When the walls are closing in (July 13, 2009)

Tonight I found myself back in this familiar place. It’s the garbage chute where Princess Leia and the gang are hiding. And the walls are closing in.

As you focus on something it’s natural that your vision narrows. For me that thing is my music, generally, and my forthcoming record, specifically. I become so focused on my goal that the walls start closing in and soon there’s a lack of air. I feel uncomfortably close to death.

So I concentrate on my page because it seems more manageable than, say, a universe. Or getting chased by weird robot people (i.e negative thoughts).

However if you stare for a moment longer you’ll notice your peripheral vision kicks in and the thing you were so focused on becomes… everything. You see that you can’t separate life or death or a page or a tree or a song or a cry or anything. You can either sit there and take it all in or you can blink and go back to staring at your chosen object. For me, I haven’t cultivated the ability to absorb IT in all its entirety, so I have to nibble the bits that are accessible to me. Those are my songs. So I go back to staring at the page. Repeat, repeat, repeat….

The more creative I become, the closer I feel to death. Because creation is the process of watching something and then losing it into the greater picture. It includes life AND death. If I fully dedicate myself to creating something and then I release it, that feels really scary. But I want to approach my page from a place a joy rather than from a place of fear. I don’t think it’s strong enough to serve as a life raft if I’m drowning in trash.

I waste a lot of time being afraid. When the walls are closing in I can’t tell left from right or death from life, so I hold my breath, cling to my little page, and hope that the compactor will malfunction before I’m crushed like a tin can. But that’s no way to live. Or to die.

I don’t know why it’s so difficult to be present with what’s expansive, or why it seems more manageable – or desirable – to be small. This reminds me of “Our Deepest Fear” (pasted below). A friend I met on the road gave me a copy of this quote, and I revisit it often:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” – Marianne Williamson

She articulates this thought far better than I can at 2:30 on a Monday morning.

I’m not really a big Star Wars fan, so I don’t know how they got out of the garbage chute. I think it jammed or something… but the important thing is that they got out.

Whatever anxiety was keeping me awake has now been exhausted.

Thanks for being here. Goodnight.