It took me 5 years after the break-up to finally admit to myself that all these years what I have been trying to do was to prove her wrong. I was trying to reestablish the world that got shattered. I was trying to put it back together. I was unwilling to let her [image] go until I showed her and proved myself that she made the wrong call. For I was unwilling to give up idealizing her. I was unwilling to see that she doesn’t get me and buys no longer into me and that’s why she disrespects and mistrusts me now. Me, me, me, me. [The more] I projected my fearful hopes into her [the more] she projected her fears into me. We barely ever met. It had to end. I wanted to break up with myself too.
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.
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
You come into the truth of your being by breaking, by losing, by failing, by falling, by crashing, by hurting, by continually dying. You must crack and you will crack at some point because the loosening up is inevitable. Once you crack the cracking up proceeds—with or without your acknowledgment of it—until all the remaining pieces of the constraining & insulating shell that shielded you at the take-off are jettisoned.
How absurd and how tragic that parents hurt their children by shaming & guilting them for things that, in effect, they themselves bequeathed them. Instead of encouraging the blooming of their unique flair they (in)directly transmit their own anxieties on to the opulent and highly impressionable, fecund minds of their children. The child practically becomes the site of the parents’ internal battles who then identifies with and enacts the emotional pain their parents suffer from. But who is there to blame? All of this is impersonal, trans-generational stuff. Part of growing up is waking up to and seeing through these internalized (personally taken) impersonal patterns—which, incidentally, we’ll never manage to get rid of since, by definition, we as a person (as an ego) are the creation of those very patterns. Of course, what we truly are is infinitely vaster than the personal self we are tormented & so deeply smitten by.
/Besides inculcating a necessary ego function this is the overall sense that is to be cultivated in our children from the get-go.
The concept of becoming a stronger or even worse the strongest version of yourself is a recipe for disaster, if it’s taken literally. To resolve & transcend the issues that plague one’s messed up persona(lity) is an impossible mission from the get-go. You’ll always manifest your neuroses & hangups until you relate from the vantage & confines of a persona(lity). The only way you can engage in real, ’’healthy’’ & robust energetic transactions with the world and other people is when you relate from your true essence, the impersonal realm beyond or rather in front of your thoughts & feelings; when you relate from in front of your persona(lity), in front of your conditioned, functional & dysfunctional PATTERNS of relating; when you relate from the truth of the moment, that is. That’s the only way. The alternative is but silent struggle.
Syncing with the body or the practice of letting my body take over and render me headless
/This is my longest post to date in which I look at and connect some strands and trends in my life up until this point, right before turning 33. The common thread that’s running through this retrospective is the story of getting lost and confused within the reverberant echo-chamber of my head and finding my way out through relaxing more and more into my bodily impulses/
Recently I’ve made a huge discovery which is less a discovery than a remembering, I think. Listening to lots of Adyashanti tapes in the last couple of months has definitely played a big role in accelerating all this…
Meditation comes to me—I find. What’s more, it’s stalking me and slowly creeping over me, spontaneously and stealthily, it’s gradually overwhelming me. Nowadays, I find myself feel compelled to sit down and let my bodily stirs take over, to become headless as it were. I especially like to do it outside somewhere in the sun with my eyes closed and attending aurally (to the surrounding sounds) first. By easing into a grounded state of stillness where I am more cognizant of the subtle stirs in/of and around my body I know I am onto something essential.
My stretching and mobility routines evolved in a similar fashion, actually. I’d been dabbling in yoga for quite a while before I gained any inklings about what type of stretching actually work for me. For years, I was doing headstands and other top-intense postures but totally out of sync with my body. No wonder I barely ever felt revitalized by it. I was stretching everything I thought would benefit me without regard for what my body actually required. In fact, it’s been only around a year ago that I started to attune to its actual needs—which is literally working my way from the bottom up. I remember one sunny day in the garden accidentally discovering (by rotating my hips while leaning my torso in different angles) a tight muscle in the right side of my lower back, which presented me with a clue to follow. Ever since that discovery I’ve been conscious of aligning from the body rather than the head, by simply bringing more attention to my sensations. As a result, I have also recognized how intricately things hang together in my body. My fallen arches and popping knees, my lopsided gait as well as my slightly protruding gut and buttocks had all been related and kinetically linked. My abdominal muscles have played a key role in bringing my crotch out of its dysfunctional sunkenness, so to speak, to which functional training (with kettlebells, barbells, clubbells and foam rollers), Scott Sonnon style mobility drills and a short run in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu contributed a lot (by helping me develop significantly stronger core strength).
