Ah, it's good to be typing again!
Grant it, there's nothing fulfilling in/about it. I almost always finish wishing I'd done something else. Except then also quickly realize I'd have felt the same regardless what I'd done. What I'd pursued.
And I'm pretty sure that's because the ego game is in early stages of disintegration for "me". There's something about being (or, really, struggling to believe one is be-ing) one that *could* choose, and then actively perpetually imagines they're choosing (and then being either fulfilled or frustrated relative to desired outcome).. that wants to collapse into itself, as it were.
It seems like something should be happening, and then something after that, it all that should be to - if not for! - said posited "me". Because.... well, because an individual/person/self is a something that anything but nothing happens to...?
Anyway, this is just more of the same evidence of desperately struggling to hold onto the idea that a self could write words that other selves vibrate sympathetically with to the point of "getting each other", maybe to the point of organizing a community of even more such... and... and... (exhaustion begins setting in at the very thought(s)...).
I just sketched a guy being interviewed on a show examining the mental illness of modern US liberals. Came out pretty well.
It makes me wish I could more regularly pick drawing over, say, sifting through others' verbiage while also getting my own before others' eyes. And yet I can't help but think that what I'm doing isn't nearly as relevant to not identifying with the idea of an individual doing or not doing whatever.
Why does the idea of myself - which includes madness about there being an actual entity required to be true to that idea of itself - seemingly keep reasserting itself to it's own demonstrably predictable peril?
What freedom there must be in not being chained - and, thereby, subservient to - the idea of being such a being?
See how ridiculous it becomes when attempting to put it in words?
Are you words adherents ever going to give up all the other nonsense rooted in the notion/idea of yourself?
I mean, for your own benefit, 'cuz *obviously* you're self-referential idea of yourself flogging yourself with the idea of yourself....
_If_ you know what "I" mean....
Safely home, travel implements returned to their proper places.
Looking forward to a re-normalized gastrointestinal dynamic.
Wife went shopping with daughter.
I've played a few hands of my favorite solitaire game, caught up on a couple favorite YouTube shows.
Incredibly dismal atmospheric day outside: mist, fog, dead leaves in need of relocation.
But the biggest personal headline remains: UPPER ASS INFLAMMATION WANING IN A MOST COMFORTING WAY!
So I'm back to more then just one cup of coffee a day, cheating a bit with aspirin. The two combined (okay, I ate a *little* more cleanly..) have made a huge positive difference. I've even had a fair amount of THC gummy intake the last couple nights, and didn't feel nearly as groggy and sore in the morning in its aftermath, so maybe THC was adding just a bit more physical burden atop the inflammation weight, and perhaps will seem negligent minus that horrific base?
'Tis the last day away from home. Wife still sleeping. T-minus 88 minutes until lift off.
Getting involved with the world reinforces the sense of being a free-willed individual - a state mostly of perpetual misery.
Why pretend to be/do that to already well-known miserable ends when abiding in awareness is always available?