It's late, I got little sleep last night, and I'm not tired.
My hair is the longest it's been in a long time (just over 4 days of growth).
I feel restless and aimless and comfortable. Like I'm a big, aimless cloud just floating around.
I've got all kinds of programming to study and novels to write and sonatas to master. But here I am. Watching videos of the upcoming release of Fez. Reading about Marina Abramovic - looking for youtube videos of "The Artist is Present."
And I'm not distressed about it. Here I am; not doing these things. So what?
I challenge myself: do something different. It's normal for me to distressed. So don't be distressed. And don't be distressed about not being distressed.
I am meeting that challenge.
It's not about my future self, my unbegotten list of accomplishments. It's about just what I'm doing right at this desk, right now. It doesn't matter if my mind is caught in the web of thought - that is now. Telling myself that I can't be present in the moment, because my train of thought is too unwieldy, too addicting, too stubborn - is simply continuing the process of giving it way too much weight and power. To free myself from something I cannot continue to feel victimized by it.
So, I do not know what the future holds, or what I hold inside me, but I am feeling comfortable with myself for the time being.
I know this might seem like the answer to a question that has not been asked, but this is important: I realize that I can feel alive and in my body, no matter what I do. I am often afraid that committing to something, that engaging myself with something will isolate me from a feeling of well being, of security, of safety. It is not true. Maybe others realize what I'm talking about? It's certainly worth writing about in the future. And I'm confident I will.
Dream well, all.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Like duckpins
Today I am reflecting on the fact that I have set up so many goals in my life - just to see them silently topple over while I am paying attention to something else. I keep lining them up one by one - giving whichever one has won my attention due care and diligence - only to leave and focus on something else. So many currents run through my life - but nothing remains and becomes the one thing I focus on.
I have succeeded, at the very least, at continuing with something. And that is zazen. I am doing a good job of keeping up with running, but without the deadset consistency I have brought to my zen practice. But neither of these things is something I have mastered or excelled at. Of course, I don't need to master anything - that is just as much a conceit as anything else.
Is the issue, then, that I have not kept up with anything that earns me millions of dollars and gets me laid at the bat of an eyelash?
That seems conceited.
Well, this foils my attempt to write a dedicated, focused blog entry. Notice how my original intention to complain about something brought me somewhere else entirely.
Is focus even an issue then? I suppose I have difficulty maintaining the importance of focus. Or anything. I do zazen despite it not feeling important. I simply decided to practice zazen every day until I am dead. Who knows - maybe I can somehow practice zazen after I am dead.
It is very difficult to do anything without feeling that it is important.
It is easy to do something if you don't attach any importance to you feeling important about it.
Maybe that's the key to focus?
Usually, it's portrayed as feeling that something is very important. Is that wrong?
I feel I have a little Steve Jobs inside me - discriminating and bilious and cynical. "That's bullshit." "That's not right." "Try again." But I don't have the part of him that stuck with a project or two at a time and saw it to (relative) completion. Is this a lack in me, or simply a variance in personality, in perspective, in goals?
I have succeeded, at the very least, at continuing with something. And that is zazen. I am doing a good job of keeping up with running, but without the deadset consistency I have brought to my zen practice. But neither of these things is something I have mastered or excelled at. Of course, I don't need to master anything - that is just as much a conceit as anything else.
Is the issue, then, that I have not kept up with anything that earns me millions of dollars and gets me laid at the bat of an eyelash?
That seems conceited.
Well, this foils my attempt to write a dedicated, focused blog entry. Notice how my original intention to complain about something brought me somewhere else entirely.
Is focus even an issue then? I suppose I have difficulty maintaining the importance of focus. Or anything. I do zazen despite it not feeling important. I simply decided to practice zazen every day until I am dead. Who knows - maybe I can somehow practice zazen after I am dead.
It is very difficult to do anything without feeling that it is important.
It is easy to do something if you don't attach any importance to you feeling important about it.
Maybe that's the key to focus?
Usually, it's portrayed as feeling that something is very important. Is that wrong?
I feel I have a little Steve Jobs inside me - discriminating and bilious and cynical. "That's bullshit." "That's not right." "Try again." But I don't have the part of him that stuck with a project or two at a time and saw it to (relative) completion. Is this a lack in me, or simply a variance in personality, in perspective, in goals?
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Halo at night
The trend I noted yesterday continues: I am feeling how little time I have for anything, but not panicking. Life continues to be palatable and fresh for me this week.
Tonight I had a little moment as I was leaving the office late. I worked 9 hours today in order to make up for an hour I took off on Monday. I closed down the office around sunset and was faced, like I and others often face the ocean in a dream, with the churning quiet of downtown Albuquerque. Downtown Albuquerque is not bustling - especially on weekday evenings - so there was a nice calm. The air seemed quite clean and easy to me, with a comfortable chill after a hot day.
