#not out of a dislike? just a general disinterest. not sure why! just havent been in the mood? i guess? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

11toe11-blog · 5 years ago

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No autocorrect. e for stickie

“Thats such a good lesson. On patience” he says. After yanking out two of the sapota seeds he had to lovingly planted. Its sticking out of the mud, may be i should pushi it back inside, something is not right, let me pull it out and see whats going on he must have thought. And the two of the early earnets, reposnding to his watering dropped dead. Thats the garden as the zen master i suppose.

The very change that we water and nourish, when it starts expressing, we wonder why it is not how it is supposed to be - familiar, buried deep in the soil and my role to keep watering. Or final, green and with a leaf on it. The inbetweens where its neither this or that, uncertain. I assume im a doing something wrong.

I notice that as a programme running when i am doing my body work. A sense that i am not paying attention where i should be paying attention. I notice the feeling and when it dissolves more attention is generally availble and flowing.

I am feeling like now. Oh! This is not what i wanted to start the post with.

Its because R is around. Otherwise i would be more contemplative. I should have this, i should have that. I havent this, i havent that.

And its not entirely just the whiner programme. Had i woken up early i would ahve had more quiet time. But for that i have to sleep early.

Now that it is what it is, i didnt sleep early, i didnt wake up early, things arent going picture perfect, but they are not bad either. A chunck of the sticky can see that. Its sticking. Stuck like resin onto how it should have been. This is the cant-let-it-go resin. Can let anything go. Want to stick to everything and anything passing by. Like an ocptopus with a million legs and holding on to everyhthing passing by and being pulled in infiinte direction.s

Imagine if it suddenly lets go, what a whack it would get from all its legs combined recoil.

Methi paratha. Would go very well with the garlic pickle he is making.

Where is this

Where is that

Incessant. Wont look. Cant see.

I havent been making sprouts for a while. Nor micro greens.

I like the kichen counter to be clean. Spot less. A few

You this. You that.

A clean kitchen counter whre we can cook.

Its a small counter and i need it clean. Right now its a clutter.

You this you that

This is like this This is like that

Where have i seen this play out in loop. My mother. R has turned into my mother this morning. R keeps turning into my mother.

That when i hate him. Hate is strong. Intensely dislike. When he keeps driving home this point of how one is not doing what what one is supposed to be doing. That what and who one is, isnt ideal.

This was beginining to feel like a whiny pointless post with zero insight.

And R calls up his mom to ask if she minds onion in the kadala curry he is making. We are taking puttu and kadala over with us when we go to visit them today. I would have thought it odd the affection he bestows on his mother. And early on when i met him, he wasnt so expressive with his affection towards his parents. A 54 year old man being being possibly moer affectionate with his mom that i am with mine. Is actually such a wonderful and beautiful thing. In my own conditioning, formed by acerbic relations between my mom and her mom-in-law and my father’s absence, that i never got a clear idea of my fathers relationship with his mother. What do i mean by that? I suppose we form neural pathways of expectations based on what we are exposed to. Somewhere in my liberal hyper-independent idea of the free woman, modelled along the independent man, was one who didnt need anyone. And so it seems strange, for the adult man to express his affection for his aged mother. He can take care of the financial and social obligations et al. But to express geniune affection outwardly. How unstoic.

ANd how human. To actually accept and acknowlege ones need for this primary connection to the world. Than hide it in thick layers of indifference and independence as expression of masculinity.

And somewhere, the articulation of the Oedipus complex lurks suspiciously, watching out for abnormality in everything and everyone. That if one thing that has been named and labelled, and its all just that.

I know that its my own possessive tendencies and programming that assumes that every ounce of the adult male’s attention must be and must only be directed towards his “legal” mate.

Ah. There were are inching closer and notice the familiar subject in the horizon. Envy.

