I keep putting writing an entry for my journal off until later and later in the day because I have a hard time typing. My hands don't work so well anymore. They still do what I tell them, but protest mightily. It seems like each day brings more deliberation to bear about doing it or not doing it. I don't have to think about typing, or didn't, my fingers followed my mind, right or wrong. I knew exactly when I was losing concentration because my fingers kept typing whet was on my mind when I wanted to change the subject.
I dreamed of being able to let this happen for a long time. When i did this on a musical instrument it was called "jamming" or some other term to indicate flow. One day I realized that the same principle could be applied to typing, and by letting myself fall into a flow I might discover something about myself I would not likely find out any other way. It's some of the stuff that's hidden or most likely forgotten that's working a mojo on a direction I wanna go currently.
I find out all kinds of things I forgot or never knew by reading what I type when I type it. It all depends on which mule I hook my plow up to mentally. In the last year or so I hooked it up to Sartre. I'm really glad I did. I read a little Sartre at bedtime most nights, and then get up in the morning and try to write something about what i thought Sartre meant when he wrote what his translator swears he did.
It took a long time to read that 800 page tome a little at a time at bedtime. I wasn't trying to get what he wrote right so much. That's not what I do. I just used his lingo to see what I'd write to explain what I thought he meant. Every word I wrote about what i thought Sartre meant was total and unjustified speculation. The same disclaimer I sometime write here on this blog.
I'm trying to capture the drift of things. Like the drift of Sarte's intentions when he wrote Being and Nothingness. I don't always "get it". Not even vaguely. I don't care. That's not what I'm attempting to do. I'm trying to "be-co-me" Sartre. Just for sport. I've claimed for a long ti-me now that there ain't but One me, and each of us "think" we're It. If there isn't but One me, then why shouldn't I be able to "be" with his "me" as it it were mine? I'm still going to express the me with my own persona, whether I'm using Sarte's me or my own, right?
I'm speculating that the biggest reason each of us don't realize in real time that the me we're claiming as our own is also everybody's else's is our need for self importance. Some people call that being on an "ego trip", but I'm not so sure. I think we all need a strong ego. To denigrate ego is a little too simplistic for me.
It may have something to do with what happens AFTER we achieve individuation that bells the cat. I'm talking about the process homo sapiens have to initiate around the time of puberty to establish their own identity separate from their familial or tribal identity. I suspect gaining our own identity only happens as a huge struggle to keep the love going between our caretakers and ourselves even though we're taking a different direction from what they planned for us.
Most of us have to defend our own subjective right to play God with our own lives. That's the only God-given right we got. The right to have say so over what we say IS so. That can be a hard row to hoe. That's plowing in a field full of hidden stumps. Things can come to a sudden stop. Right damned now!
I figure maybe we keep that defense FOR our right to play God with our own lives much longer than is needed. The more one gets established in their decision making as that entity we decided to be, then the less like anybody is going to challenge your right to be what you say you are.
There is a nicely drawn metaphor somewhere about the foibles of guarding your perimeters too vigorously. It was about the King of some domain who guarded his borders so aggressively it sometimes ended in war with his various neighbors. One day his neighbors got tired of fighting him all the time and formed an alliance. Then, they whipped his ass into total humiliation, and he was much easier to get along with afterward.
Who-we-think-we-are results from a bunch of rules of conscience we adopted to become somebody we admired for something they had that we didn't have. It's not that hard to change or reframe those initial rules of conscience if we decide to be-co-me so-me-one else. Granted, it may seem equivalent to killing your kinsmen for a while, and you might need Jesus or Krishna as yo' chariot driver and confidante for the first couple of battles, but it's a gimme when you've figured out how it got that way in the bejinning for everyman.
I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
