Introduction: Nothing In Particular

I keep thinking about the idea that anxiety is not actually from a restriction of freedom but from too much of it. I don't know how well that sits with me but from my experience it is always when things are too open-ended that I become very anxious, sort of idling by not really focusing on much of anything, not getting anything "done". I feel like the idea of getting something "done" is interesting, it implies a construct of beginning and end, when we know neither our beginning nor our end, only this middle part that isn't even here, more an empty space between the nothings before birth and after death. Death sandwich.

So it is that I am struggling to even find any sort of motivation at all, most of my writing has been these banal introspective things that very few can relate to and that don't actually go anywhere. But that has been my mind as of late, nothing concludes in anything useful, nothing objective can be gained from anything I've written, nothing pragmatic at least. As much as I enjoy getting this out on paper, I have lost my audience before even beginning by not giving anyone anything to relate to because everything at the moment is this big confusing mess and I don't know what's what.

Such seems to be the problem (or my problem) with metaphysics: the open-endedness in a world where there is seemingly great division, there are things closed off, I mean, if there are actually things at all. I have spent a lot of time meditating and what I am not after is the blank pseudo-bliss of the inactive mind but the restless volleying back and forth of a dialectical spiral. Since there is no "being" in the world but only becoming, as the retainers of static form are our symbols and our means of navigating and categorizing them I find much less "productivity" in the world of flesh than in the world of thought, much less traction. Although I have to admit there is something extremely refreshing about doing something new every day, creatively upending the tedious ritual of our Gestalts substituted as real. However, what are these Gestalts if not the substance of reality itself, if the "Other" is nowhere to be found, if there is no solid core of any atom?
This is where I am at now, at this point of denying any existence of Other and realizing everything as the Self unbound by the image of Self. But the world I'm seeing as the extension of my being is a pretty awful place. So I am imagining this bounding, this closing off of the Self-Image from the Self is something that is done to maintain distance from the horrible freedom of seeing things as they truly are. So, what am I to do as an individual?

My activities in the lifestyle of a hermit have revealed to me that to know what I think, I need to know what others think, in terms of a dialogue. Given this freedom to be alone and do as I please and think as I please, I've found that having my ideas just circulating endlessly in my mind is not only tedious but is slowly eroding my sanity. Because of how little I interact with others, I am seemingly only able to speak in an entirely subjective manner, giving the reader very little to "reach out and touch" or connect with. Hopefully in realizing that my frame of mind relating to how I am seeing the world, in an all-too-subjective way, is not satisfactory to how I wish to interact with the world, this will change something and I will write about something that might be interesting to others. As for now, I continue the endless conversation with myself that only I will be able to enjoy or gain anything from.

Such a strange position. Trapped in my own self-referential loop, release time TBA.

I feel uncomfortable talking about things that other people are supposed to relate to or gain something from. I feel that too often in the past I have offered others poison apples not even knowing they were poison to begin with. Maybe they weren't poison but just dead ends (which can be as effective as poison for those of us who are on a fast train to an unknown destination). That is what I'm afraid of, saying something about life and how I think it "really" is and then later looking back and saying "I can't believe I ever felt that way and that I ever told anyone. I'm embarrassed." That happens quite a lot. So I tend to avoid writing about how I think things are. I feel it is best to avoid hokey, easily-dissectable spiritualism and to replace it with an expert use of metaphor, as all of my favorite writers have managed to do. I, on the other hand, am not nearly as capable. I was not granted that gift, I try to do everything directly, I never learned subversion and it is difficult to think of expressing myself any other way, even though our experience of reality is not "direct" and is always being navigated and interacted with through analogies and metaphors. Analogies and metaphors that have more substance than "the Real Thing", most likely, in the sense that symbols are what interact with eachother, not pieces of matter or "solid things".

I hope that's a good introduction because I have no idea where this is really going to go. All I know is I have ideas and I would love feedback on them rather than just letting them stew about in my brain.