The question in life is not “What is my purpose?” That question just makes us look really silly. The biggest question in life is “Are we having fun yet?
I find since I hit my head I am not very creative. My pictures lack something. I can not role play well any more. I just hit a wall. I panic for I do remember how I was before, so I struggle. Ah, excellent example. May I use your example?
She is having trouble with creativity, and according to the medical authorities I should struggle with it also. My own problem is more organic than structural, but right now her brain is struggling to restore disrupted circuits. It would manifest as a generalized tension.
Mine is organic too. I’m still going through tests to find what damage I did. By organic I mean fluid, and yes, your own situation will change. But though the brain can’t feel pain, it does react to injury and in the same way that we react to pain when you suffer some severe pain, like say smacking your thumb really hard with a hammer or stubbing your toe. Can you think of much else?
No. The same thing happens when it’s just your brain.
Now the real secret is, you are not your brain. Your thoughts are the same thing as those random itches, aches and pains your body feels, and really just as useful. Everyone suffers from some degree of repetitive stress injury in their brain.
Brain is not self. This is why she can be aware of her impaired creativity. These universal injuries I am speaking of show up as hormonal antagonism. Your brain can literally either develop a resistance to specific hormones, specific “feelings” or it can become addicted to them, dependent on them, and go into depression when they are in short supply. None of these feelings are you. They aren’t who you are.
So again I mentioned we are afraid to live. Real living wracks the body for a time. Real creativity always feels threatening.
I am trying too. Yes, the trying. It’s an obstacle. We mistake the territory for our own path, and though we must acknowledge the territory, our path is independent of it. I can only speak from personal experience for this next metaphor. The I-5 in the USA runs north to south, and if you believe that you absolutely must adhere to the I-5, well, you will just reach its end as it opens into a different highway. People often live their lives like that, thinking there is one “real life.” They firmly believe that the evidence of their body and brain is that real life and that nothing else is possible. Where does freedom of choice really come in there?
And that thinking is what gives us guilt for not adhering to that one highway? Guilt is social. When we haven’t found a personal way of relating to others, we feel guilty when we struggle with the provided or conditioned way.
Yes, shame too. I struggle with that some, but not very much, not very deeply, because it makes much less sense to me than it does to you. I can’t feel much for something I can’t even really understand.
You love your bodies. You have enjoyed them enough that you are unwilling to change your relationship to them. This is actually not a bad thing. It strengthens the body, supports its health and allows a richer and more vibrant sensory experience. I have a deep revulsion for mine. It creates a sensation sort of like nausea, and it’s not a judgement I have. It’s really a sensation like your first experience of a special food. Let’s say it’s cookies. You tasted the cookie and had the natural response “Oh, this is good! Cookies are good!”
Well, in early stages you in a sense taste your body. It’s the first sense you have. It arises along side your sense of touch. So when I tasted my body, so to speak, when I began to get acquainted with my sense of touch, it created a negative sensation, a negative hormonal reaction. The feel of my own skin releases adrenaline in me. I get some relief from this because my body gets tired. I can’t keep having the reaction all day. My point for sharing this is, I made a decision early on as a child to find another way.
I get that sensation when ever I pass a dentists office and get a smell of the orangey stuff they use to polish teeth. Yes, it’s like the creeps, but being flesh and blood gives me the creeps.
It’s not fear, but nausea. Yes, not fear. You aren’t afraid of house flies, but your reaction is still a fundamental rejection. Disgust, scientists are calling it. For me, disgust is my perceptual filter. It is why I am most comfortable with things that culture has described in that way, monsters, the undead, shadows and dark things. These feel like me.
Your thoughts are welcome. Be well friends.