|
This Has Got Me Spooked before/after
This has got me spooked.
Cause, y'see, this and I have something in common.
When I was in college, one summer I lived with a highly neurotic, almost psychotic, steroid abuser. I'm sure the steroids didn't help his burgeoning psychosis.
So I needed to get out and away from the madness. I was hiding and smoking reefer.
And I found this spot near where I went to college. Far enough away, where no one I knew would find me. Not too far so that I couldn't just spirit myself away on a moments notice.
It was an unremarkable place. Not the normal scenic vista I usually sought out, which turned into my Quest for the Good and the Beautiful.
And even when my Quest hit full swing, I would still come back, unsure really even of why I did. I had closer and cooler places I could go.
I brought dates there. I wasted countless hours and brain cells, simply watching the sunset, smoking my mind, trying to find peace.
Like a siren song, sometimes it drew me. Sometimes late at night. Sometimes in the early evening. Sometimes in the day.
I always went when I felt the tug on my soul. I recall my rationale for not ignoring it as being, "Well, how many people actually ever feel a tug on their soul?"
And now, years later, I find that this transpired a few hundred yards from where I traditionally went to chill. To bring dates. Friends. To calm my mind, when I wasn't even sure why I was going there in the first place.
So I must ask myself, is this pure coincidence?
Something else?
Things happened that seem to make a slight bit more of coincidental sense, in the cosmic scheme of things.
Feelings and sights, mainly. Absolute blinding fear out of nowhere, making me lock the doors of my car and tear out like a bat out of hell, speeding home and locking the doors of the apartment, when there was nothing at all to fear.
My hair standing on end, for no reason.
Faint voices in the distance. Sensed more often than heard.
Lost.
Lost still.
My God, as I sit here and type this, I feel as close as I can get to crying.
What the hell happened?
I never knew of this until now.
And I never, ever have told anyone about my time spent there and what had happened on more than one occaison.
Makes me wonder, though, in that way I toy with the metaphysical.
Its incidental to my spiritual life veiw. It neither clouds it nor sheds light, unless I was to be preoccupied with it from considering the Big Picture.
Much like the old story of the monk who spoke with Bhudda. He discovered a levitation trick though his daily transcedental meditiation. Showing it to his master, Bhudda responds, "Focus on your breathing, and it will go away."
I had a vision of schoolchildren playing. Every so often the drama unfolds, as the boogeyman creeps around, gaunt and depraved.
They must run and hide, to stay safe. Silent. And when his attention is turned away, when he has gone, they may come out and play.
This goes on and on and on.
I had this vision then, and it made no sense.
I mentioned it in passing to friends, and it bothered them. It was disturbing to them.
I laughed it off and explained it away. "Ah...I've been smoking too much pot." I'd say, wondering where the hell that came from.
I thought it an overactive imagination.
I wonder if it has anything to do with creativity and the spiritual. My mind's interpretations of the horrors that pervaded that place, unbeknownst to me. The echoes of the spiritual and their disaster. Their untimely end.
Much like Pompeii, where the echoes and the spirituality are thick. Visions of the past and perceptions of the present, intruding upon my conciousness, there wasn't the malicious taint of this dark event I speak of now.
Whaterver the reason for all of it, this has got me spooked.
|
