The Journey Continues

Remember Randy Pausch's last lecture? He said many things. I remember just one: people are more important than things. Sadhguru says that we love things and use people rather than using things and loving people. My neighbor loves his house, which he opens up to people he loves. The guest must always remember to bend over and contort his mind, body, and locate the necessary strength of the soul in order to leave the house untouched. You are welcome here at any time as long as....Attachments? Yes. Freedom? Yes. Control? Yes. If I recall correctly, Victor Frankl's message is that there is one thing that no one, not under any circumstances, can take away from a human being. This is the freedom to choose. Freedom appears to reside inside. It is simply there under the mind's towering presence and a thick layer of resistance. And as my neighbor exerts himself in every way to satisfy the needs of his mind, my task would be to free myself of my own mind's attachments to ideas and should-be's, and flow over the boulders, big and small, unscathed.  Until then...."may the force be with [me]."

Doing

I suppose the answer is creativity. What is the bottom line to our liking vs. not liking something?

I suppose the answer is expansion. When creating, we feel a larger space growing within us, causing a surge in creativity and an additional enlargement of space, creating (no pun intended) a self-perpetuating cycle.

I suppose the answer is endorphins. It just feels good to feel good, so I'll keep on...eating, writing, running, fantasizing.

I suppose the answer is unknown. I do because I can, because I have a need to do, and because I feel lost if I am not doing something, so I might as well do that which releases some endorphins, makes me feel expansive and creative, and allows me to feel some semblance of joy as the seconds, minutes, and hours sprint away from me.

Moving on to the universe... Is the sun doing?

Three Steps

If you want to feel grounded, play with the ground.
If you want to feel restful, exhaust the body. The mind will follow.
If you want to feel free, work with and through the inner noise.
And then, you glow.

From.....To.....

In case you aren't familiar, it's the connection between the two that creates the movement in partner dancing. This connection comes out of tension. The stronger the tension, the more explosive the movement, the more expressive, and the more powerful. Herein lies the paradox of life: living separately and connected simultaneously. As Patrick Swayze's character so eloquently puts it: "This is my dance space, and this is your dance space." Without each partner holding his (her) own space, no tension can exist, no connection can originate. The intricate balance of being in the world and not of the world, of being effective and not affected, of dancing as a unit and independently.

The duality, the positive and the negative, the feminine and the masculine, the dark and the light create the tension. The two dancers create that upon which they delicately walk. If one falls, the other stumbles. No tension, no connection, and no expression. Just nothingness. Emptiness. Nothing being pulled by or being pulled toward. Life with its energy, with its force, with its power, with its extreme ranges of experience aborts. The dance ends, the creative process halts. And, maybe, just maybe, a complete relaxation ensues.

"Is It Really?"

As one of my clients, who is living with a severely damaged language portion of her brain, says: "It is! It really is!," I also exclaim the same notion. And that being of wonderment, bewilderment, surprise, and that extra something which cannot be named. Looking around here and peaking way over there, and, occasionally, staring through to way down into here, I cannot escape the fact that each and every one of us lives in an uniquely created world, a bubble crowded with whatever we choose to fill it with. This self-made world of vast importance is only important to us. We are the mother to it, hence, the protective nature of our creation. The formidable guard, the barbed-wire fence, and possibly a river around the perimeter keep the world secluded, possibly safe, and effectively separated from reality. I live in my house with my own rules and regulations. My neighbor has his own set. And my mother seems to live on a whole other planet altogether. As I see this, I begin to wonder: "Is it? Is it really?"

Is it really like that? Really. Real.ly. Where is the real in our worlds? I'd like to step outside of my world, and be able to see the real. It appears as if what I have created for myself is not that real, it is only that to me, because I created it, and not because of anything else. As I drop my view of the enormity and the importance of this cocoon, it ceases to exist. In that case, what remains? And why is it that while in one part of the country calling oneself an artist is the weirdest, most outrageous, and insane concept, while in another, it's perfectly fitting?

I think back to my brain-injured client, and the world she may be experiencing, and the limitations she's operating through, and the ease at which she can be used and manipulated, and I wonder, how many deficits am I operating through?

The Sun is Shining

There is definitely something juicy here, like the orange I am eating. Just need to peel back the skin and the juice is ready to explode. The peeling is the difficult part, like I am the orange but unripened still. Not ready to peel off the skin and allow all of my juices to flow. Still scared to show up. Yet, the sun keeps shining and the seed keeps growing and the fruit keeps maturing until it no longer can contain itself within the protective shell, and it has to burst forth like a geyser, like a newborn, like all of life. But I digress...

In this case, I am the victim (a self-created victim) of....what would be a good term that describes the situation just right without using the banal self-esteem, self-this, self-that?... She fed my hunger for acceptance. Oh, how great is the longing to be seen. Oh, how powerful is the thirst to be recognized. And oh, how so blinding is this energy. Yes, I folded in half, buried the truth behind the flowering bush, and marched into the darkness. I must admit that walking in the forest without a compass is rather stressful, where is the road anyway? Am I going in circles? And what is this pungent odor? I kept the march to the beat of her pretty-in-pink persuasive drum, and yet, the wind was strong, the resistance grew, and my body gave out. A few trees and fantasies were destroyed along the way. I take full responsibility for the damage caused by my inability to see and know. A few thorns pierced my delicate skin, and while I am on the amend from the injuries sustained on the mission, the true juice of the matter is yet to be squeezed out. The truth is, I am not yet full. I am not yet mature. I am not yet firm. I am not yet clear, though, the sun is shining, and the seed is growing, and the fruit is maturing until it no longer can contain itself and is ready to explode like a.....hmmm, please insert your own image here.

Until the great flood takes place, I will stumble and fall, get up and go again with emphasis on minimizing the sting of moving without complete illumination.

Fallen

As quickly as the ship, to raise me out of drowning waters, was built, just as quickly, if not more so, the flooring decayed and gave way. I am back in murky waters, though the head is still above, overlooking the vastness, the intimidation. Lost at sea. There must be a life vest somewhere, or a rescue helicopter, but who would call for it? Scanning the horizon with the eyes part petrified, part exhausted, sprinkled with a third party observer. It's just me. All I have is me. Everything else might just be a bonus. The balancing act between individualism and society. How capricious an individual and how deep-rooted a society. Keeping focus, scanning the horizon, visualizing the greatest of the greatest, playing all kinds of mental tricks and games, telling and creating all types of lies and stories, all to keep head above water. I want to walk on water. I want to see beyond the horizon. I want to stand as I am, every millimeter of me alive and free, independent of the pandemonium abound, deep-rooted in the current of life, as it takes me through, over, and above the shifting tides that are banging on the rocks, spilling over the sand, and knocking the ships down, under, and beneath the murky waters. All I have is me. Everything else might just be a bonus, but I am still me, still knocked off the boat, still in the darkness, and wanting a boost, if just enough to see the general direction.

Thank you...