#self-examination

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

This is a time for self-examination and quiet preparation to ready yourself for great fulfillment.

[DIVINATION: Oct. 26, 2025]

+

Art and love are the same thing: It’s the process of seeing yourself in things that are not you.

— Chuck Klosterman,

Killing Yourself to Live: 85% of a True Story.

[mooneyedandglowing]

inner world alphabet

Research is such a bear. A delightful one but a bear all the less. I'm currently fascinated by the new Lily Allen album, + not so much the album itself but the response it has had from critics + laypeople, all these various analyses. Several things stand out the most: the modern desire to never accept what entertains as solely entertainment in its own right, with all the value that entertainment can have, but to always twist it into something grander, more intellectual, more artistic, transcendent, or even political where one can perhaps stick that hat on the thing; what does an album like this being so relatable, so popular say about society + the cultural psyche (the enjoyment of the spectacle, the victim narrative, + the moral superiority); + the reasons why while the album may be fun, compelling, immediate, + emotionally raw, the claims of it belonging to the (primarily feminist) literary tradition of confessional writing hold very little water on true inspection.

Anyway, there will likely be an essay coming - where I focus on one facet of the above or all of it. It's added to the pile of all the other ideas I'm playing with, including everything from an analysis of why Taylor Swift's newest album has been read as 'cringe' to the question of 'AI artists' to the psychological draw + history of restraint dogmas to the recent journalistic hubbub around the Internal Family Systems model. There is a slight issue with constantly having ideas + exploring them to the point of my own self-satisfaction + then moving to the next fancy my mind takes. It's a certain selfishness + something to reflect on, as I'm not quite sure of the true driver for it. There is of course my own thoughts toward my own thoughts (I don't rank them as important beyond the self), + there is likely an element of self-protection as well - of energy + ego + perhaps even more. A sort of hoarding or a mental hermiting.

Was there ever a time I was not like this? I think so, but I was also full of the sort of arrogance of youth. + so there is a question there of if one can write opinion, theory, + so on without the naïve, defensive hubris where opinion is deeply tied to self + identity over a desire to explore + reveal the possible through conversation. I must admit as well I still retain enough hubris to be effective in my rhetoric. That is one of the mistakes often made in essays after all, too much hemming + hawing. Without real risk, one often winds up saying little of use. But then what is of use + what motive do I have - is it to be of use + is that usefulness done in this way even important or probable? + why do I think everything must have a meaning to become worthwhile? + what do the things I believe to be meaningful say about me with the full knowledge meaning is a construct + so what then am I constructing my meanings out of? I could go on + on + on in this circle of meta + other cognition, but I, unironically, don't think it'd be productive right now past this point.

I find one of the things I feel most proud of is my ability to be wrong, to accept it rather than maintain face for an illusion. I would always prefer to change my mind toward more rightness than stubbornly defend what's been clearly dismantled through fact or good argument. Again, I think none of this would even be possible if it weren't for not wholly marrying my identity to thoughts, opinions, beliefs, etc. I see those as transient, largely separate.

On the personal front, I'm meant to see a friend in around a week's time; although, I'm not even entirely sure they're coming. See, I not only doubt the self but every other self. There is a lot to be said for the hypervigilance born from surviving trauma. + it is not, if I look closely, even rejection I fear but the atmosphere one is confined to when in the limbo of a new silence stretching beyond the normal ones. You are suspended + in a way at a mercy of another. It feels powerless to the nervous system, + the nervous system wants to grapple that power back by being the arbiter of certainty through action. I've acted out that old script so many times. I'd block people for less, discarding friends or lovers or acquaintance at a moment's notice. + was it ever out of my own cruelty? Who's to say? Those on the receiving end would feel that to be the case, + I would feel as if I had no other option if I wanted to maintain my self-respect + self-possession (which removes my agency while simultaneously exercising it).

