Monday, February 13, 2006

Repressed, renewed...

For the last 2 years, I've worked hard in an intellectual pursuit. Almost purely intellectual, in fact. The right hemisphere of my brain has been a limited-use tool in that end - for the spatial visualization of abstract concepts, and thus non-linear solutions; but that's been about the end of it.

A common theme to my complaints here has been the desire to try my hand at something more truly creative and emotionally engaging. In fact, the entire reason I professed to have created this blog in the first place was to have a low-resistance means to eke out some small portion of the unattended literary passions that continued to rattle about in need of release.

The entry most in keeping with that spirit (thus far) was regarding the End of Meditation. Even that was so brief - composed in the space of an hour, refined in another, and then posted to the public forum.

Last night I did what now passes for meditation. I use a deep, absurdly hot bath to help stimulate the cardiovascular system (whilst still remaining relatively inactive, even prone - keeping me awake despite the persistent sleep debt) and utilize my training in hypnosis to induce a trance and probe around my subconscious. I analyze those nasty habits and short-cuts I've been taking for the previous week and what they've started doing to me, then do my best to pull them out and rewire them. A manual override to achieve homeostasis, a necessary balance between what I want and what I can reasonably do about it.

Usually this involves the dissociative blockages between me and the scattered stress that comes from the pace at which I work. The protective nature of the subconscious gives rise to them - I don't notice the toxic build-up of unpurged sleep hormones, the grave dissatisfaction that can come with subverting selfish drives, or any of a host of paranoias from maneuvering the professional landscape filled with self doubt.

Not that the selfishness or doubt are dominant traits of my personality, by any means. Merely flavors of humanity making themselves known under hardship. How could I strive with such effort and determination, stretched to the end of the talents with which God has graced me, and beyond the limits of my own strength; all this, and not feel the thinness between my efforts and failure? Such is the risk, I suppose.

At any rate, I work to reconcile these and grant myself rest for the week ahead - resuming the frantic tempo that will do it all again.

Last night though, was different. I couldn't concentrate to establish the trance or begin the visualization. Every time I tried, I found myself distracted or uneasy - which in turn was a giveaway of another protective mechanism: this one keeping me from relaxing. Being that this was something from my own mind, I knew it was intended only for safety and protection - perhaps counterintuitively from the perspective of the more rational critical factor, but valid in its own right.

So I attached myself to this protective barrier, embraced it and the motivation for keeping myself high strung (having no other hope to determine it). In so doing I essentially picked up a thread that was already entranced, and was able to begin experiencing it in that light. It's reasoning? I was at war. A hardened and seasoned combatant fighting battle after battle, enormous foes, in an unending conflict of no progress. To relax would be to release the high ground and abandon the loyalty to the faith and confidence which keeps me alive, essentially. Not literally alive, of course - the risk is not nearly so grave nor physical.

Less metaphorically, I'm in a position of continual stress, and if I fail to address it I will be overwhelmed. Yet there is no obvious path in the performance of my duties that allows for advancement or domination.

This may bear no truth to the objective situation, and probably has much to do with watching the team I'd assembled for 18 months be torn apart through actions beyond my control. I find myself burned out - I've done this before, and have very little to show for it. If I continue to apply the same strain to achieve similar lofty goals, I have no guarantee of their permanence and don't know if I've bettered the situation for anyone.

What's the point?

This thought, particularly in the light of a dream-like field of battle (with sci-fi guns, at that), instilled a cavalier aire. Eventually as I terminated the trance and returned to waking continuum I found myself feeling supremely confident and justified. Having nothing to prove to anyone and thumbing my nose at the collective universe that would rally against me to say, "so what? I've done this before, I have no need to prove myself to you." I found myself possessed of a terrible urge to write. To organize the few novels I've been scratching onto scattered pieces of paper, to resume strengthening and disciplining my body so that both it and mind may be in harmony and concert, and to move in such a way as to continually assert the strength of my sole ownership over Self.

Being a late hour now I find myself much more subdued, and unable to express these thoughts as cohesively as I would like. A poor night's rest and the return to regular labors has diminished them as well - the realization that despite all great and proud strides, the bills need to be paid and the children fed and tended to.

I'll ponder somewhat more on these things and see what more light I can shed upon them later.