sueeeus

Found in a notebook…

It’s July, It’s 2017. It’s a Tuesday night and I’ve had a stressful day and I’m unwinding. I wrote this:

Use your molecules wisely.

Spend your molecules wisely.

….Molecules….

YOUR Molecules

It’s what you’ve got. GOD gave them to you. This most inexplicable gift! Privilege!!! How are you going to honor them?

L I V E

Live it UP!!! LIFE is your gift!!! It’s what you’ve GOT! Rejoice in all things! Why not?! Why NOT?!!!???!!

<3

On my way to work, I thought about my core, my spirituality, my truth. I had to re-group, to re-think and re-consider the spiritual stance that I’ve been holding staunchly for all of these years. Ever since the time that I set in my heart to learn and to know. The phrase that captures my thoughts is ‘The Mystery of Being’. Thoughts about life. Existentialism…

If the earth is a closed system –physically, anyway– the matter within the gravity field and atmosphere remains somewhat constant. There is space and the cosmos, but for the bulk of the argument, it’s probably valid to consider earth as a closed system. So for physical laws, the matter of which living things are comprised is the same matter of which living things were comprised before us. Carbon’s anniversary. What are we made of? The molecules that comprise us belonged to someone else and something else before we got the privilege of vesseling them. So who am I? Not 24601… Maybe my molecules were part of a healer or an artist or a warrior. What if there is or are other dimensions beyond anything physically comprehensible, but just as visible for those who have eyes to see? What if who I am carries fragments of the spirits of those who have gone before me? Of course it’s easy to recognize remnants of those from whom I’ve come directly –genetics. But what about more? The matter that has existed for all the ages as we know them. My molecules could have been part of someone else. Not could. MUST. We are carbon based! Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. But our spirit! Our soul! What if the fragments are part of universal one-ness? That’s redundant, but I don’t know how else to say it. DMT -The Spirit Molecule… This substance that is a part of all living things. A common thread. And the enlightenment that is revealed when a human is exposed.

I think about the meaning of life. What’s the point? Maybe there’s no point. It’s a gift and a privilege we’ve been given. Do with it what we want, while we have it. Joy. Or don’t rejoice or embrace it. But it’s ours to live. So why not live it the way we want? We get to choose everything. We do what we do for whatever reason we do it. It’s all good. There’s no need for stress. Today is today. I will live it the best way that I can. I will do what I can do, and when I can’t do anything more or anything else, then I will stop, and that is okay.

The birth of a persona.

~*~*~*~

This has been hanging around in drafts for some time.  Maybe I’ll remember what I was thinking about, one of these days.  I have something scribbled somewhere with Delta Dirac Dawn, referring to the Dirac delta function.  It must have had something to do with singularities, polarities, concepts of all or nothing being one and the same.  Maybe the realization that this is me.  Spinning so fast that I’m standing still.  Ecstatically joyful and acutely anguished at the very same time.  Coming to terms with who I am, an outlier, not hanging about under the bell curve.

July 26, 2019.  Miracles and magic.  What a mind boggling tangle of events and circumstances and decisions that took place over a span of who knows how many years, in order for yesterday to happen.  We had a fare thee well lunch get together for a coworker who is taking his family on a world-wide home-schooling cultural immersion experience for the year, which itself is a marvelous thing to do!  My heart stirs with delight (or maybe jealousy) at the thought of the richness of such an experience, and all the new perspectives they will take in, that they might never know otherwise.  How rich!!

It’s always nice to have a social moment with my coworkers, and it was a beautiful sunny day.  We have such a crushing workload that it’s a special treat to take a break at all, let alone gather to dine in a quaint courtyard beer garden.  The luncheon organizer so thoughtfully invited former coworkers to join us, for which I am so grateful.  It felt like a grand reunion, seeing those shining smiling faces of people who are part of my work family.  My former boss!

