Delicious Grace of Moving One’s Hand

The title of this page comes from the book of the same name by Dr. Timothy Leary, “The Delicious Grace of Moving One’s Hand”.  I was working at Waldenbooks the first (and only) time I saw the book.  I never read it; the name just stuck with me.

While this page’s namesake is about sexual awakening of the senses, I use it here in a more unorthodox way.  The delicious grace of moving one’s hand…to wake from the dream.

In the Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan, there is a group of people called the Aiel, who say that “Life is a dream from which we all must wake.”

Here I will post stories I find that touch the core of me about the “movements” of those who have “awoken”, as well as post, from time to time, my own thoughts when the black wind is coursing through my mind in my struggle to keep dreaming.

I know, almost certainly, that one day I will “awaken” and it will be by the grace of moving my hand…






3 thoughts on “Delicious Grace of Moving One’s Hand

  1. shadowalking says:

    And yet, I hope that isn’t the kind of awakening you do, my dear. It is too painful for those of us who love you and are left behind to pick up the tattered pieces of psyche and try to continue on.

  2. shadowalking says:

    That would be good, because I’ve seen how badly it screws up everyone…not just loved ones, but friends as well. I watched Teresa beat herself up because Arwen killed herself…never mind that Arwen was bi-polar and had convinced the docs that she was just fine. Teresa decided that she must’ve been a bad mother, despite 3 other children to the contrary, and took herself out. The kids were/are devastated, even after almost a year, wondering how they could’ve been more there for her, despite Lara taking time off work to look after Teresa. And friends are continuing to wonder the same thing, “Could I have been there more often? Should I have called more?” and of course, “How could we not have seen this coming?” Suicide makes life so much worse for everyone left behind. It’s as if the person says to themselves, “What could I possibly do to make everyone’s life a living hell, and make sure I’m not around to deal with it?” Now I realize that when someone is mentally ill that it’s all about them. No one exists but you and your impenetrable ball of pain. It’s when you realize that there are people out there that actually care, and that all your ball of pain does is wall you off from people that can help, that you can start the long, scary process of reaching out to those people that you can trust. There will always be pain, and asshole, but the trick is to find the spaces in between and realize that there is real joy there. Can you begin to imagine the burden of pain that you would saddle Katana with if you did yourself in? Let alone the rest of us?

    Anyway, enough soapbox for now. Know that there are many of us out here that love you, care about you, worry about you, and would be bereft if you were gone from this plane.

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