Somatico

It's easy enough to see the connection between mood and body.  For example, in witnessing the clock face and calculating that I had plenty of time to attend to some bodily requirements (specifically, a round of calisthenics at the local fitness center) I discovered my mood open to the notion (though somewhat indifferent as opposed to inspired).  As I prepped myself for the trip, my desire to accomplish this needed trip began to wane, to the point where, just a quarter mile from home, I had quite made up my immediate mind that there was little point in doing so.  My energy level then mirrored this newfound mood.

Of course, if I were sensible in the least, I would have risen above this sensation and done the exercise nonetheless.  Instead, here I sit in the coffeehouse with my stomach scrunched against the table edge while I nurse my iced coffee and try to find some semblance of wisdom in my own typed words.

The fact that I can be derailed so easily by a momentary lapse of energy is telling.  It's perhaps the greatest argument for actually doing the work.  After all, the exercise is not difficult.  I tend to feel somewhat refreshed at the end of it.  There is only the defeated feeling I have manifested over time that, following the work, I am even more inspired to consume things that negate my progress.  Over time this realization has evolved into the thought that, unless I am both an exercise junky and a wise diner, the effort is wasted.

Obviously, this is a correct mindset if my intention is to tone this body.  Is that my motivation though?  Should I approach it with vanity?  My heart says no, which therefore adds more fuel to the demotivation fire.  I should certainly be focused on health, particularly with advancing age and infirmity.  And yet, there is little excitement for me in this.  It makes it feel like work.  No less so than going to my tedious current job, which gets just slightly more difficult to do every night I go.

Typing this all out, of course, makes it all seem very silly.  I'm too old for this childish whining.  Do the right thing because there's a bigger picture.

So what misguided thinking has allowed me to turn this into a problem?  And how does one disconnect the default physiological response and just do the right thing?  The world is replete with stories of people who have overcome a lifetime of excuses.  Is my difficulty in the very nature of the "web generation" - whereby we are able to witness entire stories of success in quick anecdotes, without a real sense of the long road involved?  I believe this is the case, as the youth of today want "their share" without any understanding of the time involved in the process.  They've lost perspective.  I think I may be infected by this ideology.

So, insufferable as it feels, the change I want to make is a single-day-at-a-time one.  That must be the overlying maxim.  At the same time, it's necessary to not believe that there is a future time when success is suddenly validated: success is every little decision in the right direction.  One is entitled to live as if they're already where they want, while remembering the path there is a step at a time.  If you're fat and want to be healthy, then live with a healthy mindset and the decision-making process ~can~ comply.  Then there is the daily effort to rise above the conditioned responses that keep you in an uninspired mindset.

See, I know all this stuff.  What's bottlenecking my success?  Not being present.  Being in the moment is the only way to be able to take charge of ~every~ moment.

Chasing wire

The follow up on my rewiring effort, since I hadn't seen fit to place it on record here thus far.

Finally, I let her in.  She'd been knocking on the walls.  I'd let no one past them for as long as I could remember.  But she, like the finest of rock cutters, tapped with infinite patience.  The usual people tap 50 times, complain they can't do it, and go home.  A pro knows, however, that it may take 51 taps or 1,203.  But it will crack, eventually, with patience and fortitude.

I'll spend a lifetime thanking her for that patience.

The tedious meanderings of infinity

On occasion (or, to be more correct, "with startling consistency") I find myself strongly focused on the silliest of things.  Bills.  Traffic.  Western religion.  The noisy neighbors.  The carpet.  The past.  Ad infinitum, ad nauseum.

Then my consciousness does an incredible thing... it turns its attention to the universe - the one song - the infinite and unencompassible.  It does so through the sieve of society's mind-training, of course, so my concept of infinity is greatly tampered by the "you can nots" that one is raised to understand.  As people, jaded by their perception of experience, take on the task of raising younger beings into their own jaded pine-boxes, the you-can-nots become i-am-nots in the individual. "I am not lovable", "I am not attractive", "I am not equal to god", "I am not..." etc etc.  "I am", however, is an invocation of the universal source energy.  It is creation itself, which the book-thumpers and tedious thinkers tell you that you cannot do.  You must, according to them, wait for the big cosmic vending machine called god to dispense your rewards, provided you insert enough spiritual coins -- and you must trust the will of the machine whether or not it gives you the item you ask for. (a concept widely paraphrased from Wayne Dyer)

Unfortunately, the individual's notion of what-I-must-have is usually narrowed to a particular result, such as "I need a new Jaguar with leather seats and ..." blah blah blah details.  Broken down to a finer point, one wants some material symbol of elevated social status.  Neither of these points is compatible with a higher sense of contentment, though, so the resulting reward the universe bestows will fit the intention behind the desire, rather than the desire itself.  If one asks for reliable transportation, one is bound to end up with either a reliable automobile, a quality bicycle, or a strong set of legs.  Intention there was not to tie one's inherent worth to material possessions, but to find a reliable way to get from point A to point B.

