9 Mar 2014, 12:59pm
Comments Off on A Little Personal History, part 11, good times management

A Little Personal History, part 11, good times management

I’m feeling blessed every time someone calls, emails, or of all the options in life, makes some time for lunch.

One makes ones family and one’s home. If you choose wiser than the random luck of birth, you end up upgrading. If you treat yourself and others well with valuing them as they need to be valued and are also cherished to become the best person that you could become, you can spend some time in a sweet patch of life.

Somewhere along the way most of the people I know have become writers, artists and musicians, but mostly poets.

There are times you fall out of connection with everyone for months but there’s rarely a vacuum in behavior. The underlying gap gets plugged with something nearby. If we push how we gravitate we can figure out if we get a better ratio of good and bad outcomes.

While at birth-hometown I was asked to lead prayers for the extended family, and asked for blessings over the food daily. At university, no one did. I felt conspicuous. Not that anyone said anything, usually. Cultural (rather than born again) Christian questioned my habit. My acts became more muted, more in my head until they disappeared. A friend once said that my food photography is the way I say grace before I eat.

I’ve come from attempting (that is a proto-self) to split mind from body, deny body exists, deny there’s any reality to chemistry, cut the self into warring fractions.

The model of all is an unreliable narrator, an illusion is also mystical-minded, is dissociative. That’s not to say it doesn’t have advantages. It means you’re not as given to being gullible. It counters the know-it-all ego. It’s a survival mechanism but not necessarily a thrive-al mechanism. It puts in a buffer against being swamped by bodily pain. It also prevents solution because there’s no perceptible problem.
It lets one let go of petty hurts and get a wider perspective. It also lets go of detailed reality and washes all to the vague. Detachment is a tool until it’s not overused for self- and others-avoidance. Integration of disparate elements is better mapping to health. Acknowledge and go thru.

How do people fall away? Negligence sometimes. I’ve not been good at expressing affection, or forming it. I don’t readily trust people and maybe no one does but makes an effort to act it into being.

I looked back at the year books I look at the signatures and wonder how they happened. Was there some cluster of mass signings and my book got into the fray? Some names and faces don’t ring the faintest bell. Some people declare me best friend and I don’t remember them. When I’m 80 and can’t remember if I’ve eaten, will it come back to me who these people are? Will I remember the sun in their hair and the conversations?

People who click have a resonance of overlap in energy from the past, or shared intentions for the future, or a decision to value one another or all three. Or maybe just walk alongside and make an effort to intersect paths.

Were the days ever all free time? Now, energy is limited. I can’t do it all and neither can anyone else. We’re forced into positions of choice, trade-offs. Everything we do is giving up another option. It isn’t time management. Time managed itself just fine without us. It is self-management.

Between life maintenance and commitments, time is chopped up. We’re always on the clock, even to fit in the right amount of sleep. Which is what makes me appreciative all the more when someone takes a few minutes. I feel in perpetual missing of particular people. Miss daily, see quarterly and then only for minutes once we get the getting there, arriving and leave taking. It seems insane. And yet the connections sustain.

A warmth in the belly that isn’t food or drink or doing crunches. It’s something soft. Something almost unnoticeable unless you know it might come. What is it? The good possible future, a hope of crafting life that is not only craft, not only form, not only content, but something more whole in all the parts without a leg needing to feel that it is a defective arm.

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