I had some idea of what to talk about today but now all I can hear inside my mind is the 1990's hit Mmmbop, which is kind of distracting, given that I'm also tired and disoriented after last night's partying.
I'm currently reading this novel -well, a memoir actually, Eat, Pray, Love written by Elizabeth Gilbert. It's about the author's journey from America to Italy, India and Indonesia. Elizabeth is 32 years old when she leaves her unhappy marriage behind and starts a journey around the world to fight the depression and find a balance between bodily pleasure and spiritual devotion.
In the India part, in which I am at the moment, she's aiming to create a connection with God by doing yoga and meditating. It's not exactly her own goal (not yet, at least), but she tells about the turiya state which is the fourth level of human consciousness, while the other three are waking, dreaming and a deep dreamless sleep. Turiya is portrayed to be the link between all the other levels of consciousness. It is always present and witnesses the other levels. For example, when you wake up it's due to turiya that you can remember what you were dreaming about. Regardless of the presence of this state of witness-consciousness, it's not easy to reach it, to get in that state. Here's how being in turiya is described to be:
One who is living in from within turiya is not affected by the swinging moods of the mind, fearful of time or harmed by loss. "Pure, clean, void, tranquil, breathless, selfless, endless, undecaying, steadfast, eternal, unborn, independent, he abides in his own greatness", say the Upanishads, the ancient Yogic scriptures, describing anyone who has reached the turiya state.
Sounds fancy, doesn't it? Imagine living in such peace of mind, free from anxiety and doubts and just fervently calm about everything whatsoever.
The thing is, though, that not only would I be incapable of that amount peacefulness with this messed up mind of mine, but also unwilling to live in a constant bliss.
Melancholy that makes me weep for hours without any particular reason, anxiety that deters me from sleeping, uncertainty that makes me doubt that I'm not good enough for anyone to love, anger that requires but the tiniest spark to burst into flames - they are all me. I cry, yell, snap - and hyperventilate. I let the darkest thoughts haunt me and I harbour my angst. Sometimes, quite often to be honest, I wish I could stop myself from thinking - or at least, to be able to think objectively. Perhaps I'll learn that some day, but till then I have to get along with these emotions that are often times so powerful that it feels like they could break me.
The other side of this coin of exhausting feelings is obviously the positive side.
I'm not content, but blissfully happy.
I'm not interested, but fascinated.
I'm not glad, but thrilled.
I frequently smile dopily, cry of happiness or affection and split my sides with laughter. I want to share the most beautiful, amazing and exciting things with the entire world and I want everyone to feel like I do. When I'm in a really good mood I radiate happiness so intensively you can almost see little beams shining thorough my eyes. In those moments everything is plain beautiful and nothing hurts. It's these overwhelming moments of happiness that makes life worth it.
That's why I don't want to give away my darker side either: because worse than feeling pain is feeling nothing, being numb.