Intention, in love for example, is demonstrated in how one loves another.  I believe love is simply service.  To express love, one must be willing to serve - and the intention behind it should be to do so for no other purpose than to serve.  There should be no "well, he only gave me 70% so I can only give 70% back".  In such a case, love means giving 100% regardless of what one receives, and with no intention of producing (external) reward.  (In cases where one is abused, they should give themselves 100% and find their way to safety however possible).  Intention, in one who gives 100%, will produce an equivalent reward from the universe.  In other words, "gimme gimme gimme" tells the universe to ask you for service.  However, "how may I serve?" will produce a similar response from the universe - "how may I serve you?"  Being in service, however, must be achieved with an intention of service alone, not service for a reward, or one generally tends to believe the damn cosmic machine is broken, and they should take it personally.  "The universe is picking on me."

I am constantly reminded of this lesson every time I start to feel as if life is cheating me somehow.  There's no good life or bad life.  There's just life, and it's all about interpretation, intention, and contribution.  Try to take material items and status with you to the grave.  Can't do it?  Then one must realize that all you can do with life is to give it away.  In serving for the sake of serving, you will find others will serve you.  But only if you really mean it, for the highest reasons, and in the greatest love.

Feeling dumb

It's distinctly embarrassing to express one's lowest emotional meanderings, only to discover as you're  doing so just how ridiculous you sound.  And, as well, to discover just how few people are there listening and how blatantly they express no interest whatsoever.  They're around when you have free gifts or convenient things for them to acknowledge, but when you really need them, I'm just hearing fucking crickets.

Luckily I have at least one person who's always there, although she's not the most gentle at times.  Maybe I'm just too weak-natured, but sometimes when I want to fall like a feather, she hands me an anvil.  I guess life hands us what we need, sometimes, rather than just what we think is best.  I don't know if it's as simple as 'move past it'... maybe it is.  Maybe I can just walk away from all of that, jump in to the ether, trust something higher than me.

I'll marry her, if she'll have me.  She says she will.  Will I remain qualified for the job?  I don't know, but frankly, it's the best thing I have to fight for... a united family once more.  Then I can find a new support circle to encompass that, one that is really there, not just in words (or lack thereof).

So what?

Even I am mystified by this notion of “rewiring.”  What exactly does it mean?  Is it enough that the notion stirs up energy within me toward change?  Of course that’s enough, yet here I am trying to define it for… who?  You?  Me?

There’s the conscious, immediate self that operates on tangible ideas, and requires definitions that are understandable in a layman’s fashion.  The higher self says “Be better” and that’s generally enough for it.  The immediate, lower self – the one trapped in this body, in this community, in this paradigm of compromise (the collective set of rules we call society) – needs a clearer pathway to follow than just simply “be better”.  And it’s the lower self typing this entry right now.

So here I am, still trying to really understand this idea of rewiring myself.  Operating from a new engine in the same old physical shell.  Understanding that the physical shell, over the course of time, manifests as one’s interior psychology wills it to, I know I can’t operate from a body-determines-fate aspect.  (Fate, itself, is a false idea)  I will manifest in the physical plane what I have sown in the internal plane.  Not to say I can’t take steps to improve the body’s functioning through very tangible, physical steps; but these actions aren’t going to occur without nudging the internal processor.  In a more “layman” definition, I have exercised my body but mainly in pursuit of some notion of physical beauty; health was hardly a consideration, regardless of what I expressed to anyone who would ask.  One wire that needs relocation will remove the vanity from exercise and replace it with self-love.

Self-love and vanity are NOT the same.  One is genuine care for the self; the other is overt concern for what others think of the self.

I am then reminded that, in the past few days, I am becoming more and more conscious of my vanity in other aspects as well.  My shuttering of Facebook, once more, is my direct response to this pitiful need for attention.  Look at my pics!   Like them!  Like my status!  See me, please!

