This Is (Not) Grass

Scarcity brings out the fun­da­men­tals in a per­son­al­ity. I will use myself as an exam­ple, although I could refer to oth­ers in my life as well, “ex” peo­ple of sev­eral vari­eties, wives and busi­ness part­ners come to mind – these darker sides come out as peo­ple are leav­ing my life, I guess, or I maybe bring it out in them. Even if I do bring it out, I didn’t make them that way. Maybe no one did. A per­son who I thought I knew is com­pletely dif­fer­ent when things get tight. I bring it out in me too. I usu­ally find that I am short on space or time. I con­tract, retreat. In the past when this went on long enough my depres­sion or frus­tra­tion would leak out as destruc­tion – self, rela­tion­ships, what­ever. Now I try to ask for time or space to recharge. I do this blog, write or take pho­tos. I fill the scarcity with the bet­ter side of me. Then I feel. Better.

I have said many times here that I have trou­ble with feel­ing things. I can lit­er­ally feel noth­ing at times. Is that pos­si­ble? Can I be blank? It is not unpleas­ant, but it is odd. We are emo­tional beings. I see it in my son. Feel­ings, like a river, flow through him. Thoughts how­ever, do not. As thoughts come, the feel­ings have a hard time get­ting space. I mis­place my feel­ings and I think my thoughts are feel­ings. I watch you all very care­fully and I can tell you what I should be feel­ing. What should be feel­ings can be obser­va­tions. It is hard to have thoughts and feel­ings at the same time. Since my brain thinks all the time, I have to ask it to quiet itself so I can have a feel­ing. These crazy con­ver­sa­tions in me. How does this hap­pen? Who is hav­ing these dis­cus­sions. The me look­ing at me think­ing of you, feel­ing for whom, liv­ing this life. As my boy finds his brain, which is really beau­ti­ful to see, his abil­ity to have the flows of emo­tions will dimin­ish. I know now that a human who does not feel his feel­ings will end up with dis­torted bub­bles of emo­tions stuck inside him, but the brain does not give a shit. It thinks and thinks and it is good at it and it is very inter­est­ing too, in a way. I have to talk myself in to hav­ing feel­ings some­times. If I don’t I miss out on love from my wife and love for my wife, joy with my son, sat­is­fac­tion with work, with beauty. I rail against this ten­dency to see the world as a puz­zle con­stantly. I do this because I can’t do any­thing else. I have to have my heart in order to have yours. My brain can’t be two things, like this crazy blue plas­tic grass some­one planted can’t be real green grass. I look at my son at mar­vel at his open heart but I know his brain, his mind, is doing push ups, get­ting strong and wait­ing for him, with all its power and it down­falls. His work, like mine, is to know him­self, head and heart. My job is to teach him gen­eros­ity and hon­esty with both.

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3 Responses to This Is (Not) Grass

  1. Kathleen says:

    I sup­pose there are some peo­ple that don’t have prob­lems feel­ing their feel­ings but it is a for­eign con­cept to me. I remem­ber some very depressed times in my life when I would yell out loud at myself (in my car) “why can’t you feel any­thing?“
    I had a yoga teacher that said to us dur­ing a rest pose, “Don’t just rest in your mind. Some­times, you have to rest in your heart”. This was pro­found for me as it was dif­fer­ent than qui­et­ing my mind, it was more like tun­ing in to what else was there, within you. There was a recog­ni­tion that there is some­thing else that is you, that is not your mind.

  2. Barbara says:

    I like what you both have written.……

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