Acceptance is the beginning for powerful action if action is required. The action that you take on the basis of nonacceptance is never powerful, it is tainted with negativity: it’s a kind of karmic action that produces more unhappiness, more karma.
I see myself as a human (at)tuner of sorts. I tap into higher frequencies of presence and I expose others to these frequencies through the way I engage with them. I intend to tune others into these subtler frequencies within, to be more present themselves and feel loved and loving as a consequence. Tuning takes time and it takes trust. The stronger the existential momentum one happens to be caught up in the longer it takes to come to a sufficient standstill where true intent arises to orient subsequent actions. It takes time, trust and patience, but the rest takes care of itself. I am there basically to help make room for the deceleration to occur.
Here is a list of some of the (intertwined) practices that I [as an introvert] typically do to cultivate inhabiting subtler frequencies of energy:
- social isolation and minimized distraction (no TV, no news, using the internet and social media once a day for an hour @ the local library)
- sufficient recovery after ’social exertions’ (taking a nap, resting)
- writing (journaling, composing blog posts and bon mots to share online later)
- standing and sitting still (as a way of active meditation)
- humming & singing to myself
- stretching, foam-rolling, rippling and rotating my limbs and my hips in a spiral and wave like fashion, all movement directed from my core, swinging a clubbell occasionally
- listening to monotonous music (Basinski) or a track on an endless loop (e.g. Earth is Gone by Slugabed)
- listening to speeches by Adyashanti, David Deida, Owen Cook
- eating a relatively clean & balanced diet (Ray Peat inspired)
- engaging others mindfully and as authentically ’’as it gets’’ @ work, the shop, the café, social events, etc.
If the first few sessions feel weird, confusing, irritating, frustratingly directionless and unnerving it’s a good sign that there is deceleration happening which is a necessary component. The truth that is shining through the one who plays the role of the guide will sharply interrupt most of the familiar, deeply conditioned patterns of relating. It takes trust and proper surrender on both the part of the guide to be as transparent [to the truth of the moment] as it gets and on the part of the client to be as receptive [to the guide’s translucent ’dictation’] as it gets. The guide is a tuner of sorts, tuning (up) the client into subtler frequencies of energy [within]. Authenticity acts as a psychological tonic in both directions. Ideally, guide and client mutually co-evolve in the moment of engaging and a session is a different experience not only with each client but with the very same client on each occasion as well. The more transparency and trust there is the quicker the attunement occurs. The client is basically self-guided to tune into their inner fountain of wisdom and intuition. Once the tuning is sufficiently habituated the guide can be jettisoned.
This type of coaching is not goal-oriented but more like ground-zero oriented, less in the spirit of facilitation than that of deceleration, of coming to a standstill where the guide and the client mutually explore the moment as it unfolds organically. It’s not building on pre-existing ego-bound values (of purpose, goal, success) but interrupts most of these surrogate patterns. It is typically an experience of failure and frustration accompanied by a sense of liberation. Instead of priming target emotions [of fulfilment] there is no target here other than a fuller presence to the transitory (e)motions in/of the moment, to the already given, to the foundation of inherent fulfilment. In essence, it’s a training aimed at aligning with the truth of the moment.
Stop and stand still. See through the slapstick surface and engage on the level of raw energy. Relish the ever subtler nuances. Open your eyes. Open your jaws. Open your face. Open your neck. Open your shoulders. Open your chest. Open your stomach. Open your gut. Open your crotch. Open your ass. Open your legs—and follow the lead of the impulse that rises from the ground up through your heart and through your limbs.
See—this spontaneous movement, the movement welling through the heart is not oriented backwards—caught up melancholizing about bygone times and lost loved ones—nor forwards—seeking success, preparing for a breakthrough—but aroundwards, fully in & outwards, nowhere near but right here, now.
How does your body move when you sink into its silence?—Mine does some micro-shudders around my neck and shoulders lately.
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
Whose freedom am I protecting so desperately?
Outside the cloistered world of private practices such as ’sittling’ (sitting in/with stillness), journaling and strolling in solitude I tends to feel about to be engulfed and hemmed in by the demands, errands and duties of social existence. Outside its airtight little bubble—in an effort to make a living I gets caught up, much like a fly in a spider’s web, in interpersonal strings attached, unavoidably. I constantly seeks to fend off binding communal duties and obligations to offer phony terms of endearment. But then, this I that struggles so desperately for its precarious sense of peace & freedom is but an idea that needs constant maintenance too, and even though it’s merely an idea (that is entertained to keep the ’me’ feel real & separate) it’s, in effect, quite a costly one, in that it takes tremendous internal tension and lots of gut-wrenching & constipating melancholy to maintain. Which stands to reason, of course, given that outside its (buffering) practices the I as such would cease to exist. Now, imagine how devastating would that be? The prospect of no more suffering. It’s just too much to take, I guess.
At any rate, I still tries to reason its way out of its irrational ways and so it occasionally reminds itself that: No matter the type of reality tunnel one happens to inhabit it too will have its ups and downs, its inherent opportunity cost. The idea of protecting one’s freedom is totally nonsensical in this respect. Inside the insides of one’s sprawling rabbit hole there will be joys and there will be sorrows and the desire to protect one’s privacy and delicate freedom just as much as in any other rabbit hole out there. It’s all the same from an ego’s point of view. We all play the same human game. All the tension over the mental noise echoing and reverberating off the walls of our private holes, however, is completely redundant and meaningless.
The very effort to protect anything is what creates the reason for that thing to exist in the first place—it only exists in the effort but not beyond it.