I've hidden myself deep under layers of concealment. It feels safer in here, though still not safe. It has made me aware of how afraid I am of myself. This separation from myself makes me thoughtful, and withholding of action. I see meaning in the smallest of actions, so each day is a massive challenge. An endless procession of hugely significant actions, many of which I have little conscious control over - they are automatic. But the language virus is strong inside my consciousness, and it is relentlessly explaining and thus complicating the issue at hand. What is needed now is to suppress the language virus and live in a label-free moment. Only then can I experience the full majesty of the natural universe. It has great meaning for me and it brings forward deep emotion.
I feel I must revisit my past to understand my present. It's so easy to lose track of who I was before now. The written memories are so valuable to me. They give me secret knowledge of myself which I can gain strength from. Those obstacles I've overcome remind me that I can overcome any obstacle with enough application. But since I must balance so many things, more things that the human mind has thus far had room for, I am overwhelmed.
I've always been so in love with journaling. It gives me more clarity as I'm writing, and then later I gain an understanding even greater yet. It is a purely future-oriented activity, for you or someone else to read in the future. To reach our potential as sentient beings perhaps we should incorporate more of this future-orientation into our paradigms of understanding. This has been called "discipline." Discipline is an art taught primarily to the hugely wealthy, and is not emphasized in public education. However, men have known for countless years that the human mind flourishes in a highly structured environment. Minds developed under moderate rigor are much more capable than minds developed in an accidental paradigm. For many, such as me, life happened to me and I could only react. I was not given the tools to understand the great mysteries of our mature culture. My reaction to stimuli is laggy. I am handicapped by the patterns of thought carelessly instilled into my young pysche.
This is a broadcast, forget about it. I want to instill every action I take with art, and every moment be thoughtful. I often succeed. I'm jealous of my art, and hold it closely to my heart. Momentary art, just a moment to absorb, and then it passes. It ends, and that ending is part of its meaning.