I was thinking (worrying?) about my blogging and podcasting this morning in and before meditation, and a lot else besides, as well as a modest amount of mantra repetition. I realised as I walked back to the caravan - lovely clear sunny morning, and very cold, almost want to put the heater on in the caravan, that actually now is a good time to write, as opposed to record. That recording is self indulgent in a way, and also self propelling. It's so easy just to click the switch, and start chatting to myself, without necessarily saying anything that needs to be said. Does anything need to be said?
The Rule and the commentary that I read out last night at meditation is preoccupied with self absorption - the it's all about me problem. And is recording or writing my blog just that? Would it be better to do neither? Eileen asked me on Sunday if I did journalling, and of course I said yes, but I didn't ask her what she meant by it, and it may not be this. On the other hand it's a bit like having a daily and good shit. Getting it out there, examining it, flushing it down the toilet of time, moving on. I have never really gone back (once or twice maybe) and read or listened to what I wrote last week, or at the beginning. Once or twice to check a name, or who arrived and left when. So, in that sense, I think it's healthy.
And I think the recording at the end of the day is good. Just summing it up, putting myself to bed, and mostly, putting a positive gloss on the day, being grateful for it.
Then I thought, would I listen to or read someone else's daily blog. Yes, about half a dozen peoples'. Not every day, or all the time, but it is nice to check in with people, to see what they're feeling and thinking. But what if we all did it - our daily diaries - and all read everyone else's. We'd never get anything done, for a start, and what would be the point?
It's interesting writing this, thinking about how it is different from recording myself. And writing a long letter yesterday to Susanne, and how that was different from talking to Aden or Felicity, or to Rebecca or Katherine. Not to Andrew or Thomas. Those conversations tend to be about something, sorting something out, solving some problem or planning a task.
Interesting article last night in the Economist about Peter Malone's new book "Superminds: how groups think" and how a group with more women is more intelligent than one with none, generally, because women generally are more self perceptive, better at seeing and reading other people's feelings. Some men do it OK and if there are enough of them in a group the group can be effective, but as a general rule it is a female skill. Which bodes well for our various 'commissions' as the French call them. Last night was me, Andrew, Philippe, Laurent, Agnes, Jenny and it seemed to work quite well. Last Friday was Marie Dom, Frederique, Sandrine, Pascale, Philippe, me, Giovanni. Things seem to be getting sorted, becoming clearer. Especially the need for a commercial operation, but sort of arising out of discussions and to and fro, appearing as the solution to a problem.
Do my blood pressure.
figs for Susanna
126/92 19-6 7:26 Pulse 71. (after Magnesium, Mate tea, half banana, meditation)
127/83 18-6
136/85 17-6
114/86 16-6 6:54 pulse 80 (after magnesium )
138/88 15-6
134/81 14-6
136/83 13-6
avg 129/86 p 76
Interesting exercise in the Economist article - the perception test - a woman's eyes and a man's eyes. You had to guess what each was feeling. I thought the woman was joking, and I fancied her. I thought the man was insisting (you had a choice of 4 or 5 emotions for each picture). They said the woman was 'desiring' and the man was 'insisting'. My first choice for the woman was 'joking' and second was 'desiring', but really it was me desiring her. Which is interesting - that I should read her desire as my desire, and think she was laughing at me (for desiring her). It was funny how intense my reaction was to her (just a pair of eyes after all) and how negative to the man - I sensed aggression, something unpleasant, again in just a pair of eyes.
While doing this I am brushing my teeth, trying to smoke, thinking of another coffee, eating a banana. Am I multi tasking? Or just not very organised?
And the thought occurs - was my desiring S as much my response to her desire, as something innate in me? And how many other times has that been the case, and I've assumed it's just me, and missed my chance. That lovely girl in Maracaibo in 1968, who I found out later had really liked me, but at the time I just wandered after like a lapdog, or gazed at from afar, and probably too intensely, so that they end up thinking I'm just weird or possibly creepy. And is all real desire, between the sexes at any rate, really mutual, something almost outside of the two selfs, deep calling to deep (the opposite of pornography, or of just staring / leering)?
I did digging in the morning and then went off to Ligugé in the afternoon via Iteuil (Thomas had fun at dinner laughing at our attempts to pronounce it properly) and back via Smarves (looks a bit like it sounds) checking out the river Clain. Very pretty countryside, looking very summery now, a lovely little fairy tale chateau on the hill above Iteuil, interesting exhibition of enamels on copper in the monastery including pieces by Braque and Chagall, and the 4th Century crypt under the parish church, St Martin's original abbey, the oldest in Europe. I bought the French monk's commentary on The Rule, in French, to practice my French, and some scofa for everyone to have for pud, and some NA beer in the little CoOp, which seems to sell mainly Super-U products, and cam home and got cross with Rebecca for not being a proper oblate (I said nothing, just fumed) and basically objecting to everything that's supposed to be oblatory like saying psalms and being read to at mealtimes. And the patriarchal language. I did ask her why she had become an oblate and she said it was because Stefan is so wonderful. Perhaps he should have married Rebecca instead of Sylvia Bence-Jones, who Rebecca says left him because she didn't want to have children, which surprised me. But then Gillian doesn't strike me as particularly maternal.
