Monday, September 10, 2007

Visiting my demon-haunted world...

I took my last little blue pill of somnolence tonight. I got a few hours sleep and have awoken, probably for the night. It is 5 am.

My brain spends a lot of time ruminating in the past or worrying about the future. I believe it is the plague of humanity and our greatest disease. We spend so little time in the present moment. Children, or rather, very young children, know the power of being in the moment. They have not yet gotten drawn into the "adult" world of ego and mindstuff and mental constructs. They have not bought into the idea that we are what we think. That our thoughts are worth our attention.

The more I journey into my mind and question what I find there, the more I see a web of finely constructed memory, emotion and thought--all of which are the result of chemical and electrical processes. What makes me think any of it is real? I make it real by lending it credence, by weaving this large story around it. But that doesn't make it any more real. What is real, all that is real, is what's here now.

All the people from my past live on in my memory as this construct of interactions and conversations, but memory is a tricky thing. It is rarely accurate. It becomes overlaid by further experience, by time, by emotions. It becomes this entity, this frozen capsule of what once was, but it is not real. I don't even know these people anymore. Whether it's been a month, a year or ten years, if they are not part of my present moment experience, they are just my own mental construct. It is not real. And here I am giving away my time and energy to what is not real, to these constructs of past and future.

Over the years I have spent much time in various forms of therapy. Some of it has been useful. But I'm beginning to wonder if it's not just reinforcing my tendency to live somewhere other than now. There is this tendency to enter "analysis paralysis" where the meanderings of the mind become so dissected and analyzed that the mind becomes tricked into thinking they're real, that they're somehow more valid than what is happening right now. I realize how I have become paralyzed by my own thoughts, by a bunch of stuff going on in my synapses. I have become a slave to my own mind.

It's funny. Over recent months, I have craved sleep. I have craved an escape from my mind. And yet, sleep has eluded me. Perhaps it is my body saying it is time to wake up and face reality. To live here. Now.

Some people try to run from their past. I have been running from the now. It is scary to face what is. To learn to no longer derive your sense of self from the constant circus of the mind. Once again, the question stares me down from all directions...who am I really?

tall penguin

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