Flow

flow_of_life_by_aloof_i-d4gcell

It has a name, that sensation where you are on fire, whether with creativity or logic, that state where everything is firing at once and you feel you are making huge strides in what it is you are working on achieving. Where you are extending your skills, applying all you have to complete something, even where there is no apparent reward. It is called ‘flow’. A state of harmony between all parts of the self where the ultimate gain from all areas is being produced; total absorption involving challenging the self and pushing ourselves to the limit of our ability that results in enjoyment. Such a delight, to have flow at any point in your given life or work week, such a state is highly desirous, pulling the sense of ultimate joy that we all at least once experienced in childhood, into our waking adult lives. It is possible to be a grown up and still have that wonderful sensation we experienced as children, to still have ‘play’ in our adult world. And, indeed it is actually more productive than almost any other state of being.

Reference: Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi / TED talk on Flow

Here are two illustrative examples from ballet, one is from before the curtain raises and two what it feels like once the audiences eyes are upon you… don’t get me wrong here, these are examples of experts in their field, but we ALL experience a sense of flow somewhere in our lives. It might be when we touch type without making mistakes, it might be playing our favourite social sport, online game, in our work, fixing something, when we solve puzzles… flow can be experienced anywhere. Reproducing a sense of flow everywhere we can in our adult world, like when we played freely as children, is the potential acheivement. Can you recall a time as a child, before any darkness touched you and even after, when you had that feeling within your the depth of the world of your play? That almost indescribable sense of belonging and wholeness? A place of knowing, something we all had at some point, regardless of the trauma we encountered. Later, play may have been an escape from pain so it is important to find a memory that was pleasurable but not escapist. If we can reclaim a sense of flow, even a tiny piece of it, then, we are whole, because we are real, because we are in comand of ourselves, even if only briefly. To smooth the edges of that sensation, to bring a sense of flow into all we do… would be to make heaven on earth.

Errant

Image courtesy of Allof-I 

Ear parcel

Eyes

starry_eyes__by_emmixxalot

The eyes tell all. I always look to a persons eyes to get a sense of who they are. In some cultures this is behaviour is not acceptable, yet I still steal glimpses. I cannot help myself. The thing I remember most about my two older brothers when we were growing up are their eyes, even when they were raging against the world, when they raged against our parents, each other, or God. I saw it all in their eyes. The little sister who they were supposed to protect but who intimidated, irritated and impositioned them, I saw their despair, their pain, their righteousness and their love. I was too small to protect them, they did, many times protect me and I found ways I could save them, ways they may never know about. All our collective childhood trauma aside something is happening to us all this year. Each of us is suffering from an accident that has physically grounded us, stilled us and forced us to face ourselves, face our inner selves. I am proud to find we are connecting, communicating and expressing love and support to one another despite the difference in each others experience, to heal what appears to me to be a deep seated family trauma. We shared the experiences and have attempted to heal but have found ourselves stuck over and over, unable to communicate through fear, apparent separation and now finally, through the language of pain and acceptance, we have found one another again. Life is oddly synchronous and utterly beautiful.

Errant

Ear parcels… “Everyone carries a room about inside them. This fact can be proved by means of the sense of hearing. If someone walks fast and one pricks up one’s ears and listens, say at night, when everything round about is quiet, one hears, for instance, the rattling of a mirror not quite firmly fastened to the wall.”

Radiohead – Daydreaming

Otis Taylor – Resurrection Blues

Images:

Image 1 courtesy of TalesOfNightWing

Image 2 courtesy of Emmixxalot on deviantart

Self Appreciation

soar_by_forgottenx

Depending on how we grew up, we may not be very good at appreciating our own achievements. We may need external recognition, or we may be shy to express our sense of achievement. We may have learned, possibly young enough for it to be a pre-conscious-memory, to self-soothe or seek external soothing. Neither of these things is necessarily bad but can mean we are not good at sharing our experiences, either negative or positive, with others. It may mean we embellish these things, embellishment that can be construed by others as lying. We may embellish because we are ashamed or are shy of seeking support which can look like lying to others, it may be an unconscious expression but perceived by others as intentional. Embellishment can be either understating or overstating a situation or experience. Many times we do this to avoid shame in either direction. It may be we have done something poorly and we want to justify why it didn’t go the way we wanted, or, understating how it went which could be seen as humbleness, but also denies oneself the pleasure of sharing the joy of the experience with ourselves and others. Those who learned to self-soothe will likely underplay, and those that did not, will likely seek greater approval than is justified. It is important in both cases to appreciate the situation as it is and feel the joy of success without over or under embellishment.