As we gather, in walks another familiar face, coincidentally out for lunch.  Another former coworker, this one a retired senior manager.  And then, not far behind him, another retired senior manager.  Such commotion of greetings and what brings you heres and how have you beens.  Embraces!  I hugged them all, all three of my former managers.  They were all sun tanned and vibrant, clearly happy in their respective retirements.  These were my people, my family, from my former organization where we worked so closely for over 20 years.  It was wonderfully energizing to see them.  Coincidences – the two are friends and get together socially — they’re both so fit, I envision them playing raquetball or squash or tennis, then having lunch at a beer garden.  Also, my new boss was there, and it was the first time he met the old boss.  I whispered to my coworker nearby, meet the new boss, not the same as the old boss…     …..my old boss is a saint.  I miss him.

And another coworker coincidentally knew one of the senior managers through a soccer connection, years ago, when their children were young.  It was quite something, the mix of old and new, and it was sort of neat to see in my periphery the India team smiling and observing our greetings.  It gave them a glimpse at our history.  It felt good to share a different and personal perspective with them.

Our Padawan made an appearance. He strode in, a cloud of static whirling about him, and mingled brusquely.  We’ve lost him to the dark side, our young Vader.  It’s a sad thing to have watched unfold, through the years.  The junctures could have just as readily been convergent, as divergent.  I attribute it to the blindness that ego produces.  Maybe I could have affected the outcome, if I’d have been more involved in his development.  I might have seen the junctures approaching and guided him gently in the direction of convergence.  I’m stretched in too many directions to be able to attend to everything. We’re all adult professionals and as such are expected to be professionally cooperative.  He’s alienated himself from many of us, by now. It’s a shame. He has so much energy and ability; he could be so productive, he could contribute much.  He just can’t see the forest for the trees.  It’s sad.

Traffic was wretched, perhaps even more than usual, but I was energized from being with my people.

I tried to connect with J on the way home, since I was going past her place, but she was on the road too.  We are both pressed for time, orchestrating our every movement so that we can somehow manage to do all that we have to do for our families, our homes, and our livelihoods.  Life is a scramble for us and I treasure our friendship.  We’re sort of in the same boat, in many ways.  Single and self reliant full time working moms.  There was a construction detour and I ended up taking an alternate route that reminded me to stop by Goodwill and look for a kitten harness necessary to  help keep my man child’s 6 week old kitten safe and alive during our upcoming camping trip, and lo and behold, guess what I found?  Yep, new in package XXS, perfect made to order harness.  Exactly what I needed, plus a short scratching post and fishnet, also exactly what I needed.  All for 10 bucks shy.

The heavens poured blessings upon blessings on me.  What a day!  I felt so good, so energized.

The world looked different to me.  I noticed it while standing in my kitchen, then wandered out to the deck and looked around, and returned indoors to gaze about some more.  If I could find an analogy to describe how it looked different, the best I can do for now is a transparency slider.  It was as though the slider was moved to fully visible, whereas it was formerly some percentage obscured, like through a film.  Through a glass darkly.  Everything seemed more solid, more clear, more real.  In contrast to my ‘normal’ view where it’s like everything is behind a screen filled with a murky water-like substance, filtered.

I thought that this must be what it feels like to feel human, and to feel normal.  I thought that might be what most people feel like, how they see the world.  Solid, physical, real, safe. The act of just being felt effortless and sustainable. It was a good feeling.

It didn’t last long, alas, but I am glad to have experienced that glimpse, to have tasted that clarity.

It’s interesting, how the brain works.  We have sensors all over us, collecting information.  Every single tiny peach fuzzy hair is transmitting information, all the time.   Our eyes are taking in a panorama, again as a constant feed.  The amount of information being processed is beyond dizzying, to comprehend.  Sometimes, if I go deep into meditative thought, I can actively focus on a particular feel, like the gentle whisper of breeze on the fine peach fuzzy hairs on my face.  It feels the way an ocean floor scene looks, with the kelp swaying in the currents of the water.  It’s a beautiful thing.  Most of the time my brain filters the bulk of inputs from my active awareness.  Otherwise, it would probably feel like chaos, with extreme information overload.  It would probably be overwhelming.

