PART 2

My mind got a little trippy after my blog post yesterday. I started to think about the middle and all of its impacts on life. Then I got all Alan Watts on it and really got crazy. I typed an entire six pages on whether or not a middle can actually exist and what its existence or lack thereof means for the human condition. It was one of those pieces that made total sense as I wrote it, but when I went back…well, let’s just say there’s a reason I’m not posting it today.

Here’s what I’m present to: the human mind is a crazy thing. Our entire world and everything in it is operated by neurology. How strange is that? People starve because of the organization of our neurons. Our neurons created capitalism, inequality, ecological violence, and so much more. Our neurology also keeps that stuff in place.

As I’m typing this, I’m sitting at a Whole Foods in Los Angeles. Hundreds of people have walked in and out and are busy milling around. I’m trying to look at them as a collection of particles being walked and moved around by neurons. When I tap into that, I see a giant circuit board operating in front of me and around me. I’m a part of it, of course. We’re a collection of machines being moved by biology. How weird is that? I feel a bit like I’m surrounded by robots right now.

I’m struck now by the futileness of resisting the process. A computer boots up exactly as fast as it boots up. It also takes the exact amount of time it does to power down. Food takes a certain amount of time to cook. Water takes a certain temperature to boil. Lights take a certain amount of energy to turn on. Everything takes a certain amount of something to happen.

Our human bodies are collections of chemical and biological processes. If we strip away the soul and some other ethereal stuff, that’s all we’ve got—one giant set of processes. Each of those processes takes exactly what it takes to execute.

What if our biology dictates our processes that seems to be processes of something else? What if processes like breaking up with someone, longing for someone, changing careers, moving houses, and worrying about money are all just biological processes? What if our rush to push through sorrow, hardship, confusion, uncertainty, and everything else is completely futile? What if there is no amount of enlightenment, personal responsibility, or transformation that can make the process disappear?

As I ask these questions, I’m thinking, duh. Of course this is the case. All spiritual and transformational bodies of thought land us squarely in the midst of this very human condition. I’m also thinking that there are definitely ways that we can move through processes faster. The Landmark Forum, Access Consciousness, certain spiritual practices, and pranayama are just some examples of the bodies of work that shorten processes.

But maybe we don’t even shorten them. Maybe we just become magical beings who let go and honor the shit outta them. Maybe we become so clear and honoring that the process just becomes a process and all of our suffering around it disappears.

That seems totally obvious to me now too.

So here’s an idea. Just for this week, let’s let our processes be processes. Let’s see if we can just observe them and grant them being. Let’s let our feelings, emotions, thoughts, actions, inactions, and everything else just happen. No resistance. No resistance. No resistance.

Do this in just one area. Pick a processes and observe and honor it. Give it time and space to do its thang. Notice when you become impatient, and let that shit go. Let your process be.

Processes I’m Observing and Honoring This Week

My addiction to starchy, sugary foods. I’m on a cleanse and observing and honoring the process of my mind and body letting them go.

My attachment to clarity. I’m observing and honoring the processes of anxiety, confusion, and despair in my search for answers.

My judgmental mind. I’m observing and honoring the process of my mind going through it’s various, not-based-in-reality-at-all thoughts like “I’m not beautiful”, “I’m not safe”, etc.

In love and liminality,

Annie Rose