The Forest for the trees.

So I wait. I feel like I'm awaiting a verdict. The trial is taking place inside of her.

She turned off her phone. She wants uninterrupted time with him.

She said she sobbed last night after we talked. It was because she doesn't want me to hurt. Not wanting me to hurt wouldn't cause her to sob, but the guilt of knowing that I will soon be in pain because of her actions might.

Am I assuming too much? Am I jumping to too many conclusions?

I can do 1 of 2 things. Attempt to analyze what little information I have and come to some conclusions, or try not to think about it. Analyzing without real information leads to a tremendous amount of conjecture, and amplifies my anxiety.

I've been doing it without recognizing that I am. It's been automatic and restless. The consequences of doing that have been to make her not want to speak to me - or at least that's the optimistic conclusion.

I want to resist analyzing what's happening over there. It doesn't do me any good and it can't lead to the truth. All I can do is analyze my emotions and actions to learn from them, to illuminate a larger portion of my inner world.

I have to remind myself that I am the being initiating the thought process, I am not the thought process itself. I am the being to whom the emotions are communicating, I am not the emotions nor their communication.

I can choose to focus the attention of my thoughts on whatever I please. They'll analyze what I tell them to if I can remember to direct them and not identify with them. What would I have them analyze? What would benefit my journey? Through experience and logic it's obvious that directing the thoughts to K's actions isn't getting me anywhere.

As I was outside smoking the image of a forest came into my mind. In the image I was hovering above the trees, analyzing the landscape. I could flap my wings, or open them and soar on the wind.

All of those trees combined to form a being called the forest. Each tree was a part of that whole, but seen from the ground this wasn't apparent. All that is apparent from that perspective is the individual vegetation: trees, shrubs, grass. Wandering through the brush and towering trees is frightening; it's a labyrinth.

On the forest floor the trees control me, but above them I control me.

That winged being is my attention. I wish for him to soar and see the landscape for what it really is.

Twisting, Wrenching...

My stomach is in knots. All the anxiety and uncertainty, foreboding and worry I feel has nowhere to manifest it's nervous energy except in the pit of my stomach. I'm warm and out of breath. I can hardy focus my attention on anything, my mind being occupied with keeping this tension from pulling my muscles and organs apart inside this body.

I had almost forgotten how this feels, how it chases away all other sensation away like a tortured, rabid dog, starved for affection and comfort, willing to maim and devour anything nearby. I can feel my heart, not so much beating as it is striking against my ribcage in a seeming attempt to break out through the bars of it's cage.

She sounded nervous on the phone. She's been there for a couple of hours. He's been eyeing her body hungrily for at least that long. I can only imagine the depth of his desire for her flesh - she likes to play with fire. Getting burned has happened often enough to her that it's become an identifyable pattern. I can only Will, hope and pray that she comes back unscorched.

My emotions are mine. I have to seek to change how it feels. I can't expect "the outside" to avoid hurting me in this way, that's foolish. Running will only strengthen the anguish. God, I had forgotten how debilitating this is.

I can't overwhelm myself by thinking that's it's just begun - the first of 4 days (or worse, 3 nights). Stop it!

She told me weeks ago that this trip will not affect our relationship. I never asked her to make specific promises. If I had she would have told me what I wanted to hear regardless of what the actual plan may be. Even assuming she was truthful, plans change. That is something I've learned to expect with her - her word is based only on present emotions, when they shift (or reveal their true character) the plan may easily change.

I can only trust. I can't trust that she won't do something with him. I can't trust that she won't give him the opportunity to do something to her. I can't trust that he won't manufacture an opportunity to do something to her. I can only trust that this is the way it has to be, that this is the way Nature intended for it to be.

All experience is an opportunity to grow, learn and evolve. I have to seize my opportunities here, I must not only cope, but learn to redirect the incoming energy to my benefit. So easily said, yet so immensely daunting.

Something I've learned from art: Deep, nuanced blacks and lower grays provide the image with an enormous potential for contrast. A contrast that lends itself to a stark beauty, full of hues and values pregnant with depth and meaning.

When I set down to draw, I start with the darks. They define the composition and allow for the mental sensation of slowly and carefully "pulling" the image out of the bleakness and chaos. It's only dawned on me recently how symbolically important that process is to me.

Maybe I can understand more if I force myself to perform that symbolic action. Maybe that is my Magick. Perhaps that is my ritual incantation. All of this power and energy MUST go somewhere and if I don't use it for insight and spiritual evolution, it will fester and seep out through the cracks in the walls of my soul, the cracks which are my weaknesses; my drives to self-destruction and torment, self-pity and despair.

How can I avoid using the drawing process as a distraction? That is a question I have to give serious thought to. Right now I need fresh air, I'm starting to feel like I can't breathe again.

Here. Now.

I think I may have discovered something interesting and useful while at K's. It happened suddenly as we were driving to get fastfood. Out of the blue, I felt a sense of peace, relaxation and appreciation come over me. It was markedly different from how I was feeling only seconds before.

As this feeling washed over me (like a tide, as feelings normally do when I pay attention to them) I instantly tried to analyze the situation. Why was I feeling this way? I noticed something different about my thoughts. They weren't racing, swirling as they normally are - they were still, content to notice and appreciate the environment.

I was hearing the music playing on the CD player (it was The Birthday Massacre), I was seeing the colored lights of the city, I was feeling the night air. I wasn't searching or trying. Most importantly (I think) I wasn't referencing what I was experiencing to past experiences, nor was I thinking about possible future experiences. It was the simple peace of the present moment.

Is this what the Zen Buddists do when they meditate? As they say: Be Here, Now. Because I constantly reference the present moment to similar past or future moments, I tend to dismiss the present with thoughts like, "I've been down this street before," or "I've heard this song before." In doing so I convince myself that I don't need to pay too much attention to the exact moment I find myself in.

When I allow myself to pay close attention, not to the parts that make up a moment (the separate senses), but to the whole that is the mixture of the pieces, I can feel the novelty of the particular mixture. It's the difference between tasting bread and tasting butter, compared to tasting buttered bread.

I continue to experiment with this conscious perceiving. To varying degrees, I always feel a sense of appreciation and peace.