I am noticing changes to my awareness of visual sensory inputs.  I can sit for long periods of time, gazing, processing thoughts.  It’s sort of trance-like.  Eyes open, deep in thought.  I am aware of my periphery — all around me are collections of colors and shapes and lights.  My thoughts run deep and there are things I want to remember, to capture, as I breathe in, breathe out, and stare into the space around me.  I consider writing them down.  I want to write them down, but the thought of looking at a screen fills me with dread.  Something about the false light of the screen.  I can hardly bear the thought of it, let alone the sight of it.  So I avoid it, and hope that I will retain the important connections I’ve sorted out.

I wonder if the emotional impact of the way I process visual information is in part related to the physical changes in vision as I age.  I am very frustrated with the loss of focus in my near field vision, and it seems that I am becoming more frustrated as time goes on, rather than simply adjusting to life with bifocals.

First world problems, for heaven’s sake.  Nevertheless, I am finding myself easily overwhelmed, at this stage in life.  It seems that perhaps my natural automatic behind the scene sensory processing filters are wearing out, just like my eyes, so my brain is being inundated with more peripheral awareness than it’s accustomed to.

I’m operating like a machine that is not well oiled.  The gears are sticking, and everything takes more effort.  It feels like the traffic on my commute.  My physical, mental, and emotional processes feel like too many cars at too many speeds, weaving in and out of lanes, getting jammed, having collisions.  I can hardly bear to drive.

Found in drafts from May 2014.

Things have been stacking up again lately, as they do.  I feel like I need another reset soon.  For some reason, I picture a big exhausted mama bear making her way to her cave where she will hibernate until things improve.  I’ve been sort of lost in a cloud for some time now, and while it seemed like a good idea at the time (at least, it was a method of coping), I think that in the scheme of things my preference is to face life with a clear head.

Let’s see.  The job.  The writing on the wall has come to pass.  My entire division is being re-established elsewhere.  I’m not worried about not finding a job.  I’ve applied for several, and word on the street is that my power trio will be adopted by another division that will remain here.

Let’s see some more.  Women’s health.  I had my annual mammogram last Tuesday.  Wednesday I got a call to have a follow-up mammogram as well as an ultrasound.  Just to check a particular spot.  No freaking out here.  Right.  Actually, I didn’t really freak out.  I figured that they would just check things out in more detail and if they did find something, then I would decide whether or not I would freak out.  No point in freaking out until one is sure there is cause, eh?  Thankfully, they are wonderful about delivering results ìmmediately.  All is well.  Tomorrow is my annual ob/gyn visit.  Fingers crossed that rest of my interior girly parts are okay.

Narcissism survival link – good stuff.

http://samvak.tripod.com/faq80.html

My heart beats for my boys.

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the day to day accumulation of whatever it is that accumulates within me, and I feel as though I need to somehow find an outlet of some sort, any sort, so that I can draw in my breath and regain some composure before I pick up my kids.  Because I don’t want them to see that their mother is barely holding it together.

Walking helps.

Sometimes the older one gets into a mood in which he stomps about or shuffles about with a long face.  I ask him what’s wrong and he says he doesn’t know.  He just feels upset.  He can’t really explain it to me, and he has no particular reason or trigger that he can recall that put him in that place.  But I get it.  And in a way I’m grateful that he expresses himself so physically.  Because that is how I so often feel.  So I get it.

The younger one is perhaps even more physical with the expression of his emotions, but he is more likely to recover quickly.

They are such beautiful, incredible boys.

I need to capture questions to explore.

Arousal.  How does it work?  How can one attain it?

How do I feel?  It fluctuates from a sort of non-feeling numbness, to a cavalier what’s the problem no sweat acceptance of all things.

I want to explore why I felt the way I did about my former boyfriends using marijuana and how I considered it the other woman.  I was jealous,  I suppose.  I wonder where I got my notions and why I thought what I thought.  In general, I want to do some mental housekeeping so that I can figure out if any of these thought inclinations that I have serve me well or not, and to cull those that don’t.

Book idea, yin yangish, one side is the light perspective, the other side is the dark perspective.  The same tale told from different points of view.  Also, one perspective similar to Ursula the sea witch, predator of poor unfortunate souls, sucking their life force from them to feed her own insatiable appetite for life.  Or like a praying mantis that lures the male in then devours him after having delirious sex with him.

