Blessed Are The Meek [This piece was inspired by and created under the influence of Slugabed’s ”Earth is Gone Sorry” Feat. Lum]

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,
Look.
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

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I N Q U I R Y

Here’s another installment of a dramatized internal conflict in the form of a dialogue. I’ll cut to the chase right away and keep it pretty succinct—to reproduce it [the tempo of my mind] as realistically as possible. Admittedly, it may feel pretty fast-paced and somewhat illogical & disjointed at places as a result:

M: Let’s be honest: I still choose contraction over relaxation. I still choose to delay a projected prospect of gratification. I still choose to work on the project of self-actualization, and therefore I still choose to hold back and keep my gut tense. I still choose constipation over free flow. I still choose the illusion of separateness and the illusion of agency & control. I still go with the flow of the ego & dismiss the flow of the truth. Etc.

Q: Ok, now that you profess to be honest, let’s get clear too. First off, why do you think you choose holding back?

M: … Because I want to prove. I want to prove that what I do works. I want to prove ’’them’’ wrong. I want to prove myself to them. I want to prove, to be approved. If I gave up now decades of effort would go down the drain.

Q: [I, I, I, I, I, lololol] What is it that You want to prove to ’’them’’?

M: … I want them to finally see that I’m fascinating. I want them to be humbled by how right and how cool I am, by how good of a taste and style and blowing mind I have. I want them to become silent but raving fans of me.

Q: [And You, You, You, You, You attempt to do that (i.e. proving your truth) by holding back…WTF?] Why do you want ’’them’’ to be fascinated?

M: … So that I can finally relax knowing that they finally see & appreciate me and I don’t have to prove anything anymore.

Q: [Keep pushing to get to rest?—Hmm.] What exactly do you want them to ’’see’’?

M: I want them to see how amazing I am.

Q: Why?

M: Again, so that I can relax.

Q: Right. So, what happens when you relax?

M: It means (feeds back as the sense) that I succeeded in proving my point. I’ll be seen & appreciated at long last.

Q: So you feel ’’they’’ don’t appreciate you now. Do you appreciate ’’them’’ by the way?

M: … Only those who are real.

Q: Right. So, who is ’’real’’ for you? [Are you?]

M: … Someone who totally lets go and speaks & lives the(ir) truth without fear. Someone who feels no need to take things personally and engages life & others with absolutely no strings attached. Someone who has transcended the bounds of their petty self-concern and shines without any sense of shame or guilt or anxiety.

Q: Do you see the paradox here?

M: … Yes, I guess, I do—Admittedly, I always feel at my best when I allow a selfless flow determine they way I engage. I feel in the zone when I’m in the zone. It’s a paradox indeed, in that: Basically, I want others to acknowledge me for something I don’t actually do but RELAX into at times, that is: I want to take credit for what comes through me DESPITE of me.

Q: Do you feel the absurdity of this paradox?

M: … Well, let me sort this out: I want them to see (amazing) me so that I can relax. And yet, I feel amazing precisely when I’m simply relaxed into my actions and I don’t even care whether I’m seen or not since there is not much of an I there to begin with. I is only an after-thought which then all of a sudden takes over and demands to reproduce the sensation after the fact and feels frustrated by failing at [reclaiming] it. Or something like that, I guess.

Q: Or something like that, yes. Now, where do we go from here?

M: I know. I know. I gotta go with the truth. And drop all defense and speak the truth and live the truth and be the truth. And I must align because I want to align and to align I can’t wobble too much so I must keep an even keel & follow the lead of the truth, all the way.

Q: Or else?

M: Or else it’s a waste of a lifetime spent in endless yo-yoing between, say, supper & next day struggle.

Q: Well, I would tone the melodramatic vibe down a bit but I say: Right on Márk. [Sort of.]

/Reading back this dialogue a few days later: I cannot help but feel amused how the ego [M] proceeds to give foolproof, well-rehearsed advice on how to transcend itself at the end. The only parts worth paying any sincere attention to are the bracketed comments. The rest is [smart-ass] nonsense./

Confessions Of A Deconstipator [fragments]

I feels cheated. I feels unfairly dealt & treated. I thinks I merit more and deserve better because I put in more effort and I sacrifice much more. They [socially inept flatmates] spend almost all their time sitting and lying in front of a computer screen, get up around noon, eat all sorts of random stuff and still have bowel movement at least twice a day while here I am ’struggling’ to produce something at intervals of 32 hours at the very best. And yet, unlike valiant, noble me, they haven’t paid their spiritual dues, none whatsoever.

Overall, I feel directionless and a bit confused as well as pretty clueless and deflated and dejected and misjudged and misunderstood and so on. In short, I feel unsure. And so does my body. Constipation reflects a systemic ’uncertainty’ or hesitation in/of the bodymind—It’s a loop, no doubt.