Downtown often feels very similar to all the ruined cities I've visited. The buildings loom large and seem as unoccupied as the streets below. I am surrounded by colorful, vivid murals and mosaics thrown up on the walls. The pyramid-like Bank of Albuquerque building looms down like a theocratic watchtower. Really, this could be Machu Picchu, Giza, Pompeii - though on a much larger scale.
I drive down fourth street through the low-roofed, bestreetlighted Barelas neighborhood, across the Rio Grande bridge with its stately view of the Volcanoes, and off to my quiet street for a simple dinner and a beer.
Yes, I wish I had more time to do creative things; to grow; to learn; to master. But there is much to be said about simply enjoying my daily (somewhat mundane) tasks, the company of the people around me, the air I breathe.
Is this a fault? Is my acceptance of such mundane things the reason why I don't venture out for success, like so many others before me have and so many after me will?
Perhaps.
Perhaps I still need to dig deeper to get to some arterial storehouse of my own energy, charisma and eros. Find more pain; face more fears; work through more wounds. They are there. I will find my way to them, one way or another. For now, the skies are calm.
It is okay for the skies to be calm every once and a while. Seriously.
Dream well, all.
Tonight I had a little moment as I was leaving the office late. I worked 9 hours today in order to make up for an hour I took off on Monday. I closed down the office around sunset and was faced, like I and others often face the ocean in a dream, with the churning quiet of downtown Albuquerque. Downtown Albuquerque is not bustling - especially on weekday evenings - so there was a nice calm. The air seemed quite clean and easy to me, with a comfortable chill after a hot day.
Downtown often feels very similar to all the ruined cities I've visited. The buildings loom large and seem as unoccupied as the streets below. I am surrounded by colorful, vivid murals and mosaics thrown up on the walls. The pyramid-like Bank of Albuquerque building looms down like a theocratic watchtower. Really, this could be Machu Picchu, Giza, Pompeii - though on a much larger scale.
I drive down fourth street through the low-roofed, bestreetlighted Barelas neighborhood, across the Rio Grande bridge with its stately view of the Volcanoes, and off to my quiet street for a simple dinner and a beer.
Yes, I wish I had more time to do creative things; to grow; to learn; to master. But there is much to be said about simply enjoying my daily (somewhat mundane) tasks, the company of the people around me, the air I breathe.
Is this a fault? Is my acceptance of such mundane things the reason why I don't venture out for success, like so many others before me have and so many after me will?
Perhaps.
Perhaps I still need to dig deeper to get to some arterial storehouse of my own energy, charisma and eros. Find more pain; face more fears; work through more wounds. They are there. I will find my way to them, one way or another. For now, the skies are calm.
It is okay for the skies to be calm every once and a while. Seriously.
Dream well, all.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Expensive
(Suddenly that word is pregnant with all kinds of meanings and multiple-entendres.)
Things are expensive now. Every last decision seems to have serious weight. This has naturally made me less stressful. If everything has so much weight, then nothing does. I simply do what I can and keep shuffling by. Whatever shards of broken glass end up in the mosaic that is my life, are beautiful and will no doubt catch the light just right. That's how it is.
I feel like I'm exactly where I need to be. How about that?
And "How about that?" is all I can say in response to realizing that I am happy. Well, how about that?
Things will work themselves out. I know that is true, because I am "things" and "themselves" and am doing the "work."
Well, this has turned out to be a silly blog post.
I'd like to recount the things I did today, but I don't want to take very long. I'm just going to use simple phrases with no pronouns:
Said goodbye to girlfriend. Zazen. Exercised. Ate omelet. Went to work. Visited potential new office. Worked. Visited post office twice. Watched rapper's entourage + groupies crowd up downtown. Went to class. Learned about C++ references. Bought frozen pizza (on sale) for dinner. Visited the river. Did dishes. Listened to TAL. Ate pizza. Watched Daily Show. Wrote many, many emails. Brushed teeth. Writing this blog.
It was not a bad day. I hope to increase so many things. I'd like to spruce up my writing a bit.
But here I am - this is what I have to offer - so I am offering it.
Dream well, all.
Things are expensive now. Every last decision seems to have serious weight. This has naturally made me less stressful. If everything has so much weight, then nothing does. I simply do what I can and keep shuffling by. Whatever shards of broken glass end up in the mosaic that is my life, are beautiful and will no doubt catch the light just right. That's how it is.
I feel like I'm exactly where I need to be. How about that?
And "How about that?" is all I can say in response to realizing that I am happy. Well, how about that?
Things will work themselves out. I know that is true, because I am "things" and "themselves" and am doing the "work."
Well, this has turned out to be a silly blog post.
