Day 295: Meaninglessness: Nausea and The Golden Thread
“ With having words within the mind, and having energy attached to them, people seldom realise that you are creating yourself through an experience in your mind, and from there, because your being is channeled into the experience of a word, you then embody it physically, and then start creating it in your life…”
Interesting in how as described in the previous post coming from the establishment of the point of who I am as meaninglessness, in the context of other children going off to universities, signifying to me that they had ‘meaning’, and in comparison that I had not, that, following from that, in my explorations of the writings of the world, that I came across ‘Nausea’, a book written by Jean Paul Sartre. What had attracted me to this publication was the cover; a detail of one of Dali’s paintings, featuring a melted clock.
In my teens I had developed methods and techniques of selecting books from libraries and bookshops, that had a personal religious/spiritual dimension; what selection that I made was according to the recognition of a ‘golden thread’, believing that there was a subtle guidance going on, that it was up to me to use my sensitivity to detect. Factors such as impulsive samplings of text, illustrations on the cover, the physical feel of the book, the texture of the paper, the smell of the printing ink, all of these combined into the selection of a book as the next step into my exploration into the writings of the world.
As such, I would kind of feel my way along the shelves. What felt ‘right’ to me, I defined within myself as ‘intuition’. Writing about this now, I can see how ‘meaninglessness’ had already taken root, that already in my life, out of a starting point of meaninglessness I had resolved to search outside for meaning, and that I had given up my self direction, for an imaginary guide in helping me to find it. Thus, I had instituted a ‘golden thread’ to protect me from an experience of myself as meaninglessness within a world of meaninglessness.
Anyway, so thus it was that I alighted on and selected this piece of writing, titled, ‘Nausea’. I can see now, how it was that I so readily absorbed the contents; here was in my mind, an authority: as a ‘published writer’, as an author of a ‘classic’, as a respected ‘philosopher’, ‘thinker’, who was describing this experience that I recognized within myself, this meaninglessness; so here within my mind, I had found connection, and so I absorbed within my mind an emotional and judgemental perspective of existence as a ‘loathsome emptiness’, as if it were real. Through this apparently supportive ‘guidance’ of a ‘golden thread’, I had found a confirmation of my definition of myself as meaninglessness.
Recognizing how it is that I have ‘been’ defining and living my personalizations of words as tagged with energy, so as towards in lack of my recognition of this eventually encompassing my living vocabulary; that would be the ultimate of separation, in which a lock-in of the core of beingness has been completed, with self projected as a personal matrix of definitions of who I am as energy polarity functioning as an energy driven personality within a world in which equality is literally inconceivable, and consequently non-existent in the world system: therefore I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to dwell on my experience living as who I am as self defined as energy within and as the words that I have lived as my vocabulary.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to define myself as ‘meaninglessness’, and for not allowing myself to see that within this I have accepted and allowed myself to react to the fact that I have not yet substantiated ‘meaning’ for myself, or yet allowed myself to recognize myself as ‘meaning’, within those moments in my life in which I have felt a genuine fulfilment.
Self-Forgiveness on some of the reactive words (that I have lived as energy) in this:
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to believe in a ‘golden thread’ as something real. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to have the words ‘golden thread’ to exist within me as an image of a subtle guidance through reality, a guidance that I have placed within my mind as separate from me. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed to exist within me the words ‘golden thread’ as a reference to a mythical labyrinth as if real. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed to exist within me, within the words ‘golden thread’ an experience in my mind of ‘lostness’. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to define myself as ‘lost’ within my definition of myself as ‘meaninglessness’. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to participate in fear of ‘lostness’ within my perception of everybody else having direction, and a place to go. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to believe the thought that everybody else except for me has got a direction to go in, and that within this thought I have accepted and allowed myself to experience fear within that ‘I am different, and less than others’. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to define myself as meaningless as a comparison to others in my world, through which thought I have accepted and allowed myself to define myself as lacking something vital, and therefore empty in some vital way. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to believe in this ‘emptiness’ as something real. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to interpret the feelings in my body, of a collapsing diaphragm as a confirmation of the reality of the emptiness that I have instituted in my mind as who I am. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to not recognize the collapse of hope as an experience of disappointment in myself in which I had been supporting myself as a fantasy in my mind, and then experienced myself as that fantasy collapse, and then experienced myself as sadness, as if I had discovered the truth of me, that I am less than others, that I am lacking a direction and a path in life, because I have not ‘meaning’.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to give authority to ‘Jean-Paul Sartre’, as a ‘published writer’, as respected ‘thinker’, as respected ‘philosopher’, over and above my own authority in checking out for me within myself the significance to me of my own experience. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to through undermining my own self authority, to have accepted as true for me, another being’s interpretation of their experience. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed the word ‘nausea’ to exist within me as defined as ‘the loathsome emptiness of existence’. I forgive myself that through not checking with myself, that I have accepted and allowed myself to believe that ‘loathsome emptiness’ is a perception of something real. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself substantiate who I am as meaninglessness with the words ‘nausea’ and ‘loathsome emptiness’, even though physical nausea, and loathing were never part of my experience. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself through abandoning my own authority to have accepted and allowed as real another person’s judgement of existence as a ‘loathsome emptiness’. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to project who I am as meaninglessness onto existence. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to in my reading of ‘Nausea’, to define who I am as ‘meaninglessness’ within the word ‘existential’. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed the word ’existential’ to exist within me, tagged as a technical expression of philosophy that was separate from me, and I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed this word to justify and confirm who that I have believed myself to be in ‘meaninglessness’.
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