Mid September Reflections

It’s raining today. Yesterday… I discovered… how egotistical I was before I took off to travel and experience a different slice of life…

how… really, ego was merely protecting me. And at this point, without the intensity of my ego that previously dominated my psyche… I feel more free. I feel less inclined… to be someone I’m not and more often… realise I am unconcerned… with how someone perceives me, though I perceive the value of first impressions and presentation.

the sweet acceptance of where i am… where i was… looking back, is incredibly warming. not that the journey is complete, it reminds me of hiking to machu picchu… the stops along the way… the lookout… the swing, arching over the edge, the expanse of green, surrounded by pachamama, it’s like that. the effort of getting there, is not about the final destination. the final destination never mattered as much as the journey. what does the final destination mean then? what would having a degree mean to me? 

in learning that endings are beginnings, it’s as though i can sense the one looming on the edge of my horizon, that’s where i’m going. 

i needed the time off. i’m glad.

perhaps, it was travelling, that brought in an understanding of how i am… and an integrated understanding of karma. as esoteric as it sounds, it works in a practical way. everything i judge, have learned to judge, will one day come around and teach me compassion the difficult way. it’s simpler, to let judgement go. 

what i was so afraid of. rejection? once, yes, deeply. now? now… i wonder why. why i ever took it so personally. why i ever wanted things that never made sense to me on a deeper level. conditioning. is the answer that comes. but also, deeper than conditioning, authenticity… i became authentic, in my pursuit of authenticity. 

this is the place to start, isn’t it? 

not in the literal death, but in the metaphoric and the symbolic.

where everything has been broken down. 

is the place to begin anew. 

this funny chokehold that i used to feel, is gone. this naive, foolish, sillyness… of trying to be someone i wasn’t, failing that and failing at being whoever i really was, a hangover from adolescence… has gone. in its place, seems to be the freedom i instinctively knew was mine as a child… conditioned out of, surrendered to the powers outside of myself… has returned. 

not in its naive iteration anymore… but in the truth and the reality of this world… in the paradox of knowing what is real and what is an illusion and that it’s all the same thing. in existing in realities that cross over and tickle at the edges and the seams of cultures and worldviews and models about life. 

about being here… breathing… a space between there and now, a space between the past and the present, like a venn diagram, i don’t recall ever being in this space, as though i jumped too fast from one stage to the next and missed this one. 

it’s the space we may inhabit at some point in our lives. it’s often a space nobody willingly goes. its liminality belies the comfort of the habitual. but it’s the space you find yourself in when life becomes intolerable in the way you experience it, it’s the place where all your inner strength and demons will surface if you have the courage to dissolve. everything that doesn’t matter, that cannot matter… that will not matter… will die. sometimes gaspingly furious for breath. surrender is never passive but active and always, terrifying… because surrender is the initiation into the unknown, of territory that you’re unfamiliar with. 

it’s pouring outside now. there’s something about this weather that’s tickling me, behind these glass windows where i’m warm… there is not much to frustrate me. 

Sand

Goal?

What is my goal here? Who am I writing for? Why am I sharing?

To be honest, I don’t know. There are differing impulses. I like this quote,

I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.

Joan Didion

A part of me simply likes the process of watching words form. To write the insights that come, all the whimsy, the moody and the existential. It’s like a cherry. It’s the cherry for me. I’m obsessional. Actually. The more I observe myself, the more I realise this. All suffering and insecurity is created from attachment. It’s very Buddhist. And intellectual.

And I felt that today.

I wrote it down.

And I wondered… that’s new. Even though the words hadn’t changed. They were changed for me. I let go.

Like triggers being beautiful because they’re an opportunity to work on what’s coming up.

It’s easy to say that and think they make total sense. And in the middle of the triggers… I’m gone. You know? Like… this spiral has a hold of you and you’re just on the ride.

Like someone saying, you are not your thoughts or your beliefs. Observe them.

It makes total sense. And then in the middle of being hijacked by a rogue thought or sabotaging belief… you’re totally on the rollercoaster.

I’ve been there so many times and didn’t even realise I was on the ride. Like having a dream and not realising you’re dreaming unless you’re a lucid dreamer.

Sometimes the thoughts overlap each other before they have time to fade into the echos of my mind. A bunch of synapses firing.

And me.

Taking the neural pathways with the deepest grooves. Until I realise I can choose my thoughts.

Why don’t you try loving the parts of yourself that you’re repressing? Love the chaos and the darkness. Love the ferocious. Love the parts of you that are self-sabotaging and negative. Love all those parts. Especially, love your messiness, your judgements, your destructiveness. Love her. Love her wild. Love yourself wild… Love with your entire being

and hold nothing back.

You are the one living this life. You are the one in this drama called life, playing the roles you’re playing.

You get it?

I understand the intellectual realm that a thought exists in… before I understand it on the emotional, in my body.

That’s where the change happens.

Here’s a poem that emerged from a totally different poem:

over there in the temple of flowers,

the leaves whip by in the wind

and soar into the tipped outline of feathered wings

they do this every day,

somewhat cheekily as they tickle by your ears

and ask,

are you my tree?

Ideas looking for a home

Some time later as I come back to it… I’m like oh.

It’s not that the curtains are a melancholic blue because the person is depressed and meticulously picked the blue curtains to symbolise that. Although, there is something moody and poetic about it, the poetics are better when actively cultivating communication with the unconscious. It’s that the unconscious communicates its desires, anyway.

It’s that depression is asking for attention. For your love. To see, why you are being choked softly to death whilst living and breathing in this body of yours.

It’s that depression gets your attention. Sadly, we don’t know what to do with it. We don’t know how to make it ‘go away’. We don’t know how to open the lid to the can of worms, enter the labyrinth… what metaphor have you… eat from the apple tree of Eden. Does that one even work? Maybe we need to re-claim our birthright to knowledge. That suffering is part of the human condition. That we’ll all experience suffering if we’re human, even if we’re not – animals feel pain too – that suffering can be experienced by every living creature.

Do animals instinctively live in the present? The what is? The now? Maybe they have something to teach us.

If we were flying with the geese on their migratory journey, we’d be in awe, at their intelligence. So much that it gives me goosebumps, at how their compassion for each other is intrinsically wired into their intelligence. On another level, I can take it out of this realm of feeling… channel a little Darwinism and suggest, that is how they survive. Evolutionarily speaking, this is required for their survival.

But with the former perspective, maybe we’d be humbled. With the latter, we have not questioned our dominance over the Earth and the natural world.

With the former maybe we’d be more curious about what education is and what it teaches. Maybe we’d be more curious on learning how to accept every single emotion and thought that arises in our being without insisting on the right or wrongness of any of them. Maybe we’d have a level of respect and awe for this world and every creature in it… on a deeper life and death level.

The paradigm would shift.

In reference to the previous post I made, Why I don’t have a god, I would have to add, god is not outside of ourselves and neither is satan.

Sand