I'd like to recount the things I did today, but I don't want to take very long. I'm just going to use simple phrases with no pronouns:
Said goodbye to girlfriend. Zazen. Exercised. Ate omelet. Went to work. Visited potential new office. Worked. Visited post office twice. Watched rapper's entourage + groupies crowd up downtown. Went to class. Learned about C++ references. Bought frozen pizza (on sale) for dinner. Visited the river. Did dishes. Listened to TAL. Ate pizza. Watched Daily Show. Wrote many, many emails. Brushed teeth. Writing this blog.
It was not a bad day. I hope to increase so many things. I'd like to spruce up my writing a bit.
But here I am - this is what I have to offer - so I am offering it.
Dream well, all.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Tempus rarus
So, for the past five months, I have been trying to learn how to manage my time, to get the best use of it.
Having run out of time this evening, I have occasion to bring home the thought that I need to be extra careful, now that I am working full-time. I need to be extra conscious of what I choose to do. I need to hone in on my intuition to guide me and not expect a schedule to be particularly effective - especially on evenings such as tonight where I have been stimulated and tested all day and find myself with little energy to spend when I walk in the door.
Such are my limited thoughts when I am already too late for bed, for much needed relaxation. I lack verbosity tonight.
It will continue to grow in me as my working life balances out. I am happy to be back in an office. I do like to work; I am doing good things in a good place, and I am always learning, learning, learning.
Dream well, all,
Joe
Having run out of time this evening, I have occasion to bring home the thought that I need to be extra careful, now that I am working full-time. I need to be extra conscious of what I choose to do. I need to hone in on my intuition to guide me and not expect a schedule to be particularly effective - especially on evenings such as tonight where I have been stimulated and tested all day and find myself with little energy to spend when I walk in the door.
Such are my limited thoughts when I am already too late for bed, for much needed relaxation. I lack verbosity tonight.
It will continue to grow in me as my working life balances out. I am happy to be back in an office. I do like to work; I am doing good things in a good place, and I am always learning, learning, learning.
Dream well, all,
Joe
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Extro
Yes, so my life has taken a turn for the less introverted. I am in a relationship again; and I will be working full-time once again. Actually, it has been almost four years since I last worked a 40-hour workweek - it's something I apparently don't usually do.
But it feels just about right for now. I have no idea how I will be fitting in all my extra projects. Some are staying strong, others are approaching and receding, as they always have been. Programming, in general, seems here to stay as a learning path for me. I don't know about the specifics though. My guess is that I will be focusing on whatever actual class I happen to be taking a the time, and my self-study will move into the background. So it goes.
Farming / gardening will be staying around due to the fact that I am working with other people and making plans. I am fine with that. I can do a lot of work, if it is all planned out and communicating. If I know that others are involved, and it is a project that is cared about, that is interested. It's the arbitrary projects that are brought up in a flash and just as easily dropped - these I have trouble sticking with.
Clearly, "other people" is a significant factor in how my life functions. Seems obvious - but so easy to ignore.
I still do not know how to juggle my other creative enterprises. At the moment, I feel that I can only do what I have always done: dive headfirst into whatever is interesting me and challenging me at the moment, and work through that the best I can. That this has never resulted in mastery of anything or a long term commitment - them's the breaks. It is then not in me to do so. Yes, I am a fatalist.
Life consists only of what I can discover. To rest my hopes in something I have not found yet seems to be folly.
I just happen to believe there is a lot to discover by not doing very much. That is my character. I see a lot of value in it (that is, in studying all the mundane details of the mind and the way I channel my experience into a sense of self). Others don't. I believe I gain a lot of insight into life from this perspective. The problem (if you can say there is a problem) is that I hardly step away from this process to actually do anything with it. I am inclined to just say: so it goes. It would be nice to change, but I don't see how that is possible at the moment. I cannot do that, with my present personality. Reconstructing personalities is a difficult thing. Maybe I'll figure it out at some point.
I guess, then, that I can't ever really stop being introverted. The microscope is always loaded with the slide of my self...
Dream well, all...
But it feels just about right for now. I have no idea how I will be fitting in all my extra projects. Some are staying strong, others are approaching and receding, as they always have been. Programming, in general, seems here to stay as a learning path for me. I don't know about the specifics though. My guess is that I will be focusing on whatever actual class I happen to be taking a the time, and my self-study will move into the background. So it goes.
Farming / gardening will be staying around due to the fact that I am working with other people and making plans. I am fine with that. I can do a lot of work, if it is all planned out and communicating. If I know that others are involved, and it is a project that is cared about, that is interested. It's the arbitrary projects that are brought up in a flash and just as easily dropped - these I have trouble sticking with.
Clearly, "other people" is a significant factor in how my life functions. Seems obvious - but so easy to ignore.
I still do not know how to juggle my other creative enterprises. At the moment, I feel that I can only do what I have always done: dive headfirst into whatever is interesting me and challenging me at the moment, and work through that the best I can. That this has never resulted in mastery of anything or a long term commitment - them's the breaks. It is then not in me to do so. Yes, I am a fatalist.