I have been, for a long time, swimming through a sea of loneliness.  It is, ironically, my main companion.  Certainly, I have my children on weekends and, while I enjoy their company, I am cognizant that my job is to teach them to feel comfortable in their own shoes.  But this loneliness, this pervasive and vague sense of insignificance, has become all too plain to me in recent days.  Part of what I did to initiate this “rewiring” is to detach myself in a very large degree from any of the tenuous connections I had.  Not permanently, necessarily.  But I realize that many of the connections I had nurtured were designed to distract me from the issues I didn’t want to face.  And, bless all, it becomes clear over time that people want you to remain as you are for a couple reasons… one, they’d be less comfortable if you were less familiar to them (even if a change would save you); and two, they want to save you from the “inevitable” disappointment you’re “probably” going to experience when you endeavor to make changes.

So I posted on my FB one day that, aside from my children, I was pretty well disappointed in every aspect of my life.  I wasn’t interested in perpetuating that.  For good or bad, things needed to change because it simply was not a life I wanted as it was.  I expect most people missed the posting, and so nearly a month after I disappeared from the scene, there is little concern (or even notice!) that I’m incognito.  (My vanity, on occasion, huffs at this disconcern, but it’s a silly beast and should be ignored.)  A small number checked on me in the first few days, and I reassured them all was well, but that I simply had to disconnect from the flurry of platitudes, repetition, and nonsense that typifies response to one’s displeasure.  In other words, the mind that got you where you are is not the one that will get you where you want to be.  I was very much dismayed by the amount of repetition and the lack of tangible progress I was feeling in my life, and how I had repressed my higher voice to simply try to make friends (as insincere as they were) and to ignore the difficult problems I needed to tackle to move forward.  (‘Facing these problems’ held within it the distinct possibility of uncertain outcomes, and that fear of change is palpable.)

I am becoming more conscious lately that I am uncertain what will fill my time once the children grow up and move out on their own.  When they’re not here, I don’t seem to occupy my time in any meaningful fashion.  When they are here, I don’t do much more – but I don’t feel as alone.  I do my best to be an example of patience for them.  Logic.  Peaceful reaction.  But eventually they will go their way, which I am grateful for (as they can ask their own questions of the universe) and frightful of (both for their dangers and my own perceived purposelessness afterward.)  Realizing this, of course, my mind set about pondering the question of “what comes next?”  While a parent usually remains relevant long after the kids leave the nest, it would be of no service to the world (nor to them) for me to simply sit around, aging and waiting for them to need advice.  Especially someone with an Icarus spirit.

Realizing all of this… the only thing that could logically happen was that I needed to unplug from old ideas, from repetitive and well-intentioned advice, and to quit feeding my ego with the ultimately uninspired applause of others.  Nothing is gained from this false-idol-mindset other than to distract oneself.  And that had to stop.  I had to look at myself clearly.  I had to stop listening to the detached voices of others and take off my rose-tinted glasses for a good long look in the mirror. 

No judging the past self.  And especially, no writing the negative endings, since there is no certainty as to what lies ahead.  One can only control reaction and perception.  I am more consciously than ever removing “I can’t” from my vocabulary.  I am more easily adamant about allowing myself to make mistakes and not battle to cover them up (a flaw of ego).  I am tuning out of the negative media, repressing my old, habitual desire to show off my half-baked creative efforts.  I am trying to understand my overt sexualization of situations and people.  I am turning back to long-ignored ideas in the divinity of the individual, something heavily repressed by this material-focused society we’ve created, where money and ego supersede our sense of community.  I grow weary of average intellects (the ones that are content having the same dreary conversations about the weather every day) and I’m unimpressed by the anti-intellectual movement in this country.  I do not feel superior to others yet understand fully I have nurtured my intellect in a more active way than many.  The problem I have had – and one infinitely more valuable than intellect – is my emotional intelligence (or sore lack thereof).

What will fix this is to force myself to disconnect from the need for acceptance (in the form of ‘likes’ and ‘+1’ and whatever other commentary people offer on one’s expressions).  I also have to remove limiting vocabulary and cliches from my self-talk.  I have to disconnect meaning from the “approval of others” which I so cherish, regardless of what I’ve expressed out loud.  In other words, accept my divinity, remember it regardless of the opinions of others, and use it for better purposes than just to criticize.  While I have no desire to be a leader, there is truth in the idea that leaders don’t seek to create followers – they seek to create other leaders.

