I stood in the doorway, still, for about five minutes, looking into the dark, empty apartment, letting images, sounds, memories of the past year and three months freely come and go; my routines, my feelings walking through the door, who had been here, what I did here.
This had been home. It's hard to let go of something like that once it's gone. But I had stayed my welcome. Things were getting stagnant, it was getting old, difficult to deep the place clean, difficult to get out for fresh air because there was nowhere new to go and explore. It was time for a change and this move to Berkeley is the best thing.
My nightmare is still here. The difference is that the nightmare is now close to other people. Before I was able to keep people from seeing it, now it may be impossible. Things have been fun with Nobuko and Vikki these past few days, and it feels like living together can only be good. I know that's not true.
I wonder how well I'll be able to adjust to living up in the Berkeley hills. I had gotten used to minimal insect life. I don't even want to think about the spiders here. It's old and somewhat dank. Rustic. I don't know if the air quality is any better than in San Francisco. I'm still getting nosebleeds from my allergies to dust I'm also starting to get a touch of asthma again. I haven't had asthma since 1992.
I still want to die. I still wish in the abstract that I had stayed in San Francisco. Things just won't get better for me.
Last Thursday I went to 5:00 Mass at the Grace Cathedral in San Francisco. I looked up to the concrete ribbing along the ceiling of the cathedral and imagined it designed to appear to be inside the body of God. There seemed to be an intentional distance placed between the guests/audience/worshipers and the people who were singing, those close enough to God to actually participate and lead the Mass.
The voices of the singers/choir/chorus were absolutely glorious; God-like was probably the intention, and all ranges of voices reflected actively and beautifully off the concrete walls. The room was especially well-fitted for the pipe organ. The bass frequencies were enormous.
Why do I tend to interpret the physical world in terms of signs and metaphor? That's the way I've been trained, it has almost become automatic. It's not conceit, it's not pride, it's just the way I am.
The cathedral made me think about distance from God and it made me think about how huge and definite my distance from God is. If I have spiritual aptitude, then why this distance? Maybe there is a reason why there is this distance. The spiritual aptitude may be what I've gained through however many lifetimes; it's just me. The distance may be the result of suicide. Maybe more than one. Maybe I keep committing suicide and each one pushes me further from God and increases the distance. I feel that I know that I'm going to commit suicide in this life as well. It's just a given. And that is the struggle of this distance. It raises the doubt in me whether I will do it.
