i was so afraid
so afraid of
not needing you
so unaware
that i was
loving from fear
so confused
thinking love
demanded need
too oblivious
to see
my desire
pulling you under
as soon as i
gave up
gave in
let go
stopped
needing you
i was suddenly
Free
finally free to
see you
hear you
know you
your real you
because you
were finally free
of my weight
of my need
what i needed
what i really needed
after all and everything
is over and done
was to get out of the fucking way
and just be me
and let you be you
so we could meet each other
again
and fall
for the first time
Showing posts with label flow. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flow. Show all posts
Thursday, June 12, 2014
I Have Sowed Need, And What Then I Reaped...
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Nothing To Say...
I want to write a poem. I've been enjoying that a lot lately. More than I ever have before.
I've never wanted to write poetry before. I always wanted to write stories, or prose. But I always suffered from a distinct lack of ideas. And I've discovered that poetry fits perfectly with the kind of art I really want to make. I always knew that I wanted to make art with words, and so I assumed that meant I should write stories. And that's what I always did growing up. But I've recently realized that I'm not a very good storyteller. Or, rather, I'm not a very good story-creator. If someone gives me an idea, I can write the shit out of it. But I have trouble coming up with the ideas myself.
And I think I've come to enjoy writing poetry so much lately exactly because it isn't necessarily about telling a story. It's purely about self-expression in lyrical word form. And it feels good. Figuring out what I'm feeling and then turning it over and over in my mind, looking at it this way and that; and then finding different ways to express it, finding different ways to shape it into something interesting or beautiful or potent or impactful. It's like solving a puzzle. Writing stories is so much a mental exercise. But writing poetry feels like an intuitive process, letting the emotional and mental sides of myself wrestle back and forth with each other, and following the pull, the flow of the words that come from their interaction.
And I've come to really, really enjoy that feeling. And I want to do it every day. I want to do it now.
But I'm having an ordinary day. I'm not feeling anything in particular; I don't have anything I need to express. And without that fuel, I don't have anything write about. Sometimes I get lucky, like yesterday, and a poem will come to me even though I'm not feeling anything particularly deep or important. But I have no control over that. And right now, I'm sitting here, and I want to write a poem. But I've got nothing to say. I'm having an ordinary day.
Oh. Well, fuck. Never mind, then.
I've never wanted to write poetry before. I always wanted to write stories, or prose. But I always suffered from a distinct lack of ideas. And I've discovered that poetry fits perfectly with the kind of art I really want to make. I always knew that I wanted to make art with words, and so I assumed that meant I should write stories. And that's what I always did growing up. But I've recently realized that I'm not a very good storyteller. Or, rather, I'm not a very good story-creator. If someone gives me an idea, I can write the shit out of it. But I have trouble coming up with the ideas myself.
And I think I've come to enjoy writing poetry so much lately exactly because it isn't necessarily about telling a story. It's purely about self-expression in lyrical word form. And it feels good. Figuring out what I'm feeling and then turning it over and over in my mind, looking at it this way and that; and then finding different ways to express it, finding different ways to shape it into something interesting or beautiful or potent or impactful. It's like solving a puzzle. Writing stories is so much a mental exercise. But writing poetry feels like an intuitive process, letting the emotional and mental sides of myself wrestle back and forth with each other, and following the pull, the flow of the words that come from their interaction.
And I've come to really, really enjoy that feeling. And I want to do it every day. I want to do it now.
But I'm having an ordinary day. I'm not feeling anything in particular; I don't have anything I need to express. And without that fuel, I don't have anything write about. Sometimes I get lucky, like yesterday, and a poem will come to me even though I'm not feeling anything particularly deep or important. But I have no control over that. And right now, I'm sitting here, and I want to write a poem. But I've got nothing to say. I'm having an ordinary day.
I've got nothing to say
It's an ordinary day
Nothing to write home about
No reason to stay
There's nothing going on here
No deep thoughts to feel here
I'm empty as the mirror's gaze
For all the world to see here
This is just an exercise
Performed for all your judging eyes
Written to determine who
Can wrench the Truth from all my lies
Because I have nothing to say
On this ordinary day
And the rhymes of poetry sometimes
Just get in the way
Oh. Well, fuck. Never mind, then.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Working For The Weekend...
So, I figured out why I mysteriously felt the need to do nothing all this past weekend.
Apparently, I needed to rest up so I could come in to the office and work all this weekend!
Oh, joy.
Apparently, I needed to rest up so I could come in to the office and work all this weekend!
Oh, joy.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Go With The Blurble...
I did absolutely nothing this weekend.
I spent three days sitting on my ass playing video games. When I got bored with one game, I'd switch to another. On a couple of occasions I didn't even bother to stop and eat.
It was Sunday before I realized that I hadn't even thought of writing or posting anything. That made me feel pretty guilty, but didn't do anything to affect my behavior.
I have no idea why I was such a slug this weekend. But I obviously needed to do it for some reason, because it was an absolutely overwhelming urge. So, I'm trying to accept it and let it go and move on.
Now, I want to write something, but again, no time. They just stepped up the pressure on the project I'm coding for, and it's looking like I'm going to be pulling 10-12 hour days for much of the rest of the month of September. Not looking forward to that. And it's not going to leave me much time or energy for much of anything else in my life.
Oh, well. Nothing to do but go with the flow. Even when it's a torrent.
I spent three days sitting on my ass playing video games. When I got bored with one game, I'd switch to another. On a couple of occasions I didn't even bother to stop and eat.
It was Sunday before I realized that I hadn't even thought of writing or posting anything. That made me feel pretty guilty, but didn't do anything to affect my behavior.
I have no idea why I was such a slug this weekend. But I obviously needed to do it for some reason, because it was an absolutely overwhelming urge. So, I'm trying to accept it and let it go and move on.
Now, I want to write something, but again, no time. They just stepped up the pressure on the project I'm coding for, and it's looking like I'm going to be pulling 10-12 hour days for much of the rest of the month of September. Not looking forward to that. And it's not going to leave me much time or energy for much of anything else in my life.
Oh, well. Nothing to do but go with the flow. Even when it's a torrent.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Friendships In Chaos, pt. 2...
We also did a ritual last weekend, my friends and I.
I haven't done that in a very long time. Not even by myself, let alone with my old Temple-mates.
It wasn't even a proper ritual, really. Just a little, nothing, throw-away rite. But I was amazed at how it made me feel. To be in that place. To be with those people.
To be doing magick.
I had completely forgotten just how much I love doing that. How much I love even just the sensation of doing it! The feeling of energy flowing through me, like a conduit. Finding the sense of the "flow" of the ritual, and then letting it pull me along. The pleasure of power coming into me, and erupting out of me. The drama, the spectacle, the art, the dance and the poetry of The Ritual.
It felt like making love with a best friend I hadn't seen in years.
When it was over, I found myself swallowing back tears. And once again, I was struck by the sudden and almost overwhelming realization of just how desperately I missed this thing that I had willingly let go, honestly believing that I no longer had any use for it.
And maybe I didn't have any use for it back then. And maybe I still don't. But it's clear to me now, that I need to find a reason to do it. Because it is obviously a lot more important to me than I had allowed myself to believe. It is clearly filling a hole in my life that I didn't know was there; that I thought I had already filled long ago.
I know now that I need to do this. I don't know why I need to do it yet, but I know I need to do it.
And I can't help but notice that this all happened only two weeks before I get the opportunity to spend an entire week doing nothing but playing with magick, with a group of the best magickians from all over the world. Isn't that strange?
I'm sure it's just a coincidence.
I haven't done that in a very long time. Not even by myself, let alone with my old Temple-mates.
It wasn't even a proper ritual, really. Just a little, nothing, throw-away rite. But I was amazed at how it made me feel. To be in that place. To be with those people.
To be doing magick.
I had completely forgotten just how much I love doing that. How much I love even just the sensation of doing it! The feeling of energy flowing through me, like a conduit. Finding the sense of the "flow" of the ritual, and then letting it pull me along. The pleasure of power coming into me, and erupting out of me. The drama, the spectacle, the art, the dance and the poetry of The Ritual.
It felt like making love with a best friend I hadn't seen in years.
