Depth Blog: Journals from the Depth of Time
I’ve been writing in journals for over 30 years. It started in high school, when I felt lonely, and writing in a journal felt like I was communicating with someone. With whom, I still don’t know, but it felt good, and it still feels good. Even when it doesn’t I still maintain the morning (and sometimes in the middle of the day) discipline.
Recently I met an artist and writer by the name of Donna O., who suggested we pull out pages from our journals from random dates and put them side by side. I’m no longer dating her, but continue the publishing effort. We started with the random date of June 1st.
— RANDOM JOURNAL PULL #1 —
Donna O.:
6-1-90, Friday, w/Lois
Dream: Driving along a winding dirt road in the forest when I see water ahead; a rivulet crossing the road. I step for the brakes but hit the gas instead. When my tires meet the water, the car hyrdoplanes and I fall off the road. It was crumbly there, at that edge and I go over; not too dangerous, just a gentle slope. Two men arrive to help me, one is retarded it seems and they work together to get my car back on the road.
Not much emotion in this dream; a sort of amusement really- what happened to my fear of not being able to stop? Accelerating wasn’t so bad, nothing terrible happened.
What if those dear men hadn’t come by- the slow one so happy to be of help?
I would have gone for a walk, that’s all. I’d walk along the road for awhile, blending in with the shadow’s markings, then I’d go into the forest. These trees make paper, I’d think, but words don’t need paper.
Mine:
June 3, 1990
Yeah a nice little juicy thing to be used these (some) women see me.
No more of this lending shit, a bunch of complicated garbage. I want to be clear of that. Being together is enough should be if its a real friend.
Stop blaming others for your problems this is something we all need to learn. Im not responsible for my friends problems I should not have to take that on my shoulders, or made to feel that I’m to blame somehow for their situation.
— JOURNAL PULL #2 (Just for the heck of it we decided one year later - closest entry I had was June 14th) —
Donna:
6-1-91, Saturday, 6pm
Feminism rears its androgynous head in the K-mart toy section: A little boy finds what he wants and runs to his mother. She exclaims, “You want a Little Helper set?! You want a broom?! Wouldn’t you rather have a truck?” I couldn’t believe it. As they turned into my aisle, I had to speak: “Let him have the broom!” Sheesh.
8:30
Home from dinner to a message on the machine: “This is Grampa. Read your poem, Donna. It’s not nice to make your father cry.”
Mine:
June 14, 1991
Andrea’s problem in relationships is that she wants her romantic fantasies fulfilled, but reality or basis of real reality is different, plus the impossibility of anyone or any situation ever fulfilling those fantasies or ideal images.
The basis of a real reality is the same as for a real friendship I speculate - trust, openness, mutual interests, equality, respect…
But again - a problem with openness, trust, respect of boundaries.
And she’s got very powerful unconscious unfulfilled needs/wants/desires for love, recognition, approval that (she’s not getting from herself?) most kids get to some degree and she did not get enough of apparently.
She’s dominated by fears of the past imagination, memories), violations, dominations. She’s letting that happen. Perhaps it’s even an excuse.
She wants people to fulfill her needs, but they don’t know it, and want something from her. So there is cross-communication, problems, frustrations.
— JOURNAL PULL #3 (closest date to June 1st I had was June 7th) —
Donna:
6-2-92
I can’t believe how busy I am without school. I can’t believe how awake I am without coffee. I can’t believe I don’t have another sentence to complete this pattern. Oh yeah! I can’t believe I haven’t bought the next journal yet.
My rhythm’s all off in here, but it’s fast elsewhere. Don’t know what to tell you. Lois sprang Wake-Up Stories on Storymakers. I like being with Mary. Leah got braces today on the bottom teeth. I’m close and good with my daughters. I spent a lot of time on the phone with Laurie, the travel agent, setting up the Coos Bay trip. I’m okay, strong, striving for clearness; clarity with a heart. Mom & Dad sad. Stan has a split lip. Got a letter from little Rosannah Cope, author of “The Barbie Book,” thanking me for the money.
Mine:
Sun, Jun 7, 1992
Notes (from dream): Finally, I have a theme, and it’s like music. (I finally got the shot, the photographs, up on the hill, as the sun went down and reflected on the buildings). Industrialism. The old man was there to tell me parts of my brain were unconscious. From the effort I said. Well obviously some parts are unconscious - I’m asleep!. Then he said they were turning translucent. Then I woke up.
I re-assemble myself.
Honesty and militarism don’t go together.
About relationship with Robin: At times I wasn’t taking responsibility for the products of my own brain that got generated. I picture them coming out, like in a chain, these ugly purple semented string of dark thoughts following their own logic of the previous, like some weird machine. Then blame them on her, which was mean and inaccurate.
Possible reasons for wanting to “be rich“ (what is that condition anyway? Is at condition at a point in time? Does one walk around wanting recognition as being rich?)
1. Practical - on the desire side, you may be able to do more things, or things that you were not able to easily do before, such as go on exotic vacations or drive a fancy sports car. Or, in the case of fear, you may feel that you need large amounts of money in case you get sick, or for your retirement.
2. Spiritual - there’s a strange reverence for richness in America, as if it were a transcendent good. No matter how rotten the person is, he’s somehow automatically above everything if he’s rich.
3. Social
Once I realized that being rich would not necessarily, or could not in itself make me or anyone happy, largely from the fact that I had proved to my own satisfaction that I could be happy without b.r. and knowing more about the conditions that make for an on-going sense of “gappiness“..I mean “happiness“, and that those conditions did not relate to being rich (because I was not rich in the monetary sense, except in a relative sense).
Also with more money, more resources, and more time, comes the rising tide of expectations, along with too many options, the complications of what to buy and what you do with managing it once you buy it, and you spent all this money but it doesn’t work right, and the “Am I happy yet?“ syndrome.
