Writing for more than oneself, as one must do in a blog, at least one that can be understood, requires that one explain what is being written. Thus it is different than how one writes for oneself. I find that writing a blog accesses or taps parts of myself not necessarily accessed when I write just for myself. Having to explain myself is challenging since it requires that I more or less know why I am writing what I'm writing, which is often rather unknown to me.
When I had stronger beliefs as well as more of a self-identity, there was a greater ability to explain what I was thinking. But now my beliefs are quite different and much less defined, and I myself am much less defined to myself as well. I practiced zazen for many years, which had the effect of unraveling my own sense of self and self-identity, which is actually part of its purpose, which is pretty much the exact opposite of the overpowering quest for creating a strong self-identity in this culture. There have been times in my life in which I did create a relatively strong self-identity, though I always did maintain that it was more of a role I played in society, the world, out of necessity. My nature is more one of invisibility. And this is probably because in the unraveling of the reality of my version of myself, the veneer, the truth of the persona, gradually faded away to the point of even vanishing. This rather frightened me; I began to think that the zazen had become a kind of self-hypnosis in which everything, including myself, ceased to exist--being illusory in itself. So I stopped practicing zazen at least a year ago.
But over time I found myself drifting away from the state of mind I had when I practiced zazen. I still "observed" my thoughts and objective life, but there was a kind of dullness of mind that became obvious to me. With zazen, one's notion of oneself definitely shifts and one can "vanish," which kind of feels like being a ghost of yourself going through the motions of life and survival. But that may be partly because I did not participate in a sangha, that is, the Buddhist community, preferring to practice on my own. I should add that I am engaged in the living of my life and fulfilling my various family responsibilities, so I am not disengaged or particularly isolated or alone.
So I have begun "sitting" once again. It is different now. I fall into sleep and I dream very short dreams before awakening again. I fought this when it used to happen, but I am now paying more attention to the dreams, not exactly interpreting them but looking at them, even feeling them. Today I found myself standing in a forest and surrounded by tall trees, one right next to me. Suddenly a large squirrel with long fur the color of gold jumps up onto the trunk of the tree right next to me, stopping at my eye level and touching my shoulder, looking into my eyes for a split second before running up the tree. It was delightful. Yesterday I was walking in the forest nearby and, perhaps thirty feet in front of me, a stag came onto the path, stopped, and looked directly at me. I stopped and looked at him. Our eyes locked into each other's gaze for maybe twenty seconds before he went into the brush. We took each other in. We communicated.
This all relates to finding "a place to breathe within the scheme of things," the theme of this blog.
When I had stronger beliefs as well as more of a self-identity, there was a greater ability to explain what I was thinking. But now my beliefs are quite different and much less defined, and I myself am much less defined to myself as well. I practiced zazen for many years, which had the effect of unraveling my own sense of self and self-identity, which is actually part of its purpose, which is pretty much the exact opposite of the overpowering quest for creating a strong self-identity in this culture. There have been times in my life in which I did create a relatively strong self-identity, though I always did maintain that it was more of a role I played in society, the world, out of necessity. My nature is more one of invisibility. And this is probably because in the unraveling of the reality of my version of myself, the veneer, the truth of the persona, gradually faded away to the point of even vanishing. This rather frightened me; I began to think that the zazen had become a kind of self-hypnosis in which everything, including myself, ceased to exist--being illusory in itself. So I stopped practicing zazen at least a year ago.
But over time I found myself drifting away from the state of mind I had when I practiced zazen. I still "observed" my thoughts and objective life, but there was a kind of dullness of mind that became obvious to me. With zazen, one's notion of oneself definitely shifts and one can "vanish," which kind of feels like being a ghost of yourself going through the motions of life and survival. But that may be partly because I did not participate in a sangha, that is, the Buddhist community, preferring to practice on my own. I should add that I am engaged in the living of my life and fulfilling my various family responsibilities, so I am not disengaged or particularly isolated or alone.
So I have begun "sitting" once again. It is different now. I fall into sleep and I dream very short dreams before awakening again. I fought this when it used to happen, but I am now paying more attention to the dreams, not exactly interpreting them but looking at them, even feeling them. Today I found myself standing in a forest and surrounded by tall trees, one right next to me. Suddenly a large squirrel with long fur the color of gold jumps up onto the trunk of the tree right next to me, stopping at my eye level and touching my shoulder, looking into my eyes for a split second before running up the tree. It was delightful. Yesterday I was walking in the forest nearby and, perhaps thirty feet in front of me, a stag came onto the path, stopped, and looked directly at me. I stopped and looked at him. Our eyes locked into each other's gaze for maybe twenty seconds before he went into the brush. We took each other in. We communicated.
This all relates to finding "a place to breathe within the scheme of things," the theme of this blog.
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