as temporal forests
Sitting with it. Standing with it. Such phrases refer to a thingliness of being. Then there’s the figuring it out. So if a figure must be sorted out, then did it come from within?
“Hey girlie, you think too much,” is a phrase I’ve heard more times than …would you expect to read or hear hands or toes to count on? or having more bills or dimes for each time someone said? Even the process of writing itself has become unwittingly predictable, even tragic news has a stale stench of half-molded bread. A little sour, a bit of bitter, such flavours never hurt anyone all at once, yet if neglected, such as dust in the rug, droughted forests, soaked clothes without a fire, the impact of cosmic whiplash stings.
So if history repeats itself, would not someone want to think that through, and try to pick out patterns that were missed the last round? Does thinking too much really mean to simply try not to figure out how to do something different, since it was not working out well before?
Perhaps the invite to think less has to do with labor. Sweeping and counting on hands can be seen or audibly digested. But thinking isn’t always a furrowed brow, but more of a focused line to a network of disguised details.
Time… | cursor blink… | cursor blink. There, not, there, there, not there, why not care about every fiber under the tree to tune more deeply into its being and becoming? There’s only more gained from wondering instead of severing off the thinking.
Another thing I’ve noticed about thinking is the ability to self-sooth through any kind of emotion and not disassociate but relate with my individual perception vessel as if having a birds eye view. From that view, which sounds high up must also consider the birds being eaten by the forest floor. Birds eyes go many places, apparently into some housecats licked paws.
Gruesome. Can it be stomached? How much more ginger tea do I need to brew to digest such unpleasant world events? I’ve begun to understand why my beloved Heraclitus was loathed. Soppy wet facilitates certain kinds of sour mold, and at the end of the day, sometimes self-expression is really conjured by focused thoughts.
Tonight I had thought of sending out the critique of the mindfulness industry, because it seems apparent to me the commodification of thinking really means another form of brainwashing, or to think the same way someone else tells you to. Such as the way a colloquial, “if I had a dollar for…” becomes an expected phrase- on one hand boring can also be comforting. I used to think it was simply shared thoughts that brought people together, but I am meeting people who manage to squeak out a new jam of words, and those differences infuse my world with a form of inviting vitality. Those difference in thought would be annihilated if everyone repeated the same mantra. It’s been written by experts that only so much difference can be tolerated, and I find that quite rubbish considering the health of ecosystems tends to strengthen with biodiversity. Of course biodiversity is much different than forced diversity, or virtue signalled diversity because the differences simply are.
Think more. Feel more. Consider thinking through the span of concreteness and inventiveness about how you and other people feel. It costs personal energy, sure, but maybe therein some new patterns are discovered, and the chaos can be reimagined by reforming the relationship to negative space.
My biggest motivation for thinking “too much” during the day is that when I lay my body down, sleep pours in and washes my brain for me. Steeping my brain with subconscious impressions, creating films to watch at night. Some of those films play out during the day, and I have to say, noticing the scripts, personal or worldly, that hurt or bring joy can become closer to elected.
Maybe that’s what John Knight meant about authoring time. Just maybe the closer more people grow towards authoring their time, the statistics on oppressed and oppressors, controlled and subjugated experiences plummets, and the hands and mouths of other humans remain their own instead of choke holds.
And while hope flows in drastically different measures depending on where you are in the world, we all have the opportunity to look within our roots, those neural networks within the body and notice what thoughts form, and seek out different ways of thinking. Nothing drastic here, even a little shift in tempo, or pattern of behavior, can indeed change the way life goes.
Perhaps that could be how meditation works, connecting the metaphysical realm through the roots of our neural networked bodies. The sea cables connecting data centers and satellites are our own attempt to make our lives as bodies as forests.
So what kind of forest would you want society to be? Please imagine and freely think about this.