500. Ziggy’s Diary: 28

And today I have the hangover. Headache. I feel awful. From two ounces of alcohol. Well, I’m no longer used to it. I suppose I was asking for it.

Maybe it was trying to make that Christmas phone call that brought me to my latest realization. I chant and my mind opens and I see the universe and I feel the ecstatic joy that is to be alive. But then I realize that to remain in that state of grace I have to leave behind all that I know. All that I am. Not merely ego, not merely sin. All. ALL.

But didn’t I come here to purge myself of the urge to self-annihilate? How is being swallowed whole by the entire universe different from death? How is it different from leaving those in my life bereft of me?

It isn’t different. And I suddenly remember that I came here to supposedly heal myself SO I CAN become a functioning member of society again. Right? How is singing the name of God being functional? How long have I been here, anyway–six months? Does everyone think I’m dead?

I’ve been chipping away at that block of darkness, that scar, that damage I did to myself by being untrue about love. But I have come to think that even the unconditional love of god is not enough to heal that wound. There are only two choices.

I can forsake my entire past life, cut the memory of him out like a cancer, and move forward spiritually free into utter ego-less abandon. Or I can go back and try to heal the wound, return to my former self for the sake of doing so. The dilemma is the same as before, in a way. Oblivion beckons on one side, the love of others on the other. My mother, too. Can I leave her so easily? No. I really can’t.

The weight of it all feels crushing as I allow myself to remember what awaits me on the North American continent. The movie release. Has it happened yet? Are they searching for me? And what about Moondog Three? Am I ready to face Daron yet?

Daron. There. I wrote it. I found my mind chanting his name, spelling it out and making silly songs for call and response, even while the afternoon kirtan was going on. I thought of things like this:




I need to go home.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *