I’m not sure why i keep thinking and talking in terms of dichotomies lately (this vs that), but today’s meditation insight:
instead of trying to justify behaviour, allow yourself to observe what happens when you accept the behaviour.
It is, after all, behaviour only — it is not necessarily representative of who you really are.
To call it an insight is a bit much: it was a thought that occurred to me at the end of the meditation; such timing sometimes leaves me feeling a thought is an insight, which is not necessarily the case.
Trawling my journal this morning in search of anything approximating coherent, linear, sensical longhand narrative, i came across this, which could be an aphorism:
One of the fundamental things i know about getting home is it’s hard to do so when you’re drunk.
It goes on:
It’s fun to zig-zag your way around the streets when you’re 20-something, but as you enter the 30s you realise it’s lonely and cold outside, where you’ll most likely wind up if you don’t sober up and get home.
By going trucking i have already identified 2.5 massive things about myself that will greatly enrich my character if i persist in seeing through what i have to learn from this experience, much thanks to Mum and my friend Kathy.
It has been hard and it will continue to be challenging, but i am determined to (re)produce evidence for myself that nothing worth doing is ever especially easy. (My whole life i have been over-extending myself in the pursuit of personal growth, and i don’t want to quit now.)
I say 2.5 because i haven’t yet fully unpacked the third and biggest insight, about the importance of relationships, family and community in supporting us through the hard process of becoming the best we can be.
The other two insights will be revealed in my forthcoming adventure-memoir, due for release in 2025—after i execute my first long-distance adventure and wend the story of it with my growing understanding that a sense of adventure is essential in the pursuit of happiness and wellbeing, especially in this fractured modern world where we have to make shit up as we go along all the time.
For now, goodnight or good morning, wherever you are—i must return to my state of tortured sleeplessness in the tee-pee i found on the outskirts of Berri.
It was inspiring because I really like to think of a guy who’s dedicated himself to writing and contemplation,
and contemplation is a key qualifier to writing here, because lots of people write, but there is a way of writing purposefully and meaningfully that I think adds an extra dimension of importance to writing,
and that is to use writing as a tool for contemplation.
So at the end of the day I briefly met up with a guy I sort of know and really like called F and we did a five-minute meditation, he and I and his friend Tanya, on this inner-east-end street, this street nearby a swanky private school near where I used to work, on the same corner where a woman and I once accidentally and simultaneously said to each other, “I love you”, which turned out not to be true,
but this meditation was really nice and it was just what I needed after such a hectic day.
So I started Flux Comb when perhaps I should have been journalling about yesterday or reading the Updike story I found or otherwise somehow processing how inspired I was by hanging out with C,
and then it got really late and some of the wind fell out from under my wings, but I pursued some of this nonetheless, because that’s what flux combing is:
combing the flux until you find something you can identify with for long enough to not feel entirely adrift on a planet spinning so fast through a cosmos so random there is no chance of ever not having messy hair because one moment you’ve run a comb through it and the next moment CHANGE.
I write about things to help me understand them, and in writing about yesterday I hoped some insight would pop out, but understood that maybe it wouldn’t and I have to allow myself to be okay with that, because insights are like karma in the sense an experience might not yield an insight until decades later when some experience you have now then causes you to remember how you might have reacted to a similar experience back then.
Something I know is important (something that yielded insight immediately) is that I accessed a sort of existential mania I had long associated with my recently former tendency to binge-party in search of edifying drunken conversation I would then promptly forget and be much too frazzled and fragile to recover.