And so to bed.
And here's the soundtrack
The Rule and the commentary that I read out last night at meditation is preoccupied with self absorption - the it's all about me problem. And is recording or writing my blog just that? Would it be better to do neither? Eileen asked me on Sunday if I did journalling, and of course I said yes, but I didn't ask her what she meant by it, and it may not be this. On the other hand it's a bit like having a daily and good shit. Getting it out there, examining it, flushing it down the toilet of time, moving on. I have never really gone back (once or twice maybe) and read or listened to what I wrote last week, or at the beginning. Once or twice to check a name, or who arrived and left when. So, in that sense, I think it's healthy.
And I think the recording at the end of the day is good. Just summing it up, putting myself to bed, and mostly, putting a positive gloss on the day, being grateful for it.
Then I thought, would I listen to or read someone else's daily blog. Yes, about half a dozen peoples'. Not every day, or all the time, but it is nice to check in with people, to see what they're feeling and thinking. But what if we all did it - our daily diaries - and all read everyone else's. We'd never get anything done, for a start, and what would be the point?
It's interesting writing this, thinking about how it is different from recording myself. And writing a long letter yesterday to Susanne, and how that was different from talking to Aden or Felicity, or to Rebecca or Katherine. Not to Andrew or Thomas. Those conversations tend to be about something, sorting something out, solving some problem or planning a task.
Interesting article last night in the Economist about Peter Malone's new book "Superminds: how groups think" and how a group with more women is more intelligent than one with none, generally, because women generally are more self perceptive, better at seeing and reading other people's feelings. Some men do it OK and if there are enough of them in a group the group can be effective, but as a general rule it is a female skill. Which bodes well for our various 'commissions' as the French call them. Last night was me, Andrew, Philippe, Laurent, Agnes, Jenny and it seemed to work quite well. Last Friday was Marie Dom, Frederique, Sandrine, Pascale, Philippe, me, Giovanni. Things seem to be getting sorted, becoming clearer. Especially the need for a commercial operation, but sort of arising out of discussions and to and fro, appearing as the solution to a problem.
Do my blood pressure.
figs for Susanna
126/92 19-6 7:26 Pulse 71. (after Magnesium, Mate tea, half banana, meditation)
127/83 18-6
136/85 17-6
114/86 16-6 6:54 pulse 80 (after magnesium )
138/88 15-6
134/81 14-6
136/83 13-6
avg 129/86 p 76
Interesting exercise in the Economist article - the perception test - a woman's eyes and a man's eyes. You had to guess what each was feeling. I thought the woman was joking, and I fancied her. I thought the man was insisting (you had a choice of 4 or 5 emotions for each picture). They said the woman was 'desiring' and the man was 'insisting'. My first choice for the woman was 'joking' and second was 'desiring', but really it was me desiring her. Which is interesting - that I should read her desire as my desire, and think she was laughing at me (for desiring her). It was funny how intense my reaction was to her (just a pair of eyes after all) and how negative to the man - I sensed aggression, something unpleasant, again in just a pair of eyes.
While doing this I am brushing my teeth, trying to smoke, thinking of another coffee, eating a banana. Am I multi tasking? Or just not very organised?
And the thought occurs - was my desiring S as much my response to her desire, as something innate in me? And how many other times has that been the case, and I've assumed it's just me, and missed my chance. That lovely girl in Maracaibo in 1968, who I found out later had really liked me, but at the time I just wandered after like a lapdog, or gazed at from afar, and probably too intensely, so that they end up thinking I'm just weird or possibly creepy. And is all real desire, between the sexes at any rate, really mutual, something almost outside of the two selfs, deep calling to deep (the opposite of pornography, or of just staring / leering)?
I did digging in the morning and then went off to Ligugé in the afternoon via Iteuil (Thomas had fun at dinner laughing at our attempts to pronounce it properly) and back via Smarves (looks a bit like it sounds) checking out the river Clain. Very pretty countryside, looking very summery now, a lovely little fairy tale chateau on the hill above Iteuil, interesting exhibition of enamels on copper in the monastery including pieces by Braque and Chagall, and the 4th Century crypt under the parish church, St Martin's original abbey, the oldest in Europe. I bought the French monk's commentary on The Rule, in French, to practice my French, and some scofa for everyone to have for pud, and some NA beer in the little CoOp, which seems to sell mainly Super-U products, and cam home and got cross with Rebecca for not being a proper oblate (I said nothing, just fumed) and basically objecting to everything that's supposed to be oblatory like saying psalms and being read to at mealtimes. And the patriarchal language. I did ask her why she had become an oblate and she said it was because Stefan is so wonderful. Perhaps he should have married Rebecca instead of Sylvia Bence-Jones, who Rebecca says left him because she didn't want to have children, which surprised me. But then Gillian doesn't strike me as particularly maternal.
And so to bed.
And here's the soundtrack
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