When it was over, I found myself swallowing back tears. And once again, I was struck by the sudden and almost overwhelming realization of just how desperately I missed this thing that I had willingly let go, honestly believing that I no longer had any use for it.
And maybe I didn't have any use for it back then. And maybe I still don't. But it's clear to me now, that I need to find a reason to do it. Because it is obviously a lot more important to me than I had allowed myself to believe. It is clearly filling a hole in my life that I didn't know was there; that I thought I had already filled long ago.
I know now that I need to do this. I don't know why I need to do it yet, but I know I need to do it.
And I can't help but notice that this all happened only two weeks before I get the opportunity to spend an entire week doing nothing but playing with magick, with a group of the best magickians from all over the world. Isn't that strange?
I'm sure it's just a coincidence.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Kicking Against The Muse...
Blah blah blah... what to write, what to write?
Kickball double-header in the July heat coming up in about an hour. Not really looking forward to it much.
Still haven't gotten my computer(s) back. Still no idea when I will.
Really looking forward to getting back into Mass Effect this weekend.
...
This isn't really writing. There's nothing creative or interesting or worthwhile about simply cataloging the most boring minutiae of your daily life.
But I'm stuck in the office, bored-to-death by a mile-high stack of pointless busy-work that I've been groaning through for almost two weeks now, and I've got about twenty minutes to post something before I have to get ready to go to a company fucking kickball game, of all fucking things. What am I supposed to do? Make art?
...
...
...
Yes.
Yes, that's exactly what you should fucking do. Make some fucking art.
If it isn't worth doing, then don't fucking bother. You're just wasting time.
But I'm not an artist. I'm just an approaching-middle-age-teenager; a pseudo-hipster dipshit. A corporate wage-slave. And a wannabe addict/mystic.
Everyone's an artist. Most people just don't bother, is all. All you have to do is make the effort. It will touch someone, somewhere, in some way.
Express, motherfucker!
Um, ok, uh, here goes:
There, that wasn't so hard now, was it?
No, I guess not. It wasn't any good, either.
You're still missing the point. It's not about "Good" or "Bad." "Bad" is inevitable, and "Good" is something that will come with time, or it won't, and there's very little you can do about that, so there's no point in worrying about it.
The point, is to do it.
That's all.
Kickball double-header in the July heat coming up in about an hour. Not really looking forward to it much.
Still haven't gotten my computer(s) back. Still no idea when I will.
Really looking forward to getting back into Mass Effect this weekend.
...
This isn't really writing. There's nothing creative or interesting or worthwhile about simply cataloging the most boring minutiae of your daily life.
But I'm stuck in the office, bored-to-death by a mile-high stack of pointless busy-work that I've been groaning through for almost two weeks now, and I've got about twenty minutes to post something before I have to get ready to go to a company fucking kickball game, of all fucking things. What am I supposed to do? Make art?
...
...
...
Yes.
Yes, that's exactly what you should fucking do. Make some fucking art.
If it isn't worth doing, then don't fucking bother. You're just wasting time.
But I'm not an artist. I'm just an approaching-middle-age-teenager; a pseudo-hipster dipshit. A corporate wage-slave. And a wannabe addict/mystic.
Everyone's an artist. Most people just don't bother, is all. All you have to do is make the effort. It will touch someone, somewhere, in some way.
Express, motherfucker!
Um, ok, uh, here goes:
*cough*
I don't know which upsets me more
That I am saddened by my Self
And my life
Or the Guilt
Stemming from the Knowledge
That I have no Right
Nor Reason
To feel this way at all
I'm a King
dressed as a Beggar
Who will give me Alms?
There, that wasn't so hard now, was it?
No, I guess not. It wasn't any good, either.
You're still missing the point. It's not about "Good" or "Bad." "Bad" is inevitable, and "Good" is something that will come with time, or it won't, and there's very little you can do about that, so there's no point in worrying about it.
The point, is to do it.
That's all.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Letting Go With The Flow...
Still really tired. Still no energy or motivation.
At least I made it to work today. Never made it to the gym, though.
Tomorrow's going to be a long day. I have a lot of work to do, and I have to leave early to make my addiction therapy session. And then I have a condo board meeting when I get home.
I'm trying not to worry about things I can't control. I'm trying not to think about it. I'm trying to just keep my head down and barrel forward and get it over and done with.
And I'm trying to follow Rule #32. I'll be home with Her in just an hour or so. I know I'll be able to find something in that to feel good about.
ADDENDUM: what's the Brightside here? I need to find the Brightside.
At least I made it to work today. Never made it to the gym, though.
Tomorrow's going to be a long day. I have a lot of work to do, and I have to leave early to make my addiction therapy session. And then I have a condo board meeting when I get home.
I'm trying not to worry about things I can't control. I'm trying not to think about it. I'm trying to just keep my head down and barrel forward and get it over and done with.
And I'm trying to follow Rule #32. I'll be home with Her in just an hour or so. I know I'll be able to find something in that to feel good about.
ADDENDUM: what's the Brightside here? I need to find the Brightside.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Sunday Meditation...
Been real busy this week, for so many different reasons, so haven't had a lot of time to meditate.
The one time I did, it didn't go well. And then I was out running errands all day yesterday and barely had any time at home at all. So I definitely wanted to take advantage of the opportunity today. It's beautiful outside, and we have all of our windows open, letting in the sunlight, and a crisp, fragrant Spring breeze. Just being home is almost meditative right now.
But, still, I felt myself getting lazy. I just wanted to watch TV. Maybe play some video games, or take a bath and read. I didn't get a chance to do my mathematics lesson this morning like I usually do, and part of me was telling myself that my time would be better spent on that, or some other more stimulating activity than simply sitting and breathing. But nonetheless, I pushed all of those thoughts aside. I could feel inside of myself, a sense of being out of balance. I've been busy doing and thinking a lot lately, really getting lost in my head. Somewhere inside, I could tell that what I needed right now was to give that part of me a break, and let my heart and my gut take over for a while. I could feel that sense of flow inside of me, pulling me towards my cushions, and my altar, and a brief period of peace.
As always, I'm glad I followed my Tao. It was just what I needed.
What I realize as I observe this, is the Tao of Listening Inside.
In every situation, we already know what to do. Even when we don't. The answer to every question is already inside of us. When we don't know what to do, it is only because there is too much noise in the way. If we can only learn to be quiet, and listen, then we will hear - and we will know.
In stillness and peace, the Path becomes clear. And so we can choose to follow it.
The one time I did, it didn't go well. And then I was out running errands all day yesterday and barely had any time at home at all. So I definitely wanted to take advantage of the opportunity today. It's beautiful outside, and we have all of our windows open, letting in the sunlight, and a crisp, fragrant Spring breeze. Just being home is almost meditative right now.
But, still, I felt myself getting lazy. I just wanted to watch TV. Maybe play some video games, or take a bath and read. I didn't get a chance to do my mathematics lesson this morning like I usually do, and part of me was telling myself that my time would be better spent on that, or some other more stimulating activity than simply sitting and breathing. But nonetheless, I pushed all of those thoughts aside. I could feel inside of myself, a sense of being out of balance. I've been busy doing and thinking a lot lately, really getting lost in my head. Somewhere inside, I could tell that what I needed right now was to give that part of me a break, and let my heart and my gut take over for a while. I could feel that sense of flow inside of me, pulling me towards my cushions, and my altar, and a brief period of peace.
As always, I'm glad I followed my Tao. It was just what I needed.
What I realize as I observe this, is the Tao of Listening Inside.
In every situation, we already know what to do. Even when we don't. The answer to every question is already inside of us. When we don't know what to do, it is only because there is too much noise in the way. If we can only learn to be quiet, and listen, then we will hear - and we will know.
In stillness and peace, the Path becomes clear. And so we can choose to follow it.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Pleasuring Myself, continued...
A reader left this comment on my post from yesterday, and I wanted to respond to it here, because I think it raises some interesting points that got me thinking about it a bit more:
I'm not sure I can agree with that. I'm not sure I should agree with that, for my own safety.
See, my problem is that, more often than not, that instinct or drive or need to pleasure myself, to make myself happy, has led me to do stupid, self-destructive things. On more than one occasion now, it has come close to killing me. And it's a virtual certainty that, if left unchecked, someday it will succeed. So pleasuring myself is my problem. And so I feel that, for my own good, I can't allow myself to just try to be as happy as possible moment-to-moment. Because what happens when the thing that will make me happy is also something that hurts me in some way?
