I think you have to feel secure before you can feel anything else.When I was a child, before I knew that people could be dishonest, hurtful, sociopathic, I remember feeling everything. I was completely open. And then, at age 7, when I learned the terrible knowledge of our civilized society, and had my heart broken, I stopped feeling so much. It hurt too bad. It wasn’t a conscious decision, just something my body did, to protect me. I just shut down, hid away in an imaginary world where people were themselves, authentic, undamaged. I ceased to belong to the ‘real’ world, became disconnected from it, ceased to be able to function in it.
Then, when I was 17, I fell utterly in love, and I became invulnerable, and let myself really feel again. I wrote about what I felt and it was, although incompetent, wonderful writing. My self expressed itself. I wrote poetry on the walls of tunnels with the pseudonym “SAM”, and young women were so moved by it that they wrote me love letters under the poems.
I saw myself then as a synergy, a complicity of my physical/sensuous (S), emotional (A, for analogic/resonant) and intellectual (M, for Kubrick’s monolith) selves. When I was in my most relaxed state I was also at my most aware. I was reconnected, open, raw. I was at once astonished and terrified. I was completely present.
And then, mostly through my own foolishness and idealism, I lost that love, and with it I lost everything. I lost myself. I went through a roller coaster decade during which I alternatively felt unbearable grief, brief joyful relief, and nothing at all. Finally, I froze over. I created a persona that could function in the terrible world, and for almost thirty years that comfortable persona took my place. Still, this persona, as successful as it was, sensed that there was something wrong, that it wasn’t me, that it was a fraud. It became anxious and easily angry.
I was empty. A shell.
And then, slowly, over the last few years, I cracked open and something I’m not quite sure of emerged. It was a kind of child, reawakened, unfrozen, but still a bit numb. I was blocked by my stories, my myths, and the emotions of fear and anger those stories evoked. But I was determined to become real again, to reconnect, to be open and raw and let my heart be broken, to show my broken heart to the world.
I was and am drawn now to places that allow me at once to be broken and to heal, to get rid of all the gunk that has accumulated around me for decades, stuff that is not me at all. Those places I’m free to be broken and healed are wilderlands — forests and beaches where life existed, as it has for millions of years, without people, without being crowded and stressed and made anxious by the invasive species homo rapiens.
I am not at home in such places. I am not self-sufficient or knowledgeable of how to live in the forest or by the ocean, without the trappings of modern civilization. Yet I am drawn to these places, if a little fearfully, by something larger than myself, by this yearning to reconnect with all-life-on-Earth, what John Gray calls biophilia. And when I start to open myself to these places the real me begins to emerge again, this complex, damaged creature so full of grief, love, and loneliness. Lost for so many years, so long dead to the world.
And in these moments SAM awakens again, and I begin to begin to find again that stillness, that Zero Time, of infinite relaxation and awareness, when I become sensitive again to what is going on within, and what is going on without, and they become one current. And the fear and anxiety and anger subside and my senses become alert to these amazing things happening all around me and inside me that I had forgotten how to notice — the catch in a young woman’s voice, the astonishing colours of dusk, and the breath of lamplight and new-fallen snow, the scent of berries and of rain, the look within the look of faces of people that somehow I had forgotten how to see.
The humming resonance between me and some other creature, a resonance that makes us one, singing together, completely “I am you and you are me and we are altogether” connected.
The songs of birds, plaintive or joyful or, like me, now, responsive, a harmony, alive, breathing, there, here, this moment, this magical place. Shouting, tweeting, moaning, I love you.
This is what’s really important, this feeling, this connection. This knowing what is and what to do and who to be. This fullness and emptiness and being just a part. Present.
Raw. Nobody-but-myself. No body. Every body. Our self. One.
Category: Self-Change and Self-Knowledge
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My Bio, Contact Info, Signature PostsAbout the Author (2016)
--- My Best 145 Posts, by category, from newest to oldest ---
Dying of Despair
Notes From the Rising Dark
What is Exponential Decay
Collapse: Slowly Then Suddenly
Slouching Towards Bethlehem
Making Sense of Who We Are
What Would Net-Zero Emissions Look Like?
