I have decided that I am insane. Not a long time in coming. I’ve been on this journey before and its twists and turns feel vaguely familiar and even comforting.
They say, that to be filled with the Divine, to really become One with the All, you must lose yourself entirely. Your heart and Spirit must dwell in a place where human logic takes a back seat and all that really exists is within your Mind, unseen and untouched except by Spirit hands, trembling and hesitant.
The corridors of the asylum are lined with thousands of us, waiting for Her passing. The halls are shiny and floors slippery. We stand with heads bowed, in dirty pajamas, hair uncombed, sleep still in our eyes. We wait, rocking back and forth against the wall. A TV flickers in the rec room, the dull hum of it lulling us all to impotence. I hold on to the railing, hoping I don’t hit the floor.
Being insane isn’t so bad. People quit being polite or making excuses for you. “Oh, she is just a little eccentric”, they used to say nervously, eyes darting to my face, to see if I was listening.
I didn’t set out to be this way. I didn’t set out to be a laughingstock, one so weird and strange that my childhood was spent talking to Plants more than people, keeping company with ‘imaginary’ friends and enjoying it more than play dates with human ones. To this day, with few exceptions, I despise the company of the living; the normal, the safe, the predictable and civilized. Give me Shades, give me phantoms, give me things that go bump in the night.
I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way.
I spent lunch hours in the school library instead of the playground. I craved solitude; the endless chatter of the classroom a hammer to my head. I would sit on the floor and read the Encyclopedia Britannica volume by volume, wishing I were anywhere but where I was. I find I still do this, only now, I read occult books, I pray, I commune with the Dead, I do rituals and workings to lift my body and mind out of the mundane and to set my Spirit closer to the Great Ones…if even for a second.
I am a temple Whore. I am a Pythia, inhaling Her scent and babbling incoherently.
I am obsessed with the unknown; the darker ways, the crooked path, the crossroads of blood, bone, ash and decay. I find solace in cemeteries, knowing that one day, I will join them and finally be at rest. Harbingers of death, bad omens, nightmares and shadow Tarot readings are all just reassurances. I look forward to passing through that veil for the final time.
All of us, as true workers of the Way, must die in some degree, now, right now, to close off the ego long enough to be of use to the Gods. It isn’t fun. It isn’t light, gay or cheery. It hurts and I sometimes wonder if I will ever heal. Will I always be like this? Scarred, bruised, holding on to the faintest glimmer of normalcy, clutching the railing on those shiny asylum walls, before I hit the floor.
They say, that there is a fine line between genius and insanity. I disagree. There is no line. There really is no genius involved at all. Just shades of psychosis, weaving in and out, taking us for a ride, mangling our hearts and making us blathering idiots, consumed and inflamed and out of control. They say that is the sign of a true Shaman; demented, loathsome and creaky with craziness. That’s what they say.
So, I wait….I wait in the shiny hall, pastel-coloured medications in hand. I wait for my Gods passing, for Their relief. I don’t yearn to be normal. I yearn to be crushed and my body scattered as rose petals before Them, my blood making pretty designs on the linoleum. I long to let go.
I am tired of trying. I am tired of trying to fit in, to be ‘civil’, to engage in polite conversation and act like I care. I am tired of people, places, ‘reality’ and all that goes with it. This despondency knows no end. I ache with fatigue, my eyes and head hurt. I want to lie down.
I sigh deeply and with relief let my sweaty hands lose their grip from the dark wood railing…I feel myself taking the plunge and heading downward, I see the slippered feet of the other demented as I pass by.
All is quiet, all is grey, all is peace and calm. My meds scatter like pretty marbles, my feet come out from under me. I finally hit the floor. And it is good.