Starting with no expectations

I think I may have stumbled upon a thing. Writing these posts has helped me get stuff out of my brain and onto the screen. It's been very low pressure, allowing me to write without the expectation of perfection (which is a big thing for me).

However, a couple of days ago I wrote a post that was my initial reaction to reading something online. I read it over heaps of times. I posted it. I read it again. And then I realised I wasn't satisfied with just that level of engagement in the topic. It felt too shallow and reflexive a reaction. I didn't want it to stop there. I wanted to understand the topic better. So I pulled the post down within minutes.

I have proceeded to read articles and books and watch interviews in the hope of understanding whether there was anything to my gut reaction, or whether it was completely unfounded. Interestingly, it's looking like I was right in how I felt, or at least right in being able to point out why I felt that way.

But that's beside the point. What is more interesting to me is the fact that now I'm wanting to write with greater detail and topic awareness, not because I feel the need for perfection, but because I feel the need for understanding. It's not enough anymore to just sit back and spout the odd thought about things because it feels good to just have thoughts and be able to articulate them. I now want more. I want better - and it's flowed naturally in an environment where thoughts are allowed to flow, with no expectation of the result. This is freeing. This is how I've wanted to be able to think. And write. Perhaps all along the solution was not to lower the bar, but rather remove it. Maybe? Whatever. I don't need to know why. I just know that now I can do something I couldn't do before. I'm doing it for me and not because I feel the need to please anyone with perfection.

Now to apply this to writing my Masters thesis. Sigh.

Taking back Eden (by Jamie Wright)

Just, wow.
http://www.theveryworstmissionary.com/2013/06/taking-back-eden.html

Doing things once

I've just discovered that doing THE WHOLE job the first time means I don't have to come back later and finish it - it's done. Want something out of the dryer? Get the whole load out! Rubbish bin overflowing? Bag it up and take it out to the bin rather than leaving it at the back door for "when I'm just passing through and I feel like taking it out" (because that's usually never). Brilliant!

Now to apply this to my songwriting. Maybe I should try actually finishing a song, which I haven't done in way too long. Maybe I'm wasting energy writing fragments, when I could be channeling and focusing it to produce whole pieces. Maybe that would help me move my focus away from the tiny details (which I'm already good at) to the broader flow and structure of the song (which I'm not so good at). Potentially brilliant!

The tension of anticipation

Why can't I resist chocolate in the house? The only way for me to not eat buckets and buckets of it is to not have it anywhere near me. Why? I know that it will taste so much better after some time off, yet I keep nomming, thinking that every next bite will be just as good as the first, but it never quite is. Why can't I delay the immediate gratification for the greater enjoyment? What is it about the passing of time that I can't handle without going for another tasty bite? Is it that I value the experience of chocolate-eating so highly that I devalue the myriad of other potentially very enjoyable experiences in my day? So, then, I convince myself that I need the chocolate otherwise there'll be no other good things in my day? Maybe. I do know one thing, though. It is that focusing on the very moment I am in right now is helping me to appreciate how much good is actually going on. Like here, now, I'm blabbing about whatever the hell I feel like and it feels good. I like that others might relate to what I'm talking about, and yet I don't care if they don't because the blog is really just for me right now. So, clearly, this moment is enjoyable, and good. Though, if I were just thinking about going for the next and the next and the next piece of the supposed all-magical chocolate block, I wouldn't see this moment for what it is. Interesting, very interesting. And also, the other day I found that while there were things in the future that were stressing me out, focusing on where I was right there and then, and what I was doing, I realised that that moment was good, and that it could quite do without the stress of what may or may not be a problem in the future. It was quite a revelation to realise how disconnected each moment is from the next (though obviously they are connected in other ways). Project for self: spend a day noticing the moments. As many as possible, whatever is happening. Then note how important the all-magical chocolate seems. (I don't care how touchy-feely this seems - it was quite a revelation.)

Too many interesting things

There are just too many interesting things in the world to be able to absorb them all. Most of what I read, I'd say, goes into my subconscious, only to be retrieved when external things call it to mind. I can't intentionally go back and get the information because I've forgotten it's even there. And even when it does come to mind, only the general vibe returns, with very few of the specifics. I feel this makes for a very reactive, reflexive way of making decisions and means that often I can't fully articulate why I have made such a decision. I also have trouble recalling enough information to be able to explain a concept I've read about to another person. I can only wonder that this might be greatly decreasing my quality of life, given the amount of time I actually spend reading (most of the day!) - I have so little to show for my time. I'd really rather feel like I've spent my time well. Maybe I can learn to filter, to acknowledge my own boundaries, that I can't internalise every piece of information and discussion that looks interesting. Instead, I can choose - yes, choose! - to focus on things that seem overly interesting, and humbly allow the others to pass me by in the proverbial river of time. Who knows, perhaps I'll float by then again later down stream, but in the mean time, I'll at least be better able to enjoy where I'm currently at. Maybe I'll learn something worthwhile that I could possibly even be able to pass on to others. Sounds a lot more satisfying, and a lot less depressing.