From the light perspective, it’s a view that she just wants to take care of her people, take them under her wing, and this is what she does and how she operates.  She’s a giver and she  gives until she’s got no more to give.  Then she stops.  And drops.  kind of where I feel I am right now.

Starting to recognize a pattern with relationships, the phases and projections of hopes and dreams, the momentum and infusion of energy, the man becoming addicted to the high from being with me, so I become his heroin, heroine.  I can’t sustain it, so there is the withdrawal period when I’ve stopped infusing, and the wind is gone from the sails.  That is where discontent for the sexual aspect of the relationship starts to manifest.  That is where communication starts to fall apart.  It seems that the point where things start to fail is the point where I stop holding it all together.

Maybe I shouldn’t be with anybody.

We’re out of sync.  His idea of time apart and alone is different than mine.  He feels frustrated by the passage of time and my lack of interest.  I guess I need to find the right words to let him go so that it’s clear that he is free from me and I am free from him and he can therefore reset his expectations.  Because I feel like I need a lot more time.  Lost in my mind.  I’m going internal for a while and I need more time.  It’s not fair to keep him hanging when I have no idea how long I’ll be gone, meaning how long it will take me to sort through whatever needs to be sorted now.  How to function when you’re barely functioning.  another catchy book idea , because I manage to keep a household going and keep everyone fed, clothed and sheltered in spite of my nearly catatonic emotional state.  I went for a couple of walks today with the dog.  I figured that since I didn’t know what to do or think, at least I could walk and get some air, if nothing else, while I’m figuring out what I want or need to do.

When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child…

It’s time to put the big boy pants back on.  I’ve been struggling, trying to regroup and regain strength with which to face all that is before me.  I’m at a loss to articulate the whats and wherefores, and I’ve found myself again in a place of internal anguish and exhaustion.  I find myself chasing restoration via a web of neovascularization; thought streams venturing out looking for nourishment in unfriendly terrain.

now I know in part

Where is the healing for the healer?  Where is the guidance for the guide?   The answers are always given to me, when I pay attention and notice.  When I’m weary and depleted I look for ways to replenish and nourish my fragmented self.  Sometimes my efforts seem to fail and I’m left feeling even more frustrated and worn.  Sometimes, on days like this day, I just have to stop.

…the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof…

When I catch myself feeling frustrated, falling to the base emotions that I so heartfully want to overcome, I struggle through a barrage of thoughts along these lines: Why do I feel this way?  What do I need?  Why am I thinking ungraciously?  Why am I annoyed?  What do I expect?

I need to be gracious.  I can’t expect anyone to think as I think, see as I see, feel as I feel, understand as I understand, know as I know.

through a glass darkly

Everything is nothing and nothing is everything.  What if it’s all the same.  Or everything matters and nothing matters.  What if that’s all the same.  Consider the perfection of a circle.  The starting point is the finishing point.  They are one and the same.  It takes something external to provide a reference of distinction.  Time.  I can tell the difference between the beginning and the end when I introduce time, but the thing is, that point, zero degrees or 360 degrees, remains that point, whether time is involved or not.  Is it a beginning?  Is it an end?  Maybe it just is.

The reminder that came to me has everything to do with time.  Life as I know it is a journey, and we are all at different stages with different capacities, abilities, understandings and levels of knowledge.  Our world views are limited by our own exposure and awareness.  Ages and stages.  There is generally an order of progression with things.  I suppose that defines growth.  We are all at different ages and stages.

and yet show I unto you a more excellent way

I can’t expect anybody to understand me.  I’m not even sure why I have such a hunger.  Maybe it’s an existential thing.  Maybe if I felt understood, then I would feel valid.  As if I need a reason to be.  I certainly don’t want my children to think they need a reason to be!  So why would I think such a thing for myself?!

At this age and stage, I’m the grownup in the room.  I have to put the big boy pants back on.  Help is and always has been when and where I need it.  Everything that I need is available to me, when I open my eyes.  Life is a treasure, full of breathtaking wonder, a dazzling tapestry all around me, for my own joy and rejoicing.  I have all the strength and love that I need.  I am here.  Now.

