mesele
Little revelations like footprints in puddles.
Dear cats on the wall, I have a story: won't you sit still for a moment as I collect my thoughts?
No? Well, alright. I'll speak as we move. Things are always in flux, anyway, and the swishing of your tail tells me how anxious I am. I've nothing to flick side-to-side but my hair. It's full of salt and sweat and sand. The Mediterranean Sea doesn't rise and fall like the Pacific, and I'm homesick for something that rinses and recedes. I'm bleeding from my gums, and today is my last appointment to have my two front teeth broken in my mouth.
I contemplate death a lot. I've had the month off work, and here are a few of the things I've been doing:
Writing a Sci-Fi novel*
Editing poems
Writing poems
Reading poems
Reading Philosophy (Deleuze)
Reading Fictional Memoir (Annie Ernaux)
Cooking
Savoring my morning cup of coffee
Moisturizing and flossing
Yoga/Reiki
Learning about the global economy/environment
Analyzing literature (pacing, plot, rhythm, dialogue, motive)
*I'm editing my old short stories to have a dystopic vibe. I'm happy with the result and it's really fun to use my imagination. It also prompts me to reflect on the goings-on in the world.
I am working on a 'September Science Fair Project' with work. The idea is this: if you could do one thing each day to build toward a specific outcome (dream), what would it be? Can you treat your lifestyle as a laboratory and get curious and specific about the subtle details of your day-to-day?
This idea was inspired by Gilles Deleuze, a French philosopher whose work motivated a different framework to approach philosophical concepts in the later half of the twentieth century.
"A creator is someone who creates their own impossibilities, thereby creating possibilities." - Deleuze.
I'm reading Difference and Repitition, wherein Deleuze draws from the theories created by Kant, Nietzsche, Aristotle, Plato, Leibniz, Spinoza, Foucault, and Hume to design his own definition of identity.
Deleuze proposes that through repitition, we gain a deeper understanding of ourselves and our subtle differences; things lose and acquire meaning, boundaries, and identity through repitition.
So, my question for you and mostly for myself is this: what will I do every day, and why? What is this repetitive process building toward?
And on the other side: what are some of the processes I perform daily that do not contribute to who I want to become?
We are in a constant state of becoming; therefore, what I do now is also related to who I was before and who I will be. I could not be the person I am today without the steps it took to get here (the past), and I am designing the person I will become through this process.
Who is designing the person you become? This can be a consious act, one that you define day by day, or it may be unconscious. You may be subject to someone else's demands; we all are. However, you can decide to repeat certain actions that lend an element of free will to the definition of your becoming.
I will start this process on a small scale and watch the ripples grow.
What I will do every day:
I want to wake up each day and do reiki/light work on myself.
Why I want to do this:
I will use this practice to focus on the higher mind to move away from the hive mind.
What this practice is creating:
Hope, levity, and inspiration to share through my writing and yoga with the community.
What are habits I want to stop doing:
Eating late at night (my stomach hurts the next morning), drinking too much coffee (one cup is enough), worrying about what other people are doing (things outside of my control), and tending toward skepticism.
I also want to shift my languaging in how I speak of people, places, and events. I've been ruminating on the word 'insecure,' and I perceive insecurity as an acute sensitivity.
Those who are insecure are often very intuitive, sensual, sensitive, observant, and considerate of the world around them. There is hesitancy in those who are uncertain, and it is often a result of overthinking (considering all viewpoints) or an inability to voice their opinion.
In the latter's case, this is often the result of someone else dictating the narrative. I used to listen to those who spoke more clearly and easily because I thought they knew more than me. I felt that bold people who are more assured of themselves had the answers: I thought they knew something I didn't. In many of these cases, I negated how I felt and ignored the little voice inside of me to follow what was being dictated.
When a person is repeatedly told that what they are doing makes no sense or that what they feel isn't valid, they second-guess themselves and negate the sensations they feel inside their body. To be more specific, in their guts. I know this from experience; I feel the angst in my belly, which indicates that something is off. I could go into the science of the abdomen and how the belly-brain has more neurons than your mind-brain or heart-brain. But I won't. I want to write about how I feel.
I can sense subtle shifts in impressions; I can pick up on nuances in my environment through observation and impulse. I feel the disconnect when people are not honest or when they are not aligned in their actions and words.
You understand this, don't you? Lounging in the sunshine, chin on your paws, eyes closed, your tail inactive for this moment. I walked past a row of kittens having a drink. The mother's ears were perky, and I could tell she was keenly aware of all that was happening around her, even with her eyes closed. Six furry little balls suckled and one nestled between her paws. I mistook the gobs of brown goop on the sidewalk for feces. With rain, the cat food gets soggy and becomes mushy. It sticks in large clumps and looks like someone didn't clean up after their dog. Now I know the truth: it is food. We take care of each other in these little ways. I don't feet you cats, but I do stop and give you cuddles and caresses when I have time. I make time. I walk every morning and touch as many of you are willing to be petted. All of you want to be touched though some of you are fearful and don't know how to receive love.
I understand; people are the same way.
The dentist is a Taurus, and her hygenist is a Capricorn. It is like Clara and me; some combos work very well together. Others, not so much.
So so, as E would say.
To circle back to where I started, we are at the end with the initial question of death. My ongoing reflective procedure of the cycles, what I contribute, and how I can give a little gust of hope to those I meet.
You have great energy, the dentist said; I liked you from the start.
Death is easy; I have said this before. It is living that takes commitment and patience. It is here and now that is the hard part, witnessing the goings on inside and outside. Acknowledging your part in the murkiness of existence and being accountable for your actions.
We are each responsible for making the mess, whether we consciously realize it or not. And we are each responsible for being part of the process of tidying things up. This is what we are here to do: let things get messy. The rain falls, the cat food gets mushy, and the puddles amass for us to jump over and splash around. The sun comes out and dries the goop to a hard clump on the ground and you cats won't eat it because it isn't what it was before. It has taken a new form. I can't see the footprints I left in the water. And maybe it is better this way.
Photo source.
