The change of the seasons is so powerful…. It is disorienting….
We tend to view this as a collapse of whatever momentum we had developed over the months spent within a circle of similarity that allows us to feel a kind of certainty building. Yes, even for those of us talking endlessly about the pitfalls of certainty. Of momentum….
The last coherent thought before this break had something to do with habit. An attempt to pry the viable aspects of habit from the deadly forms of conditioning. The sense that following too literally on Krishnamurti’s abandonment of conditioning, “Just like that!” We miss the fact that underlying whatever cultural accumulation of habits and assumptions there is a vast sea of habit punctuated by plasticity that is the ebb and flow of evolution, at the heart of what it is to be alive.
Today is an anniversary. A day we have been entreated for fourteen years now to never forget. An insistent cry that was already there, ready-made from previous assaults on American Exceptionalism. A vehemence that has had little to do with remembering the loss of life and everything to do with justifying aggression.
Intoxication once had a purpose. It was a way to reset, to scramble, to introduce random-ish variables into how we responded to our weorld.
Intoxication has long been reduced to a reaction, to frustration at the fact that we are stuck. Have no way out.
Addiction is getting stuck. Seeking relief from suffering instead of perceiving proprioception, we chase a form of release. It is temporary. Its effects lessen each time we resort to it. Our connection to clarity of perception – including a lived sense of its limits – weakens. Repetition digs us deeper.