Saturday, December 16, 2006

I suppose that frequent bloggers have throughly resolved this issue, or perhaps exacerbated it - how to write for yourself. Knowing that other people may potentially read what you write is an excellent test for your self-importance, and it works your ability to stay true to your feelings and perceptions rather than going into the pattern of filtering your thoughts based on how you expect others to perceive them...

Ironically, even that paragraph went through this filter! Dumb.

Here is a summary of the esoteric (re)discoveries I've made over the recent weeks, in no particular order:

Intensity. No matter how much I think I understand this one, time and time again I see that I don't. Living up to being god of fire is quite a task sometimes. I struggle with becoming fire for anything longer than short bursts - it is easy under controlled conditions (of course I have to want to or somehow get motivated), but actually doing something my mind would label as "productive" and being aflame at the same time has thus far managed to elude me.

At the same time, when I do succeed at the fiery mindset (whether it be fiery mind, blazing intent or remaining in the glowing stream), I feel a change. I can't characterize it as "feeling good", or better, freer, etc - those are habitual expressions that do not express what it is well at all. They are my expectations, perhaps, and when trying to tune in and pick myself up I often search for those expected symptoms, which throws me off course. It's more of an energized experience of being "able", or something along those lines. Calmer, perhaps, yet moving at high speed, and yet not moving. It's also a feeling of relief, as if a weight, a long-since-accepted-as-inevitable pressure is suddenly removed and you are half way between joy of sudden freedom and the anticipation of its return.

Another thing I came to realize recently is my now well-established habit of feeling pity... for myself. I wind up in a mindset of "I won't succeed anyway because..." all the time, even though I don't usually show it externally. Typical examples are "I'm tired, so deep meditation won't work, and connecting thoroughly is impossible", or "I ate too much, and now I'm too heavy to succeed". It took a long time, years perhaps, for me to notice and admit that I do this. Alaya has been watching me do this from week to week, never saying a thing. "You do that quite a bit" - he finally said once I shocked myself with this revelation. He knows me well.
I have to say, the possibilities are certainly less limited when you don't limit yourself.