I am the pause in reflecting

*(a letter written for my parents who were overseas in Canada when I was six)

Strengthening an observer of a streaming consciousness requires a conscious decision to do so.  Raising consciousness or self-awareness is a paradox – unconsciousness upgrading itself into consciousness. Thoughts continuously flow but catching them and their intent depends on being in a state of silent awareness, the in-between of unconsciousness into consciousness.

I need a shower, an important ritual.  Chores await me but here I am writing.  Am I being pointless by putting off the shower and chores with writing?

No – It is a calculated delay.  It is a choice in prioritizing.  The writing is an effect of a cause, a consequence of a trigger’s input.

It always is.  A trigger produces a decision that was influenced by the trigger’s structure.  The decision then unfolds into an ensuing consequential trigger activating a decision.

Cause and effect… what came first, the decision or the effect?  The same question as what came first, the chicken or the egg.

The lightning moment of reflection in-between cause and effect that produces a decision and then births another effect –  is a part of life’s process of whose significance increases daily for me.

Micro decisions are the structure of an unfolding life.  Second by second, micro decisions create a life.   Am I dependent on reflection to better the unfoldment of my life?  Definitely.  Am I reflective enough?  Never.

The length of the reflection moment determines the odds that a micro decision will be more informed, which in turn, enhances the unfoldment of my life.   The urgency to decide invariably backfires.

If paralysis of analysis comes to mind, reflection incorporates more than analyzing.  It is from within the silence whence wisdom rises.

These calls to write and share my thoughts appear riding on the back of a question, why do I receive this call?  Are my thoughts worthy of sharing?  If I write and then file it in the closet, then why not just think and not write?

Where does this need come from and what is its purpose?  A small child’s pride writes letters to parents who, in migrating across an ocean, are available only through the writing and mailing of those letters.  As was once suggested to me.

No.  That my six-year-old-self was comforted by writing was not the purpose of her writing but rather it was an outlet that would be inspired no matter her environment or circumstance. *(see posted image)  She would have been inspired to write and share in happiness too.

The need was hardwired but inspired by a subjective environmental situation.  The outlet is pure and so the analysis is irrelevant.

The essential question is why I question and doubt my writing urge.  Does my doubt stem from others’ disinterest in my thoughts?  Do I need an audience to give my writing purpose?  Do I work to make my writing entertaining to capture other’s attention?

What is important here?  Do I need to ensure the worthiness of my thoughts and observations with other people’s validation?  What is this?

Ha, the tip of a serpent’s tail flicking an invitation to be caught…

Perhaps the more crucial action is the observation of my thoughts’ emergence and freeing them to sun themselves in the light of consciousness – my consciousness looking back at itself.

If others do not reflect like me or need to write like me or even care to read what I write, why does this hinder my execution of writing?

I can write whatever.  No one needs to read it or judge it worthy.  It is worthy because I am developing the skill of catching my thoughts.   I am raising my consciousness, I am increasing self-awareness.  This is not only a benefit to my life but affects each relationship that engages me.

That is it, that is all.  Shower time.

10 thoughts on “I am the pause in reflecting”

  1. OMG..it’s still like….
    Your writing IS so profound to me. It’s like you’re an extension of my brain..life. You say EXACTLY what I feel….it’s eerie, yet calming.
    Are you my conscious? YOU ARE my guidance..where were you when I…..
    I wish i could write, live like you
    With strength.
    Oh G….I don’t even know if this makes sense…any of it
    YOU just touch my soul <3

    1. I read your Angelbaby pieces and thought, I wish I could write like you. Beautifully expressed. You are unique and your expression is perfect – honouring that uniqueness. That we are working with the same struggles is our similar attributes of empathy. I think that’s why you recognize the theme in my write? Your rambling? what rambling? Your comment touched me deeply.

  2. Yep. Yep. I read your write and the words you have so eloquently arranged speak volumes to me, my beautiful friend. It is as though you read my tortured mind. Yesterday I wrote the frivolous, nonsense that popped into my head and then I went about worrying I would be grossly misunderstood. I decided to let it be. At least for now. I examined my intentions, they were a mixed bag. I think I was distracting myself from the worry of today.
    Anyhow, despite my identifying with your words, I believe I understand how you feel. I hope, with all my heart, regardless of what drives you to write, you will continue to write. Your writes are unique, insightful and so deep. Those are treasures. Gifts to those who strive to understand themselves. I am honored to read your writes, the lifelines you extend to the world. The fact you would analyze your intentions speaks to the size of your heart. Your beautiful, loving heart. The world needs more like you. (imagines self cloning friend). (((hugs)))

    1. After we chatted the other day, without reason I clicked on a write I had written in January and was surprised that it was the topic of our chat. I was going to date the write so that you would see that we share the same struggles. I have written the theme of my post many times because there is always another cycle from which to learn. As you know, I could have written the same theme today so I posted what I wrote nine months ago since at the time, was too self-critical to post. Dear friend, your words of value touch me deeply. Thank you!

  3. I came back to this post to see if I could read the letter. Had to make the page huge in order to get a clear picture of the letter. I am very impressed with your penmanship at the tiny age of six. Wow! I realize that is not the point of the write. It just struck me how young you were and how beautiful your handwriting was.

  4. I just show up. here. there. somewhere. The Exchange. Could be anywhere as it is digital. she said, “… loved This…..”

    Crack between the silence and the roar of the crowd. Stands up. Looks around. Airs his thoughts and are differences.

    What remains is an aura. The look of being . Understood.
    “What’s not to love.” Consciousness that hides in synapses and in the chemicals of body and mind and brain secretions.

    Shower washes the contaminants away. Refreshes. Words in context with that which unfolds, and is explained and amplified. Refreshes. And brings forth more.

    thanks you. simpatico.

  5. drops in to say, “Don’t erase it once written.” Just send it private message . Is not a graded effort. enjoys the contact from the outside. different perspective. matters not what was said. tomorrow it can happen again. use tomorrow as our erase button. works for me. cover it all over with a new set of words and thoughts.
    thanks for the visit. twas good.

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