate.
Jessica told me that she has some mental health imbalances like anxiety and depression, especially around her time of the month. She’s been friendly so far, and we’ve had some great conversations about hair and religion. I can see that she’s uncomfortable in this situation, though. Sometimes she’ll go inside herself, and i can almost hear the defeating, depressive cycles of thought.
Jessica doesn’t like most of the Israelis because they’re loud and irreverent. I guess i can never tell her that i couldn’t sleep the first night because she was talking so loudly with Christine in the hall until midnight.
She’s so American. Thank God for Christine. They’re great friends; Jessica and Christine, always talking, cooking, sharing, and doing their daily devotions. Jessica needs a friend like that. I think it keeps her balanced.
I went to devotions with them once. Peter and Alma have these hour-long sessions in their home every weekday morning at 9am. On the fourth or fifth day, i joined them, just to see. It was horrifically boring, just like going to church. Peter spoke at length, occasionally looking to Alma for approval. She only called him out once on the history of Babylon, and that’s when i heard the iron in her voice. As sweet as she is, there’s no doubt that she’s in charge.
We looked at Daniel, and his prophecies of Babylon or something. It seemed very important to them to make this ancient hallucination relevant to them and their sober, modern lives. It’s strange that they glorify Daniel’s visions on one hand, while forbidding meditation on the other.
I still do it. Meditate. In that state, I can feel the emotions and energy around me without letting them sink in, maybe because I’m already full with the Divine. I’m getting better, too! I can maintain my Self, even though I’m soaked through with others’ emotions.
And I like these emotions! Happy, sociable, hedonistic, adventurous, rebellious… These are the young, delightful feelings around me; this is the water in which I’m stewing. It’s a lot of testosterone. I love testosterone! It makes me giddy with joy and power. I’ve spent a lot of time with women in my line of work, and i do prefer the energy of men.
Testosterone is life-energy to me. It turns me on, gets me moving, and unleashes that fearless joy that makes life worthwhile. I crave it. I wilt without it. With it, I am complete and powerful.
If only men weren’t such dicks, I could be king of the world!
I can feel the testosterone here – so young and fresh! I’m always a little turned on. I feel alive and open and generous.
That’s probably what attracted the Mormon. A few days ago, I went for my daily walk to clear out the lodge energy and to refresh the peaceful purity of myself. We are so lucky to have these beautiful walks around us, and so lucky that we are allowed to disappear into the wilderness for hours on end with no questions asked.
He was walking his dog, Rex, and for some reason, i got pulled into chatting with him. His English accent is so charming.
We maintained our distance – 6 feet apart at all times.We walked together along the river for an hour, dipping into the woods to follow a dusty trail where rabbits burrowed thickly, like Jews in Florida. The land rose quickly, and we scrabbled up the perforated hills until we found a fine spot to sit and talk.
We spoke about the pandemic, society, revolution, and rabbits. He had a rollie, and told me he’d bring something so that we could smoke together next time. The light slanted through the dense pines and Rex dug a fine hole in the hill upon which we were sitting.
We walked back to his car, and he gave me his number, scrawled on the back of a business card that was already tattooed with the number of a Charlene.
“Never mind that,” he said, “I don’t need that anymore.” He leaned in, then remembered the virus, and then leaned back in, cautiously extending a hand. Hesitantly, I took his hand. And with that little gesture, I popped the bubble that protected our lovely lodge from the deadly Coronavirus.
