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I Have Made The Good Fight My Long Meditation
Since I learnt to fight at an early age, I learnt to fight calmly and with ease. I made the good fight my long meditation. Fighting within this city was not like sprinting. It was the long drawn-out fight, like throwing punches in slow motion. It was more like breathing it in and out, this filtering process. Each time you breathed in that pollution, your body was fighting things off. It appeared that there was no time for rest. Even at night there were fights in nightmares as my mind tried to cope. After making it a meditation, I was calmly able to approach the world, on the many different levels that it required me to approach it. To act the same way in every situation was ignorant. I chose to become multi faceted, to lose my identity to other identities within myself. It was in this way that I was able to fight the world calmly, and on the many different levels it challenged me. I was able to work in it as a meditation, as I lifted each puppy from a garbage can or kitten from a drainpipe. Yet all the time there was this sense of urgency inside me to save the world completely. It felt like my heart seeding up with the potential to flower, or the rush of strong brown sugar to my head. There was this quietness but also this beating heart inside me that said, 'fifty years to live, fifty years to live.' I fought against my desire to calculate all the lives I might save in my brief lifetime. I wanted to extend myself beyond any figures I might imagine, and secretly hoped that the world might be saved as soon as possible so we might all be at peace. Then I could find my purpose in receiving beauty and joy. There are enough challenges that each of us must go through in life to last a lifetime. But now the added burden of the wanton destruction of the world. So that the human created apocalypse now became our greatest challenge. We were sprinkling salty powder onto the body-sized sores, before we could even attend the huge immune system deficiency. The dying world ached and moaned like creaking ropes that were straining to hold onto a giant ship. It was crying out 'save me, Crystal, save me.' It was an old man throwing his coughing fit back down onto his pillow, whilst I desperately tried to keep ahead by dropping a lozenger onto the blanket. I only hoped the body that was suffering would keep living, and that I wouldn't drown in the wounds. The city of Detroit was a giant wound. I felt like one white blood cell left dying on the skin. |