So I feel like I need to do something to correct that behavior, that need to pleasure myself. And right now, I'm not sure that I actually am. Yes, it's true that I'm no longer indulging in those self-destructive pastimes at the moment, and that I've replaced them with more self-constructive activities, but I don't feel that I can take any credit for that. Because I didn't do anything to foster that change. The circumstances around me have changed, but I'm still responding to them in the same way I always have before. I still feel just as strong of a need to pleasure myself, it's just that the methods in which I want to achieve that pleasure are now different. As I said yesterday: before I wanted to get high and get off, so that's what I did, and now I want to meditate and study mathematics, so that's what I'm doing.
The root cause of my self-destructive behavior lies in that need to make myself feel as good as possible for as much of the time as possible. Yes, I'm now indulging that need in a constructive manner, but since I had no hand it actually making that happen and am only following where the flow takes me, then how can I trust in that and believe that I am now somehow "better?" I have put no Will into this. I am not behaving any differently, not really. I'm just responding to different stimulus in the same manner as before. So, what happens when the novelty wears off? What happens when I suddenly find that I'm not deriving the same amount of joy and satisfaction out of these healthy activities as I once did?
What happens when I finally do want to get high again?
Because that day will come, no question. And if I haven't done anything to correct the root cause of that desire, then how will I be able to resist it? And I guess that's the problem in a nutshell: I'm not resisting. Because for me, there's nothing to resist.
Most people in my situation (newly-sober addicts) are in a constant battle against their own desires. They are struggling against themselves to try and resist the urge to do the one thing they want to do more than anything else. And their entire recovery is built around that internal conflict. I know that I am an addict because I have experienced that conflict for more of my life than I care to admit, and because most of the times that I have fought those urges, I have lost. But that is not my experience now; that is not what I'm going through today. I'm not getting high right now because I do not want to get high right now. I am sober because, right now, I want to be sober. I have no urges to resist or fight against. They just disappeared, and I ran with it. And so that makes me feel like I'm not really doing the work. Like I'm not really getting any better. That I just got lucky. That I had a brief window of opportunity, and I seized on it.
But this is not going to last forever. Eventually, the winds of my desire are bound to blow back in the other direction again. And I'm going to need to know ahead of time how to respond when that happens, or else it's going to catch me off guard and I'm going to fall right back into the same self-destructive patterns that I feel so blessedly and falsely liberated from right now. But how can I possibly prepare for that? Should I be resisting every pleasurable desire I have, irrespective of de-structive vs. con-structive? Do I need to be living a monastic life? (Frankly, I'd rather OD.)
Maybe I just need to cross that bridge when I come to it. Maybe there's no point in worrying about it. Maybe I should just accept this period of productive activity for what it is, and be grateful that it came so easily to me. Maybe I should just focus on how lucky I am that I don't have to go through that struggle the way so many other addicts do.
And it would be so easy to do all of that, if only I felt in any way responsible for this change of fortune. If I just felt that I had some hand in bringing this release about, then I would know that I actually am resisting, that I am doing the work - just in my own unique way, outside the range of the typical experience. The same way I seem to do just about everything else.
Maybe that is true.
Could that be true?
No, I don't think so. I've fought hard before, and I've won. And I've fought hard, and lost. But this time, I wasn't even fighting at all. I had given in to my desires 100%. And even though I knew I was hurting myself badly I still didn't try to resist. I just didn't have it in me. But then I hit a bottom I hadn't even seen coming. And it scared the shit out of me. And I responded to that fear by running as fast as I could in the opposite direction. Basically, I scared myself straight.
How can I take credit for that?
I can't. I didn't really do anything. I got lucky.
But what I can do? I can be grateful. And oh, how I am.
And I can look on the bright side. I can make the most of it. I can do everything in my power to get as much out of this experience as I possibly can, for as long as it lasts. And if I'm lucky, and smart, then the things I learn during this temporary reprieve will prepare me to know what to do and how to respond when that inevitable day finally arrives, and my desires shift their poles again.
And that's gotta be enough.
Well I think the goal is to be happy moment by moment as much as you can. So what's the problem with pleasuring yourself? Just strive for getting outside your own ego as much as you can, and then you're still moving forward, I say.
I'm not sure I can agree with that. I'm not sure I should agree with that, for my own safety.
See, my problem is that, more often than not, that instinct or drive or need to pleasure myself, to make myself happy, has led me to do stupid, self-destructive things. On more than one occasion now, it has come close to killing me. And it's a virtual certainty that, if left unchecked, someday it will succeed. So pleasuring myself is my problem. And so I feel that, for my own good, I can't allow myself to just try to be as happy as possible moment-to-moment. Because what happens when the thing that will make me happy is also something that hurts me in some way?
So I feel like I need to do something to correct that behavior, that need to pleasure myself. And right now, I'm not sure that I actually am. Yes, it's true that I'm no longer indulging in those self-destructive pastimes at the moment, and that I've replaced them with more self-constructive activities, but I don't feel that I can take any credit for that. Because I didn't do anything to foster that change. The circumstances around me have changed, but I'm still responding to them in the same way I always have before. I still feel just as strong of a need to pleasure myself, it's just that the methods in which I want to achieve that pleasure are now different. As I said yesterday: before I wanted to get high and get off, so that's what I did, and now I want to meditate and study mathematics, so that's what I'm doing.
The root cause of my self-destructive behavior lies in that need to make myself feel as good as possible for as much of the time as possible. Yes, I'm now indulging that need in a constructive manner, but since I had no hand it actually making that happen and am only following where the flow takes me, then how can I trust in that and believe that I am now somehow "better?" I have put no Will into this. I am not behaving any differently, not really. I'm just responding to different stimulus in the same manner as before. So, what happens when the novelty wears off? What happens when I suddenly find that I'm not deriving the same amount of joy and satisfaction out of these healthy activities as I once did?
What happens when I finally do want to get high again?
Because that day will come, no question. And if I haven't done anything to correct the root cause of that desire, then how will I be able to resist it? And I guess that's the problem in a nutshell: I'm not resisting. Because for me, there's nothing to resist.
Most people in my situation (newly-sober addicts) are in a constant battle against their own desires. They are struggling against themselves to try and resist the urge to do the one thing they want to do more than anything else. And their entire recovery is built around that internal conflict. I know that I am an addict because I have experienced that conflict for more of my life than I care to admit, and because most of the times that I have fought those urges, I have lost. But that is not my experience now; that is not what I'm going through today. I'm not getting high right now because I do not want to get high right now. I am sober because, right now, I want to be sober. I have no urges to resist or fight against. They just disappeared, and I ran with it. And so that makes me feel like I'm not really doing the work. Like I'm not really getting any better. That I just got lucky. That I had a brief window of opportunity, and I seized on it.
But this is not going to last forever. Eventually, the winds of my desire are bound to blow back in the other direction again. And I'm going to need to know ahead of time how to respond when that happens, or else it's going to catch me off guard and I'm going to fall right back into the same self-destructive patterns that I feel so blessedly and falsely liberated from right now. But how can I possibly prepare for that? Should I be resisting every pleasurable desire I have, irrespective of de-structive vs. con-structive? Do I need to be living a monastic life? (Frankly, I'd rather OD.)
Maybe I just need to cross that bridge when I come to it. Maybe there's no point in worrying about it. Maybe I should just accept this period of productive activity for what it is, and be grateful that it came so easily to me. Maybe I should just focus on how lucky I am that I don't have to go through that struggle the way so many other addicts do.
And it would be so easy to do all of that, if only I felt in any way responsible for this change of fortune. If I just felt that I had some hand in bringing this release about, then I would know that I actually am resisting, that I am doing the work - just in my own unique way, outside the range of the typical experience. The same way I seem to do just about everything else.
Maybe that is true.
Could that be true?
No, I don't think so. I've fought hard before, and I've won. And I've fought hard, and lost. But this time, I wasn't even fighting at all. I had given in to my desires 100%. And even though I knew I was hurting myself badly I still didn't try to resist. I just didn't have it in me. But then I hit a bottom I hadn't even seen coming. And it scared the shit out of me. And I responded to that fear by running as fast as I could in the opposite direction. Basically, I scared myself straight.
