We are all "loved" by Murphy! :)
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A raised glass to your good health and clearly good taste!
Thank you!
Mental/emotional health has been a bit on the funky side of late. I want to say I'm increasingly distressed balancing a razor's edge over an abyss of indiscriminate - yet sufficient - reason for panic. I think I called it something like "seems like no matter what I'm doing, I should be doing something else" elsewhere in Midnight Pub.
So, like... should I have been typing the above? An anonymous voice within tells me I should have been working instead. But I can guarantee you a similar voice would have insisted I be doing this were I working instead....
And of *course* the only solution coming to mind is absence of mind.... ;-)
seems like no matter what I'm doing, I should be doing something else
That's hitting the nail on the head. With a pneumatic hammer, too. The push-pull between ambition and self-judgement, and knowing in the middle that I'm driving both those buses headlong into each other, and no one but me truly cares that I'm doing it, or if I decide not to.
Absence of mind, maybe needs some absinthe of mind. Dammit now I'm getting the other pair of voices, the ones called "It's 5 oclock somewhere" and "Judgement? What Judgement?"
There may have been a breakthrough last night.
Sure, there may be some THC credit due.
Sure, this wouldn't be the first time I thought I had/experienced "THE" breakthrough.
Sure, it's so hard to be sure.
But the results were undeniable.
Not that it wasn't possible to slip back into mental morass again at any instance (but likewise in the other direction).
But the difference was absence of just one thought.
This one: I
Honestly. It suddenly became obvious that raging waters of mind quelled to greater degrees in the absence of any thought pertaining to "I" (including derivative-ish matters like "me" and "mine"...).
In fact, there was intense joy in simple raw attention to im-mediate matters - the hyphen in 'im-mediate' suggesting absence of an "I" to mediate/filter/interpret, i.e. to be The One present for any proverbial trees falling in the proverbial woods.
Because sans the thought of an I suffering (aka enduring in time) anything in particular ...
... there quite simply isn't one?
(NOTE: your results may vary for content having shifted meaning across individuality-defined conceptuality contexts)
This Hyperbolic Caffeination can have that effect, for some. I'm a little envious as for me it only produces Trepidatious Hamstrung Confusion.
But I digress.
Actually, there is no 'But'. I just digress. Frequently.
If a breakthrough would only stay broken through, in terms of discerning the structure of one's budget of time and attention and What It Is Good For.
I get the strong impression in an actual pub, we would tackle these conundrums like I'm told Russian citizens do- we sit with a bottle of vodka, two glasses, argue over Dostoyevsky and the other topics (apparently Dostoyevsky is required to be one of the topics, always), until the bottle is finished.
" I can't live with myself!" Then I realized this was two people, 'I' and 'myself '. What if one of them isn't real?
(Paraphrasing Eckhart Tolle)
Trapesoidal Hicktown Chromofusion sounds the name of a genre I resolutely refuse to even merely hypothetically elaborate.
But, oh, for the love of Eck! Genuine. Deliberate. Free.
And...
if I could put
time
in a bottle
the first thing
that I'd like
to do
would be...... well, I guess it wouldn't matter given the end of time at least linguistically implies the end of suffering, and most certainly the end of temporal ordering mattering.
But it's Tuesday, it's early, work and wife and highway noises compete borderline gladiatorial for author attention.
<a work day *not* from heaven later>
Dismal atmospheria, but boss happy with me. Or really upped his disingenuity game.
You know....
Well, it's not everyday that we get to meet a new decade! Bartender, could you get us both something special? Lots to celebrate today!
New decade met! It didn't come with the new hair I was hoping for (i.e. ear, eyebrow, and nasal hair continued to accelerate at their already unwanted - yet mystifyingly vibrant - paces...), but a splendid time was wife-guaranteed for all.
Side bonus: I don't know if it's he or my perception/conception thereof, but I swear my dad is slowly becoming more like me than I think I was previous ever able/willing to believe/accept, and it's making me smile almost as much as this site. :-)