You are addicted to emotional pain. It’s your unnoticed reactions that you are up against—should you decide to break the loop. Weaning from your conditioning takes pure attention. Not much else is required.
Your ego is a strange attractor that anchors looping neurotic patterns (of emotion, thought, behavior) that sustain a sense of you as a somebody.
This moment is all that has ever been. The rest is a random rainbow trip. Consciousness collapses into an ego trip when a perception [of safety/threat, comfort/pressure, success/failure, freedom/trap, acceptance/rejection, appreciation/misjudgement, etc.] triggers a cascade of neurotic patterns across hormonal, myofascial, metabolic, psychological, etc. levels. The ’I’ flares up, the story of ’me’ rekindles and Light slips down the rabbit hole of the personal kaleidoscope. That is to say: Experience collapses into perceptions that in turn trigger neurotic patterns of anxiety, excitement, joy, nervousness, worry, guilt, shame, fixation, avoidance, recoil, fear of loss, of missing out, sense of inadequacy, of inferiority, of unworthiness, melancholy, dejection, compulsion to sustain, preserve and conserve, muscular tension in the gut, in the neck, cortisol spikes, glycogen plummets, etc.
Ego consciousness is an energy vortex with an ever elusive vacuum in the middle surrounded by clouds of cyclic patterns. Reminds me of this:
What is the difference between a cloud and a loved one?
All there is is experience of things: IMAGES—of feelings, of ideas, of projected objects of mineral, vegetal and animal forms, of thoughts, of aural, olfactory textures, of judgements, of beliefs—that appear on a SCREEN (of consciousness). The SCREEN is one but the body is particular. The body is where you interface with the truth. Your particular body is the membrane that weighs things preferentially. Some things it is biased towards (like a type of facial features) while some things it shuns and seeks to avoid. The only difference between things is your experience of them. Put differently: the only difference between IMAGES is your emotions about them. That is the only difference between a cloud and your loved one. You won’t lament the shifting shape of a cloud because you don’t invest emotionally into it, and thus you don’t fixate on it and do not feel compelled to turn it into a fixed image in order to hold on to it. This is natural. A cloud is less relevant to you than a lover is. But make no mistake: you, the person you cherish and the cloud are all IMAGES in and of the same SCREEN. All is experience and the only difference between things in/of experience is your embodied, emotionally biased experience of them. All is one multiplicity of infinite appearance shifting shape. When a cloud ’’leaves’’ you you don’t take it personally, you don’t break down emotionally. When [the IMAGE of] a lover ’’leaves’’ you you collapse. But it’s merely a trick of the mind. How could anything be taken personally when there is no one there to begin with? You mistake yourself for the inner whirld that your particular body enacts. Your body is an interface that acts as a kind of a filter rendering the SCREEN. You are not your body: your body is part of you that appears on the SCREEN. You are the SCREEN itself. The body is merely the site where the SCREEN interfaces with itself. The body is particular: it has particular likes and dislikes, it’s emotionally biased. It’s all but IMAGES on the SCREEN mediated by the body. Embodied. All is experience. IMAGES on the SCREEN of consciousness. Memories are IMAGES. Feelings are IMAGES. Apprehension and dejection stem from IMAGES in the mind. Thought is ’’internalized movement,’’ it is an IMAGE. Time is the IMAGE of the moment. Persons are IMAGES much like ideas are IMAGES. IMAGES on the SCREEN. Some attract you, some repel you, it all depends on the particular preferences of your bodymind. The body is the site where the SCREEN gets to experience itself in a particular way. The body acts as a kind of a filter as it enacts a particular swirld of IMAGES. The body embodies the SCREEN for the SCREEN itself. The SCREEN meets itself through its embodied IMAGES.
It’s the IMAGES—the bright images of bygone times, the lurid images of impending prospects—that capture, enthral and enslave your imagination. It’s your mind—the projector—that lucid hallucinator—that is your true tormentor. The IMAGES of the good life. The IMAGES of success and abundance. The IMAGES on social.
Meanwhile serene serendipity surmounts.
