Care

We unconsciously seek for it in each other.

I must learn to (psychologically) break up with others from the outset so that I get to meet them for real during our relationship. Fact is, the way I feel emotionally abused by others is one of the ways in which I emotionally abuse others. Indeed, I gets what I gives.

Because we unconsciously seek for it in others.

The instant I feel met by someone I tend to abdicate the truth and give in to the restless impulse, the compulsion to idealize that other and to start demanding from them to fit into the mold, the image that I project about them. I get excited, I begin to fixate. I grow attached as I energetically invest. And I anxiously expect to be taken (in) by the other who I idealize. I dive into the project of securing the perfect host, the womb where I can dwell [against emptiness].

Because I cannot take the idea of alone forever. I wants to be taken. I wants to be held.

Again, it’s a choice between Image/Dream and Truth.

I still hesitate to go with it but I can feel how my spirit intends to secretly love and support, to listen and guide and oversee the life of my people, the faces I’ve faced and have grown so fond of so far.

And so I kind of pray.

Let me let go of them, of her, of me. Let me give up the jig, the scheming. Let me be free of them and let them be free of me. Let me be empty.

Let me see it.

Let this vessel—this aperture, this light, wiry body, this odd amalgam of patterns, this particular cocktail of neuroses, this splendid fountain of thoughts and feelings, this unique flair & style of being—serve by opening now, here, for all.

Because I am here to take care, not merely to partake. I am here to smuggle in the light of consciousness under the guise of my daily activities, at work, at home, and everywhere in the neighbourhood. This is why I go solo and this is why I need plenty of time to rest and to recover. As delicate as I am I am intent on going within so I get to bring some of what I receive back to you out there. I buffer so that I can serve you to the best of my ability. I need to go in before I can go out and engage in a meaningful, productive way. Sometimes it takes weeks or even months, sometimes only an hour or so. This is my gift.

And so I pray.

Help me so I can help you.

Support me so I get to support you.

We need each other.

Because we find it in ourselves, together.

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Peace

In terms of the personal struggle nothing will ever resolve itself. Their content may change but the same neurotic patterns will keep cycling through and flaring up. I will experience the same frustrations over and over again, the familiar push-pull texture in my interactions, the fixation on (the latest) Her, the paranoid attachment to unadulterated freedom, etc. The more clarity comes to shine on these patterns—with each consciously appropriated iteration—the less intensity will be involved in them, perhaps. This prospect feels quite daunting and intimidating still because it basically means that the struggle will never cease, I (as a person, as ’me’) will never make it, except in this moment. I will never make it. Except for this very moment I am doomed: to living a regular human life, painfully involved and blissfully detached at once.

Neurosis

It may ease but it won’t cease. It’s not a tick to be fixed. It’s a given: a peculiar pattern that auto-curbs itself to the extent you move consciously [lovingly] with it.

/Meeting with friends is typically a big deal for me. Intimacy triggers a massive neurotic flare up in my psychology. There is a rush of adrenaline and a spike of cortisol, my body temp drops, my hands go cold, glycogen plummets, and I sweat profusely. I look calm but inside I fidget and feel compelled to show off, to impress, to please. Attention turns me on big time. It’s something chronic (and probably trauma-induced). When my perception is that I capture the imagination of someone and I feel felt and seen, I lose poise and I get overexcited. I proceed to indulge in showing off. It feels like getting a fix. Especially when someone is a partner in all this, i.e. their neurotic pattern is to be impressed upon, then the insane dance of the ’dumper’ and the ’dumpee’ ensues.

Given that social interactions in general are either fear- or love based when you experience a kind of nervous buzz taking over you can be certain that you are in a mode of fear-based behavior. Love based engagements are free of agitation and full of easeful joy.

 

Only by losing (the image of) it do I actually see it for what it is

What hurts me is not that I’ve lost her but that I am losing the image I’ve cherished about her.

It’s painful to see this because it means that I am losing the image I’ve cherished about myself too.

Without the hope (the projected image) of getting her back there is noone to suffer for and there is noone to suffer.

J e s u s

When people tell me that they don’t understand the things I write/talk about I know that the only reason they don’t get me is that they don’t understand themselves in the first place. When dealing with me some feel confused about me, some feel frustrated by me, some dislike me, some quite like me—but if they cared enough most of them, I think, would be somewhat fascinated by (their idea of) me. Paradoxically, the less separate I feel from them (us) the more separate they seem to feel from me. The less there is of me and the more I loosen & relax into (us as) life they tend to project more and more of their issues onto me. In other words, people relate to people like me exactly the way they relate to life. It’s not personal at all. It’s just weird.

but ONE

You say that you’re heartbroken over ’’moving on’’ because you’ve grown truly fond of the forms—the places, the faces—you’ve encountered. But let’s be honest: do  you get as attached to plants too? Do you feel dejected when you see a blooming flower in April and think about the fleeting nature of your encounter?—Now, is this a silly comparison? Why? What is the extent of the difference? Isn’t it but all about forms? forms that you can appreciate for their unique flair or fail to do so. One thing’s for sure, we go easy on the plants because they cannot engage in our drama, but when it comes to people we turn into weird, needy little desperate Gollums clinging, grasping, claiming and demanding—no matter how passively—we proceed, in effect, to project the love that we are onto their form—their peculiar face and their bodily rhythms, gestures, postures and style of engaging—because we expect them to be someone for us so we can get to be someone for them.

Someone but One.