My beautiful friend, the Resonant German, gently observed that I haven’t written on this blog for a full year.  It’s not that I have nothing to process — if only!   In the interest of mental housekeeping, I’ve taken a step back from non-critical media, which includes social media, and most media.  I might have gone a bit too far, since I missed daylight savings time and sent my man-child to the bus stop an hour early last Monday.  It’s already another Monday and I’ve just found this article hanging around in my drafts — another Monday and I’m working on pulling myself together to face another span of days.

This time of year immerses me in waves of emotions, my own and those I absorb from others, and I’m feeling depleted.  I’m on the same quest for understanding, but there is such a sense of urgency now.  I’m watching my kids grow up so quickly and I don’t have the answers I want and need to share with them, to prepare them for life.  I’m surrounded by friends and family in need of guidance, comfort, strength, and encouragement.  I want to help.

My spiritual foundation has been rocked recently, which I didn’t think was possible. I’m regrouping and getting my bearings, and I know –I KNOW– that I’m on the horizon of a breakthrough in understanding.

With horror, I see signs of depression manifesting in my beautiful gentle giant BB, and I haven’t learned for my self how to stay above it.  With two successful –successful is SO NOT the right word — suicides in the family, and a host of mental health challenges, it’s hard not to panic or feel helpless.

What’s that saying about a fine line between genius and insanity?  There are so many incredible people in my family –such staggering intelligence,  creativity, and talent. Maybe the brain gets frazzled from all that high power activity, and we go crazy. That’s a wry take on the yin-yang balance. Maybe insanity is the price one pays for genius.

What IS sane, anyway? It’s probably an attribute that applies to a statistical average of human population.

My commute takes the better part of two hours, each way.  I use the time to think.  I’m in my thirty second year of indentured servitude, and once again the corporate machine is groaning.  I’ve always been flummoxed by a company’s ability to stay in business and make profits under a consistent flow of poor decisions.

Comparison.  Competition.  There are times when I slip into that region of discontent.  I say discontent, because it seems that the state of contentedness is contrary to the concepts of competition and comparison.  Those concepts imply winning versus losing, better versus worse.  Contentedness suggests enough.  I like the idea of enough.

It started with an innocuous comment about success.  So and so is more successful than you (me) because so and so is perched at the top of the corporate ladder and is compensated accordingly.  The comps are flying already and I’ve barely begun this post.  I feel compelled to look into the root word structures –surely there are connections.  Comparison.  Competition.  Compensation.  Compel.  I digress, in true sueeeus fashion…

I was thinking about my initial reaction to the comment.  I felt defensive.  So and so isn’t better than me!  I could have reached the echelons of corporate leadership, had I chosen.  I felt hurt, as though it were some sort of reflection of failure on my part, as though I needed to convince someone, anyone, everyone, that I am just as good.  I felt jealous.  So and so makes more (money) than I do and has a fancy pants title.  Of more concern to me is why it even mattered.  My reaction was so immediate, and I felt as though I needed to justify myself and somehow assert that I am not a failure.  I also wonder why my reaction is so binary, so extreme.  Success.  Failure.  No in-between.

The nature of my work is all about the ones and the zeros, so there is that.  But the nature of my self is all about the in-betweens, or rather, perspectives.  Just because true/false, on/off, all/none, right/wrong are points that describe entities in a known dimension, it doesn’t necessarily mean that those are the only states.  They are obvious states, but not necessarily the only states.  Perception through one facet of a crystal may be very different from perception through another facet of the same crystal.  Is either right? Is either wrong?  They are simply different.  Why does there have to be a right or a wrong?

I think it’s a limitation of the human mind.  People are generally comfortable with the knowns.  Binary things are easy to wrap one’s mind around, because they are very simple to grasp.  Multidimensional things are complex.  Matrices within matrices from infinity to infinity in all directions.

I’m embarrassed to admit that I fell into a funk for a few days, as I worked through these thoughts.  I thought about the comparison game.  I mostly have the experience of my own life and culture to draw from, and it occurs to me that life as I know it has contained a steady feed of information that has contributed to the shape of my thoughts and emotions.  I don’t remember when it dawned on me that I could choose how to steer my thoughts and emotions.

