This Hungry Ghost ....

self portrait

does not fall by the wayside from the absence of sustenance, from being avoided or ignored. This hungry ghost paces along side of me in synchronicity, outstretched limbs, wearily grasping in it's ethereal existence. Casting a long shadow over the spanning echo of my being. This is my ghost, I have to take responsibility of its residency, just as it has taken possessor-ship of its human. It's a daily conflict of whom owns whom.

Do you recall the good ol' boy drinking joke? Goes something like this: "She said I had a drinkin' problem. I said, yes I do, I've got two hands to hold liquor & only one mouth to drink it from!"

Low brow to be sure, but not far off from the description of the far East's philosophy of the hungry ghosts who crave & hunger for substances they cannot digest. These ghosts suffer from tiny mouths, scrawny necks, though contradicted by having exaggeratedly large, bottomless stomachs to match their insatiable appetites, making it impossible to ever get the feeling of satifaction.

Is it an issue of morality? My egoic pride? Do I not have the adequate conscience, soul, or discipline? Am I uncouth? Unintelligent? Or is there a Mariana trench like chasm so vast inside of me that every positive attribute is also just a drop in the bucket? 

Sound familiar? For myself it is a hollowness deep inside that is an aching hunger, an unquenchable thirst. Not only is it never being satisfied, but also lacking the ability to just be with myself & " just feel okay" or to ease the aching for more... that hopeful grasp that something outside of yourself will make up what is deficient inside of self. 

 Trauma. Addiction. Therapy. Recovery. Relapse. Trauma... 

If some event outside of you happened, putting the trauma inside of you, then why is it that addicts are seen as crazy for thinking something outside of them could also take the trauma that causes addiction away?