When clarity escapes us in whatever degree, do we yearn for it, search for it or do we just bask darkly in the haze that surrounds us, sadistically embracing the emotions that lie in that negative state. Perhaps it is the search that caused such perverse internal debauchery. Maybe in the over-thought of desiring clarity, clarity is lost.
Over-thought - the biggest bane in my life. If at all my hopes and dreams are dashed there can be no other reason but this. The paralysis of over-analysis. I must be the worst of all over-thinkers. The most dramatic victim of the source of self-doubt and self-question. The instinctive flows of my talents has one by one collapsed into nothingness as though it has never existed for me.
For talent requires deep confidence and a full self. It is performed in a long, deep breath, without interruption from the heart that isn't still, the opinions of others or any neurotically enforced patterned behaviour. Systems can only abolish the genius in things when it is enforced to reduce thinking but in reality, systems of this manner are just products of over-thought and thus do not work at all. If true genius is in play, there is no energy spent in over-thought but everything will flow beautifully without slaving away at all.
I say this like it is such an easy concept to practice and it is, but when consistency and reguliarity comes into play that is when it stumps me. How does one do something so special day in and out without over-complicating its naturality? I want to achieve this. I want to be this. I want to be in form perpetually and so I need to unlock its secrets. I need to be able to look at something from its freshest angle over and over again. I cannot be jaded, or tired or distracted in any way. I have to be consumed with love for the thing. And like how I never ruin the enjoyments I love most with excess, I should respect my talents in the very same way. But of course I will not willingly destroy art into addiction. The first time it ever happened was because it became a job and I HAD to do it repeatedly. Otherwise it will only be inspiration and expression that blew me its way. And for a long while inspiration was never a problem, until this issue I am whining about came into being - analysis paralysis. And then there was no longer any semblance of true inspiration and I was left only with that weird patterned behaviour.
Look at this piece of writing. It began in five lines to five lines and then I started to really write or did I? It is scary to be jailed in that strange place where nothing makes sense and everything looks to be moving in a robotic fashion. Fear is deeply alive in here. But I have to work this place out. I have to work it out IN HERE. I have to tackle the beast within the beast so as to come out truly victorious and unafraid no more.
Whatever the answer is, it has to keep the love for the talents beating strong. It has to fend off all negative emotions by filling the spaces with positive breathing ones. How do I not sink into the depressions of my problems when my inner core is so damaged I have to fight to keep the love for what I thought so personally mine it will never be at risk?
Silence please, my oh my raging mind. Please quieten down. I'm afraid of your endless movements. I have no clue what to do. I think the main problem is that I am not honest with myself. Not thorough with whatever I am feeling. I should acknowledge my excitements, my nervousness, my worries, my joys and all my swallowed emotions. Because only once I do that can I clearly remove it or use it in my system. If I do not acknowledge its existence, I could only be holding a mess of its reality and the reality I desire. Which will never be any state of clarity.
It is clarity which will give me all of the heart and the mind's brain power. The colundrum of the two beating as one. And the two at balance will give me clarity. A paradox that is as simple as breathing in and out, and as easily messed up as when breathing is over-watched, over-thought.
(Ok, the thought of over-thinking breathing puts me in a smothering and deeply silent paranoia which is too scary to face, so let's stop here.)
Over-thought - the biggest bane in my life. If at all my hopes and dreams are dashed there can be no other reason but this. The paralysis of over-analysis. I must be the worst of all over-thinkers. The most dramatic victim of the source of self-doubt and self-question. The instinctive flows of my talents has one by one collapsed into nothingness as though it has never existed for me.
For talent requires deep confidence and a full self. It is performed in a long, deep breath, without interruption from the heart that isn't still, the opinions of others or any neurotically enforced patterned behaviour. Systems can only abolish the genius in things when it is enforced to reduce thinking but in reality, systems of this manner are just products of over-thought and thus do not work at all. If true genius is in play, there is no energy spent in over-thought but everything will flow beautifully without slaving away at all.
I say this like it is such an easy concept to practice and it is, but when consistency and reguliarity comes into play that is when it stumps me. How does one do something so special day in and out without over-complicating its naturality? I want to achieve this. I want to be this. I want to be in form perpetually and so I need to unlock its secrets. I need to be able to look at something from its freshest angle over and over again. I cannot be jaded, or tired or distracted in any way. I have to be consumed with love for the thing. And like how I never ruin the enjoyments I love most with excess, I should respect my talents in the very same way. But of course I will not willingly destroy art into addiction. The first time it ever happened was because it became a job and I HAD to do it repeatedly. Otherwise it will only be inspiration and expression that blew me its way. And for a long while inspiration was never a problem, until this issue I am whining about came into being - analysis paralysis. And then there was no longer any semblance of true inspiration and I was left only with that weird patterned behaviour.
Look at this piece of writing. It began in five lines to five lines and then I started to really write or did I? It is scary to be jailed in that strange place where nothing makes sense and everything looks to be moving in a robotic fashion. Fear is deeply alive in here. But I have to work this place out. I have to work it out IN HERE. I have to tackle the beast within the beast so as to come out truly victorious and unafraid no more.
Whatever the answer is, it has to keep the love for the talents beating strong. It has to fend off all negative emotions by filling the spaces with positive breathing ones. How do I not sink into the depressions of my problems when my inner core is so damaged I have to fight to keep the love for what I thought so personally mine it will never be at risk?
Silence please, my oh my raging mind. Please quieten down. I'm afraid of your endless movements. I have no clue what to do. I think the main problem is that I am not honest with myself. Not thorough with whatever I am feeling. I should acknowledge my excitements, my nervousness, my worries, my joys and all my swallowed emotions. Because only once I do that can I clearly remove it or use it in my system. If I do not acknowledge its existence, I could only be holding a mess of its reality and the reality I desire. Which will never be any state of clarity.
It is clarity which will give me all of the heart and the mind's brain power. The colundrum of the two beating as one. And the two at balance will give me clarity. A paradox that is as simple as breathing in and out, and as easily messed up as when breathing is over-watched, over-thought.
(Ok, the thought of over-thinking breathing puts me in a smothering and deeply silent paranoia which is too scary to face, so let's stop here.)
