Swimming in the deeps.
Swimming day in and day out until my buoyancy became an incontrovertible fact of nature that not even my amygdala could deny.
Swimming in the deeps.
Swimming day in and day out until my buoyancy became an incontrovertible fact of nature that not even my amygdala could deny.
Going the places that scare you.
I’m fond of primitive living skills and unarmed martial arts that train against armed opponents. There’s something about stripping away all technologies that you can’t build yourself in the moment that gives one faith in one’s capability far deeper than a high GPA, a good paying job, or any of the usual markers of success in today’s world. I highly doubt any cavemen experienced Imposter Syndrome. If you managed to be alive into adulthood, you had an intuitive understanding that you were some kind of awesome. Not so in the modern world.
I would love to see an era in which AI and robotics frees up humans to work on the project of being better humans physically, mentally, creatively, emotionally, artistically, etc.
However, I suspect that on the way to that point there will be periods of dystopia, chaos, and quasi-Armageddon. As near as I can tell, it will involve the invention of a new form of economy (and possibly governance,) which I haven’t seen anyone discussing in the merited depths.
A gorgeous day:
the sky is blue;
the air is crisp,
and a bird swoops in low
over the field to land
in search of insects.
The sign is kind of a bummer:
It tells me that 13,000
people died here --
most by shitting themselves
into unconsciousness.
(it doesn't use those exact words.)
This is Andersonville --
site of a Civil War prison camp.
Here, I believe in ghosts.
I don't believe in ghosts
when drinking my morning coffee
at my dining room table.
I don't believe in them when I
turn off my bedside lamp.
I don't believe in them anywhere --
anywhere else -- really.
But here they vibrate up
through my boot heals,
and I fear I may
shit myself.
Feel it but don’t feed it. I feel whatever emotional sensation it brings with my whole attention, but don’t ruminate — i.e. don’t let the mind go into worst-case scenario building or pity partying or self-criticism. Use the sensation as an anchor for one’s awareness. This honors the source of consternation while recognizing that one’s mental (/ emotional) experience of an event is not the event, itself — i.e. that one has influence over one’s experience even when one has zero influence over the event. Gain confidence with the small emotional experiences and work toward the big ones.
This was the great gift I received in being taught sakshi bhava, the yogic practice of dispassionate witnessing.
“I am an old man and have known a great many troubles, but most of them have never happened.” – Mark Twain
“There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.” – William Shakespeare, Hamlet
“What you imagine, you create.” – Siddhartha Guatama Buddha
All restatements of one key principle, that our [mental / emotional] experience of the world is an entirely separate thing from the world itself. The latter one has almost no control over, the former one can reach a state of complete control (granted through painstaking and relentless effort.)
Chemical interactions in (and between) my nervous, enteric nervous, and endocrine systems make me nervous.
Mountains are the
Lamborghini of weather --
from gray and dismal to
gloriously sunny
and back again
in record time.
It may rain and the droplets
burn off before noon,
leaving no trace of
the gloom.
One day may feel
multiple ways before
the sun goes down.
The human mind isn't
built for such whiplash
emotional experience.
In moments of recognition of the world’s absurdity that suggest that any response other than amusement or bemusement is purely a waste of mental energy.

Rainy December day
blows in - not long to stay.
From season to season,
without any reason,
sometimes we feel the fray.