As one grows older however, the logical mind often catches up to emotional + they begin to run neck to neck in the race of what is real. + so what do I believe to be real about this friendship or my own feelings? That's the vital question, isn't it? + what do I want to remain true + how do I protect that very thing, my own truth, without controlling, influencing or punishing another for all their possible truths? + how can I hold a fear of something ending without ascribing evidence of that being the most likely of things, particularly when that evidence has been fabricated by my very own self? Yes, sure, it could happen, + yes, sure, I wouldn't prefer it. But why do I assume it will? Why am I so convinced? + why, with the complete + total self-assurance I have that I would not be devastated or unable to recover from a failed attempt at connection, does the not knowing if I'm wanted to let go of it or not needle at my side the way it does? I suppose because it puts me in a state I am not used to, but perhaps one I must learn to inhabit in life anyway - this state of inaction in regard to anything. I just have to let a thing breathe + I'm not sure how many times I've allowed that.

+ what is it that I think is happening? Logic says someone could be busy, overwhelmed, overthinking, projecting, forgetting. The list goes on like that. Conversely, what is it I wanted to be in this, + what is it I wanted from it? + is my focus on the other's possibilities a way to avoid looking at or being accountable to my own? So then how do I cut the binding of fears only my own hands have been guilty of tying themselves to? You never know what another life, another person, may contain within at any single moment. I look toward empathy, understanding, the provision of patience + I must hold those desires against the others. I think of friendship, close friendship, as something to protect + yet rarely have outside of the few exceedingly special examples of that sort of relationship. The ones which are more than distraction, which reach beyond being just a simple salve to one's ego, to boredom or loneliness. The idea that true connection is rare + yet so often avoided as mistaken as threat + perhaps there is no action for that outside of the internal universe.

What I suppose I am really saying is that for once I am choosing to allow the chance of story unfolding without writing a final chapter as a preemptive war strike. + because of the truth that with another, I've not asked for nor needed a constant thread between us, to be 'matched' in any manner, solely wanting for them to be + show up as a glorious self, my friend, their name, separate to my own self + true to what rings inside them. + for all of this is be something good, a coloring in versus a blotting out. To refuse through all of it unnecessary complication by way of applying to it the shades of past experience + inherited insecurities. Refusing to collapse or hold another hostage. The dignity of a respect that flows both ways. Our mutual ability to choose mutually upheld + protected. How in the universe of any outcome, I believe I will wish them the very best of things. Music. Joy. Days wholly of their own making + people they can count on.

Wanting only to have had fun with them in our organic form, throwing rays of light into the room we'd visit to play + laugh together - whether for a brief time or no time again at all. To have done it right for once. To have provided a place free of judges, juries, or executioners. To never promise to undo what the world may have done to another, but to be unlike the world - some open + glittering alien planet with no criteria one must meet for entrance.

[morphine-king]

The Coward (1965) – Satyajit Ray

[thepersonalwords]

Writing allows a person to explore both physical reality and the internal workings of their mind. Writing places us in touch with our unconsciousness. Writing purposefully, applying the white heat of self-examination, can act to transform oneself. Writing allows a person with sufficient resolve to anneal their basic constitution, make their mind more flexible.

Kilroy J. Oldster, Dead Toad Scrolls

[dk-thrive]

Self-examination? I’m ripe for it, always. As much now as ever. I’m sure there’s never an end to it. No full closure.

— Jeff Goldblum, in an interview with Tom Lamont titled “‘It’s foolish to mask your age. Accept it. Present it’: Jeff Goldblum on vanity, mortality and becoming a father in his 60s.” (The Guardian, August 3, 2024)

[xys-fits]

Jonah's More Relatable Than You Think

Despite the header image, this isn't a nerdy post this time. But it is an intro into my series for next month which will mainly target leadership (but any reader can get something from those posts). Read on to potentially get a new outlook on Jonah.

Ah, Jonah, the prophet we love to point fingers at for running away from God and then getting grumpy when the people he told to repent actually did. Growing up, I definitely fell into this camp, but after taking a seminary class on the minor prophets where I had to read this book, my perspective definitely changed. And yes, I went with Veggietales for the header photo because that movie slaps.…

Jonah's More Relatable Than You Think

[fatecanberewritten]

A change, a revolution, a catastrophe had occurred deep down inside him, and there was cause for self-examination.

Victor Hugo, Les Misérables (transl. C. Donougher)

[theinwardlight]

What do love and justice require of us? Love and justice require us to tell the truth, as best we can, about historical and contemporary injustices... Love and justice require us to believe those who have the bravery and honesty to share their stories with us. Love and justice require us to examine our own practices and behaviours, and to work for systemic change.

Minute 27, Britain Yearly Meeting of the Society of Friends, 2022