It is a dark day here in the forest. Seems strange that thing should become so dark and quiet after so much activity. Can't help wondering if it wasn't all a dream. Ah, but no because something was built and still stands there as a reminder that what has become a memory actually happened.
I suppose that is one of the perks of the material plane. Things don't just occur while you imagine them, but remain long after, even if you don't want to. I guess that's the bad thing about it too.
My mind struggles with the idea of routine. I want something new, but at the same time I want structure. You can't build without structure, you can only dream. I feel both the urge to get out and experience a new life and at the same time to work with consistency to transform this into a new life.
At this point I should have given up and embraced the idea that I'm going nowhere, that this discussion is a pointless waste of mental energy and learn to live happily with that. But, oh! The anxiety that creeps in thinking that I'll just become old here in the forest, another wrinkled tree of the landscape who must accept the comings and goings of creatures who look for new sensations, while my roots grow deeper and deeper, reducing any and all hope of breaking free from the soil that sustains me.
With all the respect that trees deserve, it seems to me like a human body could be wasted on such a life.
Things are not so simple though, for when I begin preparing my things to take off, my mind begins to say: "so you're giving up? Have you no patience? Do you not carry enough will to understand the patience of the Heavens and the wonders that it can bring to Earth if you just sit and breath for a moment?". And so I sit and breath.
After some breathing I'm no longer so anxious, seeing more opportunities than problems. With so many times of the same cycle, you'd expect by now i would have integrated the idea that all that I need to do is to sit and breath when my mind becomes confused... Nope. It's everyday the same game, no matter how satisfied I went to bed with myself, the next morning the fear of the forest becoming my eternal prison rises along with the Sun.
I suppose a solution to this would be to only be every other day here, and spend the rest of the time in town, if the weather allows it. Today this is not a choice thanks to the rain and I must work on bringing comfort to my Soul through my own means.
If I read myself back to the start of this writing, it makes me feel that I am quite obsessive, that I should learn to relax. This is not always easy in this setting, but it is possible... And possible is as good as it gets in this life, the rest is up to us.
At least I've added the item of two hours of writing to my daily routine. One in the morning and one at the end of the day. One in English and the other in Castellano. It should be interesting to observe how my mind develops with this practice.
I usually write in moments of deep emotional turmoil, as a way to help cope with the intense feelings that arise. But these are strange times and we must use what we have at hand's reach to understand the complexity of our modern minds. Disciplined daily writing should be helpful in this regard.
Thanks for reading.