How can I take credit for that?
I can't. I didn't really do anything. I got lucky.
But what I can do? I can be grateful. And oh, how I am.
And I can look on the bright side. I can make the most of it. I can do everything in my power to get as much out of this experience as I possibly can, for as long as it lasts. And if I'm lucky, and smart, then the things I learn during this temporary reprieve will prepare me to know what to do and how to respond when that inevitable day finally arrives, and my desires shift their poles again.
And that's gotta be enough.
Friday, April 20, 2012
The Night of Walpurgis...
Believe it or not, meditation isn't always relaxing.
Sometimes, there is no void. Sometimes, there is instead a flood of creative energy. Sometimes, meditation can be almost overwhelmingly stimulating.
And today was one of those times.
The rush of ideas was so intense that I could barely concentrate on my breathing, and frequently lost focus. And count - I counted to 108 breaths, but I'm sure I actually breathed twice that many. And the inspiration was as varied as it was relentless. I had ideas for stories I want to write, people I want to contact and the reasons why and the things I want to say to them, projects I want to work on and how I want to go about them, reminders, notes, insights and realizations of every sort. For a while, try as I might to ignore it and focus on counting my breaths, I was even aware of this very post writing itself out in my head. But the biggest and most immediate idea that occurred to me during this creative blitzkrieg, and the subject of this entry, is how I'm going to handle the Walpurgisnacht.
So, I had my last drink this past Sunday, and I had my last toke the Sunday before that (that's a story for another post), though it's been many months since I've smoked on a regular basis. The plan was/is to spend a full year completely sober for the first time in my adult life. This is something I've known I needed to do for a long time. I'm a particular kind of addict (I'm sure there's a word for it, but I don't know what it is) - I can be addicted to this for awhile and then put it down, and then be addicted to that for awhile and then put it down, and so on. I don't really have a drug of choice, per se, though I do have preferences, and there's some drugs I absolutely can't stand. But what I'm actually addicted to, is getting high, however that happens. When I quit smoking cigarettes, I compensated by smoking more pot. When I quit smoking pot, I compensated by drinking more. And I always knew I was robbing Peter to pay Paul, but at the time Paul was the one threatening to break my kneecaps, so I just told myself I'd deal with Peter later. But I'm getting older now, and feeling more mortal by the day, and it's time to finally deal with my addictive behavior at the root, rather than dealing with any given addiction to a particular substance one at a time.
But there are some other reasons to do it, as well. Purely from a health perspective, it'd just be good to give my body a bit of a rest from all the punishment I've put it through the last twenty years or so, now that I'm getting older. It's also partly an experiment - I just want to see what will happen if I stay completely sober for a year. It's partly to give my brain chemistry a chance to return to some semblance of normal, and then to re-evaluate and see how I feel, and who I feel I am. And in part it's also a test - I want to see if I can do this.
Ok, so what does all that have to do with Walpurgisnacht? The night of April 30th*, aka Walpurgisnacht, or Hexennacht, or Witches' Night, or May Eve, is a very important holy day on the Heathen calendar. It is the counterpart to Yule, the holiest season of the year, and marks the other pole of the ancient pagan year (the two holidays being approximately six months apart). As during Yule, it is believed that the barriers between the material world and the spirit world are more permeable on the Night of Walpurgis. The Eddas (ancient Heathen holy epic lore-poems that comprise much of our knowledge of their religion and culture) tell us that it was on Walpurgisnacht that Odin earned the knowledge and power of the Runes. He stabbed himself through the chest with his spear, pinning himself upside-down to the World Tree, Yggdrasil, and hung there for nine nights. On the ninth night, May Eve, he "died" as much as a god-creator can, his consciousness leaving his body and descending to the three wells at the root of the World Tree, wherein he found and took up the Runes.
The Havamal
It is also the night before May Day (hence "May Eve"), which is, of course, the generative fertility holiday of Spring that gives us Easter and Beltane and all of the other "sex and babies" holidays associated with this time of year in the West. And so for all of these reasons, Walpurgisnacht is traditionally associated with magick and sorcery (magick, like sex, being another form of creation).
For almost ten years now, I have celebrated Walpurgisnacht in the same way: enjoying a specific psychedelic sacrament, and performing all manner of sorcery and divination and psycho-spiritual exploration until the Sun comes up on May Day. So that's put me in a bit of a dilemma regarding how to celebrate this year. Because I don't want to break this spiritual tradition that I have kept for so long now, but I also don't want to fail at staying sober almost immediately after I've started. And it's further complicated by the fact that, though I realize it is technically a drug, and would affect my neurochemistry in the exact way I'm trying not to do right now, I really do not view this particular experience to be at all related to what I'm currently attempting to avoid. What I'm struggling with right now is regular, recreational drug-use, and this is neither of those things. This is not a fun, pleasurable drug that makes me feel good so that I want to do it all the time. This drug is an intense, exhausting, highly spiritual experience for me, and more often than not Walpurgisnacht is the one and only time I'll do it all year. It is impossible to get addicted to it, and I have never craved it. So, while treating it the same as booze and pot might not be comparing apples and oranges exactly, it certainly doesn't feel like comparing oranges to oranges, either. More like oranges to tangerines, perhaps.
I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and it's been weighing on my mind heavily. My gut, my sense of flow, my sense of my Tao was telling me to go through with it, but when it comes to my instincts telling me to use drugs, it's hard to tell whether it's really my Tao or my addiction masquerading as such. And I've spent so long training myself to ignore that voice inside me telling me to get high, and I'm focused so much on doing that right now, that even though I felt so strongly in my heart and my gut that it was the right thing to do, in my mind it's seemed like a death-sentence. But when I examine my feelings, I really do not want to drink or get high right now, which leads me to believe that my desire to do this must be about something more than that. But then again, "Denial is how it kills you," and I've learned to never let myself accept even the possibility of living in denial. And so lately I've been leaning towards a compromise, wherein I celebrate the holiday as normal, only minus the sacrament. It seemed like the only way to do it, really, but it left me feeling very sad for the loss of this unbroken chain of tradition (almost ten years!) and I just could not shake the feeling that I was doing something wrong.
But now I know what to do. In that lightening storm of ideas that assaulted me during my meditation, it hit me. And, as so often seems to happen with those "Eureka!" moments, the solution seems so obvious now that I cannot believe I couldn't see it earlier.
I will stay sober from now until Walpurgisnacht, as planned. And I will celebrate that night, as usual, as I have so many years before. And then I will start counting my one year of sobriety from the next day, May Day, the day of birth and re-birth and life and renewal. I'm not really losing anything by restarting my year-countdown on May Day (oh, woe is me, I had to stay sober one year and two weeks minus one day, instead of just one straight year - waah), and I'm gaining a lot more in return. And the spiritual meaning of it all lines up so nicely: my year of sobriety, a year of monasticism and self-sacrifice, will span from Walpurgis to Walpurgis, the holy day celebrating self-sacrifice for the acquisition of power and wisdom; and it will begin on May Day, the holy day celebrating life and love and creation. And having this period of sobriety line up with my spiritual model so well will give me another powerful incentive to see it through, and will significantly increase my chances of success.
It's perfect. And in my heart, I feel it's true. I feel it in my gut. And I feel it too, in my head. It all lines up. It all feels right. It flows, finally.
To sacrifice Self to my Self, with no drink from a horn, until screaming, I fall back from there.
This is my Tao.
...
*corrected from 31st - duh - 4/23/12
Sometimes, there is no void. Sometimes, there is instead a flood of creative energy. Sometimes, meditation can be almost overwhelmingly stimulating.
And today was one of those times.
The rush of ideas was so intense that I could barely concentrate on my breathing, and frequently lost focus. And count - I counted to 108 breaths, but I'm sure I actually breathed twice that many. And the inspiration was as varied as it was relentless. I had ideas for stories I want to write, people I want to contact and the reasons why and the things I want to say to them, projects I want to work on and how I want to go about them, reminders, notes, insights and realizations of every sort. For a while, try as I might to ignore it and focus on counting my breaths, I was even aware of this very post writing itself out in my head. But the biggest and most immediate idea that occurred to me during this creative blitzkrieg, and the subject of this entry, is how I'm going to handle the Walpurgisnacht.
