In the middle of one of those fall-shaped vortices of nostalgia, which is its own kind of blankness or ability to grasp whatever my real is like right now. I swear late October/early November must have been ... something to me in the past, because this recurrence is maddening. I want the insight-key to unlock this pattern. Anyway. I deep-dove into old blogs I used to care enough to bookmark, and found a veritable graveyard. I find that I want to move so far away from the faceb**k & twi**er-verses but also that I need some sort of way to connect to others, but I've let all of those old muscles and connections wither. (Though, also, to be fair - to beeeee faaaaaaaaaiiiir - the people I like the most aren't on any of those already. They're also more reclusive than anyone else I might want to spend time with, as I generally refuse to be egotistical enough to worry that they're just avoiding me.) I need to reestablish new rhythms, but of course this isn't just about ...
For these holidays, I've decided (we've decided) to make most of our presents for people. It's a pleasant sort of challenge, since even if I'm making the same *kind* of thing for several people, it lets me think about each specific person's personality, particular situation, potential wants or needs, and try to make accordingly. It's also a way for me to feel generous even in a year when we can't afford a lot monetarily. This first thing I'm sharing probably doesn't really count, since it was for Thanksgiving (sort of), and it's just a lil digital output. But I found a lovely meditation from Philip Moffitt, and wanted to share it with Aaron - but also didn't necessarily think he'd read the whole thing. I'm not big on Thanksgiving as a holiday per se at all, but I've been feeling very desirous and needy of working on my attitude of late, and this was a timely way to share those feelings. So I adapted Moffitt's meditation on ...
So I'm one of those people who needs an overarching concept, idea, or goal to introduce any semblance of discipline into my life. I spent a lot of my twenties (the late ones, even, not so much the early ones) drinking more than was tasteful (or affordable, even), smoking, eating a lot of chocolate, indulging in all manner of tasty things, and so on. There was certainly an overarching concept at work here: that's delicious, I want more. There was not a lot of examination of how these things were making me feel. Even the pragmatic arguments against these practices fueled my special brand of decadence; when smokes in NY went to nearly $10 a pack for non-rez prices, I justified this as showing particular commitment to my hedonism, budget and lungs be damned. (I'd also like to note here that I'm not griping about any of these practices per se, but rather my relationship to each of them.) Various things over the years have led me to quit drinking (though I'll toast ...
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