Sometimes I wish, I could just write without feeling “it,” and by “it” I mean that utterly insane desire to get an idea out into the open just so its not just bouncing around my head and taking pleasure in knowing that its something that exists in the pantheon of things that my brain enjoys knowing exist.  “It” is so cumbersome sometimes, finicky almost, when trying to realize what it wants to be that that words to describe it are often lost in an attempt to try and understand it first, “it” is not really a fan of this, “it” prefers anonymity til after the fact, which is in fact, whenever it comes to realize its own existence outside of my mind. If this was a logical statement, it would be perpetually stuck in a looping pattern of not knowing what it was.

But inevitably, “it” has been the thing that has guided every idea or thought that I have ever expressed out in the open. So maybe it’s just parallel dimensions or Karma or that natural “gut” instinct– OR for all intents and purposes: God. Either way, it has brought me here now, ignoring more pressing matters of code that needs to be rewritten or documents that need to be emailed out to users of applications that I manage. No, “it” wants me to sit here, dumbfounded at the idea that I could have been expected to do anything different after burning myself out for the last few weeks, attempting to understand why one problem existed without existing. “It” wants me to remember something I never forgot, but chose to ignore for a long time. What might that be you might ask?

No idea, “it” is real secretive about where its origins are, so I don’t bother asking. All I know is that when it comes knocking its quite hard to ignore, quite incessantly it will badger then proceed to “fuck” with physiological processes. It doesn’t tend to be a fun time when “it” gets that way, because it knows I’m ignoring something fundamental. “it,” is an asshole like that sometimes.

Enough expository bullshit, in an attempt to justify what I’m about to write.

 

You were right, and that’s really hard for me to admit, because I like to be right. That’s not so say I’ve ever minded being wrong, but rather, I have certain preferences and I like them so I keep them around. Being right or rather knowing things to be a certain way have always helped me to stay as objective about any situation as I could have. That hasn’t worked out as well as I would have hoped it would, but I’m cool with that.

The thing about change, is that there’s no such tangible thing, we’re always in flux perpetually in this state of death and rebirth. Cells die and new ones form, hopefully not as aggressive ones, though that only adds to the idea that change is very much possible even at the cellular level, but that’s just a tad moribund. I neglected that at an organizational level in the place that I’d called my mind. I thought I’d always be this person with the same core values. As it turns out, my core values were pretty different than what I thought they were, which also reinforces this notion that thoughts are but tools we must use and discard, in the processes changing out the idea’s often.

So the part that you were right about, the part that I didn’t want to believe, the part that’s taken me something like a month to dust off and understand once more? That I can easily change and be whatever I need to be, because I don’t have to be this idea of what I think others want me to be, because that’s not me. The people pleasing part of me died with the idea that people can be happy because they see that its okay to be happy. It doesn’t work that way unless they are open to the idea in the first place, again, far too simplistic in its execution and acceptance of a paradigm, but I’m a fan of being reductive.

But this was all bound to happen. So i guess there isn’t much else to say. Except maybe, that I may have skipped over something pretty in important:

 

You may have been right, but not about the whole thing. Its been weeks since I’ve been able to write anything, because I was trying to reach for “it” to find the words. There was a problem to all that however, “it” wasn’t where I had expected it to be anymore because I didn’t “know” what “it” was anymore, because I had changed. Without knowing it, something cracked and the dam of whatever I was holding back flooded existence with something new, and what was the first thing I attempted to do?

Swim right back to where I was because that’s where I thought “it” would be, but as the life would have it, it wasn’t there. “It” in fact had ridden the wave down to the a calm little stream by a rock near a  mountain that I had to climb with a passive indifference to bad things occurring. It really was that easy.

The power of habit is a powerful thing  (Both the actual power of Habit, as well as the Charles Duhigg book by the same name), and breaking all of mine, including all the good ones was, actually extremely beneficial to accepting things outside of my control.

Though I’ve only just hit the marker for forming a new habit; 3 weeks or rather 21 days; by not habitually not doing anything really based in habit, again loop based logical statements, who’da thunk they work, for now at least.

Its sets up an almost automation of recurring processes, that I personally didn’t know I was capable of. I wasn’t necessarily not trying to make my habits not stick anymore, but I was trying to notice when and how I had managed to trigger them in any given situation, which isn’t unlike watching watch i did with mindfulness, but rather that, I invariably was opening myself up to a lot of self judgement and criticism, cause since i was pay too much attention to what was, and not what was without my knowledge that the hilarity that ensued was just gaffaw worthy.

So this “psychic automation” (coined from the amazing track by Inventions, I’ll link below), its a funny thing when you’re no longer relying on it as a means of getting through things. It tells you, that things are just more comfortable when handled with quiet disdain instead of abject understanding and acceptance. The ladder, is a frightening place, a cold place, where loneliness becomes this strange ally in the fight to make sure that I don’t try and look back because its just not where “it” wants me to look. Just the most fucked up place you can be, and it’s not at all comfortable. So why the fuck would “it” want me there? Why would it choose the path of the most resistance?

Because, “It” knew something I didn’t. “It” knew that the only way to break away from an archetype, was to leave it all together, and see what comes of it. The only way to do that was a conscious separation from the idea that anything is supposed to make sense. Which wasn’t hard considering nothing made sense anyway (Inevitably leading to a walnut brownie habit i had not anticipated, but enjoyed none the less).

But from this realization that nothing made sense, I was able to return to a place where the idea that anything had to make sense was a pompous pipe dream that had no quantifiable benefit to anything I was doing. From that I extrapolated that: maybe just maybe, i’d been fine all along and if i’d just bothered to acknowledge its want to change i would have been fine. Considering, the underlying person within me was pretty much the same it’d always been, just the filter of perception that I put up to block out the things that I didn’t want to make sense, makes sense, was my way of reminding me, that maybe its okay to change, because, even if the change does the impossible, change me, I could still feel who I was, and that wouldn’t change. The attitude? Sure, by leaps and bounds. To me that’s all the clarity I ever needed.

So you were right, I have changed, i will change, and I will always be changing, but the things I say don’t come from that place of ever changing ideal and aspirations, they come from “it,” from my body and not necessarily my mind, though it does help spit out vast amounts of jargon that no one will read (this post), its still something that I had to do. Well at least over an afternoon, while I sat and tr to figure out if the procrastination of a systemic societal problems is the root cause of all the ignorance to the ilks around everyone, or if we’ve just evolved into a species of pleasure seekers with powerful abilities of ignoring the ilks around them as things they don’t have to deal with.

Either way, I’ve been tired for a long time (sleep deprivation), and I’ve grown weary of this notion that I’m not allowed to change without an incredible downfall of which I have avoided thanks to wanting to be comfortable. So here we go, into the proverbial unknown, with an it guiding me, and a sense of curiosity that I haven’t felt for months, just trying not to automate too much, but just enough that I don’t try to make sense.

Have fun everyone! I love you all for reading this, Yes, i sound like a rambling lunatic, take that shit up with “it.”