In short, discovering and corrective stretching against non-negligible musculo-skeletal asymmetries (neuromuscular traumas) that I have acquired/nurtured since a long time ago has also stealthily taken over me—I find.
So this is my huge discovery. Healing processes converge and con-spiral in the context of awareness. All it takes is noticing. Such a nobrainer—literally. I notice something and then I follow its lead. For a very long time I’ve been doing just the opposite: trying to do things from the neck up, from the head (hooked on fancy tips and ideas) out of sync with my body, disregarding its actual needs, impulses and appetites.
Now, if you are interested, here follows a short overview of other areas this has taken place in my life:
Growing up, I turned out to be quite a heady persona which was aggravated by the vague and subconscious but more and more intense confusion I felt as I was drifting away from the idyllic site of my childhood. Secondary school, university, working as a language teacher, PhD studies, moving to the capital, losing my girlfriend, living and working with people from all walks of life—with every new stage it felt like I was putting my life on a stronger and stronger hold, I was kind of suspending everything, subconsciously, waiting, in essence, for my past in some form to return in the future. I’ve pulled away from people in the present to prepare for those in the future who I think truly belonged in my life (like the people in my past I felt did).
Over these drifting years—spent in the spirit of disorientation—I have developed and resolved (as well as aggravated already present, probably congenital) mental & health challenges: a sluggish liver and sluggish bowel movement, migraine headaches, facial skin problems, low libido, a milder case of social anxiety/paranoia, excessive introspection & intellectualism, etc. In tandem with these failing conditions the more and more intense confusion that I was subconsciously experiencing drove me to clutch an ever tighter conceptual grasp on things, which, in fact, only (re)generated that confusion. In my 20s I became a truly head-heavy fellow. (Certainly, there is some basic susceptibility behind all of this. Things typically tend to come to a head with me. Unchecked tension and poorly managed stress bubbles up into my head and presses against my whole being from the top down as it were.)
A couple of years in PhD studies (literary theory) nicely complemented my heady escalation. I became an avid reader of literary theory, philosophy and cognitive science. I wanted to solve an Aesthetics puzzle that was growing in scope by the day. In essence, the same symptom has surfaced as in my teaching career I wrote about here, namely that I couldn’t just do it like a professional: impersonally. For me it had to be about the Truth. And part of the Truth, of course, was that I was conflicted inside as a person. So I was trying and trying but to no avail. I amassed an impressive but rather sketchy overview of intellectual history in my head, and even though in the back of my (hanxious) mind I knew that I could never cobble together the Truth from tesserae of theories and fancy ideas, I had no clue how much I was actually spinning in endless circles. To be honest, though, I really enjoyed most of the stuff I’ve read during these years, some of them truly fascinated my eager mind, but I had to give up the whole PhD thing because I was just plain lazy to put in the work in the end.
Falling in love and trauma-bonding with a girl didn’t help matters either. As a matter of fact the majority of my ailments arose within the context of our relationship. For 8 years we have been silently suffering from feeling smothered (her) and abandoned (me) respectively and when finally she broke up with me (on the wings of a new romance) I finally reached a tipping point. Since that pivotal moment the light has been seeping through the cracks, to wax poetic, ever more intensely and my body began to stir under the debris of my fragmented ego.
During the recovery I still got lost in the head a lot, of course. There were short-lived flare-ups of love-sickness with other girls and—to complement one extreme with another—short and rather innocent episodes of pick up artistry (gaming) as well. Slowly and with the help of online mentors I managed to come to my senses regarding intimacy and relationships, though. As a matter of fact what I’ve learnt from people like Owen Cook, Alan Roger Currie, David Deida, Alex Allman and Roosh V. were things that I already knew in my heart of hearts, but I may never have summoned the courage to take ownership of them were it not for these men. In a way these people empowered me by going against the grain of their ego themselves. In short, what they taught me to cultivate was transparency (to my heart-felt impulses).
