The Gossiping Mind
Okay, some free writing about gossip. These days I’m faced with a positive polarity of gossip which can be roughyl translated into worship, worshipping the culture of love. What I’m really looking at is how I have accepted and allowed myself to define love, as the word, as the definition, that translates into thoughts, words, and deeds.
But firstly, let me describe the symptoms. Imagining ‘perfect’ moments with the ‘perfect’ someone. Physical intimacy, which is not equal to sex, but how various forms of touch trigger reactions in the emotional mind; a simple leaning on me triggering a sense of relief, roughly speaking.
So in my mind, these imaginations and feelings are a form of gossip, ultimately about myself because that I like this person says things about me, my desires, my dreams I refuse to admit to myself, my fears. Generally, prioritizing touch over the real tasks I do to maintain myself through feeling means weakness. Weakness meaning I do X for myself, yet there are still points existing in me that I believe can be solved through a most primitive act of touch. For example, a personalized affirmation is interpreted as X person leaning on me. Affirming what? Affirming everything I do and don’t do, both the strengths and especially the weaknesses/limitations I place on myself. For example, a limitation can be a belief that I am never real or have any authority/face until a ‘special someone’ affirms what I am.
Problem, solution, reward.
The problem with this, call it positive gossiping, is it becomes an existential form of masturbating, symbolically. What I mean is, I affirm self-limiting beliefs about myself through external/real stimulus/touch, and that whole job is a mind job; it doesn’t have to be this way. The beliefs about myself being the ‘root’ that roots a feeling and makes it seem real – like the beliefs about what I can gain from looking at naked women – and the external stimulus – touch or using the previous example, X leaning on me – being the hand on the sexual organ. That this is wordplay cannot be realized unless some writing is done. Wordplay meaning what makes up and designs and generates love feeling, are strings of words using logic, that are assumptions about the reality, with the conditions that one, I must be entranced by the feeling and not on the words/sentences – which transmutes logic into fuzzy logic – and two, that I must believe that this is all that I can do, follow essentially a program that I programmed into myself through time and through strings of words (sentences/beliefs) and output a feeling that I believe I must have to achieve happiness. It’s like being a vampire isn’t it; I must do everything it takes to get this feeling/blood because that is the source of my life, this energy/feeling/emotion/love. It’s like looking at a fire and ignoring the source of the fire – wood, let’s say – screaming “beautiful” and “I must have this light to be happy” which in essence, is being provided by the wood/words that constitute a program.
The solution is to stop participating when such imagination comes up, which I must say from experience, are like images of naked women you generate in the mind. Obviously they/the naked pictures/the lovey imagination was not originally there or instilled into you by the heavens – you accepted and allowed inputs from your environment until it became second nature to ‘just do it’ and generate naked pictures at will, or in this case of love, generate ‘perfect’ moments with the ‘perfect’ someone. The next step would obviously introspect as to the fears and beliefs that drive one to be convicted and convinced that following this imagination is the ‘only way to happiness/relief’, as in a way, my imagination is a reflection. Reflection of anxiety basically, in this case of lovey imagination, as I see I would be anxious and envious if stripped of this imagination, ‘my right/choice to have these wonderful fantasies in the sacred space of my mind’.
The reward of not leaving lovey imagination run amok is the following. No more obsession, what is the definition of obsession; essentially when in spite of what needs to be done and what is best for all, you focus on something else, usually something that was – meaning in the past – and want to ‘make it real again’. So you prevent the possibility of ruining your life in the name of love. You learn more about you, what’s so good about that. You appease your fears systematically, through purposely touching reality through self directive writing to see the “void” between ‘your actions’ and ‘what is best for you in THE reality’.
To apply what I’ve said, lovey imagination is my action, weigh the pros and cons, with a keen eye on the reality outflows as what happens to the flesh bag that is my body that is stuck in a space-time reality. I lose sleep possibly masturbating because of this lovey imagination. I lose touch with what really happens when I actually meet that special someone. I set unrealistic expectations of my potential partner. I become overly positive/set unrealistic expectations of how events unfold with this person. My experience of myself will be more susceptible to ups and downs of feelings and emotions. I toy with myself with these expectations, when they’re fulfilled (I become arrogant), when they’re not fulfilled (I become wrathful/sad/depressed/indignant/etc. I leave it to your imagination). This is only looking at the outflows that affect me. I haven’t even begun about how lovey imagination would affect the people around you: the gossip, the neglect you allow.
What I see is best for me is if I simply stop. If I stop setting unrealistic expectations of my partner, which has nothing to do with empathy or compassion, expectations are rather selfish, I prevent a hell of a lot of heartache and lost time and effort. Sure, the effort of keeping these expectations is automated therefore easy, but the consequences are not easy to experience.
So far, I agree with what Bernard said about compassion: it’s not a feeling, but a realization of yourself. That you would not like others to do unto you, what you like to do unto others. See what I did there? I alluded to what you already know, that you are not the best you can be.
Conclusion: compassion cannot be a feeling if the feeling is a product of profuse input producing a mind machine that produces output that places you in a pit like imagination: locked in your own world. Rose-coloured sunglasses.