Hello, void. Beautiful, bluetiful, dark and hootingful, black void, filled with nothing but love. That’s what they say dark matter is. Who’s they? I dunno, some people in a south american ayahuasca spa that a somewhat ritzy relative of mine went to. Did I tell you this already? She called me from there. She and I normally don’t get along much. So I used to avoid her calls.
But then I had gone through something that made me realize that family is most important, and we should always make time to answer the phone for them. And in the moment she called me, way back when, I can’t remember when now, but maybe six months or more ago… I was thinking to myself, like I can’t do this anymore. This sustained sobriety thing. Or heading for a mental nunnery thing. Or whatever thing I was doing at the time. I was just emotionally broken inside. I was sitting on the sofa can’t-standing myself, and I was saying softly, god, please help me.
And I kid you not… at that exact moment, she called and told me that she was filled with gratitude, and absolutely had to tell me in that moment that she appreciated everything I’d done. That I was right about some stuff. Whatever stuff it was, I don’t remember. But she thought I was right about it. And her voice was soaked in love. And it was sober love. She wasn’t plant-high then, it was the day after the ayahuasca den. And then she told me that they’d just found out that dark matter is love. And I was like, of ‘course it is. ‘Cause I’m super annoying like that. But, scientists have said so. Or so she said. I still can’t seem to reference it.
But anyway…. when I was checking stats just now I saw that someone had viewed my masters’ application post. Don’t worry, I haven’t a clue who. But I’m sure I love you! haha. I always sound like I’m on drugs. Now I’m looking at the screen with one eyebrow raised and the same-side lower lip frowned down, like popeye. ‘Cause I know that ain’t true. I sound normal or just plain mad a lot too.
But anywho, the point is that I read that post, and it just made me smile, the one about the master’s app. And honestly some part of me still has that dream I guess. I’d love to have a master’s degree. But for whatever reason I’m not capable of the details anymore. Or maybe it wasn’t my dream. It was T’s idea. I said, I want to be an author. He said, go back to university. And I was like, um, really? And my nose was kind of scrunched up, as was my entire top lip, revealing my front teeth, like total nerd face. Because I loved that idea in theory, but then what do I do with the degree? I mean I wasted my BA, right? I’m not practically all that bright. Now I have that cat emoji face with the eyebrows raised debonair-style in the center and a top lip stretched down wide smile. Cheshire-style.
But no beer. Never much liked beer though tbh. Mostly wine. And guess what? I still haven’t had any. In just over 18 months now. Well okay except several peer-pressured sips, just before I left France, for a goodbye party. But other than that, none. And every other day or so I think, I might have a glass, why not. Everybody’s Doing It So Why Can’t I. Isn’t that a Cranberries song? I love the Cranberries. That one called Dreams, or Dreaming, or something. I like to play it on on the guitar ’cause it’s really easy. “into my faith, you and your baby.” Who’s your baby? haha.
My baby these days is this writing gig. It started big time after my last baby boy, another love of my life, weaned, around age three, really. So yeah, I said, “I’m done, no, not going for eight, hon,” then my ovaries stopped producing as if on cue, and then bang, something new was birthing out of my womb, yes something new, something maybe more or less blue, where, small as it was, like an autumn pear fallen, there was suddenly perhaps expanding spiritual room.
But the point, dear void, matter of love, lover of textual matter, is this: Please do write that thing.
You know which one. This one, right here. Write now… whichever thing you don’t write… can’t write, because “it won’t be good enough”… because the stats will bite… because it won’t get enough likes… that one. Write it and maybe, maybe, if you’re like Janet J. and you’re nasty, publish it. ‘Cause if you’re lucky, some kind soul may view it later, and you may unusually notice it, and you may get to re-read it, and you might be like, wow! I’m happy I documented that little thing in my life. ‘Cause honestly it wasn’t all that bad really. Even if the views-to-likes did bite at the time. And who knows, maybe it even helped or encouraged someone. Or just entertained them with your fabulous ridiculousness. Just kidding I mean your ferociously sweet insanity. Just kidding I mean your captain g/or/e/someness haha.
And friends… you’ll meet friends along the way. Ones that know your heart, whatever way it happens to be. And maybe even love it, or any smidge of goodness they see in it, just the way it is.
So yeah, you’ll meet a kind of soul family. Which is basically, the culmination of our wildest dreams. If you’re a bit like me. And please don’t worry if you’re not. If you prefer quiet, you’re in luck. It’s all beautiful silent, in the soft dark matter of con-textual love.
p.s. thanks so much for reading. :))
[vid: The Cranberries – Dreaming My Dreams – with seaside scenery]