I got up at dawn thinking about the meaning of life. Every morning is a celebration, and a leap into uncertainty.
I view this as my public journal (not to be confused with a ‘pubic journal’, but that’s another, altogether more Freudian topic).
Some of the things I write in my private journal would be good to share with others, and some of the things I’ve shared with others might be better off being kept personal. Either way, it’s writing.
Thoughts are a way of containing life, language is a way of containing thoughts, writing is a way of containing language; like a giant, cosmic Matryoshka doll.
We’re always looking for a way to contain things, to structure our day, and give order to chaos.
This is our ego at work; it is the ego’s work.
We have an ego; we are not our ego. That’s spirituality 101.
I’ve been content for over a decade keeping my own counsel within the pages of my journals. What I want to do here is to inspire others, as I’ve been inspired. I think I do that, and that’s the most fulfilling aspect.
My ego, of course, likes the approval, accomplishment, the sense that what I do matters and exists.
I’ve been thinking about alter-egos and sub-personalities. These seem as real to me as the persona I present to the world, which is to say, not that real at all. It seems like they’re the ones who decide to wear the masks and traipse around on stage.
I asked myself the question “who am I, really?” and it seems like who I really am is always in a state of change and transition. And yet, there’s something about me that has watched all of these changes take place.
We’re dynamic beings, not static and dead edifices. We all want to be free, but some of us need more stability than others.
These are the thoughts I had this morning–somewhat varied–but coming from the same source. For some reason this seems like a good time for me to say namaste, so…
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