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Tuesday, July 23, 2013

MR FANTASY

morris graves


It has been rest time over the last 3 weeks. There were three weeks that I went all the time, this place, that place, appointments. Then I shut down. Stayed in bed mostly until I woke up on the 4th morning feeling like doing something. I learned that I can't go like in the past. That's ok. I remind myself daily that my initial purpose moving to the mountains was to live with solitude on a dirt road. The solitude part took several years to get to. I'm wondering if I'm even ready yet. Evidently I'm not. I fell under a temporary spell of wanting to accomplish much before I die. That's silly thinking and it took me to exhaustion. And I know better. I feel a longing now for solitude. I find I need presence of others too. I take care of the social at the coffee shop and with friends I feel close to as family, and Woodlawn on Friday nights. This past weekend was Sparta fiddlers convention, Woodlawn, and Blue Ridge Music Center. I wanted to go to all of them. Went to none. In every case, I made the decision to stay at home. Did not want to go anyplace. I want to go less and less.

morris graves


At this time, being alone is refreshing. The phone almost never rings. I think "the universe" has been telling me to pull back, pull more within, rely more on intuition, pay less attention to what is going on out in the world of money. It would be easy but for the republicans who are such humorists now, Boner saying the republican congress needs to be judged by laws it has repealed. None. He is the cancer within. I am finding that the more time I spend resting and staying at home, the more creative I catch myself becoming. On the run with distractions inhibits creative thinking. Tomorrow is a matter of go all day long. Will have a nap upon arriving home. And now some of the latest astronomical discoveries involve a notion the universe may be a brain. Why not? I saw where a mote of dust is half way between the size of an atom and the earth. It struck me that the size of an atom is the very definition of tiny. It can't even be said to have a size. It must take beyond a trillion atoms to make a fingernail, or maybe just the dirt beneath the fingernail. Maybe it's a brazillion. I get out in the world of others and it's you needta, you gotta, you oughta, you should. Two-thirds of a century of television and conversation has become commercials. Sometimes I feel like I'm on tv.

morris graves


A recent decision that emerged from the subconscious, muscled conscious mind out of the way, and took over, against the will of conscious mind, made a big change. But it was so overwhelming I felt compelled to go with it. Sometimes I feel sorrow over it. Most of the time I feel it was the right decision. I felt cornered as a fantasy in somebody else's mind. Locked in the attic. I didn't know how to cut off the fantasy with words. I've pleaded for years stay out of my face and talk English, I don't understand bar slang. It means totally nothing. I say stay out of my face, and next thing he's in my face. "I'm not in yer face!" and an argument follows. Arguments, arguments. This is what I'm glad to see gone, the demands that I do what I'm not going to do, like vote for Ron Paul, the most nothing of all the politicians. Watch television, it's good. Getting old. Can't live with denial. Enough of denial. If I can't stand being bullshitted to and saying stop it doesn't change anything, what's left to do? Which comes first? Honoring myself in the  phase of life I'm in right now, living where I live, how I live by my own intent, not an accident of can't keep a job? My life is not in somebody else's head three thousand miles away, a projection of somebody else's self onto a fantasy with my name. Regarded otherwise in a coma, animated by somebody else's psychological needs that have nothing to do with me. That, or no more instructions on what I have to do to be more like the fantasy with my name.

morris graves


I chose no more instructions. It is a hard decision when somebody connects himself or herself to you like with octopus suction cups, and it's a one-way relationship. The fantasy of who I am / what I am is about 1% me and 99% the dreamer. The 1% that is me is my name. The adoration is not of me, but of a fantasy with my name. I wouldn't even like this fantasy with my name were we to meet. It's ok. It's pretty much how we know other people, fantasies in our minds. We take tiny slices of observation and generalize from there. I can't help but feel like it was time to break out of that fantasy the only way I knew to stop it so it will never start up again. He provoked an eruption from my dark side that I let happen, because it felt necessary. The need broke through the resistance of denial. It came from a lot of years of the same pushy ego, shutting me down within, putting me on hold while I listen to what somebody's ego thinks impresses me. Somebody who knows me better than I know myself, though yet to show evidence of it. As time has gone by, I feel better about the decision, primarily because I don't believe I was doing anything from my side but enabling a fantasy by allowing it. It came to the place I felt cornered by the fantasy, and I come out of corners. When I was younger I didn't know how, but have learned how since then. It's easy. You just do it. Whatever it takes is what you do. Was it ego? Was it not ego? Of course it was ego. Everything is ego. Ego is not even an issue.  

morris graves
 
 
 
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