Post Collapse with Michael Dowd (video)
Why Economic Collapse Will Precede Climate Collapse
Being Adaptable: A Reminder List
A Culture of Fear
What Will It Take?
A Future Without Us
Dean Walker Interview (video)
The Mushroom at the End of the World
What Would It Take To Live Sustainably?
The New Political Map (Poster)
Complexity and Collapse
Save the World Reading List
What a Desolated Earth Looks Like
If We Had a Better Story...
Giving Up on Environmentalism
The Dark & Gathering Sameness of the World
The End of Philosophy
A Short History of Progress
The Boiling Frog
Our Culture / Ourselves:
The Lab-Leak Hypothesis
The Right to Die
CoVid-19: Go for Zero
The Process of Self-Organization
The Tragic Spread of Misinformation
A Better Way to Work
Ask Yourself This
What to Believe Now?
Conversation & Silence
The Language of Our Eyes
May I Ask a Question?
Cultural Acedia: When We Can No Longer Care
Several Short Sentences About Learning
Why I Don't Want to Hear Your Story
A Harvest of Myths
The Qualities of a Great Story
The Trouble With Stories
A Model of Identity & Community
Not Ready to Do What's Needed
A Culture of Dependence
So What's Next
Ten Things to Do When You're Feeling Hopeless
No Use to the World Broken
Living in Another World
Does Language Restrict What We Can Think?
The Value of Conversation Manifesto Nobody Knows Anything
If I Only Had 37 Days
The Only Life We Know
A Long Way Down
No Noble Savages
Figments of Reality
Too Far Ahead
Learning From Nature
The Rogue Animal
How the World Really Works:
Republicans Slide Into Fascism
All the Things I Was Wrong About
Several Short Sentences About Sharks
How Change Happens
What's the Best Possible Outcome?
The Perpetual Growth Machine
We Make Zero
How Long We've Been Around (graphic)
If You Wanted to Sabotage the Elections
Collective Intelligence & Complexity
Ten Things I Wish I'd Learned Earlier
The Problem With Systems
Against Hope (Video)
The Admission of Necessary Ignorance
Several Short Sentences About Jellyfish
A Synopsis of 'Finding the Sweet Spot'
Learning from Indigenous Cultures
The Gift Economy
The Job of the Media
The Wal-Mart Dilemma
The Illusion of the Separate Self, and Free Will:
Bark Bark Bark Bark Bark Bark Bark
Healing From Ourselves
The Entanglement Hypothesis
Nothing Needs to Happen
Nothing to Say About This
What I Wanted to Believe
A Continuous Reassemblage of Meaning
No Choice But to Misbehave
What's Apparently Happening
A Different Kind of Animal
Did Early Humans Have Selves?
Nothing On Offer Here
Even Simpler and More Hopeless Than That
What Happens in Vagus
We Have No Choice
Never Comfortable in the Skin of Self
Letting Go of the Story of Me
All There Is, Is This
A Theory of No Mind
Reminder (Short Story)
A Canadian Sorry (Satire)
Under No Illusions (Short Story)
The Ever-Stranger (Poem)
The Fortune Teller (Short Story)
Non-Duality Dude (Play)
Your Self: An Owner's Manual (Satire)
All the Things I Thought I Knew (Short Story)
On the Shoulders of Giants (Short Story)
Calling the Cage Freedom (Short Story)
Only This (Poem)
The Other Extinction (Short Story)
Disruption (Short Story)
A Thought-Less Experiment (Poem)
Speaking Grosbeak (Short Story)
The Only Way There (Short Story)
The Wild Man (Short Story)
Flywheel (Short Story)
The Opposite of Presence (Satire)
How to Make Love Last (Poem)
The Horses' Bodies (Poem)
Distracted (Short Story)
Worse, Still (Poem)
A Conversation (Short Story)
Farewell to Albion (Poem)
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