In my opinion predictability is a really good thing and surprises are a really bad thing. Surprises are usually unpleasant in my experience, and so best avoided. Therein a life is framed.
Apparently the chemical reaction created by an emotion (good or bad) is what creates a memory. Scientists could explain it better I’m sure. So I’ve been carefully managing the activities and experiences in my life, curating safe and moderately good ones, avoiding anything that has a whiff of risk. Fewer shocks, fewer chemical reactions and, well, fewer memories. Well done Jay, nice work.
So I had got used to a nice predictable life, full of routine. Don’t get me wrong, in many ways I have a great life: a loving family, great friends, and a nice home, but I had been seeking something more for a while. I knew that the corporate world was lucrative yet lacking, and I had been looking at different ways to make a change and to find meaning. But that involves change and risk and chemical reactions and bad stuff.
Then one day a monk arrives, in the mirror, in the study, at the top of the house, opposite the desk and next to the red chair. The monk whose name I do not know. And namelessness really doesn’t matter to me. But I do care that he is there.
So I guess this wee blog thing is my little way of making sense of my inner shifting, recording where I get pulled (and pushed), journaling the triumphs and the flops, whilst hopefully strengthening my connection with him. And if you’re still reading, I thank you.
Starting to see, aged 43 