So, I had my last drink this past Sunday, and I had my last toke the Sunday before that (that's a story for another post), though it's been many months since I've smoked on a regular basis. The plan was/is to spend a full year completely sober for the first time in my adult life. This is something I've known I needed to do for a long time. I'm a particular kind of addict (I'm sure there's a word for it, but I don't know what it is) - I can be addicted to this for awhile and then put it down, and then be addicted to that for awhile and then put it down, and so on. I don't really have a drug of choice, per se, though I do have preferences, and there's some drugs I absolutely can't stand. But what I'm actually addicted to, is getting high, however that happens. When I quit smoking cigarettes, I compensated by smoking more pot. When I quit smoking pot, I compensated by drinking more. And I always knew I was robbing Peter to pay Paul, but at the time Paul was the one threatening to break my kneecaps, so I just told myself I'd deal with Peter later. But I'm getting older now, and feeling more mortal by the day, and it's time to finally deal with my addictive behavior at the root, rather than dealing with any given addiction to a particular substance one at a time.
But there are some other reasons to do it, as well. Purely from a health perspective, it'd just be good to give my body a bit of a rest from all the punishment I've put it through the last twenty years or so, now that I'm getting older. It's also partly an experiment - I just want to see what will happen if I stay completely sober for a year. It's partly to give my brain chemistry a chance to return to some semblance of normal, and then to re-evaluate and see how I feel, and who I feel I am. And in part it's also a test - I want to see if I can do this.
Ok, so what does all that have to do with Walpurgisnacht? The night of April 30th*, aka Walpurgisnacht, or Hexennacht, or Witches' Night, or May Eve, is a very important holy day on the Heathen calendar. It is the counterpart to Yule, the holiest season of the year, and marks the other pole of the ancient pagan year (the two holidays being approximately six months apart). As during Yule, it is believed that the barriers between the material world and the spirit world are more permeable on the Night of Walpurgis. The Eddas (ancient Heathen holy epic lore-poems that comprise much of our knowledge of their religion and culture) tell us that it was on Walpurgisnacht that Odin earned the knowledge and power of the Runes. He stabbed himself through the chest with his spear, pinning himself upside-down to the World Tree, Yggdrasil, and hung there for nine nights. On the ninth night, May Eve, he "died" as much as a god-creator can, his consciousness leaving his body and descending to the three wells at the root of the World Tree, wherein he found and took up the Runes.
- I know that I hung on a windy tree
- nine long nights,
- wounded with a spear, dedicated to Odin,
- sacrifice self to myself,
- on that tree of which no man knows
- from where its roots run.
-Runatal ("Odin's Rune Song")
- No bread did they give me nor a drink from a horn,
- downwards I peered;
- I took up the runes, screaming I took them,
- then I fell back from there.
The Havamal
It is also the night before May Day (hence "May Eve"), which is, of course, the generative fertility holiday of Spring that gives us Easter and Beltane and all of the other "sex and babies" holidays associated with this time of year in the West. And so for all of these reasons, Walpurgisnacht is traditionally associated with magick and sorcery (magick, like sex, being another form of creation).
For almost ten years now, I have celebrated Walpurgisnacht in the same way: enjoying a specific psychedelic sacrament, and performing all manner of sorcery and divination and psycho-spiritual exploration until the Sun comes up on May Day. So that's put me in a bit of a dilemma regarding how to celebrate this year. Because I don't want to break this spiritual tradition that I have kept for so long now, but I also don't want to fail at staying sober almost immediately after I've started. And it's further complicated by the fact that, though I realize it is technically a drug, and would affect my neurochemistry in the exact way I'm trying not to do right now, I really do not view this particular experience to be at all related to what I'm currently attempting to avoid. What I'm struggling with right now is regular, recreational drug-use, and this is neither of those things. This is not a fun, pleasurable drug that makes me feel good so that I want to do it all the time. This drug is an intense, exhausting, highly spiritual experience for me, and more often than not Walpurgisnacht is the one and only time I'll do it all year. It is impossible to get addicted to it, and I have never craved it. So, while treating it the same as booze and pot might not be comparing apples and oranges exactly, it certainly doesn't feel like comparing oranges to oranges, either. More like oranges to tangerines, perhaps.
I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and it's been weighing on my mind heavily. My gut, my sense of flow, my sense of my Tao was telling me to go through with it, but when it comes to my instincts telling me to use drugs, it's hard to tell whether it's really my Tao or my addiction masquerading as such. And I've spent so long training myself to ignore that voice inside me telling me to get high, and I'm focused so much on doing that right now, that even though I felt so strongly in my heart and my gut that it was the right thing to do, in my mind it's seemed like a death-sentence. But when I examine my feelings, I really do not want to drink or get high right now, which leads me to believe that my desire to do this must be about something more than that. But then again, "Denial is how it kills you," and I've learned to never let myself accept even the possibility of living in denial. And so lately I've been leaning towards a compromise, wherein I celebrate the holiday as normal, only minus the sacrament. It seemed like the only way to do it, really, but it left me feeling very sad for the loss of this unbroken chain of tradition (almost ten years!) and I just could not shake the feeling that I was doing something wrong.
But now I know what to do. In that lightening storm of ideas that assaulted me during my meditation, it hit me. And, as so often seems to happen with those "Eureka!" moments, the solution seems so obvious now that I cannot believe I couldn't see it earlier.
I will stay sober from now until Walpurgisnacht, as planned. And I will celebrate that night, as usual, as I have so many years before. And then I will start counting my one year of sobriety from the next day, May Day, the day of birth and re-birth and life and renewal. I'm not really losing anything by restarting my year-countdown on May Day (oh, woe is me, I had to stay sober one year and two weeks minus one day, instead of just one straight year - waah), and I'm gaining a lot more in return. And the spiritual meaning of it all lines up so nicely: my year of sobriety, a year of monasticism and self-sacrifice, will span from Walpurgis to Walpurgis, the holy day celebrating self-sacrifice for the acquisition of power and wisdom; and it will begin on May Day, the holy day celebrating life and love and creation. And having this period of sobriety line up with my spiritual model so well will give me another powerful incentive to see it through, and will significantly increase my chances of success.
It's perfect. And in my heart, I feel it's true. I feel it in my gut. And I feel it too, in my head. It all lines up. It all feels right. It flows, finally.
To sacrifice Self to my Self, with no drink from a horn, until screaming, I fall back from there.
This is my Tao.
...
*corrected from 31st - duh - 4/23/12
Monday, April 16, 2012
A Big, Fat Case of the Mondays...
Today was one of those mornings where everything seems to go wrong.
I got up at 5:30 to try to get back to the gym before work. (Finally! I need it!) As I was getting ready, I was hit with a sudden attack of a severely upset stomach, and so by the time I managed to take care of that I was very late. Still, I wasn't down about it.
On my new, beauteous back road commute, I almost immediately found myself about 15th in line behind a very, very slow-moving dump truck. We're talking an average of 20 mph below the speed-limit here. The guy in the Subaru Imprezza behind him was riding his tail viciously, but for some reason, he wouldn't pass the truck. There were plenty of opportunities. And I know an Imprezza can outrun me, so I know it can pass a freaking dump truck. And the guy was obviously pissed off at going so slow, judging by his tailgating. So why wouldn't he pass the truck?? And, of course, being 15th in line, several people up front were going to need to pass before I was going to have any chance of making it myself. So, if they didn't pass, I couldn't pass. The truck didn't turn off the road until about two miles from my work. It was frustrating, but still, I didn't let it get to me.
Got to the office/gym late, but still with enough time to get in a workout. Got down to the gym, grabbed a locker, suited up, put everything else in the locker, clicked the lock closed... and realized that I no longer remembered the combination. I tried several combos that I thought might be it, but no dice. Ok, no problem - I've got the combo recorded on my computer upstairs in my office. ...But my office is locked, and the key is now locked in my gym locker. Damn. I spent the next fifteen minutes trying various combos I thought might be the one, but I couldn't find it. So, ok, that's pretty damn frustrating, and I feel like an idiot now, but still, nothing to get upset about really; just a minor glitch. Might as well get a workout in anyways. I'm all suited up for it, and I've got nothing else to do right now.
