Hello again

It's been awhile

I’ve struggled several times in attempts to make this post, a return from being dormant. Failing to produce content. I worked my way back into some short notes, but that’s about all I’ve had the mental bandwidth for.

I’m tired, deeply tired. Motivation is shot, the routine I had going with writing, reading, things which I dedicated myself toward have fallen by the wayside. Coping with video games, distancing myself from other people.

These feelings would have made a younger me feel suicidal, self harm would act as short term remedy; later when I’d matured a bit there was no direct harm anymore, reduced to passive mechanisms—mistakes, bits of self destruction here and there… I’ve been doing quite a lot of nothing.

I’m sorry, to me. I fail myself so often.

The best I can do is not the best I can do, a noose of expectations long ago severed my head. I cannot compete with “who I should be”. I feel grief over this loss. Missing out.

I don’t know what I’m here to do, I don’t know what I offer you. I have no great urge toward self preservation most of the time… immediately yes, sure, in the moment I would defend myself or move out of the way of danger. That’s automatic. But cognitively, there is no clinging to life or identity. I am a dissociative and untethered person, I never really felt a want to be here. Without pain there is still melancholy, a longing for the end.

My lover that great everlasting sleep. To rest.

It makes sense with my patterning that I would crave rest above all else, perhaps this is a common thing, but with insomnia and so called hypervigilance that trained my nerves in youth I recognize the patterned yearning for deep darkness.

As I think and write this I notice much of depth psychology present in my wording, the neural pathways carved through education in my teens, slowly integrated into older, deeper, mystic ways of mind.

Until about fourteen or so I wanted to “do science”, become a scientist, study and innovate under a materialist firmament. This shattered, I built new models, I changed fundamentally as a person, but things still sprout from that old soil.

The roots were pulled and burned away, but that earth in me has memory.

All models collapse when presented with the real, I stopped making models. Time after time they broke, I learned not to bother. They arise but I am not attached, I know all models to be passing things. Transient. Decomposing bodies, from the moment an idea is born it too contains its end.

How many wheels do I think I can break free from?

Is that really what I want?

To be untethered completely?

But to truly be without attachment means to forgive any attachments, to not even see them as bad. To not want not to want… why am I telling you this. What do you think of this place we find ourselves in? Do you want out, are you content with how things are?

There’s no one keeping score, it doesn’t work like that. I’m as free to do anything as anyone else is, only the constraints of other agencies in agreement bind us to some semblance of “morality”. So what do I want?

I guess in essence all I want is liberation, moksha. Total freedom. But this does not mean anything, how could it? That without constraint is free to be… whatever. We all have our methods we think might attain this, and I think this freedom is a kind of meta-want. We all want to be without want, need, to have everything taken care of. To be able to rest, to do, anything that comes to us we seek that itch be tickled. It’s compulsory really… our little selves in all the ways we try to reach this, it’s person to person, unique.

All inhabit one great mountain but no journey is the same, and thereby in that essential nature of it, we are united in our… struggle. Our joys and pain and growth, whatever is and shall be.

This isn’t what I wanted to say, but the way I am, when is it ever.

Hope things go well for you, wherever you are.

Goodbye.