A word a thread words don't render images words don't render sensations, feelings yet, sometimes we can recognise each other when they easily fit. . we can perhaps only see each other, or feel each other without seeing and feeling, words are no bridge when there is seeing and feeling, words are game and play … Continue reading The word
Apparently, the strategy I came up with last time when writing about this topic works somewhat (Why invite depression for a chat when not depressed?) – that strategy is simply not freaking out (anymore, for the 5,000,000 time) about the repetitive and unavoidable. At least it seems that when darker episodes come ... they come … Continue reading Depression teaches on the nature of the mind. (Philosophy and pseudo-Buddhism from craziness.)
Could I learn from you – freedom? I felt your heart wasn't chained your mind wasn't chained. You had no securities and you were at times fragile and naked like a snail or the wing of an insect, still moist and sticky. . Is this enough to be happy? . I wondered how you'd come … Continue reading Freedom
I saw clouds of sadness of slowness I was welcoming solitude with a safety net with an "other shore". . I'm not sure why it's so difficult: either I am with you, and then I feel the compulsion to know in each split second what exactly you expect from me, what to say, what to … Continue reading Torn between the company of humans, of nature, of self. Some perhaps autistic perspectives.
[continued from Ships & lighthouses after interruption and a bit random] * If loss is delusion because possession is delusion (at least of some abstract "things" like time) ... what about the abrasiveness of interpersonal pain? The jarring headache of mismatch, miscommunication, my old friend the glass wall (whether it's autism, depression, emigration, queerness or … Continue reading Interpersonal pain, Frankl’s dread of ageing, and Momo
I've been somewhat lost and stranded in Berlin these days, after spontaneous visits, trips, time in the mountains ... living in other people's and their parents' houses. After four months of hermitage, I got an invitation and decided to follow it. Two weeks were great, week three starts with nosebleed, emotional flu and a bout … Continue reading Ships & lighthouses, pillars of identity, and why to sacrifice to the Hungry Gods
Being me for me always implies some degree of being you. My nature doesn't come with built-in walls and noise cancellation and convenient, numb dampening. It must be comfortable to be cushioned, exposed largely only to your own thoughts. I can do that if i am alone in the forest. Or if i live very … Continue reading Being you