You see, there are things we do that are unconscious, and things that even if we become aware of them we are not sure why we do them. This is where pre-conscious memory comes into play, there are things we learned from our primary caregivers, when we had no one else to rely on to survive, that taught us many instinctual behaviours. Our parents may have been taught to ignore a babies cry, or to attend to a babies cry… there have been many schools of thought over the years and, likely, trusting in parental instinct meant relying, at least partially, on the learned behaviours of the parent. As you can see, this can be complicated. But, there is hope as it all really relies on consciousness. How conscious are you of your responses at any given time? Are there times where you wished you said more? Then practice saying more. Are there times where you wished you had just stopped talking and listened? Then practice listening. Are there things you wished you had shouted out to all of those who would listen? Then do so! Are there times where you have felt you shouted too much? Next time keep it closer to yourself and quietly savour it for yourself. This may sound ridiculously simple. Try it though, you will find it takes many attempts to say what you want or hold your tongue… making what is unconscious conscious feels awkward, uncomfortable even but the experience of opening and understanding that comes with this process is worth it.

Warning, seeking to understand your unconscious responses you may find the following side effects: You may find you stop blaming others for their responses to you. You may find people responding to you more honestly than you have experienced before. You may find yourself feeling vulnerable. You may find others respond to you in a vulnerable way. You may find people are willing to support you. You may find that others behave in a loving manner toward you. Proceed with appropriate caution and self-moderation.

Errant

Love yourself, ‘to be sure to rejoice’

Featured image: ‘illusion of consciousness’ by AudreyBobir on Deviantart

secondary image: ‘Soar’ by Forgottenex on Deviantart

Mystic Jewel

SONY DSC

My words seem so simple, childlike, when I look from the I that is object conscious, bound to the mammalian, not the I that swims in quantum currents of limitless truth, aware of the knowing ripples that ever flow. We do not belong anywhere but within us, yet when we reach beyond to taste of love, real love, whole love, the heavens burst open showering us with truth that we will forget and remember again, returning home to the precious jewel of self a thousand times over. A möbius loop of divine inheritance.

 

Words errant satiety image courtesy of SlevinAaron on deviantART

 

Reverberate – love song triptych

Tears of Sorrow JollyPen

Let the shuddering tears take you

The tremors will subside

The tide will change

Healing will fill you with calm

Embrace the painful moments

Grace, will come

You will wake and know shame

You will realise that guilt is of no use

Self-induced punishment a waste

Of your potential

Embrace the honesty of real pain

Let suffering guide you

To greater integrity

Sweetheart, let the tears come

Truth will follow

 

This is a little series of love songs I have started. They are written for my beloved self…

 

words errant satiety image courtesy of JollyPen on deviantART

musical offering Tracy Chapman ‘At This Point in my Life’

 

 

Solace in Self

Dawn_by_freelancah

I part the dawn with trembling fingers
Tentatively reaching for the pieces of my soul surrendered in fear
Atoms realign, beloveds kiss upon my damp face
Constant despite my malingering and tendency to keep falling
When I yearn for unification with the gleaming beauty of the stars
Remembering is sweet torture, rupturing dark tendrils of devolution
That threaten to drown hope in a sticky blackness of suffering
Yet this is what it means to be real among humanity
To let the diamond soul fracture in sunlight and remain
A beacon of truth unravelled as we descend and re-ascend…
Descend and re-ascend.
A smile, a supernova of bliss, as I embrace myself newly whole and utterly in love

 

Words errant satiety image courtesy of Smattila on deviantART

Love Song – deuce

broken_by_josslen-d41xphn

Gather the broken edges
With your luminous hands
Breathe your love into them
And your longing for home
Weave them together
With the mysticism within
Simple, so simple
Yet deeply divine

 

This is a little series of love songs I am starting. They are written for my beloved self…

 

words errant satiety image courtesy of Josslen on deviantART

Rise

The rise

I had covered my fragility with a skin of stone. Believed that to be needed was to be loved. That to be compassionate was to avoid causing pain and therefore meant to deny the self. That to be loyal was to lock away the truth as a secret. That the jewel of my consciousness needed a protector. I wore the future as a brittle crown that cut and bled when I strayed from the path others wished me to walk. The butterfly of my soul flutters incessantly within the labyrinth prison of thought I have bound myself within. But to offer false hope is cruel. Trembling, I sought to open the window to allow my soul back in. Remembering the fall I realise I have allowed devolution to go too far with half-truths and excuses of why fear was too strong. But ascent is still possible. It is absolutely vital and ravenous, I hunger for it.

 

Words errantsatiety image courtesy of Trichardsen on deviantART