Life consists only of what I can discover. To rest my hopes in something I have not found yet seems to be folly.
I just happen to believe there is a lot to discover by not doing very much. That is my character. I see a lot of value in it (that is, in studying all the mundane details of the mind and the way I channel my experience into a sense of self). Others don't. I believe I gain a lot of insight into life from this perspective. The problem (if you can say there is a problem) is that I hardly step away from this process to actually do anything with it. I am inclined to just say: so it goes. It would be nice to change, but I don't see how that is possible at the moment. I cannot do that, with my present personality. Reconstructing personalities is a difficult thing. Maybe I'll figure it out at some point.
I guess, then, that I can't ever really stop being introverted. The microscope is always loaded with the slide of my self...
Dream well, all...
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Conveyance
Things are exciting. Things are alive.
Penelope is back in my life now. Beyond one night, I cannot say where we are headed. But I am willing to act differently. I am motivated not to let my wall-building activities take over. It feels good. It is not certain - there is no sunset and there are no credits rolling. It's much more like a beginning. I have been given another opportunity, and it is up to me to explore and expand as I choose.
I wish I could say I have been feeling great, in general, but I haven't.
First, I have been sick and quite physically tired.
Tonight, for most of today also, I am feeling quite restless. It is even difficult to write this; I am probably not going to write very much more than this, in fact.
I cannot say what it is all about. I think this is a point where I'm just going to have to keep muddling along the best way I can; continue with the tasks I am doing, with the questions I am asking of myself, and focus on continuing, not on reaching any conclusions.
I will need to leave it at that.
Dream well, all.
Penelope is back in my life now. Beyond one night, I cannot say where we are headed. But I am willing to act differently. I am motivated not to let my wall-building activities take over. It feels good. It is not certain - there is no sunset and there are no credits rolling. It's much more like a beginning. I have been given another opportunity, and it is up to me to explore and expand as I choose.
I wish I could say I have been feeling great, in general, but I haven't.
First, I have been sick and quite physically tired.
Tonight, for most of today also, I am feeling quite restless. It is even difficult to write this; I am probably not going to write very much more than this, in fact.
I cannot say what it is all about. I think this is a point where I'm just going to have to keep muddling along the best way I can; continue with the tasks I am doing, with the questions I am asking of myself, and focus on continuing, not on reaching any conclusions.
I will need to leave it at that.
Dream well, all.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Logging, Once Again
I'm putting a lot of energy into my journal comics. I've written over half a dozen; a full page consisting of twelve panels. The art is too miserable to display at this point; if I practice and work at them, eventually they might start showing up here. Or I might decide to do something more modest than a strip a day. Maybe a panel a day? That would be doable.
A scattered day. Two particularly well-crafted job applications; some JavaScript study. A fantastic re-entry to my Python course. I should be finished with my current text book in a week or so. Good accordion study. A nice run. That is most of what I did today.
I've been thinking of Penelope. I know for a fact she would be interested in getting back together. I'm torn. There is a part of me that wants to rush back; another part of me wants to cook a bit longer. However, if I'm going to be cooking a bit longer, I really need to cook.
By cook I mean: sit with my anxiety, my longing, my negative feelings, without turning them into a fix that needs to be satisfied. Let all the emotion percolate and steam and ferment for a nice, long time before going out there again and opening up.
I have much to learn about loving myself before I can really enjoy a relationship with someone else.
Knowing about Penelope's protracted passion for me is very attractive; one likes to be loved like that. The more important question is: how do I feel about her?
I do not know. My attitude towards women and relationships with them is too distorted by habit and prejudice (about who I am and what I want and who others are) for me to see the thing clearly.
So how do I see the thing clearly - the thing being love, connection, relationship - what I want from it?
Something to continue thinking about.
Good night, all.
A scattered day. Two particularly well-crafted job applications; some JavaScript study. A fantastic re-entry to my Python course. I should be finished with my current text book in a week or so. Good accordion study. A nice run. That is most of what I did today.
I've been thinking of Penelope. I know for a fact she would be interested in getting back together. I'm torn. There is a part of me that wants to rush back; another part of me wants to cook a bit longer. However, if I'm going to be cooking a bit longer, I really need to cook.
By cook I mean: sit with my anxiety, my longing, my negative feelings, without turning them into a fix that needs to be satisfied. Let all the emotion percolate and steam and ferment for a nice, long time before going out there again and opening up.
I have much to learn about loving myself before I can really enjoy a relationship with someone else.
Knowing about Penelope's protracted passion for me is very attractive; one likes to be loved like that. The more important question is: how do I feel about her?
I do not know. My attitude towards women and relationships with them is too distorted by habit and prejudice (about who I am and what I want and who others are) for me to see the thing clearly.
