I have said that I didn’t like being “talked at”, I often feel this way with men, that I am being talked at. The mind “talks at” one as though one is an object. I suppose the mind can only work in objectivity, the linear.
Like algebra is linear, and geometry is spatial. My mother the painter was good at geometry, my father the memory brain, word person was good at algebra, or so I was told.
Actually I did well in both in high school, but i did not reach very high levels, I was in an art school, as everyone here probably knows I went to Performing Arts, the school the movie FAME mimicked, and yes I am in the movie FAME. One can see me playing the violin in the end.
This is a post where I am not going to follow any form, so stop reading if you want an organized, clear outcome. Sometimes I actually use this blogging to expose the chaos and meandering of my self in an effort to bring my self back through all the thoughts occupying and confusing my self with the mind. Buy and thanks for the effort and consideration.
The linear and the spatial.
I can so easily get lost in the emotion of my own generation and that of what is me, that is coming at me. Either, or I lose the principle, I lose the breath, I get lost in the linear, or I get lost in the spatial, I become a tangent, unaware that I am part of a big loop. If I have the thought that I am being “talked at” then I am lost in the objectivity that I am criticizing. I am one and the same as what I criticize. Always. I am no longer principle, I am no longer guided. I am allowing my self to become an emotion. Emotion is always sophomoric, infantile, singular, the point of being “talked at” is also singular. Fear is then present, separation is fear, and fear drives into emotion, fears steers into a wall.
ALl this writing and talking and looking at my mind and trying to figure this out, doing my figures, doing my math, being linear and geometric. I am building a Christmas tree in my head, this structure that places all these points to juggle and figure. I am just such a busy diligent student! All these crossing planes. A cross. This “object” I am building, when all I need is a principle, that one place that is real, that includes all in absolute simplicity, that point where two lines meet, that point that when emotion comes, or fear comes I remember, re-member, remind, re-mind my self of equality, that I am equal and one with everything and need not fear. I am the linear, I am the geometrical, I am the emotion ( no matter the source), these are my “demons”, my “christmas trees” my lines, my loops.
WAIT. When I start using too many words to describe one thing I am not using words in a directive way, I am filling in the space, I am stuck, I have lost my focus, I am being “arty”, I am in a glitch, I am hanging onto a previous thought. And I just did it again! I am off on a branch of my tree, my pretty tree with all the lights. At least there is a breeze.
I am here, I am sitting at my kitchen table, on a bench, the dog is barking at the bus that just passed. I have a cup of coffee. I am here typing. I can hear the heater doing its thing, heating, projecting out heat. I have just thought about what I want to accomplish today. Clean up the wood pile etc. Try not to spend too much time on the internet. Find and article about the atrociites that exist in this world, and there are endless ones, and write a blog about it, which is not hard to do, it is so obvious.
Stop thinking about this man, because we actually came to an agreement. He does not want to wear rubbers, and he does not want to leave his mind. Maybe he feels he can’t wear rubbers. And wants to sit back and smell the roses, I have a responsibility to care for the roses, so that the roses can be roses, so that the roses can be there to smell. I am willing to leave the idea of time to “save the roses”. We agreed that It would probably be better for me to find some else that wants to leave time, leave the mind, create a world where everyone can smell the roses, because the rose can’t really be smelled until ALL can “smell the roses”. The christmas tree is not really alive, only parts of it are lit up, and the mind creates the illusion that all of the tree is lit up. It is not a real tree. The tree is decorated from the outside, by a film, and not living itself as being a tree. No absolute purpose flows through this tree, through this rose.
From each point on this grid of belief, this linear grid of crossing lines that form right angles, that make all these geometrical shapes, there is no principle applied, no flow of purpose, chain mail made of fear, of desperation to have something to hold onto instead of realizing that the support of this is ever present, is the thing that is holding up this tree, this grid tree. That which appears to be nothing, that which is the something that is the nothing, that which has been forgotten in all the pretty lights, the seemingly intangible space, un plotted geometrically. That which the mind cannot fathom because it is not part of the program that is the mind.
My mind is a christmas tree that can’t really smell the roses because that which supports this tree is not included in the being of me here.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to lose my self in the details of the mind.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to not include my self in the here where I remain aware of that which supports what is here that the mind cannot see, that which is not part of the picture of the mind.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to not “feel’ that which is here and yet unseen in every breath, the breath including that which is not seen that is here.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting myself to forget breath, that which includes that which is not seen that is here supporting all that is the mind.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to not include that which is here that is not seen that supports all that is here, that is all that is here, that which is not part of the program of the mind, that which I as breath include as I am the pictures and gridlines of the mind.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to fear fear, where the fear becomes the object of what I am here, as I am “talked at” in and as a judgement of the mind that is a picture that does not include that which supports all that is here, that which is included in breath, where I then allow my self to lose my self in realizing that I am the thing talking “at me”, that I am the breath that is the nothing that supports all that is here.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to become anxious, to not realize that when I become anxious I am allowing all that is the picture of the mind to overwhelm my self not remembering, and reminding my self through breath that that which is here that is unseen by the mind, that is unfelt by the mind is here in and as breath, where breath includes that which is here that supports all that is here.
I forgive myself for allowing and accepting my self to allow my self to feel unworthy, to feel insecure, to be overwhelmed with what is here as my own generation or as that which is generated by me as coming towards me, that is supported by the substance that upholds the images of the mind, that is the seeming nothing that is included in the breath.
I am breath
In breath I include what supports all that is the mind