I haven't worked out in several months. In fact, I've gained back all of the weight I lost last Summer, plus a few pounds. And I haven't exactly been what you'd call "active" in the meantime. So, just fifteen minutes into my workout, I start to feel a tightening in my chest, and my left arm and shoulder start to hurt. Doesn't take a cardiologist to figure out what that means. So, ok, that's pretty scary, and a little daunting, but what's the sense in getting upset about it? I just stopped what I was doing and went into my cool-down a little early. No point in over-doing it. Gotta crawl before you can walk. Tomorrow, or someday soon, I'll be able to do twenty minutes, and then thirty, and that's how you get stronger.
So then my workout was over, and it was time to try and figure out what to do about my locker situation. By this point in the morning, our secretary is supposed to be in, and she has a skeleton key. So, I figured that I could just get her to let me into my office, get my combo, and then head back down to the gym to open up my locker and proceed with my post-workout clean-up. So I exit the gym and head up the stairs towards my office... until I get to the first locked door. My key card for opening our electronic security doors is on the same key ring as my office key, which previously mentioned is now locked in my gym locker. And I can't get back into the gym, because that door is electronically locked, as well. So, now I'm locked in a stairwell. Ok, so, clearly, this is not my day. But, it's early in the morning, someone is sure to be by soon. I'll just have to wait here for a little bit, that's all. I decided to take the opportunity to rest against a wall and have a morning meditation.
A note about my appearance: I honestly don't care what I look like while I work out. I don't bother to do my hair before my workout, because I'm just going to shower afterwards and have to do it again. So, I had wet, sweaty bedhead. And my workout clothes serve exactly one purpose: to keep me as cool and comfortable as possible while I'm working out. They are not meant to look attractive. My running shirt is thin and sleeveless, and you can clearly see my man-tits outlined against the... whatever the hell fabric that shirt is made of. And my shorts are, well, shorts; they do an excellent job of showing off my pasty-white, nearly hairless, and overly large legs.
Now, this is all fine, when I'm down in the gym and everyone else around me is also all sweaty and not-looking-their-best, but now I had to leave that specialized attire area, and venture out into the rest of the office. I felt a bit conspicuous, to say the least. After a few minutes, someone came along and let me in, and in short order I managed to get the skeleton key from our secretary, unlock my office, and retrieve the combo from my computer. (My earlier guesses hadn't even been close, by the way.) But now I had to get that knowledge back through all the electronically-locked security doors, and into the gym locker room.
I made my way down the back stairway and out into the parking garage, and around to the front door of the gym. I took this route specifically to avoid the more direct route, which would lead me straight through the crowded cafeteria where so many of my co-workers would be having breakfast right about now. But unbeknownst to me (because I always enter the gym through the back way), the main entrance into the gym lobby is also sealed with an electronic lock. And unlike the stairwell I was trapped in earlier, I can't expect someone to be coming by this way very soon. Almost everyone uses the back entrance, because it's attached to the office, the parking deck and the cafeteria; the front entrance is attached to the visitor parking lot. So, I'm going to need a new way in.
At this point, standing in my gym clothes on the front lawn, facing yet another locked door, the absurdity of the situation is beginning to sink in. I decide to see if the receptionist in the office building's main lobby (the one and only area of the our building that one can enter without a key card) would be able to let me into the gym. When she tells me she can't do that, I actually start to laugh. And not in a if-you-don't-laugh-you'll-cry kind of way, either. I was genuinely amused. I mean, how is this not funny at this point?
What the receptionist can do, she tells me, is to let me into the building so that I can go up through the cafeteria and down into the gym lobby that I was locked out of; then I should be able to knock on the door of the gym's workout area and get someone's attention to let me back in. She lets me into the building and I bypass the elevators and head up the stairwell, just like I normally do, thinking about the fact that I will now have to go through the cafeteria in my sweaty workout clothes, just as I'd been trying to avoid. Unfortunately, because I was thinking about that little unpleasantness, I failed to realize that I would, of course, need a key card in order to exit the stairwell and therefore enter the cafeteria. I did realize this as soon as I walked the three flights of stairs to the locked door, however.
So, I had to find my way out of the stairwell and into the parking garage, again, walk down the parking garage and out to the front of the building, again, and get the receptionist to let me into the lobby, again. I was actually enjoying myself by this point! As soon as I walked into the main lobby, the receptionist reminded me that I would need to take the elevators in order to reach the cafeteria without a key card, and I thanked her for delivering that information that would have been so useful five minutes earlier. But, after passing through the cafeteria, and enduring some disgusted stares, I finally made it back into the gym, and managed to open my locker. I almost danced the Dance of Joy on the spot.
But after my shower, as I was getting dressed, I realized something important. After that whole ridiculous comedy of errors that was my Monday morning, I felt great. I was happy. I wasn't frustrated or upset or irritated or anxious or any of the things I would've predicted I'd have felt after going through all of this. Throughout the entire ordeal, I naturally responded in a completely different way than I normally would have, without trying to. I had Brightsided my way through a rather hellish Monday morning and into a fabulous mood, without having to think about it once.
And here I thought this day couldn't get any better.
I got up at 5:30 to try to get back to the gym before work. (Finally! I need it!) As I was getting ready, I was hit with a sudden attack of a severely upset stomach, and so by the time I managed to take care of that I was very late. Still, I wasn't down about it.
On my new, beauteous back road commute, I almost immediately found myself about 15th in line behind a very, very slow-moving dump truck. We're talking an average of 20 mph below the speed-limit here. The guy in the Subaru Imprezza behind him was riding his tail viciously, but for some reason, he wouldn't pass the truck. There were plenty of opportunities. And I know an Imprezza can outrun me, so I know it can pass a freaking dump truck. And the guy was obviously pissed off at going so slow, judging by his tailgating. So why wouldn't he pass the truck?? And, of course, being 15th in line, several people up front were going to need to pass before I was going to have any chance of making it myself. So, if they didn't pass, I couldn't pass. The truck didn't turn off the road until about two miles from my work. It was frustrating, but still, I didn't let it get to me.
Got to the office/gym late, but still with enough time to get in a workout. Got down to the gym, grabbed a locker, suited up, put everything else in the locker, clicked the lock closed... and realized that I no longer remembered the combination. I tried several combos that I thought might be it, but no dice. Ok, no problem - I've got the combo recorded on my computer upstairs in my office. ...But my office is locked, and the key is now locked in my gym locker. Damn. I spent the next fifteen minutes trying various combos I thought might be the one, but I couldn't find it. So, ok, that's pretty damn frustrating, and I feel like an idiot now, but still, nothing to get upset about really; just a minor glitch. Might as well get a workout in anyways. I'm all suited up for it, and I've got nothing else to do right now.
I haven't worked out in several months. In fact, I've gained back all of the weight I lost last Summer, plus a few pounds. And I haven't exactly been what you'd call "active" in the meantime. So, just fifteen minutes into my workout, I start to feel a tightening in my chest, and my left arm and shoulder start to hurt. Doesn't take a cardiologist to figure out what that means. So, ok, that's pretty scary, and a little daunting, but what's the sense in getting upset about it? I just stopped what I was doing and went into my cool-down a little early. No point in over-doing it. Gotta crawl before you can walk. Tomorrow, or someday soon, I'll be able to do twenty minutes, and then thirty, and that's how you get stronger.
So then my workout was over, and it was time to try and figure out what to do about my locker situation. By this point in the morning, our secretary is supposed to be in, and she has a skeleton key. So, I figured that I could just get her to let me into my office, get my combo, and then head back down to the gym to open up my locker and proceed with my post-workout clean-up. So I exit the gym and head up the stairs towards my office... until I get to the first locked door. My key card for opening our electronic security doors is on the same key ring as my office key, which previously mentioned is now locked in my gym locker. And I can't get back into the gym, because that door is electronically locked, as well. So, now I'm locked in a stairwell. Ok, so, clearly, this is not my day. But, it's early in the morning, someone is sure to be by soon. I'll just have to wait here for a little bit, that's all. I decided to take the opportunity to rest against a wall and have a morning meditation.
