Not me, me.

I sent this to myself on telegram yesterday – a note I wanted to return to in the morning writing time.

I have forgotten the exact context. But I think it had something to do with meta-perspective and watching oneself and not recognizing oneself. And I figure this must have to do with behavior. We can’t watch our thoughts in memories. Or at least I can’t. I do step away: did I really say that? did I really do that? And I judge. Or – yeah – rationalize to try to quell the shame.

But lately, when I see the “not me, me” something is different. It is as though, finally, the calm waters of the morning meditation – the “ha” have flooded everything. I put on my happy music playlist and walk with Leonard. No mantras. No affirmations. This not me is a kind of butterfly me.

I have been talking to E. lately about paths of desire. How, it is almost amusing how determined landscapers are to plan where people will walk, fully knowing that there will inevitably appear brown, naked ruts criss-crossing the lawns, according to people’s own desire to seek out the easiest, or most interesting path.

And what is wrong with easy? I believe it is the rigid, external map forced on the landscape that is ugly. I am not saying easy is a necessity for beauty – but maybe intrinsic desire is?

I’m not sure. This really isn’t intended as a linear argument for anything. You know, I want to buy myself a kaleidoscope. Not a cardboard one, but something crafted from wood, or brass.

Something happened to me. The past few months, I have slowly moved into an easy space. Following paths of desire. I am not longer struggling to achieve anything.

This fall B. called while I was on the Gran Canaries. We were talking about what she would do “from here” with the time she had left. She said she didn’t want to spend time vying for attention. To be honest, I am not certain she used the word vying. But it is what I remember: contending, competing. This is not to say she didn’t want to be seen and heard – for who she is.

This year I am not going to plant a garden. I am not going to join my friends who bathe in the sea in the winter. But after class today, I will run.

I love running. I am recognizing my desires.

If I squeeze myself, force myself, bully myself into something I don’t desire, I might just get the attention I desire. (Who doesn’t want to be seen?)

But it wouldn’t be attention to the real me, me. I wouldn’t be seen.

And what is the point of that?

Another cultural meme? I was never the popular girl in class. Never wanted to be. Why on Earth has that been something pushing me subconsciously for a while?

I’m finding my own paths of desire. It is kind of like sinking into a warm bath and sighing.

I love warm baths.

They are kind of like writing the perfect couplet, and feeling the magic before you put it out there for the world to judge it.

It is focusing on a single soap bubble, appreciating it before it inevitably, necessarily bursts.

I have to stop now because I want to go take a bath, but I have to go to work. Oh well. It is something to look forward to after my run this afternoon.

Hope your day finds you on a path of desire. I’ll post a picture of mine on Instagram – for me to recognize.

3 Replies to “Not me, me.”

  1. I like this. (nothing to do with that “like” button) Unexpected I find some alignment in my own sense of what-me-wants. Not that desire to dig something up when I’m willing to just let writing take a rest, trust the pace it wants to have. Not backwards at all.

  2. I could relate to this post and am beginning to get a sense of alignment too like Neil. It feels right to take the breaks I’m taking. No longer damming the flow of wanting some space, some silence and letting the writing rest for a while.


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