So how do I see the thing clearly - the thing being love, connection, relationship - what I want from it?
Something to continue thinking about.
Good night, all.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Sinus
Dear Purpurea,
Well, I was thinking I would be a little more grounded and neutral today, but you've got me hooked back on the upward slope of your sine-curve.
What a day it has been. It was pure restlessness turned into unexpected activity.
I felt the need to begin writing a journal comic. I who cannot draw or write clearly to save my life. But who cares? It was rich and filling and continues to be so tempting for me (I wrote one yesterday, two today, and I had to hold myself back from writing more and possibly burning myself out).
I cannot quite describe yet the feeling of fullness that paid out from this experience, seeing chapters of my life presented in such a dense, clear format. I feel a little mythological, now. I felt connected to the moments in time I decided to set down in the panels. I have become skeptical of the story I carry with me - a la Pema Chodron - but here, in my crude rendering, it became something more than a connection of concepts and words. It was a substantial visit to my past, with all the emotional feedback and weight that I usually find lacking from introspective reviews of my life.
It was helpful and insightful and quickening.
I think I'd like to continue doing it.
But that's not all: somehow, I was also pushed to finally begin the accordion videos I've mentioned here before but had not - until today - done anything about. Now I have one. My first youtube production after years of being simply a consumer. It's far from perfect - I play just a part of "How Soon is Now?" with a little singing and a couple naked chords - but it felt good.
It makes sense that HSIN is the song that pushed me over the edge. The song is full of the kind of longing that got me talking to you again, Purpurea, and I found myself lying awake at night, hearing the melody haunt me and feeling a muscular tug right through my ribcage, my viscera and down to the base of my spine. Apparently it is this raw sense of longing that gets me off the seat and producing something, sharing myself with the world.
And longing is your specialty, isn't it? Your superpower.
Well, you had me for another night. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow as well. Keep pulling, keep hooking me, keep dragging me. You're beginning to hook my mouth into something resembling a smile...
Affectionately yours,
Peliens
Well, I was thinking I would be a little more grounded and neutral today, but you've got me hooked back on the upward slope of your sine-curve.
What a day it has been. It was pure restlessness turned into unexpected activity.
I felt the need to begin writing a journal comic. I who cannot draw or write clearly to save my life. But who cares? It was rich and filling and continues to be so tempting for me (I wrote one yesterday, two today, and I had to hold myself back from writing more and possibly burning myself out).
I cannot quite describe yet the feeling of fullness that paid out from this experience, seeing chapters of my life presented in such a dense, clear format. I feel a little mythological, now. I felt connected to the moments in time I decided to set down in the panels. I have become skeptical of the story I carry with me - a la Pema Chodron - but here, in my crude rendering, it became something more than a connection of concepts and words. It was a substantial visit to my past, with all the emotional feedback and weight that I usually find lacking from introspective reviews of my life.
It was helpful and insightful and quickening.
I think I'd like to continue doing it.
But that's not all: somehow, I was also pushed to finally begin the accordion videos I've mentioned here before but had not - until today - done anything about. Now I have one. My first youtube production after years of being simply a consumer. It's far from perfect - I play just a part of "How Soon is Now?" with a little singing and a couple naked chords - but it felt good.
It makes sense that HSIN is the song that pushed me over the edge. The song is full of the kind of longing that got me talking to you again, Purpurea, and I found myself lying awake at night, hearing the melody haunt me and feeling a muscular tug right through my ribcage, my viscera and down to the base of my spine. Apparently it is this raw sense of longing that gets me off the seat and producing something, sharing myself with the world.
And longing is your specialty, isn't it? Your superpower.
Well, you had me for another night. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow as well. Keep pulling, keep hooking me, keep dragging me. You're beginning to hook my mouth into something resembling a smile...
Affectionately yours,
Peliens
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Arthropod
Dear Purpurea,
The answer: sacrifice.
That can mean so many things. Robert A. Johnson insists that the important part of sacrifice is not the giving away, getting rid of or destroying - it is the fact that what is removed is made sacred. That is, it is removed from the purview of the smaller self and set aside for something larger, more inclusive, more whole.
What must be sacrificed, then, is not nearly as important as: what shall I be sacrificing to?
Change. What I mean by that is: changing myself. If it has become clear that sacrifice is necessary - then what is this greater thing that I shall prepare the sacrifice for?
A greater self? A world - a universe - a cosmos. A totality of all connections, the end of all roads traversed, the satisfaction of all burning. The mound of ashes at the end of the world. The Omega Man. That which is called God.
No. Too abstract and grandiose.
Is it for you, Purpurea? You're part of it, aren't you. My goodness, something greater than both of us, that consists of me and you. The hermaphroditic flowering of myself. That seems about right.
Something worth sacrificing myself to. Something to look out for the next few days.
