Remind My Mind, or Rewind Time?

I write my thoughts to express myself, driven by creative instinct. Not in some esoteric serious way, but as who anyone likes to work with their hands to make what wouldn't have existed without them. There is some essential human need behind it. Perhaps the same one that instinctively and unconsciously leads us to procreate, for I feel it just as strongly, if not more. 

Today, I'm here to remind myself of some things. Things that feel so divine when they are in front of me, but which invariably slip away as life paces on. It's the vision of the life I want to lead. Not a constant state of perfection to be protected at any cost, but a pleasant state of mind, which would be excellent to live in as much as possible. 

I dreamt of fighting with my mother last night, of standing up to her and just screaming my head off. It was a total meltdown, by the way, much scarier than a mere tantrum. I really blew my lid off and said some harsh things, but damn, it was so fucking satisfying. I've been struggling with so much all my life that when I try to think of how I'd like to live, there's no space for it there. What if I could just be okay with everything? Could I still live with others happily?

Seems like an extreme, but I'm so tired of beating myself up just to get over the tiniest obstacles. Just today, I noticed how harshly I abuse myself when I lose at a game. There are literally no stakes there, of course, I'm afraid of doing anything else! When did I get to be so harsh? I imagine a life where nothing turns me against myself. Sure, I might have some cracks in my soul and tender, gaping wounds. Perhaps I'll always be an emotional and sensitive soul. I'd like to embrace failures more openly, though. I'd love to encourage it into my life.

Picture this: there's that thing you want to do, feel, or make. It sits there, quietly but menacingly, in all its glorious potential. It has the potential to change your life and impact countless others. Yet, just that mere possibility of holy light casts a deep, dark shadow. The bigger and brighter your dream, the more dreadful and disturbing the nightmare. Except that's not all. The scary demons might be equally as large as the angels, but they seem twice as threatening as their counterparts seem inviting. It's not just an illusion you can dissolve by seeing it as such, either.

While we live on this Earth in these monkey bodies, we are chained to its limitations. I suspect that might be the whole point of this conscious self: to protect these vehicles from harm, whenever possible. Such is the paradox of life; the things that give us the greatest pleasures in life open the doors to the greatest imaginable horrors. But the horrors are, in fact, completely imagined. There is danger and pain, fear tells you, the unreliable narrator. It doesn't lie, but it loves a good gossip. So we get caricatures and propaganda instead of the facts.

This is the drama, after all, that makes for a good experience. A story where everything goes perfectly as planned is a boring one. The hidden demons lurking in the shadows are more thrilling than a tiger in a cage. So, I don't really want to talk myself out of it completely, or break the spell in a thunderous strike followed by deafening silence. I have been zooming out and seeing the bigger picture. These days, I've become aware of my tendency to switch from one thing to another, without seeing how they fit together.

There are factoids in my head, but to feel the intricate connections in my bones is something I long to cherish further. Truth be told, these articles seem dull now because they are far too easy. Meanwhile, tackling a project head-on is so intimidating that my legs give out. I desperately struggle with my eating. Either I want to eat nothing but a low-fat chicken salad all week, or I'll chow down a dozen eclairs with no in-between.

I wish I could laugh at it or earnestly cry about it, rather than feel so dreadfully dull and quiet. I love the silence, don't get me wrong, but only when it's really there. I've been practicing Isha Kriya recently, and it has brought me so much peace. There's something special about making it routine. A way of life that's flexible enough to apply almost anywhere. A grounded routine that not only leaves room for the spontaneous, but actually empowers it. A state of mind that's blissful but colorful, soulfully emotional, and powerfully sublime. 

A world where war and peace, love and hate, fear and confidence, work and play, joy and sadness, victory and defeat, strength and softness can all coexist, not despite each other, but because of the other. Where one can grieve the loss of love in all its harsh, rancid bitterness, without pushing out the tender, divine, effable gratitude that it once created. Where we know as a matter of fact that there can be no future without the past, nor one without the other. What if we knew as vividly as we know of the sun and the moon that we are in equal parts separate individuals and at one with all of existence?

This is not about meditation. From where I stand, this is the world I have always lived in, and I love it more than I hate it. It's a difficult perspective to swallow for the uninitiated. "If there is duality in everything, and all these paradoxes coexist, doesn't everything just cancel itself out? If the price you pay is ultimately equal to the reward, is there any real way to win? No fucking way I can accept that. Life is not a zero-sum game!" Those were my first words when I started to understand the concept.

Nevertheless, the human experience will rarely touch those truths, just as only a few among us will live on the moon to confirm the facts firsthand, and even they will forget their experiences as they start moving away from it. For some people, who live a life of contradictions, this is a way of life, a mindset to nurture, and a zone to operate from. I want nothing more than to live such a life. Not a quiet or exciting one, but something right down the middle. It's the living embodiment of my passion, hate, and indecision in equal parts. Yet, I have no wish to change this, only the courage to embrace it as my most profound truth.

I know it is so because I can just close my eyes and see it, the vast majority who shrug and ridicule this overly philosophical approach. The many who judge my worth and devalue me based on my words. I can also see the rare few who find peace, comfort, and connection in my ideas. Words are just a medium, and ideas are limitless. Contrast and depth are appreciated in all kinds of ways, for those who seek more subtle nuance. Those are my people, wherever they may be. With that thought, I come floating down, back to reality.

These quiet respites of low-effort, no-pressure writing remind me of a simpler time, not so long ago. It seems so out of reach, but it's almost always there. When things didn't matter so much and life wasn't so serious. When you could skip school to play video games all day, or lose yourself in an anime during summer vacation. It's funny how the world hammers us down, grinds us to fine dust, and spits us out with such little sense of awareness. If there were some sense, we would have better answers for our children.

Nevertheless, that's why I hope to provide some of my respite to my fellow disillusioned. May they find their ways in good time. Someone once asked me what it meant to be mature, and I answered, "A big part of it is a greater sense of awareness." They rejected it outright, if not a little too preemptively. I let it go at the time, as this person was younger than me, seeing it as a way to practice what I preached. In fact, the thought was quite inaccurate, for I did indeed have far more awareness as a child, before the sharp tools we use cut both ways, wounding me a bit too deeply. 

But alas, I cannot turn back time. I can only move forward and try to keep my truths in mind.