I read from my 2001 journals for most of yesterday. I think and hope that my writing has improved since then. At least I approach my Morning Pages differently. I gave up the rigid practice of writing only stream of consciousness. I do so much thought observation as a daily practice I’m fairly clear on what the repetitions are. I have mostly let go of my resistance to the palaver about the romantic fantasy landscapes that I used to dwell on. I wish now I had spent more time writing about how wonderful the Alaska landscapes are. Those are the nuggets I am mining for.
Once again, the book [Tenacity Has Wings] is guiding me to create what it wants to become. It takes me on different paths that I would not travel if I were insisting on my own way. I would not spend so much time at this point reading all the old journals, but now I see how it reminds me of what my life and struggles were in the years that lead up to the fall into disability. I’m not finding much that’s worth the trouble of entirely transcribing, but there are enough golden nuggets it is worth the read and excerpt pulling.
I tapped on some emotional triggers, a few left from September 11, 2001, and my depression during menopause. It’s a good way to dig up buried emotions that are still alive. I noticed how just reading about how depressed I was I began to start feeling depressed now. It was a moment of clarity on how a subtle trigger can set an unconscious pattern in motion. From this point of observation and objectiveness twelve years later it’s easy to see how my patterns of belief and behavior created my reality.
My dream this morning was an interesting wake-up call. Three people we knew had died at the same time. It was such a shock for all of us. I went into automatic patterns of disbelief, confusion, abandonment, feeling misunderstood, left out and grief. I don’t have time for the detailed imagery now, but what woke me up was that in the dream I was wailing uncontrollably when suddenly I remembered, “It’s not real.” In that moment I immediately stopped crying and felt a quiet peaceful knowing presence. It was the peace of knowing none of this is real that woke me up. Interesting!
I laid in bed a long time in a semi-conscious state, contemplating how we are emotionally conditioned to automatically feel certain ways about everything in this world. We think it is real, we think this mind/body is who we are, but it is not. It’s only a temporary journey on this planet and then we will be off to other worlds of experience.
© B. Grace Jones 2014 All Rights Reserved.