There are the faces around that we all are, faces, already fading, about to be forgotten faces, blooming, withering and vanishing sea waves of faces, my face and your face to be lost sooner or later we are to lose no matter how hard we try to save it on facebook, from humiliation and utter oblivion, always already fading from the face of the Earth, every single face you ever face faces to be replaced, by other faces, as our faces have replaced the faces flowering before us, under the sun, nothing special,
Do you see?
Do you see them now?
Do you feel the love you actually feel for all of them? The faces up the streets, in the shops, in the parks and on the trams. The faces at work and the faces at home. The faces from the past, opposite, behind and next to yours, the newborn faces. Out and about. Take a look. Variations on a theme. Beneath all these faces we all share the same essence. Underneath the myriad faces there is only one sameone there.
nothing stays, on the face of it
What remains, in the end, nothing else remains but awareness, of this moment, above and in front of all the toyful joys and the soulfull sorrows of the person who is losing everybody and everything, slowly and surely, all that it—as an I—has ever attained or missed and all that it has ever grown fond of and loved, sooner or later, falls away, and then the truth meets the truth… this heart is breaking and oozing gooey pain at the thought of my parents fading, at the thought of an ex and the countless unpursued prospects blending into the impersonal mass of the female flesh I’m so mesmerized by day by day: nothing remains that I could hold on to, nothing that I can grasp, nobody, noone, nothing to fixate on, nothing that fix(at)es, nothing that grounds me, nothing to write about really, all the writing blurs into noise, another iteration of the same old, same old, everything pixelates, with me in the middle of it all, alive, a heart, ready to burst, or stop, almost, for real, and it’s beating on, for it’s only the mind that is blown away by the overwhelm called truth
I won’t be somebody for anybody. I won’t be anybody’s bitch, least of all my own. I ain’t pampering nor pandering to no dainty little clueless ego. Not yours, not mine.
I am the SPACE in which any STATE may arise. And I need not resist or indulge any of them. They stay as long as they are meant to stay and they leave as soon as they are meant to leave. ’’I am’’ cool with that.
Knowing what I know about stress metabolism & starvation induced hormonal imbalance the childhood memories of regularly preying on (parts of) the sandwiches of my classmates at primary and secondary school and shouting sometimes at my parents at home in the summer before lunch or dinner (what occasionally my mother still fondly repeats to this day): Do you want me to starve to death?—all these things are seen in quite a different light now. In retrospect, I can see how (mostly subconscioulsy and perhaps genetically biased) I’ve often felt overwhelmed and threatened by hunger—which, I guess, explains why I tend to be so compulsively gluttonous (not unlike my father) where the given presence of certain foods drives me to eat in (anxiety-driven) excess of my digestive capacity instead of being drawn to certain foods according to the given demands of my appetite. Now I also understand, incidentally, why I was so fascinated by the fact that my cousin never felt inclined at all to eat up all the goodies they usually stored in their lavishly stocked pantry. When I was attending university my eating habits were extremely poor. For fear of burdening my parents’ humble budget I asked for minimal money to cover my costs and I didn’t take on any jobs either, which resulted in me barely eating anything besides the cheapest of rolls and sometimes the left-overs from my friends’ meals. Looking back, it’s clear that I was practically starving myself (with the worst type of starches and fats at that), all of which, furthermore, was complemented by the intense (emotional) stresses of clueless intellectual and romantic pursuits.
Long story short, for decades I was busy setting up a degenerative, catabolic metabolism—because we inherit and learn lots of distinguishing beliefs at home and lots of fancy data in school but are totally left in the dark regarding basic stuff like body awareness, (mindless) mindfulness, the nature of energetic systems and stress. Today, after a couple of years of seeking and tweaking the perfect diet, I feel resolved to relax into the truth of my appetite, no longer hiding from my symptoms. There is nothing to (re)solve here but everything to relish. Abundance abounds.
Let all (self-imposed) pressure to deliver go.
Let your fac(ad)e crumble and reveal the empty interior.
Let the IMAGEs [opinions, views, thoughts, beliefs, internal commentaries, memories, reminiscences, feelings, facts, etc. about yourself, other people, the world, as well as the attendant sense of guilt, loss, shame, inadequacy, anxiety, inferiority, regress, progress, mission, success, superiority, etc.] that fill in the gaps and contract the flow of perception melt and leak away, and reveal the world again and again—as quickly as they congeal.
Let there be more truth and less fixation.