Purpurea, I think it might be time to take a break from writing to you. I need to spend the next couple days touching dirt with my long-folded hands. There will come a time again, though.
You are in my thoughts and at the tickling-end of my senses though, as always.
Affectionately yours,
Peliens
The answer: sacrifice.
That can mean so many things. Robert A. Johnson insists that the important part of sacrifice is not the giving away, getting rid of or destroying - it is the fact that what is removed is made sacred. That is, it is removed from the purview of the smaller self and set aside for something larger, more inclusive, more whole.
What must be sacrificed, then, is not nearly as important as: what shall I be sacrificing to?
Change. What I mean by that is: changing myself. If it has become clear that sacrifice is necessary - then what is this greater thing that I shall prepare the sacrifice for?
A greater self? A world - a universe - a cosmos. A totality of all connections, the end of all roads traversed, the satisfaction of all burning. The mound of ashes at the end of the world. The Omega Man. That which is called God.
No. Too abstract and grandiose.
Is it for you, Purpurea? You're part of it, aren't you. My goodness, something greater than both of us, that consists of me and you. The hermaphroditic flowering of myself. That seems about right.
Something worth sacrificing myself to. Something to look out for the next few days.
Purpurea, I think it might be time to take a break from writing to you. I need to spend the next couple days touching dirt with my long-folded hands. There will come a time again, though.
You are in my thoughts and at the tickling-end of my senses though, as always.
Affectionately yours,
Peliens
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Metabolism
Dear Purpurea,
What does it mean to change?
What will the next step be?
I am stuck in a loop: I believe I must do something different to feel different; but then it seems I must feel different to do something different?
Confusion like this makes me a fatalist. Or is that the thing I need to change?
I am feeling reluctant to wax so poetic about anything right now - I feel my mind is full of false steps, and I am craving objectivity and perspective.
Off I go once again, to bed, to cycle through another day, which I always hope to be an unfolding spiral.
Is it?
Affectionately yours,
Peliens
What does it mean to change?
What will the next step be?
I am stuck in a loop: I believe I must do something different to feel different; but then it seems I must feel different to do something different?
Confusion like this makes me a fatalist. Or is that the thing I need to change?
I am feeling reluctant to wax so poetic about anything right now - I feel my mind is full of false steps, and I am craving objectivity and perspective.
Off I go once again, to bed, to cycle through another day, which I always hope to be an unfolding spiral.
Is it?
Affectionately yours,
Peliens
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Arkanoid
Dear Purpurea,
I am tired and a little sick this evening. Also, it is very late. It is no excuse not to write anything at all, but it is an excuse to write very little.
The Tyger did not burn very bright. I was efficient today - very efficient in the morning, but then it all kind of petered out in the afternoon. I had a pretty spontaneous couchsurfing encounter in the evening, which was nice, but I am left with the memory of not having dealt with very much today.
I have tried to think about what it means to desire something. I reflected a little bit on desire and relationships, most recently with Penelope. My relationships have failed through my lack of desire on one level or another. On the surface and in the depths. Both are important. I am attentive and aware and can be energetic in a way that many are not - but, come the evening, come the time for intimacy, I am not present. I slink away. The wall was too strong, or the fire not bright enough. I don't know. I've never understood it.
Something burns bright enough in me when I am alone, when I am at a distance. Why is it - or why does it appear to be extinguished once I get close?
Tough questions, Purpurea.
I'm going to bed. If we can counsel in my dreams, let's.
Affectionately yours,
Peliens.
I am tired and a little sick this evening. Also, it is very late. It is no excuse not to write anything at all, but it is an excuse to write very little.
The Tyger did not burn very bright. I was efficient today - very efficient in the morning, but then it all kind of petered out in the afternoon. I had a pretty spontaneous couchsurfing encounter in the evening, which was nice, but I am left with the memory of not having dealt with very much today.
I have tried to think about what it means to desire something. I reflected a little bit on desire and relationships, most recently with Penelope. My relationships have failed through my lack of desire on one level or another. On the surface and in the depths. Both are important. I am attentive and aware and can be energetic in a way that many are not - but, come the evening, come the time for intimacy, I am not present. I slink away. The wall was too strong, or the fire not bright enough. I don't know. I've never understood it.
Something burns bright enough in me when I am alone, when I am at a distance. Why is it - or why does it appear to be extinguished once I get close?
Tough questions, Purpurea.
I'm going to bed. If we can counsel in my dreams, let's.
Affectionately yours,
Peliens.
Monday, March 5, 2012
What Guild, What Market?
Dear Purpurea,
I was wondering, today, what profession you're saving for me? The elusive trade, the undefined mastery I have been striving towards, since I am 29 years old and have not chosen a profession yet. What is waiting for me? Where are you leading me?
I would say I am a professional anima-chaser, but that doesn't seem to pay very well.
