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the last day of summer

This year, it was a Tuesday. It was the second last day of August. I was much more aware of it as it transitioned from summer to the cold literally overnight. The nights had been brisk for a while, but the next morning had that cold winter morning feel. The slightest show of a fine mist on a cool morning gathered low near the grass by the river. The colours were muted under a grey sky. I commented to a friend that it would be my last day leaving the house without a jacket for the rest of the year.

And even then, I was partially taken by surprise. "The temperature has really dropped off hasn't it?", I comment. "It's the end of August" "It's September, of course it has" people would say in reply.

The weather in Munich doesn't gradually decrease in temperature. There's a step change between the seasons. It goes from 26 degrees one day, with a usual summer thunderstorm, to maximum of 20 degrees. Which is around the maximum temperatures during winter in Perth.

Today is September 1. The first day of Autumn, the way the textbooks taught me when I was in school. Four seasons, three months each. Summer is June July August. Summer is my favourite month, and this summer was good. And though it went for nearly 3 months it just felt so fast.

I find introspection fun; not everyone does

https://www.theschooloflife.com/article/loneliness-as-a-sign-of-depth/

And we for our part are lonely because we are operating with a notion of intimacy that is far less common than we torture ourselves by imagining. We will be blessed if we meet just one or two people in a lifetime who want to play as we do. The rest of the time, we shouldn’t compound our problems by feeling lonely that we’re lonely. It’s painful but utterly understandable; our favourite pastime, however noble it might be, is a very unusual one indeed.

How Modern Media Destroys Our Minds - The School of Life

There is a fog between our conscious minds and our true selves. The vital truths dwell like pine trees in a heavy mist, as in Hasegawa Tohaku’s screen (overleaf), struggling to break loose from an enveloping fog that envelops and conceals, teasing with their presence without ever becoming distinct. We fail to investigate ourselves properly largely because doing so threatens to hurt a lot. We are, in the short term, profoundly invested in looking away; we are built so that whenever we come near to important realisations, we are visited by waves of anxiety and discomfort; we’re inherently squeamish about working out what is really going on inside. Knowledge threatens to upset the comfortable status quo: perhaps— after we reflect—we’ll realise that we really have no option but to leave our present partner. We might have to confront just how unsatisfying our current career is; we might be furious with someone we are meant to love. To ensure that we will never come face to face with ourselves, we develop addictions. We are used to categorising addictions chiefly in reference to drugs or alcohol. But this lets many of us off too lightly. Addiction isn’t limited to a dependence on a chemical. An addiction is simply anything that guarantees that we will never have to come to terms with ourselves, that promises to ward off uncomfortable or dreadful inner realisations. Conceived of like this, a host of other types of addiction come into view: we might get addicted to doing exercise, reading football scores, worrying about insurance or going to work. An addiction can’t be spotted by what it makes us do, simply by what it prevents us from feeling.

Lifetime practice of listening better

Those inclined to agree with this assessment of Rogers will probably think that I have overstated the case. Listening as love? Listening as spiritual practice? But in my own life, a renewed approach to listening has improved how I relate to others, and I now believe listening is absurdly under-discussed. Good listening is complex, subtle, slippery – but it is also right here, it lives in us, and we can work on it every day. Unlike the abstractions of so much of ethics and so much of philosophy, our listening is there to be honed, every day. Like a muscle, it can be trained. Like an intellect, it can be tested. In the very same moment, it can spur both our own growth and the growth of others.

To listen well is not only a kindness to others but also, as the psychologist Carl Rogers made clear, a gift to ourselves

It all makes sense

All these snippets from over the years. All coming together and just making so much sense. I'm not overwhelmed, just excited. I'm not panicked, I feel patient. It feels right. I never knew it could feel right. This is the first time I am working towards something I truly want.

I reached the place I always wondered if I would get to

I feel content with everything I have. I'm present and loving and grateful for the moment. I have a short set back, a difficult conversation, I put myself out there, I stay calm, it passes and then, I'm back to feeling content. I just FEEL it. Surreal.

all tied together

written on 17/01/2022, read on 18/03/2022

https://positivepsychology.com/embodiment-philosophy-practices/

it perfectly ties together everything I've wondered about

gives me a clarity in the direction that I want to follow

what I want to continue learning about

the clarity makes me feel positive, hopeful, alive

the coincidence of it

learning

what is this embodiment thing that's going around

the moment I chose to sit down and look into it

It feels clear.

The flip of meaning.

It feels like reading the answers to a test.

Or finding out something I've always wanted to know.

Or rereading something and finally understanding it. Slowly clicking in my brain.

And it feels clear. My experience validated.

But also so far from what me 3 years ago knew.

Or what they thought.

Would they have understood back then?

Or did I need to go through what I have now.

Control. Risks. Preferences. How you feel. Doubts. Possibilities.

How to find the right words

Life constantly presents us with a tension between two very

significant forces: we want to let others know how we feel. And

we want to be kind. Only too often, the two missions seem entirely

opposed. If we revealed the true depths of our anger, frustration,

disdain or love, we might ruin a friendship – and end up a pariah

in the community. But if we said nothing, we would suffer from a

sense of claustrophobia and inauthenticity.

Too often, unsure of how to proceed, we veer between extremes.

We say nothing for too long and then, unable to take it any longer,

exhausted or at wits’ end, we explode. We divulge in an uncontained

moment everything that for months we had been too inhibited and

cowed to express politely.

https://www.theschooloflife.com/shop/how-to-find-the-right-words-book/

I've had this idea bouncing around my brain for a little while, but she put it into words - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rKQLBiylsn8

''Bad thoughts come and go, and sometimes I find it difficult to separate what I think and feel from what I am absorbing by osmosis from the culture and world around me.'' - Bri Lee

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