/Incidentally, looking back I can see how tight a game I actually had before learning about game. That’s how I managed to ’’get’’ my girlfriend in the first place: I was just perseverant (and turned on I guess) like never before. I was all in—win or lose—and her months-long resistance just buckled under my zealous but seemingly cool-headed advances. After the break-up when I learnt about game through a random YouTube recommendation of one of Owen’s videos, I started experimenting with manipulating girls by exaggerating my confidence and cockiness (which, given my profession as a teacher, wasn’t that hard to pull off). Frankly, it was quite intoxicating because usually it really did work, and though I never went all the way, I managed to create many leads and witness how much girls tend to fall for certain vibes. But then I noticed that I actually became gimmicky and contracted in the manner in which I engaged women. I was putting on an act really (—now, just imagine the type of relationship that would come of putting on an act to get it going: luckily I skipped that phase). In fact, looking back I can see now that most of the girls liked me despite my game and not because of it. Before my gaming period the romantic flare-ups, in fact, were all due to girls being drawn to my simple, innocent and naive naturalness. But there the problem typically was that I felt an obligation to reciprocate and I practically forced/hypnotized myself into things I didn’t actually want. What game helped me with was to come to my senses and see and exercise the courage to own what I truly want and drop what I don’t. [Ironically too, I finally saw (in retrospect) how many girls actually did want to get involved with me over the last decade while I was busy convincing myself that I was unlucky with them. I ignored all their indirect invitations and passively rejected all of them only because I was afraid of the unforeseeable repercussions.] At any rate, I think I have come full circle now: I have come out of my head enough to see romance for what it is.
It is what it is.
So come what may, I don’t care any more: Transparency trumps all. ;)/
Another front where I got dragged down an endless rabbit hole was diet. Again, I came upon some exciting notions on YouTube (via Sean Croxton and his channel UndergroundWellness) which gave me some ideas as to what to try to help my girlfriend who was experiencing eating problems at the time (shortly after we moved in together). Indeed, her stomach was a perfect barometer of the level of anxiety we were marinating in. So besides eliminating gluten and sugar and vegetable oils I introduced her to the idea of the GAPS diet (Natascha Campbell) which soon was tempered with the less restrictive palette of the PHD diet (Paul Jaminet). We did it together hoping that soon she would feel better but what actually happened was quite unexpected. Her condition worsened to the point where she had to be referred to a facility to recover while my condition improved a great deal. My migraines were gone and I literally felt as if a fog has lifted off from my brain. Naturally, I got zealous again—right around the time I lost interest in my academic pursuits—and I started supplementing and seeking superfoods. I got a second-wind, so to say. Finding information online about health and nutrition became a newfound obsession and in tandem with the nutrition stuff I also bought into the whole lifestyle spiel. So, I was on track once again, trying to find the best information out there in order to upgrade myself on all fronts: nutritional, social, sexual, financial, etc. I even fell for that bulletproof hype for a while, subscribing to their quarterly box as well when I could barely afford such unnecessary luxury.
I think all of this low-key frenzy really culminated when my girlfriend came back to her senses in that facility she spent almost half a year and resolved to break up with me in January 2013. My head just couldn’t take it any longer. Something cracked. And that’s when the light started seeping through.
In retrospect it’s rather conspicuous how I tend to lend my focus and energy to certain projects and get fixated on them until they fail to yield the completion or the sense of coming home I was secretly hoping for. There has been a sequence of boom-bust cycles being iterated with less and less intensity from around age 16. Today, at least, I feel in between. My center of gravity has descended to somewhere between my head and my gut.
I’m still watching what I eat but less strictly. Inspired, for instance, by Ray Peat’s perceptive tips (eat for heat) I gave up some practices that didn’t seem to work: I stopped intermittent fasting and avoiding sugar. On the spiritual front too I’ve also gained crucial anxiety-resolving insights, nevertheless I still try to solve interpersonal glitches from the place of a self in control. As a matter of fact, my obsession with the Truth (á la Adyashanti) is the latest incarnation of the boom-phase and in a way it has been the governing obsession underlying all the others, I think. The difference is that now I know and own it. I’m in it but not consumed by it: I’m somewhere in between. Whether there is a beyond to this in-between stage I don’t know and I don’t care that much either, to be honest. Right now, this is where I’m at. And that is all that matters.
The way I see it: Our body has so much more to say than we’re willing to give it credit. All problems arise once we start executing ideas we entertain in our (socially conditioned) mind rather than relax into the truth of the moment and follow its lead as it ripples through our whole being, top to bottom. To live a (mindful) life worth living we must (re)learn to speak the language of the stars that the body speaks.