More and more lately, I have been having this sensation of being on the edge of a precipice, and beyond that precipice is a vast and infinite abyss.
I remember distinctly being 3 years old, at an art gallery of some kind, and having this sensation as someone lifted me up to look through a window into a black little room with a small model of the Earth, rotating alone in the center. It was the ultimate combination of vertigo and deja-vu, as I instantly felt as though I had been propelled to millions of miles outside of the Earth's atmosphere. I felt like, if I wasn't being held up, I would drop into the abyss of space and just float there eternally.
I will never forget that sensation. And nowadays, It has been coming up often for me.
When I think about potentially loving someone romantically (yes, someone in particular), I feel it.
When I think about my father and his inevitable death, I feel it.
When I think about having children, I feel it.
I used to feel it when I was very young every time someone mentioned the heart. If I heard a heartbeat, or saw a picture or drawing of a heart, or someone even said the word "heartbeat," I would feel it. It's almost a feeling of arousal, but it is more than a carnal desire for physical stimulation. It feels like the whole Universe is attempting to fit within my chest space, but it's too big, so it starts to leak out of my arms and face and legs.
I don't know what to do with all of it. It is far too massive for me to contemplate without breaking down into a fit of overwhelm, despair, and joy all at once.
I remember on New Year's 2000 (remember Y2K?), I had such a sensation and I broke down sobbing. My dad, alarmed, asked me what was wrong. My small 11-year-old self had suddenly realized how quickly it was all happening. It was Earth-shattering to me to have been swept up in the current and not noticed how fast life was moving by. That was the first time I remember understanding mortality.
Almost every day, I face the fear of my father's death. I know it must happen, and it may happen sooner than later. But somehow I cannot overcome this gut-wrenching grief that someday my dad won't be here anymore. Maybe my feeling of loss is more linked to my desire for him to be here more often as it is. He has worked so hard and done so much, and his intentions are noble. But some days I wish I could curl up in his lap again and have him tell me a story and tickle me with puppets. I only hope that one day I will find a man who can do that for my children.
It is such a strange thing, to be a Human. To have such strong emotional and physical desires. To wonder so much and know so little. The only thing that keeps me grounded is following my dream of being a great actress. I don't know why this thing calls to me above all others, but I must follow it. Every day I don't heed that call, I feel myself sinking into the hell of stagnation and boredom.
Maybe this feeling of vertigo and deja-vu is just the universe making its Presence known. I can't say that it is an entirely unpleasant feeling. Maybe I can expand myself to allow more of it in, and perhaps that will take the edge off. We humans are so used to being closed-off to all feelings of expansion and bliss, and when they happen it can be scary. Last night I wept and nearly panicked as wave upon wave of love and fear of love crashed through me and racked my body and very being. It was overwhelming and amazing and horrific all at the same time. It was wonder and desire and incredible fear.
I hope I can someday effectively harness these powerful emotions, in my craft and in my life creation.
Love,
Phoenix
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