I know, as a fact - I can feel it in my working limbs and in my heart as I type this - that work is a good thing that I enjoy. Yet I shy away from it so much, preferring to be idle, to wander, to scribble my footprints across the dust randomly, rather than making squares, spirals, fractals.
What is in the design? I'd like to know.
I feel angry at the world for not asking me to do something. I have had great potential - some of it has worn away due to age, but a good portion is still left. I feel ready and waiting - where's my mission, my calling? Of what use am I?
I have given an ephemeral answer: coder. I am coding. I enjoy coding. When I code in the right doses at the right times, I can rattle off hundreds of lines with barely any glitches, and it makes me feel solid and clean in the way that a good run can. At other times, it is brilliantly uncomfortable and challenging; a sinking quagmire that calls a whole lot more into question than anyone would expect from programming. I love this, too.
But that's not the real answer, because it doesn't address the real question of for whom - for whom am I? (I am echoing Hillel here. It suits my beard.)
If I sit quietly and wonder - what tasks are asked of me? I get the following answers: my dad would like me to earn more money. My class asks me to do such and such homework. My living community asks me to take care of the property; to plan a garden. The pair of non-profits have their tasks lined up for me.
These are good tasks. I even feel that I could do a lot more, and I plan on it. It was helpful for me to think about them. I've got some great ideas to put into practice that will be helpful for everyone and earn me a little self-confidence.
The glaring omission, of course, is the question I can't answer. A part of me does not even believe I can answer it - could ever hope to answer it. I doubt that me, myself - the I - is something that I can actually appreciate and cherish and take care of.
What do I want?
I've been on a bit of a Blake kick. I get angry - even wanting to throw the book down - because Blake talks about the sacred law that exists in the form of every man's desire - BUT WHAT DO I DESIRE, WILL? How do I get to know that? What does that mean?
Maybe I've been at school and have coded a little bit; my mind settles down; the answer comes to me in the form of a few truths:
1. my desire is present and available for me to know
2. I spend a lot (a lot, a lot, a lot) of time rationalizing it away and/or convincing myself there are more important things to attend to than what I desire,
3. Which leads me into a falsehood: that I do not know what I desire.
3. I would be happier if I followed my desires more closely. It will be a good teacher. The best teacher.
This has been a heady letter to you, Purpurea, but I can feel the Tyger burning bright, somewhere down in there. Let's both watch it paw its way into something brighter, bigger, louder.
Affectionately yours,
Peliens
I was wondering, today, what profession you're saving for me? The elusive trade, the undefined mastery I have been striving towards, since I am 29 years old and have not chosen a profession yet. What is waiting for me? Where are you leading me?
I would say I am a professional anima-chaser, but that doesn't seem to pay very well.
I know, as a fact - I can feel it in my working limbs and in my heart as I type this - that work is a good thing that I enjoy. Yet I shy away from it so much, preferring to be idle, to wander, to scribble my footprints across the dust randomly, rather than making squares, spirals, fractals.
What is in the design? I'd like to know.
I feel angry at the world for not asking me to do something. I have had great potential - some of it has worn away due to age, but a good portion is still left. I feel ready and waiting - where's my mission, my calling? Of what use am I?
I have given an ephemeral answer: coder. I am coding. I enjoy coding. When I code in the right doses at the right times, I can rattle off hundreds of lines with barely any glitches, and it makes me feel solid and clean in the way that a good run can. At other times, it is brilliantly uncomfortable and challenging; a sinking quagmire that calls a whole lot more into question than anyone would expect from programming. I love this, too.
But that's not the real answer, because it doesn't address the real question of for whom - for whom am I? (I am echoing Hillel here. It suits my beard.)
If I sit quietly and wonder - what tasks are asked of me? I get the following answers: my dad would like me to earn more money. My class asks me to do such and such homework. My living community asks me to take care of the property; to plan a garden. The pair of non-profits have their tasks lined up for me.
These are good tasks. I even feel that I could do a lot more, and I plan on it. It was helpful for me to think about them. I've got some great ideas to put into practice that will be helpful for everyone and earn me a little self-confidence.
The glaring omission, of course, is the question I can't answer. A part of me does not even believe I can answer it - could ever hope to answer it. I doubt that me, myself - the I - is something that I can actually appreciate and cherish and take care of.
What do I want?
I've been on a bit of a Blake kick. I get angry - even wanting to throw the book down - because Blake talks about the sacred law that exists in the form of every man's desire - BUT WHAT DO I DESIRE, WILL? How do I get to know that? What does that mean?
Maybe I've been at school and have coded a little bit; my mind settles down; the answer comes to me in the form of a few truths:
1. my desire is present and available for me to know
2. I spend a lot (a lot, a lot, a lot) of time rationalizing it away and/or convincing myself there are more important things to attend to than what I desire,
3. Which leads me into a falsehood: that I do not know what I desire.
3. I would be happier if I followed my desires more closely. It will be a good teacher. The best teacher.
This has been a heady letter to you, Purpurea, but I can feel the Tyger burning bright, somewhere down in there. Let's both watch it paw its way into something brighter, bigger, louder.
