The mind tempts, provokes. A whirlwind. Left and right, every direction, it would ensnare you in some trap, some ruse. Little resentments, little offenses, little fears, one after the other, take me! take me!
Concentrated effort is obviously the antidote, a push in a certain direction, be it physical or mental. Sitting in one place, bearing the assault of one’s thoughts, is worse than useless; you’re going to lose. (I’m speaking to myself here.)
There is the desire in me to do what I want (the entirety) all at once. Naturally this makes things difficult, because impossible. I (like everyone else, I suppose) can only go one step at a time. One page at a time, one shift at a time, one hour at a time, etc. You have to accept these limits. (Otherwise, you’re losing your mind.)
The mind is irresponsible. It doesn’t know any limits. It is fragile and excessive. It is a circus and a funeral, heaven and hell, redemption and damnation, one merging or reverting into the other, again and again; chaos and the dark. Or, let’s say, it’s just the hint of these things. We fall through life, expecting something.
Life supposes risk. I go to work, I go to my desk, and I don’t know what’s going to happen. In ten minutes I can feel doomed to misery and on the point of bursting with joy. (More often than not, it’s not so extreme, but you know what I mean.) A lot of life happens in our head; a private show. ‘We wake from one dream into another dream’ (Emerson).
Gray Haskins 