In studying religion I begin to see not some personal answer in terms of a new religious foundation for myself, but more of an understanding of my own culture, its psychology and discontents, and some of the beliefs and habits of mind that I must struggle against. In other words I see more of what keeps us from being happy than what makes us happy. So the study has the intended effect, but not from a conversion, but from a dis-illusion-ment.
Perhaps pert of my malaise lately is because of becoming too programmed by the social machine. Goals become too much the ones handed out by society, family, media - make money, get things, have leisure.
What’s a goal independent of that that I have now? The hydroponic gardening does not make me money. But it does garner approval from family and friends. It does seem to have some meaning though - it’s an ecological activity, it relates to a more independent lifestyle, to a junction of high-tech and low-tech (agriculture, nature) systems. It involves an aesthetic, and using my skills to build and grow and figure things out. And I do get a feeling of being involved. It’s when I’m working at it, solving problems, facing challenges, that I seem happiest. If I just stand there and look and think about working on a problem (or think about not doing it or how I do not feel like working on it), I feel unhappy, empty, lethargic).
Why not start or form an institute or research foundation for the study of consciousness?
The people that I have most enjoyed meeting and talking with were people with backgrounds and/or interests in psychology or applied psychology (Betty A., Ann S., David C. The sociology guy was almost as interesting to talk to – and soc. is a related field. Oh - he taught business or management psychology I believe).
These were some of the best or most rewarding moments that ET [my consulting business] spawned - talking, relating to these people. And their response to me was very good, very affirming indeed. And their support, and people like them, if I were to start some sort of project like a consciousness research institute, would be 100% I think.
And with the information and communication tools that are available these days, and the knowledge and technical expertise available to me, it is feasible to start a one-man center, and get other people involved in research, and in a dialogue, a multi-nodal project.
“Consciousness Research Network“?
Besides gardening, bike riding can be very satisfying - though sitting at home it’s hard to relate, to remember. The challenges one faces, in the canyon, navigating the terrain, scanning the surroundings, taking in so much visually and kinesthetically, the enjoyable surrounding, the good feeling of physical activity, the using of an “appropriate“ technology in covering ground, the air rushing over you, the freedom and self-propelled power, the speed at times, like flying, the ability to go so many places, and quietly, the discipline, the interesting things you see, the need for constant alertness, attention when you are moving, the awareness of body and movement and surroundings and bike you need, the blood flow that increases consciousness. There is an involvement with the present that quiets the mind. It all adds up to a great experience.
The rewards of gardening are more subtle, slower, more complex, more delayed.
— JOURNAL PULL #4 (Donna pulled June 1st 1993 - I didn’t have June 1st, but I had 4 small entries around that date) —
Donna:
6-1-93, Tuesday, 8:45 a.m.
While Stan is in the shower I’ll tell you this is a dangerous day. Shit, he’s out already. On a day like this, if he sees me writing, he’s likely to feel conspired against. My strategy is to pretend nothing’s wrong and to resist the urge to attack or defend. If I accidentally do either I won’t follow it up- I’ll go on as if nothing happened. (this has already occurred once this morning) You know that childish method for ascertaining the perpetrator of a fart? “Whoever smelt it, dealt it.” That’s the way it is around here, around him, on a day like this. Whoever says there’s a problem, is the problem.
We watched a movie last night, “Singles,” about twenty-somethings looking for love. The refrain was, “Love Disappears.” The motto, I guess, was, “just because love does, you don’t have to. Cuz love reappears, and you don’t want to be gone when it surfaces.
9:45 pm
It wasn’t easy, but we didn’t fight. Although it felt flat and a little edgy, we’re closer now to love than we were this morning. Still, I’m not much for writing. Had a scary thought this morning, thinking about writing. I quit school. I quit karate. What if I quit this too? Would I then have nothing? Remember a week or so ago I was going to try leaving it alone for a short while? Suddenly I felt inspired, wanted to write.
Still reading diary entries. Dmitri Nabakov’s were great; his technique is original and effective. He writes about the past in present tense, then goes into what will happen. It sounds magical, prophetic. Results in a wonderful objectivity, as in an amazing entry about his horrendous car accident when he says, “sometime on the eighth day I will be declared clinically dead for a short while.” He writes the past as if it were the future.
Mine:
May 27, 1993
In the desert, the dichotomy between “survival” and “living” is seen to be a false one: life is beautiful whether it is harsh or lush.
May 29, 1993
Using the military as the option of choice to resolve conflicts or solve problems is stupid.
June 4, 1993
My livelihood depends on the people I know – this “community” I’ve created.
As a person in a service business, I have a moral responsibility just as a citizen of this polity, I have a moral obligation to the community to which I belong.
A community that is held together by pragmatic needs is still a community.
And it is in the nature of a community that trust, fairness and mutual obligation to treat each other well play a part.
You can have “success” in the business in the business world without good ethics and morals and values, and creativity, but it will be of a very narrow and unhappy sort.
You can exploit and abuse and build up a large reserve of money, and not create much of real value. You can go very fast, and destroy the competition, but be living on only the very surface of life.
June 7, 1993
If money were free it would have no value.
Bad money drives out good.
Money has no value except that of scarcity.
(dialogue):
“So what do you believe about that (the subject of subjectivity)?
Well actually I don’t believe in having beliefs.
But you have beliefs – you could not survive, live, operate in the world without beliefs.
I do in fact, I’m sure, have beliefs, but I still insist that I don’t believe in having beliefs.
You mean, you don’t believe it’s a good ‘idea’ to have beliefs.
O.K.
So what’s the answer?
The answer? We don’t’ come here for answers my friend. We come here for the rhythms of challenge and discovery, which illuminate our souls.