Affectionately yours,
Peliens
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Hide and Seek
Dear Purpurea,
I see. It's a game. Hide and seek? Hot and cold?
Tonight it got a little colder. I went out Contra dancing again, and it was just not the same as two weeks ago. But why should it be? Two weeks ago it was a challenge, an alarm clock. I'm already awake; so no rush, no adrenaline, no star-gazing focus on the limits of my being. What can I expect from that?
How can I push my limits, without constantly improving, by doing what is uncomfortable?
I can't, Purpurea. Thanks for slipping silently away, when I wasn't looking. Thanks for teasing me, pushing me to keep looking and growing. I will find you on the salsa floor, the swing floor, the trance floor... in the moments of awkwardness, confusion, tension, stress.
Tomorrow is another tech blackout... another day not to bulldoze over my genuine, precious feelings of loneliness by sensory distraction. A day to clean, exercise, read, relax, play, socialize.
I am a little frustrated right now, P, because I can't expect to get laid for quite a while. But you don't want anyone who is always expecting to get laid. You want someone who fully basks in his own light; who washes at his own fountain and cooks in his own kitchen. You are attracted by the incense of a man who burns himself as an offering.
Keep nudging me forward, Purpurea, so I may burn all the brighter and hotter for you.
Your Peliens
I see. It's a game. Hide and seek? Hot and cold?
Tonight it got a little colder. I went out Contra dancing again, and it was just not the same as two weeks ago. But why should it be? Two weeks ago it was a challenge, an alarm clock. I'm already awake; so no rush, no adrenaline, no star-gazing focus on the limits of my being. What can I expect from that?
How can I push my limits, without constantly improving, by doing what is uncomfortable?
I can't, Purpurea. Thanks for slipping silently away, when I wasn't looking. Thanks for teasing me, pushing me to keep looking and growing. I will find you on the salsa floor, the swing floor, the trance floor... in the moments of awkwardness, confusion, tension, stress.
Tomorrow is another tech blackout... another day not to bulldoze over my genuine, precious feelings of loneliness by sensory distraction. A day to clean, exercise, read, relax, play, socialize.
I am a little frustrated right now, P, because I can't expect to get laid for quite a while. But you don't want anyone who is always expecting to get laid. You want someone who fully basks in his own light; who washes at his own fountain and cooks in his own kitchen. You are attracted by the incense of a man who burns himself as an offering.
Keep nudging me forward, Purpurea, so I may burn all the brighter and hotter for you.
Your Peliens
Friday, March 2, 2012
Thursday, March 1, 2012
The Borderlands
Dear Purpurea,
I know you could see me, pacing around, wandering aimlessly in the small space of my apartment. And I you could see me watching you.
All the indecision and confusion is a little funny, when I can just settle down and take all that I need. As a good friend of mine sings: feel like everything you wanted, is here, right here to stay.
You are laughing at my sluggishness, my reluctance to accept the truth about where you are, about where you can be found. I am getting there, of course. Of course, you know that.
All the doubt from yesterday about being too obsessive about one person: today I am even wondering why that was an issue - I have passed that, and it feels like I passed it a long time ago. It was very real and very important - yesterday and before that back to the weekend. Now it is something different. Now it is fully my responsibility, my burden, my experiment.
I awoke with tremendous energy today. I got quite a lot done - though perhaps not the infinite amount I always expect from myself. Maybe I just fell shy of infinity...
The electricity coursing through my limbs - I think that was you, Purpurea. I was not awash in imagery and fantasies. I connected and acted where I needed to and where I could. No need to retreat and contemplate.
Though images did seep through, from time to time.
What is it about the Middle-eastern theme? I was reminded of you, glancing at my Rumi books. You also have much to do with Santa Fe, and Rumi is quite a celebrity up there. Why Rumi?
I am beginning to see the next challenge for me, looming on the horizon. It is something you are preparing for me. I mentioned my failure to accomplish my infinite amount of goals for the day. It is interesting to notice that the things I got done were routine, necessary, scheduled ahead. The things I did not get to were the points of expansion, the challenging stuff that would change how my life functions.
So my prediction, darling Purpurea, is that you are pushing me to do those things. I cannot eliminate all of my "necessary" things, but I can shift the center of gravity. How about that? How about tomorrow, after waking early and getting all my necessary things and doing the single, sole #1 priority of my planned and scheduled projects - I give all my time over to the expanding projects, which amount to: writing fiction and poetry; writing biography; planning where I want to be musically; figuring out how I want to live my life.
We'll give it a shot, then? Or am I being presumptuous?
I will see you tomorrow.
Eternally yours,
Peliens
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
