Dec 23, 2013 03:20
I went to yoga for the first time in months today. It was an easy class. Some satisfying albeit frustrating stretches. I am spectacularly out of shape. Since Genghis died, my mind has been using my dormant body as a sort of cocoon. I've been physically numb for weeks.
Anyway, a few minutes before class was over the tears began to fall. I don't know if it was my body waking up and beginning to experience the anguish that the rest of me has been through lately, or if it was the beautiful ghostly shapes I saw swirling above me as I lay facing upward, thinking that maybe he was there, in the room, letting me in on his presence. Longing to believe it. I remembered the list I found in his cabin when his family and I were going through his things after he was murdered. He'd written it shortly after moving to Cooper Landing, all fits of positivity and momentum. "Cabin plans," he'd written, and "Yoga: DO IT!" New beginnings.
He got his DUI shortly after that and his attitude changed. Back to bitter. Back to liquor. I don't believe he ever did the yoga.
After the instructor led the last namaste I lost it and started sobbing. Such an unconscious, telling phenomenon. I had no idea the body was capable of taking over like that. I'm thinking maybe I should be doing more yoga, if it will release that pain from whatever part of my body I have it stored in.
Last night I dreamed I had sex with a woman. She had a throbbing, veiny penis. I was dripping wet for her, in my dream. I hardly ever have sex dreams, at least not ones I remember. I remember cuddling this woman after she fucked me. Her back felt cold. I can't imagine who she might be. A manifestation of my simultaneous reluctance and eagerness to move on, maybe. I haven't had sex in six weeks. That's some sort of record for me. I crave intimacy, but I also fear it, fear that fucking someone else will betray Genghis in some way, even though he's not even the last person I had sex with.
My roommate told me the other night that I need two years to grieve for Genghis. Drunk and indignant, I said, Hell no. He would want me to move on, not sit in my room crying for two years. One of the last things he said to me was that he didn't want to see me cry anymore. He was all about smiling even in the face of gray, gray clouds. He never took being alive for granted. One of the most basic elements of our connection was that we both valued, and sought out, rapturous moments. The ones where you lose your ego and become one with life, the universe and everything; the ones when you feel truly alive. Tripped out, staring at stars; fucking like drunken deities; taking over dance floors like we were the only two people in existence, reaffirming for one another that what matters is not the bad shit.
There was a lot of bad shit. Cheating, drugs, alcohol, accusations, jealousy. An unrestrained temper on my part. But still, it was easy to overlook these things in light of the good, in light of the crazy amazing feeling that just existing together gave us. Experiencing life as we blew through it and past it and swam into new waters. I experienced my relationship with Genghis as a journey. His presence ignited and accelerated a personal awakening in me that kept going, and going. It hasn't stopped yet. I am unlearning and reshaping and slowly creeping toward a life full of love. Eradicating all the fear. All the fear, of what others think, of what I think, of the expectations that were ingrained in my psyche from birth, of what society wants of me, of what the media says, all of it. It's becoming more and more strange to think about, the way fear rules so many lives, when none of it really matters. Just the love. That is life. I owe this beautiful journey to Genghis, whose soul was ancient, and wise, and needed only company.
Genghis's gift to me, this amazing leg of my journey, won't end with his death. He's still making waves in my life. I plan on having some delicious, satisfying sex in the near future, and I'll deal with whatever it brings up. But I won't believe some BS about sitting in my room for two years. I've already committed to making 2014 a year of travel, of rapturous moments, of life-affirmation, of rebirth and new growth. I hope I see him in my dreams sometime so I can tell him about it.