The following words are my documented thoughts through out the course of a morning. The day before I did this I was struck down by a headache and a great deal of anxiety – as I awoke the next morning I decided with conviction to analyse just what was going on in my head.
The method was quite intuitive – I simply carried a notebook with me and observed how my mind was relating to the world and to myself.
I was moved by the result.
All the ideas and images that came pouring out of me were so vibrant and my mind was so relentless in churning them out that I felt I could have written a book based off a day just watching my thoughts – but what stood out most was how I so often drifted out of the present moment to some abstract idea or some form of judgement.
I present them all in snippets and aphorisms because that is the easiest way to document them – but in truth thinking is much more like a flowing stream – where your awareness sits like a stone as each moment washes over it, bringing ideas and sensations endlessly.
It was an incredible experience and it opened up an avenue that I will be sure to explore more.
I am peaceful but my headache is still present in the background from last night. I feel that yesterday was a momentous day, I feel that I may have gained a chance to learn a lot about myself. I intend to focus on how I talk to myself – to focus on my presence – my body – and my skills. I will not chuck out the same shit for mass production – I will produce gold – man is the measure of all things. You can do it – your feelings of pain are OK – embrace them. Over come them.
I think of Reddit and I am critical of how inauthentic my posts on it are. I have repulsive feelings about how desperate I was for attention and likes – and ultimately how ineffective it was. I think about what I am doing right this moment and I think about eating and about how my body is feeble because I’m not eating first thing in the morning. I think about Conor McGregor and his four breakfasts.
I think about how beautiful my words are in one of my songs and then determine that I have to have faith in my voice, then my inner dialogue judges me for assuming my words are beautiful.
I think about how the future may be in the recorded voice and videos instead of the written word. I think it may suit me or anyone who wants to embrace their humanity, as the recorded voice and videos feel much more tangible and human – as opposed to sitting around all day writing – humans are designed to move.
I am frustrated that I am unable to think higher and I judge myself a unskilled for being unable to hear my self talk – Then I realize that the judgement itself is my self talk.
I think about what my girlfriend says in terms of my lack of feeling and I can see how my self talk lacks positive and warm rhetoric. I wonder if my self talk is actually the source of my personality. I think that all I need to do to grow is to evolve how I see myself and how I relate to myself.
I think about language and Slam poetry. I judge my own poetry as tacky. I cringe as I say a line in my head that I pronounce with a strange accent: “these myster-ee-s belong to you”. I think about what I could be and I think about the idea of poetry.
I feel that I can combine the tangibility of the body and the manliness of fighting with the power of language, poetry, and song. I feel that I can be whatever I want – that I can focus on music and language as my intellectual and monetary source – and I can fight and exercise to sustain my vitality.
I will work with what comes out of me, because that is enough – it has to be – or else I’m doomed to fail.
I decide to hone my abilities at documenting my thoughts. I tell myself that my path to mastery gifts me many boons. I feel better. I judge my pretentious phrasing. I worry that my right shoulder is damaged.
If the forms did fade – would the feelings still remain?
In The Garden
I begin cycling my shoulders to loosen them up and I look at the sun and worry about the rain.
I look into the next door neighbors house and see their hung up coats. I think the colors are very American. I think that capitalism is like a religion that is spreading across the earth turning everybody into the same thing – the American archetype. I see how if you think something for a long time you become that thing.
I take a swig of coffee – it taste gorgeous.
I do five pull ups on the tree – sixteen push ups – I hold a plank for ten breaths – then I do some stretching as my back hurts. Then I feel bad because it hurts – I wish that it would stop and I hope that through exercise it will get better. I begin stretching and doing yoga to find the source of the pain.
I do a few pull ups with my palms facing toward me and they have a great stretching effect on my back.
In The Kitchen
I think about how I could write an entire book with all the torrents of thoughts that are flowing through my mind. It led me to think of just how great it would be to be alleviated of the need to ever really have to use a computer. To create and present and leave the marketing to someone else.
I might go for a walk today and just sit down and think – correction – I will go for a walk today and just sit down and think.
I see – that is to say I gain insight – which is sight into – how crucial verbs are in describing the activity of my mind, because the mind is never still – it is a river and I see how this is the most difficult aspect of communication – to describe the inner world where everything is in motion with words which are by nature static. Verbs are special because they imply motion – they give us the ability to describe our mind-state. I gain a weapon in verbs.
I do sixteen push ups.
I recall a quote by Jeff Buckley – that is to say his words come flowing down my stream of consciousness – he said: “Your voice is your essence.” I think that I might dislike my voice, but I challenge myself – how can I dislike my essence, what is it but the only thing worth embracing.
I command myself to take action and put my ideas out into the world – to see what they are worth.
Walking Down The Street
My thought patterns seems to be stunned or anxious. I analyse each upcoming person and assess are they a threat or of use to me – it feels like a sort of survival or hunting style of consciousness. Between these assessments there is a small bit of focus on the noises of the cars.
