Thursday, March 21, 2013

Ingredient 25 - Waste

Wow..."waste."  The implications of this word - sans any cradling descriptive language - are ENDLESS.  In trying to go back a decade to breach the high security network that is my brain, I found myself groping in the dark - weary of so many boobie-traps - searching for any hint of what the HELL I might have been thinking when I added "waste" to the List.  And through all the thought fondling, all I kept thinking is:  Damn.  A decade is a long time!

Initially, I was going to write about the obvious thing that (I'm sure) comes to every one's mind when hearing or reading the lone word, waste.  I was going to write about poop.  Duh.

HOWEVER, upon reflecting what may or may not have been going through my mind TEN years ago, I faced something far worse than a writer's "nothing."  Instead, an avalanche of possibilities chased me back up my mental timeline to the present, and ooooooh honey-CHILES(!): I ran like an ill-timed bowel movement down the leg of a person stuck in traffic after a big lunch at Taco Bell!  Oh yes, my friends! I severed and left those antagonistic thoughts like a fart cut loose on a roller coaster.  God help me, folks, but my mind is simply not a safe place to go sifting for any extended length of time.  Why????  Because of all the waste...the mind-waste.  Bottom-line: I have entirely too much meaningless and/or outdated shit clogging up the plumbing in my head.

The remedy?  Easy...
Silence.  Stillness.  I literally need Nothing to dissolve all of my mental waste.

I began to wonder: how many people in this world can sustain mindful Nothingness (mindful nothingness: THAT's an oxymoron for the ages!)?  It sounds like it should be one the easiest things in the world to do, right?  OH NO, Honey-Chiles of the Basement Dwelling Sort (this is what I've decided to call my loyal readers): so very much to the contrary, it will be a Christmas miracle - given by Baby Jesus himself - if I should ever achieve this nearly impossible feat.  Every time I try to meditate - in search of seeking nothing - it ends something like this (trust me when I say that I am doing you a huge favor by skipping the beginning and middle of these lovely psychological excursions):

".....Okay.  This shouldn't be this hard.  I'm just going to focus on my breathing.  Breath is air and air is close to nothing, so it's a start.  I'll just listen to the sound of the air going in and out.  No big deal.  Not difficult.  Just breathe.  Inhale, exhale.  Inhale (I can smell my coffee from here), exhale.  Inhale (did I just have a thought about my coffee?), exhale (If I have a thought and don't realize it, does it count?).  Inhale.  Exhale.  Inhale (why is the root-word 'hale?'  I'll have to look that up later), exhale (why don't we call it 'haling,' instead of 'breathing?').  Shit.  I've been thinking this whole time.  Damn it.  Start over.  Inhale (I can do this), exhale (I can find clarity).  Inhale (Seeking silence), exhale (Desperately seeking silence).  Inhale (Madonna's a terrible actress), exhale (Eeeeew. And her weird muscles probably frighten small children).  In(did I put the meat on the counter?)hale, exhale (I need to do a load of undershirts for the guys).  Inhale (is it already Wednesday?), ex(the dog stinks)hale. How can I be thinking 'inhale' and 'exhale,' while simultaneously thinking other stuff?  It's like background music.  I wonder how many thoughts I can think at once.  Wait.  DAMN IT!  Start over.  Why am I so tense?.  Inhale (okay, I'm relaxing), ex(relaaaaaaxing)hale.  Inhale, exhale.  Inhale, exhale.  Oh my god!  Did I just think nothing for a second?!  I think I did!  Okay, okay. Focus.  Inhale (I feel dizzy), exhale.  In(am I hyperventilating?)hale, ex(oh shit.  Am I having a panic attack?)hale. Okay.  Slow down the breathing.  Count to eight on and between each breath.  Okay.  In(1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8)hale, hold(1,2,3,4...nope.  I'm definitely hyperventilating), exhaaaaale (No you're not.  You're fine.  Stop focusing on your breathing).  Inhale (I can't!  I'm going to pass out), ex(stop thinking about breathing!)hale. What else can I think about so I don't think about breathing?  Fuck this.  I'm taking a Xanax."

If it's not a case of being hyper-focused on my breathing, then it becomes an episode of Thoughts Gone Wild, wherein my thoughts run around flashing each other, and OF COURSE, the most obnoxious and "boisterous" thoughts (regrets, fears, my mother) always get the most attention.  Regardless, since almost all of my "focus sessions" end with Xanax, I'm pretty sure I'm doing it wrong (but then again, is it a coincidence that "meditate" and "mediCate" are only one letter away from each other?  Something to ((not)) think about?).

The waste is boundless.  The traps are dangerous.  Yet still, every so often, I try again to find the Silence.  Because even if I don't carry it right on the surface, I always know - on some level - that it isn't the Grand Something-Else I am seeking; I am striving for the Grand Something-Now, which also happens to be the Glorious Nothing...


Let no-thing envelope and define me completely; let no-thing distract me; let no-thing determine the moment for me; let no-thing amount to something less than who and what I am.  Let no-thing take away THIS moment.  

One day, I will find Nothing.

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