There is so much conditioning taking place with the onslaught of information that we absorb through media.  When, if ever, does it occur to us to question the validity of the information that we absorb?  We get notions of body image based on the examples we see in print and on screen.  Does it occur to us to take a look around at a general cross-section of society and realize that almost nobody looks like the actors and models we see portraying life?  We get notions of romance which stem from fantasy and set expectations for reality, then feel let down that true love seems unattainable, when in fact we are living in a perfectly beautiful loving situation.  We are fed carefully crafted information designed to promote [something, someone].  It’s called marketing, and it’s a product of capitalism. It’s reason for being is to pad someone’s pockets or promote someone’s power or influence.

It’s so exhausting to justify myself to myself!  Once I recovered from my initial reactionary response to the self-inflicted judgment of failure (since I’m not the CEO), I reminded myself that I had faced precisely such a decision in my early twenties — I recognized ‘career path’ and saw clearly that although I was and am quite capable of ‘success’, that the capitalistic model of corporate America was contrary to my soul, and although the financial rewards and professional accolades are or were tempting, the internal price of or for success was simply not worth it.  I made a choice.

In retrospect, I don’t know where or how I ever attained such wisdom (I am working on some theories), but I am grateful.  Before I’d ever read Buckminster Fuller’s Critical Path, and by the grace of God, I made the better choice, the more valuable choice.  My success isn’t measured in terms of social status, professional status, financial status.  My success is measured in terms of soul status, and it’s only measured by me.

Throughout these thought streams, some key words or concepts kept surfacing.  Source.  Core.  For whatever reason, I am driven by the need to understand.  Anything. Everything.  It consistently emerges as something core to my very being.  I don’t know why (but I’m working on some theories).

Here’s an aside.  I have this thing about connections and structures and origins.  Keys.  Some of the keys that I’ve noted in order to collect and frame my thoughts are the words ‘core’ and ‘source’.  These words resonate with my soul.  In the overlap of my personal life with my professional life, the relevant catchphrase du jour emerges, “Never outsource your core competency.”  Look at that — source, core, comp.  All neatly bundled in a span of five words.  This correlation is busy whirring about in a background process of my mind, and I’m certain that something interesting will come of it, when the forefront of my mind is ready.

I’m no expert.  On anything.  That is the nature of knowledge.  The more you know, the more you realize how little you know of what there is to know.  That is where my affinity for source and core stem from (oh, if ever I could learn how to express myself without dangling participles, split infinitives and any and all manner of grammatical faux pas).

The affinity for source and core spans both my personal and professional lives.  One can think in terms of platform or foundation.  If the foundation isn’t sound, what then?  Every conclusion drawn from such a basis is suspect.  Bad data.  This is where assumptions are dangerous.  Something can become common knowledge through careful marketing or accidental means, yet have no sound basis.  An example is the theory of evolution.  It’s proposed as a theory, yet is generally accepted as a fact.  It might be a fact.  I don’t know.  I haven’t been exposed to the proof.

The core value of what I do professionally relies upon valid source [data].  Finally I remember what I was thinking when I entitled this post, “who’s afraid of the big bad [data] wolf?”.  It’s all about bad data.  Foundation.  Source.

The society in which I live seems to be built on a basis of bad data.  Conclusions or definitions of things like success, beauty, worth, and value are vapor without real substance.

I stand in stubborn defiance and cling to the quest for source, with my own assumption that whatever conclusion(s) may be drawn will be closer to valid, and therefore have some real meaning.

Understanding, for whatever reason, is a hunger of my soul, and I am seeking the peace that passes understanding.  It is attainable, by some measure.  I’m sure of it.

from the first day that thou didst set thine heart to understand and to chasten thyself before thy God, thy words were heard; and I have come for thy words

Many years ago I set my heart to understand.  It’s part of my driving force.  I don’t know why –it’s intrinsic to me.  I haven’t gotten very far.  Or rather, the farther I get, the more I realize how little I know.  I’m very slowly putting the pieces together.