Beginnings

The Web-log as a means of living more consciously.

Today I got up early just to sit in bed and come up with ideas. I am an idea monster: ideas come to me in huge waves, and I spend oodles of time trying to keep up with them, evaluating whether they are worthy to pursue. I elaborate on the ones I think are going to be lucrative or make me happier in some way. This takes even more time, as I end up day-dreaming and spinning my fantasy web. It's an addictive feeling. You start thinking about a goal, and after you plan it all out in your mind, you feel like the creative process is done. Like an orgasm, the fun part is over and all that's left is work (for the other poor sap). Invariably, I end up skipping the actual production part of the process. But perhaps the flaw lies in my compulsion to so thoroughly evaluate the goal instead of just diving in.

Now, I think I'm trying to justify to you why I haven't gotten out of my pyjamas, despite it being nearly noon. Well, I've been thinking about writing a blog. Not just starting it, but actually writing it, like a diary, every day. Naturally, what stops me is the thought that floats through most wannabe writers' heads eighty percent of the time: who would read the drivel I post? After months of neurotic negotiations with my creative spirit, I've decided to get out of the way and give blogging a go. I tell myself this is a writing activity, and not an expose on my uneventful life. Yet, my ego would only agree to this kind of exploitation if my putting into words what I've done in a day would result in my days becoming more interesting. Or rather, if writing about my day to day will give me the courage and accountability to make the most out of my days.

This is a recurring theme for me: adding more dimension into my day to day life. (Alas the name Croaker, as I often remind myself that my time here in Earth is not indefinite). I find that unless I am out walking in a dense wood or telepathically speaking to some stranger's dog on the subway, I crave heart-centred exchanges that make my getting up in the morning worthwhile. I've become a heart energy addict! Creative pursuits help keep at bay the boredom that comes as a result of feeling too comfortable with oneself, too satisfied, too happy. It's easy just to sit in meditation and BE. It's a total high. But when you come out of meditation, then you're left with the banality of doing laundry or washing the car or getting dressed for work. Life then becomes a series of distractions. You delve into your work, where you can at least be creative, or you try your hand at cooking, or you volunteer at the soup kitchen, hoping to get a fix of heart-felt connection. Still, most of the time you are left with a feeling that you are 'acting'- that you are just filling time, when all you really want to be doing is exchanging wordless sentiments with the higher collective.

The Wimp in me really wants this blog to stay invisible, but that would defeat its entire purpose. To my ego: I'm going public, and it's time to play. My blog will address the questions and doubts I have about spirituality and living here and now, in an attempt to bring more creativity and joy. At the very least, it will get me writing!

Cheers,
Croaker.