No poetry now

I knew this would happen, but I didn't know when or how. The day and a half of heartfulness is over.

I'm back in my head, and its full of chaos.

Old desires and stories spin around in my inner space. White noise crackles in the background, thoughts and feelings tumble and drive impulses I thought I had dropped - my plunge into freedom is interrupted.

Yesterday morning I was angry, that's what pulled me into the dark. I can put my finger on it. I was doing my chores, starting with the usual 50 emails, and one drove me to pound out a letter of protest over something foolish the national organization was doing. Why did they make me the California State Director, and hold back support? They lied; there's no money, and hardly any members in the Bay Area who will do any meaningful work. I'm irritated and I want to bite the head off of the Campaign Director in the Washington D.C. office, who called to get my report on the phone list I'm working. She was bubbly and had all sorts of suggestions. I don't need a cheerleader, I need a support team, not some polyanna with nothing to do but create a laundry list of more chores. I bit my tongue and said okay-okay, but I chafed, so I fired an email to Carl. He's the only other member in this area that has done anything significant, and he's also burned out and cynical. His reply popped up on Yahoo an hour later. Tell the bitch to go to hell, he said, putting words to my attitude. After a 35 year career as a thoracic surgeon, he wasn't into BS. Of course I didn't tell the Campaign Director where to go, but Carl's attack made me feel better. A few hours later, I backed away from the desk and went to the gym. Pushing weights is an effective outlet for anger. Then I ran hard for 30 minutes on the treadmill, getting my heart rate to 160, soaking in sweat.

Dark thoughts keep oozing.  I'm a one man project manager and gofer  because they lied. There aren't 15,000 members nationwide, that's an email list, there can't be more than 1% who actually do anything. Who would have thought volunteering can be more draining and less inspiring than slaving 9-5? If  I've really learned it's futile to get my desired outcome, why am I so attached? I need to go back to my day job. I shouldn't stay so ramped up to achieve a victory over human suffering. I get supine on the sofa, and let on-screen dramas distract my attention away from self incrimination. Akemi's in Japan, so I watch macabre shows she doesn't like, then crawl into bed alone. The dark fog continues to poison my thoughts as I toss and turn to find sleep.

Now its 6:30 Saturday morning. Grrrrrr. I'm annoyed by awakening to thoughts of blood spatter on the walls. I really need to stop watching Dexter late at night. My stomach feels bloated. I need a 3 day starvation fast. I breathe deeply and wait for empty mind, but thoughts crawl in. I have to stop the beer, even if its only 2 or 3. I'm weak, I need discipline.
I'm chronicling the rebound of attachments, and I need an escape. The workshop for which I registered is looming, but it doesn't feel like the escape I need. It doesn't seem interesting at all this morning. I have a fear that I'll be nothing but an object in a classroom, so I'm trying to bend my mind to accept that, and allow whatever happens, but the thought feels flimsy and hollow. What can anyone say that will teach me anything new? I'm not even curious, but I'll go because I always keep my commitments.