I have an uneasy truce with my subconscious self. In my younger days, I devoted a great deal of time to the pursuit of self-awareness. I came to know the shape of my instincts, to memorize some of the basic patterns of behavior that rule my waking life. I learned the subtle pathways of self-destruction that I unerringly follow when I am not paying attention. I found the touchstones upon which my ethics rested.
In my youth, I had a close relationship with my restless subconscious side. We shared the same pair of eyes in looking at the world, snickering together as if we shared some secret of proven worth that separated me from everyone else.
I got older and turned my internal studies towards group dynamics. I learned to be a more social animal and although I continued to retain a certain reserve of myself, I felt the edges blurring as I made friends and found lovers. As the distance between the world and I lessened, the distance between my id and I grew.
We’re not so close now. Our manner of communication no longer takes the shape of ideas drifting in from the hazy fog lurking around my active mind. They come now in the form of dreams, of unthinking reactions to certain words or situations. Or even in my writing.
Today, I recognize that my dreams are trying to tell me something but I seldom try to understand them. I catch glimpses of the messages my shadow self is trying to convey but unless they have a direct impact on my daily life, I push them aside.
I don’t just ignore it, I drown it out. My oft-reserved thinking spaces have been co-opted. I download radio shows and listen to them whenever I am driving. My thoughts during my daily walks are filled more with creating order out of the chaos in my day and less in creating chaos out of the order in my head (chaos being the birthing ground of all great ideas, the genesis of escapist fantasy, and one of my true sources of joy).
I create background noise so I don’t have to listen to myself.
I crowd my head with every voice but my own.
And I begin to wonder.
What makes me so scared of the quiet?
Ah that old demon quiet!
Hard to drown it out isn’t it.. it can be done.. but then you do have to wonder.. what IS there.. why ARE you keeping it out..
Makes for a good long summer’s thought!
I am looking forward to more of this one!
very well put .
When Siddhartha saw the Fourth Sign, he thought, “This is what I shall do to find a way to end suffering. I shall become like this monk, wear a robe and carry a bowl.” And so he followed in the ways of monks and gurus for nearly ten years, but Ascetics did not allow him to gain further understanding of how to end suffering. Once he sat under the Bodhi Tree, and ate a meal of milk and rice (an offering for the gods) … it was then that he came full circle. He achieved His Enlightenment when he was no longer hungry.
So, I think that what he should have done from the beginning was to carry more than one bowl.
Dear Sir, it isn’t the quiet or the chaos that you fear. It’s the space in the middle you fear; the part where all your power is.
Perhaps, Jen, you have a point. I will think on this.