Perhaps I should skip some of my visits here. My postings are becoming
repetitive and monotonous. I seem to keep talking from within the same
enclosure but never actually set foot outside the worn path of
yesterday's
meanderings. A donkey tethered to the same old post. Round and round
I go, with Alzheimer's knocking on the walls of my dead brain cells.
If I could
stop dead in my tracks. Observe my heart beat, the filtration of the
air as I
breathe in and out, the stale dullness, the frantic dashing about in
order to
escape that stale dullness. "If I could?"? Can't I? Why not get in
better
shape, then? Yes, observe that envy arising within as I stare at the
balloons
of others rising in the air. Be not ashamed of that envy. Shakespeare
wrote
reams and reams about his envy of other writers. My envy is not a death
sentence. It is a form of captive energy trying to free itself. Like
a cat in a
bag. Perhaps it can be my death sentence. What is the correct reading
of
this captive energy? What is the correct approach? Listen to the
voice of
that frustration, that ill feeling. Allow it to rise to a higher
crescendo. And
these people that I envy - what stale turds they are. But they do seem
to
have a winning hand while I'm a loser. Shakespeare. Don't interfere
with
the energy of envy. It is there to show me something I'm trying to
ignore.
Perhaps I should read The Kite Runner. Don't ignore that envy. It's
been
knocking on my door forever.
On 16-Sep-05, at 10:20 AM, Hermann Janzen wrote:
Finally the rain has come. Now I have an excuse for not venturing
forth.
But a grand time to keep stirring the cauldron of my misery. Every
fibre
within protests. How ridiculous this situation is. I have a feeling
that
somewhere inside I know the answer. The answer is easy and obvious,
yet somehow beyond my reach. All I need to do is to relinquish my
hang-ups, relinquish my neuroses. How obvious! But such theories
get me nowhere. To cut myself loose. Who will do the cutting? How
deep must I cut? I seem to know, but knowing is not enough. Watch
myself squirm. Yes, what else is there to do? Go out in the rain.
What
better answer is there?
On 16-Sep-05, at 6:23 AM, Hermann Janzen wrote:
A heavy anxiety persists. No real reason. All the basics are fine.
There's a paranoid fear circulating. Earlier in the spring I was
bothered
a lot by paranoid moods. The result was positive. A more positive
life
style. But there is no positive feeling in this present mood.
Perhaps it's
a mistake for me to rejoin the Academy. I'm moving into a bigoted
life
style. People who're subtly competitive. Why move there? It's
really a
mistake I think. But my thinking is entirely confused. Obviously a
time
for a toke. But that's an even greater horror: to fall back into that
dependency. Why is all this so hard for me to look at? It doesn't
seem
very complicated. And yet I'm completely floored. How can I get
back to
a straight perspective. This fear keeps rising as I type. Perhaps
it's just
a form of theatre, a way of amusing myself with dismal sights. But
it isn't.
This can of worms has been sitting on my shelf for a long time,
waiting for
me to open it. I can go slowly. But go I must. Towards sanity. I
may be a
complete idiot. I certainly feel like a complete idiot. But I must
remain
open to this perspective. This dismal view of myself. This dismal
view of
my life. My visit in Munich with Frau Lehmann could be a good sample
of the good that can come from standing my ground. The change that she
commented on. I don't feel at all sane now. But my present
discomfort
may actually be a good sign. Keep opening that can. The squirming
gucky mess. Those people whose balloons look so attractive may be the
worst stinkers. Logic says so, appearances notwithstanding. My envy
of
their appearance is my can of worms. This squirming frightful mess.
On 15-Sep-05, at 7:35 AM, Hermann Janzen wrote:
To move or not to move? To join the Academy picnic outing or not
to join? To sulk or not to sulk? Who's moving if not the ego?
Who's
deciding? Temptation to toke up. Always when there is a dilemma,
the ego wants to avoid the decision and put some chemical in charge.
William James speaks best to this. In the cold New England winters
when faced with getting out of bed or to crawl back in: Let the
moment
pass and before long the body would unceremoniously make its own
move. I've often found the same thing. And yet it's an unreliable
scheme if applied mechanically. (I think I will go, or at least
arrange for
a ride. And then, if everything works out, I will join.) James's
method
may not work if there is too much turbulence in the system (in the
ego).
But that's just the beauty. If there is too much turbulence, that
fact
needs to be addressed. This is the point where all the cheaters
here,
gv etc., desert the honest path of investigation. Where
sanctimonious
pilfered lessons are called on to point the way. Not just gv & co.
I too
function that way, my ego. too, inclines that way. That's the only
difference: I check for the false. Rbt. becomes incensed and
spits, gv
becomes pompous, others more poisonously vindictive. And when I
do manage to pinpoint the false, I welcome the discovery. Sometimes.
That is the process of healing. Sometimes, sometimes, sometimes.
It's
a process that does work, a process triggered by the ego. Sometimes.
It starts with the ego moving towards honesty, not choosing. The ego
opens the door. If it is approached honestly. Sometimes.
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