One thing I notice within myself, in terms of processing my own storied information, biased and based on not having enough information, and/or not listening and looking at the practical, as myself as a living being that is physical, is how much I resisted problem solving. Meaning, the lack of looking and listening, as a consequence by default of justifying not having taken the time to sort things out, as to really know the ‘ score’ of practical reality. This in itself is like an entity of self pity within- a thing that can accumulate in the back of a person.
I have a memory, of myself, walking down a New York city street, as a teenager, and wondering what was in the back’s of people. At this time in my life, I was beginning to see the realities of this world, especially from being exposed to the modeling industry as I had sisters involved in this industry. I was watching my peers move towards their ideas of entering this world too. I could cite many examples; seeing my friends moving from one group to another, changing their dress codes etc. all to fit into an idea of what it meant to ‘ grow up’ and leave something that was unique within them behind. Such a change is stark when it involves moving into playing the modeling game.
Another area was music. I would perform on the street for a teenage discretionary income. It was much more lucrative then working a minimum wage job. One winter, I worked at the huge Macy’s department store on 34th street. I encountered fathers bringing in their children, asking them to put on one of the coats and to then walk out. The child crying when the coat was taken, the father inflated and little, conflicted in getting caught, not getting his daughter the coat, and she being a witness to this. I encountered the boss, verbally reprimanding me when her boyfriend would come in at the end of the shift and spend all his time talking to the teenage girl- the new and younger woman on the floor ( which was me). In this I was trapped, there was no where to go. I even realized that I was moved at the whim of the boss, to be placed in the most demanding situations. When it was slow, I was on the floor, cleaning up the children’s cloths on the down time, when it was busy, I was on the register. I suppose I would do the same thing, were I the boss, because it allows the boss to watch over the operations of the whole- yet at the time, I thought I was being punished! lol
In terms of street performing, it had its dangers, yet they were manageable, it was more a taboo, seemingly too loose and independent for my friends as we grew older. That minimum wage job, an entry level job, was more safe. Even on a bad day on the street, for a couple of hours, the wages were better than two hours in a store.
I remember one time, taking some of my mother’s paintings to a street fair. I sold two of them. Two out of three is not bad. It was a risk. I remember feeling like I was doing something under the societal rules, yet could not see NOT doing it at the same time.
Two things are coming up within me in relation to these memories coming up. One is how much my own limitations, in terms of what structures I should move as within my society to get things done, and how limiting such ideas about such things are, based on real experience. That thing, in the backs of the people that I sensed in the midst of other activities in my life, during childhood, as in a sense, myself seeing what was happening around me, as limited ideologies of should’s and should not’s compounding as a moral imagery within people, walking as personifications of such, creating firewalls of belief within them. A heavyness that lacks movement and settles within, separating awareness from real living movement, as those practical things one can do that are always here. It is only belief and a fear of things that limits.
In so many ways, people really do want to help other people. People also can become intensely jealous of others. I define jealousy as feeling lousy, because that person, for example, is performing out there on the street and they ( the jealous) are not. It is a kind of reflective exposure to one’s own lack. Some rejoice and enjoy, others draw back in shame. The resisting states of being, a fear of facing reality, the practical, the simple steps necessary to get things done.
At the moment, I have a friend I met as an adult, with whom I had a ‘ falling out’ come back into my life. They are interested in something I am doing. They have run a large business and done extremely well, affording them freedom that most of us only wish for. They have had the best education many only dream of. Within all of this, I am meeting intense reactions within what I am doing, that they have become interested in. There are times, I just watch, slow down and listen to a tirade- of which I feel I am not allowed to possess. Time frames in regard to such reactions, I have learned do not exist. My moments though small, are huge, yet within a math, this would be the outcome. The only math is their math- their belief system of what is proper. Some of it worth assessing, carefully, to clear things up. And just as we practice new formulas, to incorporate them to the point of using them without thinking about them, applying them directly, in a moment, such things take time. It is much like we have been told; walking through a valley of good’s and bad’s, biases created from learning things in a context away from practical realty- that place/space where we live and see and interact directly, employing all of our senses- this being a more natural and fast way to learn. Memorizing things in separation from here, is slow, and a means of control. When we can start to realize this, we can change this world in probably less than a decade. That is how well we as human beings can absorb information, this inFORM being the physical reality around us.
I was told at some point to use my past, and I have not done this as much as I could. Using my past, has a point of shame for me, because I have learned that pride is a false promise. It was at a point where I had enough experience to realize that pride in itself, was a false promise ( forgetting that the means to the end is the joy). This point a moment where I made the choice to not take something as a point of gain, in terms of being more than another, as defining myself as that, I chose to forgo the bling of a trophy of more, and instead realize that the magic was in the doing, in living the means, where the goal was important as more a completion of developing understanding. As a dveelopment of understanding sustained and self emwpoered one’s focus and thus, capacity here. That understanding one’s greatest asset- the gift that keeps on giving, and therefor benefitting everyone.
Now that I am older, or have spent a greater number of years as a physical beingness on a physical planet. I notice how so many of my friends, and people near the same age as myself, are losing spatial skills to greater and greater degrees. This is that thing in the back, taking over. This is that limiting set of beliefs, informing the machine. This is those beliefs of ‘ more’ that limit practical actions. This is the mind con-sciousness within all of us, as an abdication of reality. one can sense this, in the loss of spatial ability. This is a loss of focus to what is real, the physical. It is a self that cannot move through the eye-of-the-needle. This is self in separation from self, and instead a construct of ideas, beliefs and opinions, an inner math of bias, moving as waves of energy through one, so consuming, one forgets to breath. It is visible. If a high school student can sense this, it is visible, it is knowable, and with refocus, it can be deconstructed and changed. THis is what it means to ebcome a master of self. No one can do this for self, but self.
I notice this in my friend. They are losing skills they had. And yet, they understand on some level that something is out of whack.
What I notice about myself, is a fear of facing a limited morality, of doing the math, despite having practiced this, and moving with greater ease in relation to calling things out by name, by measure, and standing within that. It remains with a color of losing something, even though within focusing in reality, as the practical, and understanding what a more perfect practice builds, as a more direct seeing that has a quality of something powerful and eternal, I still feel that I am cycling within something.
At the moment, the answer that I have for myself, is that building community is spreading awareness, and that practical tools to balance out that heavy thing in the backs of men, are here. If this were easy, and I looked for quick fixes, I would, in essence, never learn to play this instrument of life, that is me here. The means is the end. To face the storm, alone, means to do the math, to leave this earth, without leaving, as in, to stand within equality and oneness with what is best for all. That is priceless, and it is a joy too, within the present system, give thanks in directing one’s labor to and towards what enables one to become clear within, to no longer fear ‘ doing things on-the-streets/ within-the-river-banks’ of life, called earth. The momentum has to be built and lived, moving the storms and rip-currents of belief into seeing, realizing and understanding that the physical is the means to the end as life, and that the value is being here, creating. I can, take the inflammation of bias, and ground it into the physical text of real living, where what is natural, as spatial skills, are grounded in reality, never to be lost and instead to improve with the number of years one has on this earth. A master of something showed me how great the gentle is and does, as it is this part of self, that, like water, can sense the smallest of things. Those smallest-of-things are the means to ensure that there is no accumulation of heavyness in the backs of men.
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