Weather I like it or not, I exist in meat space. There is a level to my consciousness that would rather skip the mundane. Maybe mundane isn't the right word, really. There is a certain appeal in being stuck neck deep in the human condition. I suppose it is a matter of perspective but the trappings of daily life are amusing even though they are sometimes soul-crushingly sad. Plenty of people have observed that without suffering and loss, the joy and beauty of existence would be meaningless.
Couldn't hurt to at least see what it would be like without pain, though.
Part of me wonders what the motivation would be? What would life look like without suffering? Pessimism tells me that humans would manufacture suffering just to have some sort of fucked up balance. Humans manufacture triumph all the time so it stands to reason that in the absence of something, they would default to figuring out how to get that something even though it is negative or unpleasant.
Self sabotage is something people are really good at.
I end up doing it to myself all the time in subtle ways. I have to wonder, though, how much of it is really self sabotage? It might just be the longing for comfort, for the familiar. The mind has a really odd way of loving to live in the past, again even if the past isn't exactly something pleasant. It's kind of like an old shoe that fits a certain way, even though it is painful, nothing else seems right so why even bother to get new shoes?
A lot of suffering is internal. While humans dwell on the past internally, externally they espouse the virtues of living in the present. Mindfulness and present-mindedness is the theme for a lot of self-help advice. While I think being grounded in the present moment is a really good thing, it is sad that people don't really feel comfortable with unpacking their past and working through the trauma of life. It is said that misery loves company but company really doesn't like misery. I suppose that's why I have a great deal of respect for people who tend to the mind. Like doctors of flesh and bone, these souls are exposed to the horrors of humanity. I can't imagine how many fucked up things therapists and counselors hear on a regular basis. Flesh and bone heal visibly, the mind is a much more complex and subtle creature. On top of it all, these healers of the mind are often the only people some can trust.
I'm a mostly open book and there are things that I won't say to anyone but my therapist. A good therapist is non-judgmental (within reason, of course) but a great therapist is someone who can make sense out of the bizarre and can soothe the chaos with at least some sort of rationality. It fucking helps, more than I can put into words.
I've been on this roller coaster before but for the first time it feels like I'm starting to make sense of all this, even in the midst of a confusing existence. Maybe I'm just making peace with meat space.
