Can't Go to Bed; My Brain Will Eat Me

As far back as I can remember, I've needed a long routine to get to sleep. Even now, simply plopping down on the bed and shutting my eyes doesn't cut it. I could stay awake for hours on end. As a child, it was because I was aware that there were things I was missing; I think that's a common reason why children don't want to go to bed. There are still things happening, things to do. Bed is boring, and thinking is difficult and frightening. When we're left alone in the dark as children we begin to imagine creatures in the closet, or see shadows on the wall. I think that this combination of not wanting to miss out on what's happening in your absence, with the fear and stress of what your mind does when it's left to it's own devices is fascinating. Like so many things, we keep the same habits we had when we were children just in a more grown-up way.

Don't let the word "grown-up" fool you. It's just as absurd, if not more so.

When at a pub or a bar with friends I am usually the last to leave and I encourage everybody to stay late with me, despite whatever it is we all have to do in the morning. If some people are going out, I must be there and I have to be there for everything. I don't want to miss a damned thing. If I leave early, I become slightly depressed and start thinking about going back out. This is, of course, very unhealthy physically, emotionally and financially. Nobody can be there for everything and trying to do so will ruin you.

Just recently I opted out of a trip out of town with my brother to visit my sister. Earlier today, I decided not to go out with a bunch of friends to the pub (mostly because I'm broke, but let's pretend it's because I'm being responsible.) Both things would have been very enjoyable and I'm sure everybody had a good time, but I felt I should have sit it out this time around. There would be other times to see sis, and there's a weekly trip to the pub. However, as soon as I was left alone I began to worry that I was missing out on something fun or that I was letting somebody down. Naturally, we all want fun. It seems, though, that I can't handle not-fun. I'm not speaking of misery or even boredom, just a certain lack of excitement or social interaction. It scares me in a very unique and very weird way. It ties my guts in knots and I feel like something about my identity is threatened.

You see, when left alone I begin creating new monsters and they are just as bogus as the ones I dreamed up as a child. As cliche as this sounds, I'm beginning to realize that my worries are not based so much on what people think of me (certainly a large part of how everybody behaves,) but much more so on what I think of myself. I am not saying that I hate myself, far from it, but that for all the meditation I engage in; for all my exhortation to others, I still worry about other people's perception of me. I still get anxious about expectations. When I am with people, I can keep these problems at bay, but only for a short while. Eventually one has to face these issues and you can either face them and realize that they aren't even real (which is easy to understand intellectually, but not quite as easy psychologically,) or collapse in defeat and failure.

I feel like I'm making small strides, but as it stands right now, I am still truly afraid of turning off my music, going home and turning my attention inward.

Happy, Open Stubbornness

It's been nearly three weeks since I've written anything, mainly because I didn't have anything to write about, and even if I did, I'm often getting ahead of myself in my views. This blog is a great way to sort myself out and feel things out a little better, especially because of the conversations in the comments section (further solidifying this as mainly being read by family and friends, but that's cool. Knowing me probably gives some good context.) Seriously, I could just copy/paste the conversations in the comments sections and have three new posts, but that would of course be lazy.

So I get all these ideas and run away with them immediately without contemplating them. To paraphrase Lao-tzu: "Standing on your tip-toes can help you see over a wall, but in doing so you sacrifice your footing and are set to fall." But, of course, where would any of us be if we didn't take risks? My problem lately has been that I am too interested in my footing, but I'm also trying to stand on my toes. I want to expand myself but I don't want to take the risks involved.

I should clarify, by "sacrificing your footing," I don't mean throwing yourself into the world and constantly forming and reforming your opinions with reckless abandon. Just as open mindedness is not the same as being gullible, these risks I am talking about are not the same as being flaky with your philosophy. There are some very stubborn people out there with very intelligent views, willing to listen and consider what other people have to say. Likewise there are some open, accepting people who are wishy-washy and foolish.

Take, for example, the Dalai Lama. His message of compassion, peace and detachment from wealth hasn't changed in many, many years. He is actually quite a stubborn person (not that I've met him, personally,) but not stubborn like a brick wall, rather he stubborn like a river. He doesn't shut people up or antagonize opposing views, but he takes them and moves around them.

In many ways I am a brick wall that thinks he's a river. Many of us are like that. How often do you meet somebody who claims to be progressive, compassionate and open-minded. Then as soon as you challenge their ideals they start to get fired up and angry. I'm not talking about conversations that get excited and escalated (those are often fun.) I'm talking about claiming to not be easily offended, and it turns out that the mechanism for that is deflection and rigidity.

Throw a pebble at a wall and it will bounce off, but still chip the surface.
Throw a pebble at a river and it disappears, seemingly to never be seen again. However, it may be brought to shore in time, rounded and smooth.

I Feel Beautiful in the Head Today

Took a walk in the woods today. Nothing helps me think better. Of course, the clarity with which I'm thinking while I'm out there, like a high or dream, quickly fades when I come back home. I keep thinking that maybe I should seriously consider being a hermit for a little while, just to see what happens. In any case, here's the general gist of what I was thinking about today. Or at least, it's the best I can do with what I remember.

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I kept thinking that I need to organize my life. Then I sat down by a stream and saw the rocks and pebbles strewn in random places, while the water flowed around them. It dawned on me that people say things like "get real," or "welcome to the real world." Their "real world" is full of grid patterns, straight lines, files, structures and numbers. We need these things to function, and yet the real real world is random, spontaneous and messy. Yet life, like the water, finds a way around everything with great ease. The real world can function, indeed it thrives, without the organization that we seem to need. So perhaps we're actually quite stupid in comparison with the world. I find that quite uplifting and encouraging.

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I think some ideas and feelings are self explanatory, and can't be otherwise defined. Love, anger, hatred, happiness etc. These things require no explanation because they are experienced at a very young age and the adults say to you, "that is anger," or "that is love."

We can give these things characteristics and descriptors, but we cannot truly get at the core definition. However, that sits fine with me. I would rather revel in their magnificence than try to say what they are or what they are for. I'm sure people might be getting tired of my Alan Watts references, but he describes a real philosopher as something of an, "intellectual yokel." Somebody who can't stop gawking at things and at the grandeur of life itself.

Props to the philosopher's who deal with that by defining things, and deciding whether or not that sentence makes sense, or whether or not this concept is logically valid. It's not for me, though. I am content in simply being.

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Existence is playful.

The sight of a bathing bird or a squirrel eating a seed brings delight to my soul. Everything bounces and jitters and makes funny sounds. It all seems so light. The flora around us blooms and explodes. It dangles and sways. It spins and unfolds. It runs on and on in it's own messy, wiggly way.

If you asked me, "What is the nature of our existence?" I might answer by humming a song.

Man, maybe I am going crazy.