May 6 by The Running Son
Ok. this feels weird, and I expect it to. Our secret ego desires to be liked, and followed, or given approval on a blog or in life. And wanting that reassurance is hard to talk about. Really damn hard.
Taboo. Like sitting alone late at night blogging and feeling lonely, What do you say? Help me? I can’t do this without you, guys? Uh-uh. No way. It’s just hard. We create and prep and craft our posts, and bodies, our hair. We want people. So we give them our shiny-happy best and don’t EVER let them see us sweat, or cry and feel low for reaching out.
That’s why I’m doing this. Talking about ego and my pride. Because I have one, and we all do. And it is the thing that divides our ability to be exactly who we are, in the moment, without shame or regret, or reference to others or anything but the voice inside us. The impulses that guide our writing hand and sense of timing in life and family. Like when not to push the right sentiment at the wrong time. Hmmm.
I hate it. Hatehatehate it. And over the last manic week, I have battled against it. In imagery, with the swords of poetry and writing and trying to open up. And I’ll tell you. If that drive toward ego penetration, (or softening into flexibility, if you will) wasn’t a huge part of the whole manic spiral upward, then I’d be surprised. God knows.
Me? I RESPECT it. The deep roots of ego. Down into the smallest particles of neural memory. It’s a trip.
But it got “workable” at the peak of my manic. I recognized it there. I was ably to find a rhythm that made it not as much of an obstruction or something. It was incessant though. Always popping back in, for example as I was writing some of the prose, “this is going to be great, This is good. Jimiboy. You don’t need a job when you can spin gold like this”. Nice thought. I’ll buy that for a dollar. If you take small change…
So I hate it. And I respect the ego’s need to tell me I’m not asleep to reality. But I am. GI Gurdjieff said it, but so have a million other seers and religious figures. I get it. And it’s ability to regulate and filter. Only accept the flattery and proper self image, or only see the desire to be a great artist, and nothing else. Its Bull. And we buy into it.
And it’s just the kind of taboo to keep me from following this idea. Carrying it through and see where it takes me. I don’t know, do you? I have a blog full of “transpersonal” ideas, and all of that, with poetry, my own lifelong wrestling and tom-foolery, the manic episode that seems to have given me liberty, to my strong desire to, with great balance, timing and care for the poor animals and my body and health, I want to just go in whatever direction it takes me. There is a lot of shared life experience to talk about.
Talking about needing, being needy and feeling broken… I’m ready to break that discussion wide open. I needed people.. need people. I need you guys right now. But if I don’t get that response I am looking for, what then of my impossibly entwined ego? I don’t know. Want to find out. And see if my poetry can get any better because I’m not really sure how to ride this. Proof is in the poetry I guess. I was honestly never a good writer. blion <—tweety-code for believe it or not.. looks funny blion haha
I think the structural laws of my ego had something to do with my inability to write freely. I want to find out.
I just had the thought that given Kundalini stuff and known psychotic experience, is there danger here? Sobering for a second.
I’m moving. Into a world of Taboos and midnight battles with pride. But bravely, uncommonly so, and I have a life situation set up where I can afford the time. No wife or girlfriend anymore. Two fat cats and a sad-eyed boxer. And of course this new ability to get my words out. And ideas that I have never been ablle to express.
Like I’m caught inside my ego. Like the California High Desert, I want to get out. Or rather find a union or unified “working” relationship.
Too much to ask to accomplish in one life?
Love you guys.
I found this whilst (for brit friends) searching for an image. omg. ego says I copied, pasted. boom. Jim says it hit me like a memory pang. or hearing that somebody far away is coming home. Namaste