I begin assessing my role in society – I consider myself as someone who deals in language – a musician, a singer, a poet – I think about what a wordsmiths purpose is in a society. I am reminded of an episode of Rick and Morty where there is a society that engages in a Purge and in the aftermath they have to rebuild from the ground up. One member suggests that they will create the food to which another says that they will document who creates what food and who deserves what food – this person is challenged with the suggestion that – “that is not a real job.”
I lament that the poet is much the same – not a real job.
I think about the idea of a patron – the patron would purchase the poets services to inspire and motivate the people to keep going. The King would become the patron to the poet so that the poet would sing songs about the King’s conquests and glory – the people would hear these songs and become inspired with the idea that their King is worth serving – the poet is an agent of inspiration.
I see that in modern life there are no Kings – the patrons are the people themselves – and the poet goal is to inspire the people to live well. The poet themselves must become the hero that the King one was and celebrate not royalty – but life itself. The modern poet is the celebrator of the individual.
The Coffee Shop
I communicate with two people using overly apologetic language and my self talk judges me for doing it.
I think what is the musicians role – to literally move the individual.
I am nervous about others seeing these words – I am insecure about being judged – but judgement is precisely what my self talk – what my mind – seems to be in the habit of doing. My harshest critic is my own mind.
I think about the approval I’d get if I posted some bad-ass higher level thinking ideas on poetry and in this thought I see a desire to be approved. My self talk is so critical and judgmental that I just want someone external to validate me in a positive sense – because I can’t get the positive judgement from myself. I see clearly how having a positive self talk eliminates the need for validation – If you don’t judge yourself to harshly than you won’t go looking for validation anywhere except within yourself.
I feel that this idea may reveal the crux of any issues I have – truly negativity is the cult of the weak – the weak allow their self talk to judge them critically. They don’t have the imagination to see the positives and they don’t have the willpower to enforce it.
I see a bloke pushing a buggy with a baby in it while he smokes a fag – it looks gas.
I look at a chap in a car and then my mind states that he looks like Jose Aldo. I see how this action was the defining capacity of the mind. I see into this mental habit of judgement and classification. I am amazed.
I feel an anxiousness as I try to imagine – because trying to imagine implies the possibility of failing to imagine – what part of me exists that doesn’t have this repeated habit of judgement.
By The Canal
Who is the I before the verb? I know it is “the me” but only because they told me that is what it is. I think of literature and all the beautiful shapes and images it creates and I realize that each book I have read reveals only as much as I have discovered from within myself – perhaps literature is at it’s highest joy only after you have discovered everything.
Is the seeking to find out knowledge line of thinking making me more dependent on validation? When I scour literature for truth and insight is that actually showing that I don’t have the faith to find these things within myself?
The water is entrancing, beautiful, and cleansing. I feel a blissful feeling swell up in me – perhaps the goal is to find the water in myself? Is the stream of my awareness the location of this water within?
I am watching my mind right now. There is a watcher – the I – who is watching the mind. The one sitting watching the river.
A pigeon flies low – and fear appears in the river of my awareness.
As a man and his child approach and sit beside me annoyance arises in the river of my awareness.
As the lady in the distance moves toward me desire arises in the river of my awareness – my mind has a yearning to look at her – because in me something wants beautiful things – I am drawn to them.
As the sun comes out and pours down on my skin like honey comfort arises in the river of my awareness.
As I watch a fat man smoking judgement arises in the river of my awareness.
How to decipher this mystery? It seems that as things arrive in the river of my awareness – I process them and then quickly my mind kicks into gear and makes an assessment. My instincts either desire or repulse where as my assessment calculates the rationality of my desires.
I am present and then an anxiousness arises in me as I think that my mind is not doing anything – but I realize I am incorrect – my mind is doing the anxiousness. Despite my knowledge of my minds process – I cannot stop them from happening – I still make judgments about people who walk by.
Despite this I feel I am moving in the right direction.
I feel doubt about whether I am good enough and a melody from one of my songs arises in my awareness and the melody moves me emotionally and I realize that it’s ability to move me gives it all the validation it needs – I realize that it gains all the validation I need for that matter. It is about evoking instincts and emotions out of myself.
The question becomes which feelings are the most powerful – the most noble? – Inspiration? Beauty? Power? Mastery? Love?
I am on the right track.
I think about diet and see that the only difference between a Concentration Camp and an Abattoir is that we eat the produce that comes out of the latter. I tell myself – Never forget that Capitalism, Socialism, and Fascism are not only enemies, but also – brothers.
These systems – they are habits – I say – resist your habits Steafan.
The crux of that arising mind is realizing that everything that arises must fall, and I guess the heart in me is searching for that part that is eternal – that does not fall – if it exists at all.
What I consider to be power is the ability to strip your psyche of all it’s misplaced sense of entitlement until all that is left is the pure essence of your focus which you use to imagine something into existence that never was and has a marked effect on the river of history.
I celebrate the ability to imagine and possessing the will power to make that vision a reality as a great skill.
I see that imagination and anxiety are brothers.