THE FUTURE IS BRIGHT
Feeding My Subconscious Mind
There is a hole inside me that wants to be filled. It aches. It cries. It demands. Now. More. Not enough. Never enough. The all-consuming void.
The void doesn’t digest well. It takes sugar and dairy and gluten, chews it up, spits it out my skin, then begs for more. A mere dozen likes or claps is a clear disappointment. You came here for satisfaction? Guess what. You’re emptier than you were before. Try Facebook. Or Twitter. False notifications of faulty friends. Reminders of other people’s lives. Keep looking. Send a text. Or three.
Jittering. Jones-ing for validation. Somebody. Anybody. Pay attention to me!
No. No. This is unhealthy, I know. Give me yoga. Give me meditation and mantras. Give me peace. Until they, too, become another way to numb, to fill the gaping, bottomless pit. If I don’t yoga every day, I freak out. Lose my cool. Well, then, are you not abusing this tool?
When will you be satisfied? When will you be full? When will it be enough?
Aren’t all our problems linked to filling a void?
First of all, darling, you’re doing a great job. You’re here. These words resonate. You seek… not answers, but something below words. It is okay to seek, but understand that the need to know is part of the problem. Knowing is the hunger.
Truth is not available to language. Words are cages for consciousness.
The food: you almost have it under control. Saying no to all that your body despises hasn’t been easily. Over thirty with acne so your skin didn’t give you a choice but to divest from the processed, packaged products of temporary happiness. You frame the climate in the centre of your mind to keep the candycoffeecheese demons at bay. What is sustainable for the planet? Surely you don’t need that beveragesnacktreat to stay alive.
Food is fuel. Funny how we turned sustenance into longing.
Social media, now that’s a different story. How many times a day do you dopamine spiral, looking for the next hit? It’s not social media’s fault, you say. It’s the human condition. If it wasn’t this, it would be something else (alcohol, sex, love, career, money, validation). You know it’s a tool you can turn to your advantage if only you could just let go of the need to be liked. Not enough claps, time to quit. Gratification. Validation. Distraction. I want more, more, more. They train us, dogs salivating at little red, blue, green bubbles filled with numbers.
What is your worth? Where does it come from?
Now this is the trick. Spinning words into meaning. Tiny totems sent into the world in the hopes of moving, changing the consciousness. You must tell new stories. Stories to make yourself enough. You must purge the void of all that it has consumed in this lifetime. Exorcise the need demons and you will be free.
This is art. This is dance. This is personal, braided, flirting-with-fiction essays. This is song. This is woodwork. This is carefully crafted ink and coloured pens, yarn and twine and rows of flowers in freshly tilled dirt. Create! Express!
You could meditate your life away, never leaving your cave and, still, the void would grumble. Its contents need to be spilled. The poison must out. Start! Start now. Even when you feel paralyzed. Especially when you feel paralyzed.
Validate your damn self, darling.
You are not a hungry ghost. You are infinite, cycling energy currently having a human experience. The void is a tool. The void is a trick. The void is a sign. We will overcome this capitalist, consumerism culture seeping with pollution once we understand our inner workings.
It is okay to be hungry. It is our human condition. But, also, it is okay to change, to move, to evolve. To let go of knowing. To let go of knowing.
You possess the power.
The void will not be suppressed with wellness or mindfulness (though those are both helpful). The void must be poured onto the pavement and made into art. The void must be manipulated to our will — once we have manipulated our will beyond the socialization of need, want, lust.
The in must out. Transmute and set yourself free.