When I learned that wishing I had faith in the One was the One wishing I had faith in myself, I no longer needed to know why I happened to me anymore because I’d learned it was the little, more unpopular me that was truly huge. Then years spent celebrating the small made me wish more and more I hadn’t left the large behind, since, in the blink of an eye whole galaxies of emotion and thought became a kind of painting I could pan away and zoom out from, a power that only reminded me of how alone, distant and shut off I’d become. This reminds me of the time after meditation I told my teacher I thought I’d had an experience of thoughtlessness, and we both started laughing, having realized I’d totally contradicted myself, though maybe what we were really laughing at was just how unreal perception and the idea of having a self was, that and maybe laughing is easier than screaming upon realizing that one’s existence can’t be found, even when it is physical. What is all this leading to? Is my journey about discovering a big, hairy glob of uncertainty to come to rest upon? Or is it about arriving at a nondual experience of consciousness where meditation can be felt breathing the me the way I had to crouch like and lunge as fast as a frog in order to catch one? There’s no way of knowing, as far as I can tell, even if sometimes I think I can glimpse myself floating underneath my seeing in a time before stars.
Published by Chris Russell
Hi, I'm Chris, and thank you so much reader for visiting my blog and wanting to learn a little bit about me. I know time is a hot commodity these days, more so now than ever I think, which is why it’s my hope that you make it a priority to read my poems under some low light when you have some time on your hands and can really read and reread them closely and experience something shining in them. It’s my sincerest hope that they make you want to look at yourself, your world, and poetry itself a little differently, while they also encourage you to be more kind and gentle with yourself and others. I know when I read a poem, regardless of its subject, I expect to feel asked in and touched by its speaker. Sometimes it happens. Sometimes it doesn’t. That’s the way it goes, right? It would be great though if some of these poems brushed against you. As for when I write, it’s always my intention to lift and exteriorize more understandably complex emotions and states of consciousness I’m currently experiencing, and it's usually through an analysis and highly conscious reframing of my childhood that this happens, though I’ve been known to veer into writing surreal-like absurdism and allegorical prose poetry when the wind splits me that way. Where am I on the planet? This MFA in Writing fossil with an ever expanding Dad bod now lives and works in Concord, New Hampshire where I currently divide much of my time between writing, blogging, assisting middle school students who have special needs, and navigating the journey that is my own really unimpressive, but no less valuable dark night. From my own cave in the wilderness, I’d like to say thanks again for stopping by and spending some of your invaluable time. I invite you to please put your feet up and subscribe for a while, and if you’re feeling moved by one of my poems please share it with a dear friend, preferably someone who doesn’t like poetry. View all posts by Chris Russell