Transition

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OW.

While laying in bed this morning, I hurt my own feet with simple pressure. Enough that my eyes, which up to that point remained closed as I stretched and moved around, snapped open. What did I do? Pressed my foot into the mattress while I stretched. That’s all. That’s all it took.

Those tootsies hurt quite a bit today.

My swim yesterday was odd. I never felt I really got into the rhythm of it, and I kept checking the clock to see if I’d spent a respectable amount of time in the water. Yet I was consumed by hunger by 3 p.m. and fell into one of my super naps afterwards because I just felt worn out. I don’t feel like I worked that much in the water. I did, however, allow myself to do those things; eat, then nap. Afterwards I got up and made a cup of coffee to warm me up and help me stay awake. Watched a film with my brother, did the Dutch drills on my phone app, and turned off the light to go to bed.

Today I see my huisarts. I have not prepared what I want to say. I’ve only one note to bring with me, and that contains the dates of my first visit with Heike and my first visit with Yoda. This behavior is unusual for me, but I’ve been trying to do just this to prevent any further anxiety. My only sensation is one of relaxation..Talking to my huisarts, as I’ve said before, is very easy. She’s an exceptional doctor, and an exceptionally kind person. I’m confident with her that my concerns will be listened to and acted on. I trust her to never diss my feelings, even after what just happened with Yoda AND all my previous experiences with doctors. Still, I’m cautious with her. I don’t want to overload her, and I feel I could easily do that with just my physical ailments. But this appointment was made to address only my therapy problems. Things keep coming up, physical stuff that I should also discuss with her. Right now I’m brushing them aside; they are distractions, things I’m bringing up to prevent myself from fully discussing the real issue. They can be written down and mentioned, if there’s time at the end. Or I can make another appointment if I still think they’re all that important AFTER today. I suspect most will fade back into my memory and returned to being small things that aren’t really that big of a deal.

Today I feel low. Tired, aching, melancholy. That would be the word I’d pick today; melancholy. Not beyond a laugh or a tear, depending on circumstance. But mostly just plopped there. Unmoving and unwilling to move. Stone-like. I know that veil is deceptive; it’s a thin and flimsy thing that’s easily broken thru. The only reason I can maintain it at the moment is because very few other people are up and making noise. It’s quiet. The lights are low. I’m in my safe element. In a few hours, when everyone is awake and chatty, when the lights are on regardless of whether or not you want them to be, when there’s background music I don’t control and wouldn’t ever pick, that thin veneer of dispassion will sweep aside. We’ll see how I feel then.

The older I get, the only thing I’m sure of is how unsure I am.

Sounds like a joke, right? I said that to my bro and he laughed. It’s true. Then again, my (secret) goal has always been to break down the barrier of this world, to perceive it as it is, not as it’s presented to us. Part of that is unlearning all those ‘facts’ about the Universe, the world, and myself. If I wasn’t learning alternative ideas, things that make me question my original idea of what the world was, then I’m not moving towards my goal, am I? The solidity of the objects around me is false; my desk and my computer are just clouds of atoms. More space in them and in me than actual matter. We are held together by thought. We think these things are solid, and our brains reinforce that idea by giving us sensory perceptions that we interpret as ‘evidence’ of our reality. Get down to the nitty gritty of things and all that falls apart. Then you start to see how observers change outcomes, how seemingly chaotic systems have patterns and logic, how all of THIS – our lives, our jobs, our fucking societies – mean nothing. Squat.

There’s a little quantum nihilism for you this morning.

Hm. I like that phrase, ‘quantum nihilism’. It’s a song or an album or a movement; can’t decide. But it just got written down.

Well, this collection of free floating atoms must shift space today while other collections of free floating atoms fall from the sky as cold rain. I have not yet mastered moving my atoms instantaneously across space time from one point to the next, so I’ll have to walk. And despite my desire to return to that place where the physical does not exist and communication sounds like music, I’m not there. I’ll have to shift the atoms that make up my mouth and push atoms out of my lungs to form the symbolic syllables that we’ve decided make up ‘words’ to try to convey my ‘feelings’. It’s a sloppy and imperfect system.

It’s doomed to fail, on some level, from the beginning.

But it’s all I have to work with. So far.

Somedays I wish I could lay down and will my death. Quietly, without fuss and bother. I haven’t mastered that yet, either. Until I do, I’ll continue. To keep trying, and keep working. Because paradoxically, although I firmly believe in quantum nihilism on a material level, I do not believe that in the realm of thought. I guess that’s my faith. I adhere to no religion, know no phrases from holy books. I’ve just this sense of something more. I’m not here to be one of the herd.

This is me, in transition.

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