Oct. 10th, 2018

storyrainthejournal: (eek)

When I was a kid and a teenager, and periodically on into adulthood, I had debilitating anxiety. I described it as feeling like I was walking on an unreliable dock over deep, dark, oily liquid nothingness, catastrophic black waters, with the sense that things really weren’t all right or okay, under the surface—and the surface was not solid.

Learning to meditate at 11, and eventually, as an adult, taking anti-anxiety & depression medication, gave me a sense of solid footing, in myself, in my breath, in love and connection.

Now I find myself thinking that the description of the anxiety I experienced as a kid sounds a lot like a premonition of the future we humans were making, and that of the animals who are cursed with our presence on this planet.

The good stuff is still real, but we really do have dangerous abyss at our feet, and the surface we tread day by day is not as solid as we think; and that abyss is formed, in part, of oil and greed and the darkness of a refusal to see.

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