Did my morning meditation on the grass today. The warmth of the sun on my face and the coolness of the grass were so nice. At one point a dog appeared in my lap, sniffed my nose and scampered off. Very cute interruption.

Recently I've noticed how I can get lost behind the part of my mind that conceptualizes. The imagination, essentially. These holograms of words and images always being generated which I primarily seem to focus on and describe when I'm thinking and speaking.

It seems to be challenging for me to connect with and speak from my heart and senses in a tangible and direct way. My instinct seems to be to interpret my experience via these detached conceptualizations. I often seem to experience myself more as a kind of disembodied ghost whose thoughts I'm watching and describing. My words tend to lack the viscerality of felt experience and sensation, because I seem to be habituated towards abstracting and distilling them.

I think, at times, it can end up being a sort of defense against vulnerability. Abstracting my experience too far. Drawing up holographic representations with my words rather than letting myself be felt and seen.

I dated someone once who did this too. While we had a lot of stimulating conversations, it ended up feeling like we hardly knew each other in some invisible but vital way. Despite all the words exchanged, I only felt like we truly connected a handful of times, and the shift in energy each time was palpably different enough for them to stand out in my memory. It felt nourishing, like the sensation of a warm bath filling the space around us. Those were the only times I felt - viscerally felt - something deeper between us. Connection. Otherwise it was mainly just two disembodied minds exchanging data and impressions in the air.

It's likely relevent that we developed similar cptsd related defenses from our childhoods, something that we shared with each other in similarly detached ways. I think both of us knew something was off but neither was willing/able to be vulnerable first. I think both of us were waiting for the other to make it feel safe enough by being the first to do so. It's strange to look back on. It could have been so simple.

It is simple, really. Describe my perception of my experience, describe how I feel. That's pretty much it. What's so hard or scary about that? I'm really not sure. There's likely some primal aspects of the psyche that got all fucked up in development from the emotionally unsafe circumstances. Nonetheless, I'd like to lean into it. I'll try to practice when I can.

This morning I went to the park and meditated on the grass. It was sunny and the air was cool. I felt happy and relaxed, though disappointed upon seeing so many airplanes filling the clear blue of the sky with hazy cloudiness. It made me think about how meddling we can be and the need, or at least the option, for me to accept aspects of this world that I feel instinctively frustrated by. I felt happy about the sun, the grass, the sky and the dogs. I felt wary about the airplanes and other human innovations and their consequential effects. I came home and wanted to write. Right now I feel tired. I haven't slept deeply over the past few days. I want to get my sleep sorted and feel more refreshed. I feel weary over how challenging it seems to be for me to consistently sleep well. I feel amused and a bit exasperated over struggling with such elementary functions as sleeping. I think that getting it sorted would vastly improve my overall experience. So I'll try, once again, to make it a priority. And now onto breakfast, for I feel hungry.

Did I do that right? I'm not sure...guess I'll keep practicing.

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