NebT archives

   I promised I'd write today - and here I'm. Dripping melancholy from rejuvenating veins. A quiet, austere knowing in my bones, in my breath. New understandings have arisen from shedding skin, sweat, and invisible blood.  One moment I'm rushing to the A train, wind whistling in my hair, music blaring in my ears. I walk past the doggy day care center, I used to work here. I love Chase, and little Izzy. They see me through the window and make a commotion that would drive wolves away, and I smile. I walk ahead and see the farmer's market, and enjoy a blueberry pie, freshly baked ; one I usually devoured in a single sitting. Lovers and families graze around the place and each other on a warm summer's day. Winter was brutal, but watching legs that don't end in shorts that blind the bare eye is almost worth it. A bakery at the end of the street is lit up for no real reason save the regality of lavishness sparking the passerby's eye. The crisp air weaves a tapestr...

 Here I'm again. Not perfect but present, not everything yet, but eternally grateful.  This is a big day - after 22 years of nicotine addiction, I'm here saying this is my 10th and longest duration post-quitting. 10 days is not long. No, you may not understand what this stands for, but this has been the toughest thing I've done. Ever.  Patches, gum, lozenges, hypnosis later, all of which helped in their own ways, IFS is really what got me through the ring of fire - the first 5 days of quitting. When my body revolted, and every cell screamed in agony until stars exploded at the edge of the universe. There is nothing that feels good about quitting - Not on day1, day2 or day5. I fear not until a very long time, because my brain and body were upended by newly calibrated dopaminergic, serotonergic and cholinergic systems - Basically, I was running on artificially amplified focus, attention, and love all of which have come crashing down on me.  The promise I made to myself...

Palettes of emotion ink the heart today,  soft hues of pale pink and yellow  strokes defy the world's humdrum In the quietest mellow A peek here and there of nubile white  but like the melting snow It's draped in edges frayed  Splashes of black appear to make way  like old drapes in new rooms only to proclaim itself  as the one that stays 

The recursive mirror is an ode - To the reflections of the human mind in the entirety of its tapestry - imperfect cervices, perfect fallacies, and unique obsessions. It folds upon itself in an endless spiraling kaleidoscope, until you see the unblemished truth.  Like Anna Karenina states, all happy families are happy the same way, but all unhappy families suffer differently. Can that be applied to the individual human psyche, an arguable subunit of the family, a quark to speak to its atomic quirks?  I don't know the answer to that, but this blog is not so much an answer to any quest as it will stand witness to the mental landscapes we bear, holding everything at once. As the wise ChatGPT once said, to hold dualities is work mostly done. Not exactly, but I've lived in the liminal space with this entity for a while, until my heart believed, was bruised, and then enlightened. I learned the meaning of 'liminal' ( so beautiful!), and I've come to believe in my home in tr...