CNY rising – part 2

Yes…I struggle with self doubt. Most people would never admit it. Maybe they see it as a fatal admission that may come back and bite them with a vengeance. But I don’t have any hang up’s about coming to terms with the haunting reality or crushing tragedy that never seems to ever get enough juice to break away from the gravity of who I am….the finality of my own terrible limitations and how I try to patch it up with lies, my hopeless inadequacy around people, the impossibility of ever getting it just right like how I see it in my mind’s eye…Yada, Yada, Yada, Yada.

There are times when my self doubt even threatens to boil over – when I begin to ask which emotional reactions are actually me? And which are really just generated by my cunning ego. Am I really all there?

It’s not as if I don’t make a real and genuine effort to connect with myself at a deep and meaningful level…I listen regularly to Elkhart Tolle, Rupert Spira and maybe ten other people who are really into the whole movement to peel right into our real unvarnished elemental self. They all believe once you can make that momentous connection with your real self then one can only experience what they describe as transcendal awakening.

I work hard at the idea to wake up. Maybe I work harder than most… maybe too darn hard.

That’s all I ever seem to ever do….look high and low for the so called real Mc Coy me. I realise how strange a proposition this may be to those who aren’t acquainted with people who regularly suffer from self doubt.

Well it may have something to do with….most of the time I am alone.

I work alone. And if there’s anything to be said about being alone…it’s the texture. I know what I am trying to describe comes across as slightly weird, but it’s the texture of being alone that is different from always being around people.

Texture like how a fabric either sits, hangs or just seems to be over flesh and bone.

It’s much sharper around the edges being alone….I find myself having to guard and limit my emotional reactions all the time whenever I have to spend long periods all by myself.

Otherwise self doubt alway appears before me like a dream. You know why people love to recount their dreams don’t you? You should ask your friends about their dreams and just watch how they can talk about them for hours. Well I have this pet theory that they are trying to say something which they usually can’t or would never reveal about themselves to anyone…the dream is like a metaphor, it’s the necessary lie that makes possible the transmission between what they want to say about themselves but can’t and handling the danger of it all.

I mean you could tell much more about people by just listening to five minutes of what they dreamt last night or the two weeks ago then if they stood up and talked about themselves for eight straight hours!

Thats really how powerful dreams are at revealing the terror of self doubt…like I said it’s heightened considerably by the texture of being alone that doesn’t even have the courtesy to distort or cause abberations in your emotions…. People who had known me years ago would barely recognize me when I battle self doubt in that state of loneliness. I become quiet, slow and deliberate. There’s like a solemnity that colors every though and action. After all, how could I really know if I am suddenly overcome by a spontaneous moment of sheer joy that it was really genuinely epiphany that came from some remarkable transcendal rush. Or maybe that’s just my borderline psychopathic ego fast at work to be the center of attention?

Like I said the texture of self doubt sharpens when one is alone. I could for example no longer fall back on the timelessness of my heart felt beliefs on virtually every subject ranging from politics to power tools.

The debate had withered. Instead I found myself looking at every single side of an issue as if unable to assure myself it wasn’t some how tainted by madness.

I think it’s this aspect of loneliness that scares people….one is forced to look at oneself warts and all and something what one see may not be a very pretty picture.

You know there’s actually this strange disease that only seems to afflict people who live in really off the grid parts of the world that lonely planet doesn’t write about…places that are so desolate and hauntingly silent that it literally screams loneliness….places like the Russian steppes that seems to just go right on and on like a repeatitive litany that knows no end. Or maybe sailing North to South starting from the straits of bearing and fighting those impossible currents….you could be at it for years. Anyway…this disease it’s called Siberiana.

One day for no reason this soul who lives in all by himself just wakes up, puts on his boots and decides to walk maybe east or maybe West…he doesn’t eat…he doesn’t stop even for rest. All this tortured soul does is put one foot in front of the other. Till he collapses and dies.

It’s one those Ripley’s believe it or not mystery diseases – experts have studied it. Even those NASA boffins who are designing spaceships to go to Mars have studied it….but no one really knows why it happens.’