A note about my appearance: I honestly don't care what I look like while I work out. I don't bother to do my hair before my workout, because I'm just going to shower afterwards and have to do it again. So, I had wet, sweaty bedhead. And my workout clothes serve exactly one purpose: to keep me as cool and comfortable as possible while I'm working out. They are not meant to look attractive. My running shirt is thin and sleeveless, and you can clearly see my man-tits outlined against the... whatever the hell fabric that shirt is made of. And my shorts are, well, shorts; they do an excellent job of showing off my pasty-white, nearly hairless, and overly large legs.
Now, this is all fine, when I'm down in the gym and everyone else around me is also all sweaty and not-looking-their-best, but now I had to leave that specialized attire area, and venture out into the rest of the office. I felt a bit conspicuous, to say the least. After a few minutes, someone came along and let me in, and in short order I managed to get the skeleton key from our secretary, unlock my office, and retrieve the combo from my computer. (My earlier guesses hadn't even been close, by the way.) But now I had to get that knowledge back through all the electronically-locked security doors, and into the gym locker room.
I made my way down the back stairway and out into the parking garage, and around to the front door of the gym. I took this route specifically to avoid the more direct route, which would lead me straight through the crowded cafeteria where so many of my co-workers would be having breakfast right about now. But unbeknownst to me (because I always enter the gym through the back way), the main entrance into the gym lobby is also sealed with an electronic lock. And unlike the stairwell I was trapped in earlier, I can't expect someone to be coming by this way very soon. Almost everyone uses the back entrance, because it's attached to the office, the parking deck and the cafeteria; the front entrance is attached to the visitor parking lot. So, I'm going to need a new way in.
At this point, standing in my gym clothes on the front lawn, facing yet another locked door, the absurdity of the situation is beginning to sink in. I decide to see if the receptionist in the office building's main lobby (the one and only area of the our building that one can enter without a key card) would be able to let me into the gym. When she tells me she can't do that, I actually start to laugh. And not in a if-you-don't-laugh-you'll-cry kind of way, either. I was genuinely amused. I mean, how is this not funny at this point?
What the receptionist can do, she tells me, is to let me into the building so that I can go up through the cafeteria and down into the gym lobby that I was locked out of; then I should be able to knock on the door of the gym's workout area and get someone's attention to let me back in. She lets me into the building and I bypass the elevators and head up the stairwell, just like I normally do, thinking about the fact that I will now have to go through the cafeteria in my sweaty workout clothes, just as I'd been trying to avoid. Unfortunately, because I was thinking about that little unpleasantness, I failed to realize that I would, of course, need a key card in order to exit the stairwell and therefore enter the cafeteria. I did realize this as soon as I walked the three flights of stairs to the locked door, however.
So, I had to find my way out of the stairwell and into the parking garage, again, walk down the parking garage and out to the front of the building, again, and get the receptionist to let me into the lobby, again. I was actually enjoying myself by this point! As soon as I walked into the main lobby, the receptionist reminded me that I would need to take the elevators in order to reach the cafeteria without a key card, and I thanked her for delivering that information that would have been so useful five minutes earlier. But, after passing through the cafeteria, and enduring some disgusted stares, I finally made it back into the gym, and managed to open my locker. I almost danced the Dance of Joy on the spot.
But after my shower, as I was getting dressed, I realized something important. After that whole ridiculous comedy of errors that was my Monday morning, I felt great. I was happy. I wasn't frustrated or upset or irritated or anxious or any of the things I would've predicted I'd have felt after going through all of this. Throughout the entire ordeal, I naturally responded in a completely different way than I normally would have, without trying to. I had Brightsided my way through a rather hellish Monday morning and into a fabulous mood, without having to think about it once.
And here I thought this day couldn't get any better.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
The Itch...
I haven't found any inspiration today.
I got a lot accomplished, ticked a lot of items off of my to-do list, laughed and cried at various Moth stories that I listened to all day long, and in just about every way had a wonderful day. But the whole time, there was this nagging voice in the back of my brain reminding me, "You have to come up with something to write about." And, I just never did.
It was very frustrating. But, at the same time, I know that creativity and insight can't be forced. We can encourage them, but not make them happen.
When I got home, still with no ideas, and the pressure to post mounting, I decided to meditate. Truthfully, I would've done that anyways, because I had both the time and the desire just then, but I couldn't help but hope that possibly, as an added bonus, the meditation might help spur something creative in me. Not necessarily give me an idea for something to write about, but maybe make me more receptive to ideas, so that one would be more likely to arise spontaneously. Or, at the very least, I could write about my meditation; might be kinda boring, but at least it's something to post.
But my attempt to meditate was a complete failure. I was plagued by physical problems the entire time. My back started hurting almost immediately, I couldn't find a comfortable position for my legs, and to top it off, there was something irritating my eye that I just could not seem to fix. I couldn't concentrate at all, and on my fifth attempt of not getting past twenty breaths, I just gave up. (This is a pattern. I always have a session like this one - failure due to physical issues - within my first handful of sessions after I start meditating again.)
I could've forced myself to continue if I'd wanted, but there's really no point. Meditating isn't like exercising, it's not about working through the pain. It's about relaxing and letting go. And so if there's some issue that's preventing you from doing that, then it's best to simply stop, and try again later. I remember my teacher telling me, "If you have an itch while meditating, scratch it. Do not try to simply ignore it. That will only make the itch grow and grow until you are entirely focused on it, and are unable to concentrate on anything else. And then you are not meditating. It is much better to stop for a moment and scratch the itch. Then it will go away, and you can return to meditation."
What I realize as I observe all of this, is the Tao of Scratching the Itch.
Sometimes, I'm not going to be able to meditate successfully for one reason or another. And this is inherent in the practice of meditating - I will not always succeed, anymore than I will always fail, and that is just the Way of Things. And so when that happens, the best thing to do is not waste any more time or energy than is absolutely necessary trying to do something that isn't working. As soon as I realize that it isn't working, it is best for me to simply stop, and try again some other time.
Similarly, sometimes I'm not going to be inspired to write anything. And this is inherent in the practice of writing. Sometimes I will have something I feel a need to write about, and sometimes I will not, and that is just the Way of Things. And so when I have nothing to write about, it is best not to waste any more time or energy worrying about it than is absolutely necessary. Pressuring myself to come up with something meaningful or worthwhile or inspiring to write every day, when I'm not having any meaningful or worthwhile or inspiring ideas, is like trying to resist scratching an itch - soon the pressure to write becomes all I can feel, and being inspired then becomes impossible. So it is best to simply let it go, and walk away, and try again later.
Go with the Flow. Take what you get. Remain open and receptive. Do not want. Do not force. Do not expect. Let it come as it will, and it will come.
That is The Way.
...
Addendum: when I read that, it sounds like I'm saying I don't feel the need to post here every day. That's not what I'm trying to say, but I didn't want to rewrite the above to try and make that clear. I like the way what I wrote above stands, and so I want to leave it at that. But please understand that I still intend to try to post something every day. All I'm trying to change is the way I respond to the pressure inherent in that situation, and to my feeling that anything I post here needs to be somehow insightful or meaningful to a certain degree in order to be worth posting. Sometimes, my posts might need to be mundane, and I should learn to accept that and be ok with that, because it is an absolutely necessary part of the process.
I do apologize in advance, however, to all three of my readers, for any future posts that might be less than thrilling.
I got a lot accomplished, ticked a lot of items off of my to-do list, laughed and cried at various Moth stories that I listened to all day long, and in just about every way had a wonderful day. But the whole time, there was this nagging voice in the back of my brain reminding me, "You have to come up with something to write about." And, I just never did.
It was very frustrating. But, at the same time, I know that creativity and insight can't be forced. We can encourage them, but not make them happen.
When I got home, still with no ideas, and the pressure to post mounting, I decided to meditate. Truthfully, I would've done that anyways, because I had both the time and the desire just then, but I couldn't help but hope that possibly, as an added bonus, the meditation might help spur something creative in me. Not necessarily give me an idea for something to write about, but maybe make me more receptive to ideas, so that one would be more likely to arise spontaneously. Or, at the very least, I could write about my meditation; might be kinda boring, but at least it's something to post.