All of this typing, yet so little said.  For any who read this, to whom I have significance in your life, understand I detach not to push away but to teach myself how to let you in.  I hope you’re there when I have healed.  Whatever the case, I thank you.

Rewiring, huh?  Note to self: don’t hate the previous design, and don’t fear the new iteration.

Not a new pic, but recent.  A reminder that there's an infinitely gigantic world to a countless number of creatures, and they don't pay attention to Wall Street.

Rewire

Mosquitoes make it difficult to meditate near the lake.  Certainly I could sit in the car with windows up, but then there's hardly a reason to do this at the lake.  Might as well sit at home.  And that's what I need to avoid at present.

The reality is, the more I realize my discontent, the less home feels like home.  Inevitably this leads to the question (tired, but appropriate) "what is home?"  It's rhetorical at best, since the literal answer tells nothing.  It's the symbolic meaning we're after.  Sometimes it's the meadows of Nebraska, the arms of a lover, the coffee shop of Main Street.  There are no more mom & pop shops, so it can't be there.  Sometimes home is on the road, a contradiction I find all too true for myself.

Whatever the case, this town is not home for me.  It represents a poor decision - the result of a get-up - and - go idea that floundered very quickly.  A year spent planning a move that would improve my fortunes (and it was not money that drove me so much as the hope to create more opportunities for myself and the kids).  Yet I arrived and found myself in the same situations, only making less money, less free time, fewer friends.  All in all, a complete failure when based on intention.

While I keep playing this sad song, I haven't penned a better tune.  My idea that relocating to the Valley will open more opportunities is not much different than the ill-tides that brought me here.  A blender doesn't become a microwave by moving it to a different counter.   Only disassembly, melt-down, remolding, and reconstruction will do the job.

As a person, obviously, this is not possible.  So I've got to rewire the device as it stands.

Glorious disembodiment

I've taken on a very esoteric task -- rewiring the brain.  Not in some tiny fashion either.  Big swaths of wire snipped and rerouted.  Step one was to disconnect from virtually all my "social networks".  They're a distraction.  This blog is more meaningful to me, unclogged as it is by dumb memes, banal corn, uncreative intellects... not to call myself superior by any means... it is just nice to limit the content exposure.  Rewiring requires that I pay attention to myself a little closer... and a few select beings that aren't trapped in disempowering patterns.  I spend too much time playing a role for others, being distracted by vanity, rather than embracing my higher source. 

I don't know where the path leads... I just know it feels different.  And that I am excited by the prospect of embracing my particular nature rather than compromising to soothe the sensibilities of the uncreative.

Redefinition (a 'finite game' post)

Though I am forced by finances to up my lease for another 6 months, I am convinced at the end of this period that I'm going to have to relocate once more.  It is tempting to keep following the small town dream, though this has brought with it the difficulties of limited budget.  So far, whatever talents I have have not manifested in a heightened financial stability...yet.  For a while I feel I have to chase the money.  In a way it doing this will also shake up my life, which may be what I need to get out of emotional/spiritual complacency.   This is likely to mean a return to the big city.  Phoenix area, which I'm not fond of but it's still within reach of the children.  Doing this of course means that I have a better plan in mind, and that I'm not just recreating the same life I have here down there.  Moving over the hill from Cottonwood into Prescott Valley, I intended to improve all the aspects of my life. However it turned out everything just got a little bit more difficult.  Same job, less pay, more days per week... Worse apartments, fewer friends... Bigger place but fewer opportunities.  So picking up and going I have to be very serious that I don't again end up in the same life with worse opportunities.  Of course the whole thing is that you have to be different internally.  Environment means little if you're not willing to change.  I feel like I want to change but don't know how.  It's fear, pure and simple.  But I can't imagine what to be afraid of... Maybe that I'll have to take responsibility.  But if you always live in fear, never risking anything,  what's the point of life at all?  As the saying goes, a ship can be safe, left in the harbor ...but that's not what ships are built for.  One is not a captain of their soul just walking the dock in the marina.  The next big questions are what am I, and what can I do?  I don't think the answers are here, in my familiar routine, anymore.

Compromise or whatever

Me, at the moment, in the spirit.

...hiding in plain sight...

...drawing my pattern however the hell I want.

No competition.  No need to justify or even explain.  No apology.