It’s a matter of looseness, really, of the willingness to lose face, status, respect, approval, admiration, support and sympathy. To effectively deconstipate I must go loose, all the way. I gotta go with the truth, not me. Till I go with the image I cherish about meself I’ll hold back around the edges of that image and till I hold back, life holds back. There is no two ways about this and there is only one way to find out about it.

The fact that I have put so much effort into resolving [systemic] constipation may be one step forward but it might at the same time be two steps back as well in that I get more and more frustrated over failing at resolving it. The thing to keep in mind is that it’s not something personal, as it never has been, but more like an unfolding of an ’inherited’ trajectory.

But what a perfect trigger this is. You have no idea. Few things rattle me in (social) life and I rarely if ever feel envious let alone outright agitated by what others have going on for them. But this just takes the cake, my friends: Right on cue, my flatmate has just flushed an effortless fruit of the loo as I’m writing these very lines. The second time today and it’s only 4 pm for duck’s sake. He got up at noon and dropped a slick one right after his morning tea and now after a couple of hours of his late lunch he decided to toy with my poise anew. Man, what else is a deconstipator to feel but destroyed by flatmates like this. 😉

Selfie #

Writing (these posts) is one of the last threads by which I hang on to the promise of some semblance of purchase and control over my life.

Typically, what I write about is a few steps ahead of the actual visceral realization of the things & insights I write about. In effect, these posts are nothing but ’advanced’ reports on the process of my surrender. I know that I don’t talk from the Truth—an ’I’ could never do that—rather, I merely report in advance out of a compulsion of sorts. So, in a way my writings are partly a symptom of my anxiety to get a purchase on things via the articulation of them.

Also, I can sense that I’m losing interest in this restless & relentless self-deconstruction and the energy is draining from my obsessive verbal grasping. I feel that perhaps a hiatus is about to ensue which later will probably be followed by a comeback of sorts where I reengage the whole thing out of sheer joy, just for its own sake rather than as a way of taking ownership of and claiming ’the process’ for my self. At least, this is my sense of it at the moment.

Also, I think, this is the natural cycle of things in general: First there is effort and tension, an anxiety to what we feel compelled to do—the mimetic closure; then comes the disappearance, the total abandonment, the elimination phase, the rest—the hermetic closure; and finally there is the return, the joy of participation for participation’s sake—the hormetic closure. Unfortunately, most of us get stuck at the first stage; methinks.

I don’t know, part of me thinks this post is utter nonsense, though. Lol. At any rate…

#selfie

a week ago I asked two students of mine the following Q:
“what do you love about yourself?”
which they proceeded to evade saying, essentially, that they are not particularly keen on this American style of self-aggrandizing narcissism (and that they would rather address -like a good Hungarian- the opposite pole of the equation: what they don’t like in themselves)
I acknowledged that this may be too direct a question within the context of a lesson but speculated that perhaps they are uncomfortable about it “simply” because of the threat of exposure,
besides, I added, saying negative things about ourselves is so easy, it’s hard-wired in way,
but if someone truly owns who they are, I continued, then it’s not a big deal at all to casually share their private perceptions (of self & others) if asked

sharing opens a state of vulnerability

the prospect of sharing something intimate & “personal” makes us recoil
probably because it threatens the self-image we’ve created (with the vicarious assistance of others) to buffer any chance of rejection

at any rate, here’s a quick sketch on what I love about myself:

although he is quite a challenging filtering contraption
I like tripping with Márk and I think he belongs to the “so cool it’s just cute” category
although, he is opaque and wishy-washy and fuzzy at his edges,
blurred, in essence, as is his vision
he is dedicated
and this is what I really love about him
his resolve
his unflinching commitment to being clear & direct to self (& other)
to being always at his edge (fuzzy as it may be)
he is the embodiment of the process of continually dismantling layers of self-deception
and tweaking and upgrading to align ever more (with the Source)

no matter how slow

his biggest challenge is trust & letting go,
allowing himself more ecstasy,
in fact, he doesn’t allow too much affection to embrace him,
he is aloof and a bit socially constipated,
up close and personal yet some way always out of reach,

but then again,
no matter what
he is slugging it out

selfie

the little princess within
wants “better” people around

she wishes to be associated with
cooler & hotter people somehow

the little princess within
wants to “start” [without actually starting] everything from scratch
so she doesn’t have to feel indebted in any way
to the “broken” people around

she wants to get every relationship and opportunity
without the cheat-code of social circles

she wants refinement, purity, lucidity

she wants to be recognized
& valued for her gracefulness, her brightness

this little princess within
sits in expectation
under the guise of meek appreciation

doing nothing, judging everything
wallowing in the sweet excuse of shame & guilt

what an idealistic, impossible bitch