But my attempt to meditate was a complete failure. I was plagued by physical problems the entire time. My back started hurting almost immediately, I couldn't find a comfortable position for my legs, and to top it off, there was something irritating my eye that I just could not seem to fix. I couldn't concentrate at all, and on my fifth attempt of not getting past twenty breaths, I just gave up. (This is a pattern. I always have a session like this one - failure due to physical issues - within my first handful of sessions after I start meditating again.)
I could've forced myself to continue if I'd wanted, but there's really no point. Meditating isn't like exercising, it's not about working through the pain. It's about relaxing and letting go. And so if there's some issue that's preventing you from doing that, then it's best to simply stop, and try again later. I remember my teacher telling me, "If you have an itch while meditating, scratch it. Do not try to simply ignore it. That will only make the itch grow and grow until you are entirely focused on it, and are unable to concentrate on anything else. And then you are not meditating. It is much better to stop for a moment and scratch the itch. Then it will go away, and you can return to meditation."
What I realize as I observe all of this, is the Tao of Scratching the Itch.
Sometimes, I'm not going to be able to meditate successfully for one reason or another. And this is inherent in the practice of meditating - I will not always succeed, anymore than I will always fail, and that is just the Way of Things. And so when that happens, the best thing to do is not waste any more time or energy than is absolutely necessary trying to do something that isn't working. As soon as I realize that it isn't working, it is best for me to simply stop, and try again some other time.
Similarly, sometimes I'm not going to be inspired to write anything. And this is inherent in the practice of writing. Sometimes I will have something I feel a need to write about, and sometimes I will not, and that is just the Way of Things. And so when I have nothing to write about, it is best not to waste any more time or energy worrying about it than is absolutely necessary. Pressuring myself to come up with something meaningful or worthwhile or inspiring to write every day, when I'm not having any meaningful or worthwhile or inspiring ideas, is like trying to resist scratching an itch - soon the pressure to write becomes all I can feel, and being inspired then becomes impossible. So it is best to simply let it go, and walk away, and try again later.
Go with the Flow. Take what you get. Remain open and receptive. Do not want. Do not force. Do not expect. Let it come as it will, and it will come.
That is The Way.
...
Addendum: when I read that, it sounds like I'm saying I don't feel the need to post here every day. That's not what I'm trying to say, but I didn't want to rewrite the above to try and make that clear. I like the way what I wrote above stands, and so I want to leave it at that. But please understand that I still intend to try to post something every day. All I'm trying to change is the way I respond to the pressure inherent in that situation, and to my feeling that anything I post here needs to be somehow insightful or meaningful to a certain degree in order to be worth posting. Sometimes, my posts might need to be mundane, and I should learn to accept that and be ok with that, because it is an absolutely necessary part of the process.
I do apologize in advance, however, to all three of my readers, for any future posts that might be less than thrilling.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Sitting In Stillness...
Finally meditated again this afternoon.
I've been wanting to meditate for over a week now. But my altar and my cushions were all covered in a thick layer of dust. (How's that for a metaphor?) And it's been hard to find the time this week to clean everything and get it all ready to be used again. But today I had plenty of time, and there was nothing I wanted to do more. So I took it all apart, cleaned everything until it was looking like new, and then set it all back up.
It felt so good to be sitting there again, counting my breaths. A little strange, only because it's been so long, but also so intimately comfortable and familiar, because I've spent so much of my life that way now at this point. Kind of like putting on your favorite old pair of jeans after not wearing them for a couple of years.
I've decided to do things a little differently this time around; we'll see how it goes. In the past, I've set aside a certain amount of time for meditating - 15 minutes, 20, 30, an hour, whatever - and used a timer to tell me when that set time period is up. I actually have a special meditation timer just for that purpose. When the chimes sound, it's time to stop meditating. But I've decided not to do that this time. Somehow, it just feels too rigid and boxed-in.
Instead, I've decided to just meditate until I feel the desire to stop. Maybe sometimes I'll stop after a certain number of breaths. Maybe sometimes I'll stop when my back can't take it anymore, and the pain gets too intense. Maybe sometimes I'll stop when I get distracted and lose focus. Maybe sometimes I'll stop when I just feel the time is right to stop. Who knows? The point is, that each meditation will be unique, and each experience will be dictated more by the feeling of the flow of Tao within me, than by whatever my brain decides is the most appropriate time to put on the clock.
Still, I'm curious to know how much time I spend meditating in each session. So, I'm still using my meditation clock. But now, instead of an alarm counting down, it's a timer, counting up.
Once I'd settled into position and gotten into a rhythm of counting my breaths, and begun to relax, it was just like riding a biker. It felt like I've been doing it my whole life. There was nothing that seemed to indicate that it had actually been almost a year since I'd last meditated. And it just felt so good. And so right. So peaceful and serene. So calm and quiet. So empty and relaxed. I knew I'd missed these feelings, but it took being there again to really bring home to me just how much I'd missed them.
I stopped after 181 breaths. Seemed like a nice, prime number. Also felt like I'd about hit my physical limit; my back was starting to hurt pretty bad on every inhalation. When my eyes had adjusted to the light again, I checked the clock, and found I had been sitting there in stillness for just over half an hour. Double the amount of time I used to spend in a typical session. And basically effortless compared to the half-hour sessions I used to do, where I would have to push myself to get through it, always waiting for those chimes to sound, always wondering how long it had been so far, always "surely my half hour must be up by now!" But this time, without that predetermined finish line to push towards, there was nothing for me to do but simply let go, and relax, and breathe, and be still.
I can't wait to do it again tomorrow.
I've been wanting to meditate for over a week now. But my altar and my cushions were all covered in a thick layer of dust. (How's that for a metaphor?) And it's been hard to find the time this week to clean everything and get it all ready to be used again. But today I had plenty of time, and there was nothing I wanted to do more. So I took it all apart, cleaned everything until it was looking like new, and then set it all back up.
It felt so good to be sitting there again, counting my breaths. A little strange, only because it's been so long, but also so intimately comfortable and familiar, because I've spent so much of my life that way now at this point. Kind of like putting on your favorite old pair of jeans after not wearing them for a couple of years.
I've decided to do things a little differently this time around; we'll see how it goes. In the past, I've set aside a certain amount of time for meditating - 15 minutes, 20, 30, an hour, whatever - and used a timer to tell me when that set time period is up. I actually have a special meditation timer just for that purpose. When the chimes sound, it's time to stop meditating. But I've decided not to do that this time. Somehow, it just feels too rigid and boxed-in.
Instead, I've decided to just meditate until I feel the desire to stop. Maybe sometimes I'll stop after a certain number of breaths. Maybe sometimes I'll stop when my back can't take it anymore, and the pain gets too intense. Maybe sometimes I'll stop when I get distracted and lose focus. Maybe sometimes I'll stop when I just feel the time is right to stop. Who knows? The point is, that each meditation will be unique, and each experience will be dictated more by the feeling of the flow of Tao within me, than by whatever my brain decides is the most appropriate time to put on the clock.
Still, I'm curious to know how much time I spend meditating in each session. So, I'm still using my meditation clock. But now, instead of an alarm counting down, it's a timer, counting up.
Once I'd settled into position and gotten into a rhythm of counting my breaths, and begun to relax, it was just like riding a biker. It felt like I've been doing it my whole life. There was nothing that seemed to indicate that it had actually been almost a year since I'd last meditated. And it just felt so good. And so right. So peaceful and serene. So calm and quiet. So empty and relaxed. I knew I'd missed these feelings, but it took being there again to really bring home to me just how much I'd missed them.
I stopped after 181 breaths. Seemed like a nice, prime number. Also felt like I'd about hit my physical limit; my back was starting to hurt pretty bad on every inhalation. When my eyes had adjusted to the light again, I checked the clock, and found I had been sitting there in stillness for just over half an hour. Double the amount of time I used to spend in a typical session. And basically effortless compared to the half-hour sessions I used to do, where I would have to push myself to get through it, always waiting for those chimes to sound, always wondering how long it had been so far, always "surely my half hour must be up by now!" But this time, without that predetermined finish line to push towards, there was nothing for me to do but simply let go, and relax, and breathe, and be still.
I can't wait to do it again tomorrow.
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