Yesterday when R said he was intensely attracted to E at some point in the exercise which was to gaze into the eyes of another, a stranger or friend for 10 minutes, i felt the sensations. Bubbling that demanded more space. Didnt want touch. Words that came out first - was to reassert power. “I know, i sensed it then”. And its true, i am quite sensitivve and i may have sensed it then and it may have had its effects on the evening. Sure.

But what was remarkable was how my viewing expereince of the film that E made, (and it was while watching the film that R made this statement) shifted ever so slightly. My neutral viewing and expereince of admiration shifted slowly and clearly towards disinterest and and veiled criticism. Basically, to put it simply, i found more faults with the film in the last half an hour after the greens than i did in the whole one hour before that. To the extent that i even found a scene dishonest and without integrity.

Now the question that i wont ever have a real answer to - is if the scene actually had elements that lacked a certain integrity and congruent with the position taken by the maker. And my envy allowed for a critical lens, or a wiping out of rose tinted admiration?

Or it was a discouloring and distrotion of the viewing experince, from the sensations expereinced?

I dont know.

Maybe what i am trying to ask is - is there any use of this sensation or expereince of envy. Does it serve any purpose in the larger sense of things? Because everything does, no, if we go by the idea of interconnectedness. Even the weeds have uses, unknown to us.

The sensation is sure unpleasant. It immediately put a distance between me and R and even E.

It created a distinct expereince of seperation. And with it came thoughts of security, or more like insecurity. Discrediting the other in someway as being weak. The need to claim, reclaim power. “ yea. When i have hung out with her husband, i was also quite intensely attracted to him”.

And also raised aloud once again the nature of commitment. Between R and me thats an on going conversation. How does one arrive into a mature sensible relationship.

Writing is slower today. I shared the blog link with 3 and a half people. And i know this will be read by someone other than me. Earlier there was no such thought at all.

It is changing the tone of what is being written. At this point atleast.

“ Dil mein mere hai Dard-e-disco dard-e-disco” … keeps appearing in head at random moments. Like a tape was left on and the power kept coming on and off. The two lines become backdrops to the most incognruent thoughts.

I go looking for the source. I dont find it.

In the play -

The character goes looking for the source of the song that fills the scene, and keeps looking and doesnt find it.

In another play, as ina thiriller , the song is the red color coating the pill. The memory that needs to placed into the slot to rewire the expereince of reality. Of joy. Or rights and wrongs. Of this one girl and hence of the collective. The logic is a lot like inception.

Ok. time to wrap. Dissatisfaction .

That the future gaze of another is coloring my expereince of perceiving and expressing. Maybe thats the distance between the master and the novice. The future gaze of another, for the master is also the future gaze of herself. The other not seperate from the self. And the novice rolls in the muck of otherness.

Rolling nice long distances made by the idea of such a seperation. Making huge spaces. And feeling small. Pretending to be big and feeling small.

I have had more backspaces operating today than i have ever in the recents.

Ok so envy makes some space and distance on one plane, while clingling like resin on another plane. Two opposite properties belonging to the same idea. Thats also another interpretation of duality.

HUnger hunger.

I go eat and make puttu.

I really hope i do my exercises in the evening. My knees need it. ANd not keep it off to the next morning - because only mornings are perfect. And if i cant do it in the morning i can nver do it, nonsense.

Afternoon today mom starts stitchinging classes with me.

We pulled out almost a hundred bed sheets from the trunk in the outhouse. Apparently, they are some 40-50 years old. Belonging to R’s grandmom.

Quite timely that R opened the trunks. We intend to keep some sheets for us, and for people who visit and some for the stiching classes and send the rest to La. Maybe there will still be enough to generally give away.

R and Rc are bantering int he kitching. Waiting for some sense of satisfactiong and lcarity i stick onto the word doc. Inspite of raging hunger and the smell and sight of mangoes.

Ok thats it. Today is this. Just observe it. Guilts. Nothing to do. Just watch.

I entered. I apologize if i pushed it. I have sense that i may have. Or treated it casually.

I ask for forgiveness. And i forgive. As a student would.

I leave now. To return wiser tomorrow.

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