Ryan Bodhi Abhijan, forager to the stars

Writing to Mum again, I gleaned a bunch of details and asked a few more questions, but refrained again from going too much into why I’m asking – it feels like a thing I should keep private here, though here be not private.

Turns out I was a week early and left struggling for my life beginning Christmas day … the sticky lung, stuck in the humidicrib designed by the same guy who apparently invented a low-cost iron lung – Edward Both, an Aussie legend. I was in there to avoid infections, and am waiting to learn how many days exactly I was in there (i know it was around a week, somewhere between V and VII days).

What I didn’t go into yet, is something i learned when i was seeing Rebecca (apsychotherapist and holotropic breathwork facilitator) in Adelaide in 2013, which is that my early experience as a baby may have established a sort of pattern based on how long i was in the humidicrib.

I am learning that, in general, when a newborn is separated from the mother’s breast at such an early age (understood, in psychology and spirituality, to be significant lifetime traumas), it’s not uncommon for the child to develop what Freud and Jung called “oral complexes”, which are a contributing factor in the development of oral addictions – smoking, drinking, eating. I began identifying as a “binge alcoholic” long before i realised i was an actual alcohlic – i guess the week was a perfect structure for me, work work work as a workaholic all week, then binge on the weekend.

There’s something in that, and understanding these as traumas and doing meditations to re-experience them through the adult perspective is a way of healing that trauma and beginning to move away from the complexes and the addictions they often cause. Addiction is a symptom, as well as the cause of other symptoms – that’s a perspective and distinction the Western system often fails to notice. I’ve written before about how love is the cure for addiction.

I also asked about Mum’s experience of breast-feeding with me. I have a hazy memory of biting the recess lady on the breast at kindergarten, but maybe i picked that memory up from this song:

I’ve also identified that i often feel grumpy when i’m hungry, but that’s changing as well as i embrace my inner forager.

Fuck yeah foraging!

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Ryan Bodhi Abhijan, not unco

Writing to Mum just now, asking for information about my birth, i signed off as Ryan Bodhi Abhijan, a format i used first on a zine i was putting together yesterday.

I began to explain that construction, but realised that sharing such information is generally just an unnecessarily confusing overshare (UCO or, to make an acronym from a typical 90s descriptor for the clumsy, UnCO). You don’t know what i’m talking about, neither does she, so going into it hereorthere, it’s bound to cause a social fumbling of sorts, and anyway, it’s the sort of thing i want to allow to percolate in my being fornow,

because who wants to appear uncoordinated?, even when you know you’re more coordinated than ever.

One thing, though, is

i have been exploring the meaning of my names and finding there are parallels between my sannyasin name and my birth name, which is both surprising and unsurprising:

i feel both more myself as Ryan and more and more ever-renewed as Abhijan; both more in touch with what i thought of as my old identity and more in touch with my new, old self …

a lot of conditioning, major ego structures and behavioural patterns are dropping away, and i am becoming more and more a master of myself,

no less,

and to do so has required going back through my experience of childhood and re#membering it from the perspective of adulthood.

It’s some#thing like past-life regression, and is an actual thing. It’s an actualthing like past-life regression.

I have been doing meditations recently that are helping me to recall the chronology and details of my childhood,

and i am seeing that my former memory-set had been woefully patchy and sketchy, likely a combination of general natural suppression of traumatic experiences and a pretty hectic history of chronic pot and alcohol abuse, not to mention all the sugar, mainstream entertainment and tobacco, plus coffee and pohtaytoes.

But the memories are coming back and i’m learning to respect the sacred herb again, so there’s hope for much positive re#membering,

which feels like un-dis-membering my soul or,

soul retrieval,

really,

and it’s happening naturally, without loads of awareness raising drugs, intuitively,

so that’s cool!

But it’s not the sort of gnarly esoteric decoding you want to just drop on Mum in an email because you’re having some sort of unexpected sexual and spiritual awakening with your new girlfriend under the guidance of three super moons and an offsetting solar eclipse, yeah. I don’t even know what that means, and it’s confusing enough to understand it, let alone relate that understanding – like acid … you don’t #shareyouracid stories with Mum, you just don’t. Just send a nice, polite enquiry about the details of your birth.

To Be Coming Home

I have changed my plans again, this time to stay in Greece for a few more months because i have a sense of home here, now. Something shifted when i decided to stay, which wasn’t as much a decision as it was a relinquishment, a letting go of some idea i had about the future.

I was going to Thailand and India via Australia, China, Laos and a few other places in between: back to Australia to get Mulga Bill Massive, my poor neglected touring bike, so i could cycle around in search of another community.

But around the thought of leaving Greece there was a feeling of an anxiety, which fell away when i knew i wouldn’t yet have to go back through Istanbul, Dubai, Adelaide, just to get my bike and ride to Byron or somewhere. I need community, communion, and here i have it, now, so why leave? Leaving a community in Greece to go in search of a community elsewhere is like going into a shop with a dollar and asking to buy a dollar.

When i realised this, the anxiety fell away and relief emerged, bright and luminous as the stars appear to be when you get out of the city for the first time.

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An Experiment with Pronouns and Perspective

consciousness

consciousness

Consciousness is a witness, an observer of the mind. But we confuse consciousness with mind – we think we are the mind: i am has come to mean i am the mind. We say, ‘I think, therefore i am.’ It’s Descartes’ fault – not mine!

A new pronoun is needed, so that we can begin to move away from conflating ‘i’ with consciousness: i is not consciousness; i is the mind; consciousness is consciousness. From now on, consciousness is represented by the symbol ‘!’.

In our current usage, ‘i’ is too much loaded with mind-identification, and we tend to think consciousness is of the mind – the two are conflated and it’s confusing. Sometimes we talk about something like ‘collective consciousness’ if we want to refer to that consciousness that transcends the individual human mind, but this term is also too much loaded with ideas about groups made up of yet-separate individuals when really, the term ‘consciousness’ should be enough to imply collective consciousness.

So i’m experimenting with alternative pronouns for making a distinction between the mind-made ‘i’ and consciousness – for now, a symbol, because i don’t want to coin some new word, words being too much loaded with ideas from our linguistic intellect.

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