The Body and Other Stuff
Okay, went to my new fysiotherapist, tried to keep in mind that it was part of my dream and that I was blessed to have been given these great circumstances for waking up. It seems logical that one would sooner try to wake up from a bad dream than from a good one with all the frills.
In the meantime, she made me do an exercise which I already knew from another therapy and which brought up pain that was masked before. It's difficult to concentrate when lepracons are sticking a knitting needle between your shoulders.
I cried a little, for the pain I had, for the hopelesness of the situation (again: very fortunate circumstances), but soon after, I reminded myself that it was an episode of my very own dramaseries and I should be thankful that I can't hold a job with this body because it gives me a unique opportunity. And the only one that matters anyway.
But still it feels kind of weird to answer the question: what do you want to accomplish with your life? What's your goal? I have to say, enlightenment is my goal. Period. Nothing else is important. I don't think people can handle that, that's why I said I'm already used to them thinking I'm nuts or whatever. I don't mind, it gives me the space and freedom I need for this quest.
Popping in and out of the observer mode. In conversations I tend to forget, when I have pain I tend to forget, but I'm getting better at reminding myself. I just have to steer clear of making too many appointments so I can make sure this exercise gets ingrained in my system. So if I have to go places I can use that as an exercise as well. Like for instance next week when I have to go to my mother's birthday, that will be an excellent test.
I still don't know what else to do to wake up. I'm flailing my arms in my sleep, kicking off the sheets, hurling my pillows across the room and muttering repeatedly "I want to wake up, why won't I wake up?", yeah, why won't I wake up? It seems to me I'm doing everything I can, so maybe I should sit back and relax into the process, but that's just not me. Further. What is me anyway. I don't know. I don't care. No, I don't care anymore who I am. It's not important for waking up who I am in the dreamstate I guess. I could be Fidel Castro for all I care, or one of the smurfs. Who knows? Not me.
Enough for now: places to go, people to see.
***M./smurf.
In the meantime, she made me do an exercise which I already knew from another therapy and which brought up pain that was masked before. It's difficult to concentrate when lepracons are sticking a knitting needle between your shoulders.
I cried a little, for the pain I had, for the hopelesness of the situation (again: very fortunate circumstances), but soon after, I reminded myself that it was an episode of my very own dramaseries and I should be thankful that I can't hold a job with this body because it gives me a unique opportunity. And the only one that matters anyway.
But still it feels kind of weird to answer the question: what do you want to accomplish with your life? What's your goal? I have to say, enlightenment is my goal. Period. Nothing else is important. I don't think people can handle that, that's why I said I'm already used to them thinking I'm nuts or whatever. I don't mind, it gives me the space and freedom I need for this quest.
Popping in and out of the observer mode. In conversations I tend to forget, when I have pain I tend to forget, but I'm getting better at reminding myself. I just have to steer clear of making too many appointments so I can make sure this exercise gets ingrained in my system. So if I have to go places I can use that as an exercise as well. Like for instance next week when I have to go to my mother's birthday, that will be an excellent test.
I still don't know what else to do to wake up. I'm flailing my arms in my sleep, kicking off the sheets, hurling my pillows across the room and muttering repeatedly "I want to wake up, why won't I wake up?", yeah, why won't I wake up? It seems to me I'm doing everything I can, so maybe I should sit back and relax into the process, but that's just not me. Further. What is me anyway. I don't know. I don't care. No, I don't care anymore who I am. It's not important for waking up who I am in the dreamstate I guess. I could be Fidel Castro for all I care, or one of the smurfs. Who knows? Not me.
Enough for now: places to go, people to see.
***M./smurf.
posted by M. at 12:06 AM
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