Sleeping and Imagination

The mind palace is not just about memories. It is also about imagination, and the recreation of memories, or even the discovery of new ones. 

When I am with only myself, my imagination gives me a richer and deeper experience, one that did not exist even a few weeks ago. 

When I walk outside, I am not sure how imagination plays out. 

When I was younger, I had an idea about 'essence'. Opening the back door in my mind opens up locations where the essence of memories remains. These see me travelling to parts of my body where that essence exists. 

Playing Warhammer 2 might be a good hobby at the moment. It is not everything. 

The child leaves the halls of thought

Friday saw me experience development in the way I live. For years I have believed in Utter: 

Utter

All awareness is accepted in these halls of thought

Grand tradition stands sure and fortifies the door

Whilst youthful lusts endeavour a roomy infinite within

But outside these walls 

Lies Utter

And all windows hope for a glimpse of hell. 

The only feedback I got from this at university was 'Utter is an adjective'. That was the idea. 

An explanation

Utter

The title itself becomes a noun, a thing. Utter what? A Totalitarian statement? Human belief and society? Or a mere utterance from a mind or being that could be dust by the time you read this? 

All awareness is accepted in these halls of thought. 

The rolling iambs in the last syllables of this line give praise to the halls of the thought, a memory palace. Yet all awareness is the sensory world too, and the fear and terror of human nature. The poor student's life of survival is not grand indeed. 

Grand tradition stands sure and fortifies the door

In the midst of the furious sensory world, the door of the vulnerable mind must remain closed. The outside world makes the man in the hall fearful (the consciousness) because the sensory manifestations of that world can be overwhelming. 

Whilst youthful lusts endeavour a roomy infinite within

In response to sitting within those mind halls so much and so long, young and feckless passions are crafted to create a sense of something beyond those physical limits. Yet whatever infinity is created is finite, contained within wood and stone. 

But outside these walls 

The sense of a switch in the poem is now palpable. The walls are surrounded, like mist. 

Lies Utter

The lies is the positioning and the passivity of the being outside, the environment... yet the perception of the environment seems so different as to almost be a 'lie'. So is the lie thanks to the grand tradition? A useful lie? But useful to whom? 

And all windows hope for a glimpse of hell. 

Here is the crux. As I wrote this poem, my fear of the outside world was that there is no way of understanding it. I would rather hope for hell and cynicism than experiencing something beyond my comprehension. 

So where might be now? 

With Joanna's help, the child left the house. The mist roused itself into a bloodthirster, a flaming demon with impossibly knotted muscles that strained with furious hate. The child saw the demon with guileless truth, a construct, a thing of beauty with its physical prowess and intensity of passion. Outside the door, the man followed the child, leaving that finite hall, stepping into Utter. 

The guilelessness of the child was disarming. The demon could not respond, or perhaps just did not respond. And then the child could experience the world outside the halls of thought, where people lived. And other people were travelling. 

So I can travel outside the halls of thought, to see the demons in the mist. Yesterday as I was walking without Joanna, the bloodthirster emerged again. It swang without hesitation its giant axe to crush the boy.  As the blade smashed into the found, the boy disappearing in a painless cloud of ether. He was gone for a discernible instant. 

In an instant heartbeat of time, he appeared again, and spoke with the wisdom of the everchild: I am not one person. You cannot kill me. Or rather, the kind of killing we know in the hall does happen, but I do not end or finish in the way you imagine. 

And with this the demon slunk away, its purpose enacted, and the open world of imagination stretching ahead. 

So what does this mean for my imagination? 

The halls have two doors. One door, mighty indeed, sees me moving out the front where things beyond my comprehension reside. Other halls of thought might be found whilst travellers can be. Grand tradition does not stand guard as much as technology and distraction. This door was at last firmly opened on Friday as I discovered the disarming power of the everchild. The everchild could open the door because he does not recognise the authority of grand tradition. The journeys that can be lived excite me. 

Not every journey will be out that front door. An interesting and empowering door lays to the back of the hall. Never locked, this will open to the living memory of my choice, a perpetual mass of beings brought into action by past action and powers beyond comprehension. Here my imaginative memories can be discovered and relived in the structure of various buildings that I once knew. 

Is there more than one door? Does each door open to a different place where my memories exist: be it my belly, my chest, my legs etc? That physical existence in my present body is different to their imaginative existence. 

Can I begin to revist these past memories as both the everchild and the man? The everchild is that guileless and curious being who pursues with boundless joy the sensory experiences possible in my palace. 

Let us see where this take us this week.  

Emotional Involvement - Emotional Allocation?

Yesterday I worked hard to love myself, and to present calmly. I was better than before, and good enough.  

I am completing my to-do lists well. 

I eat well, walk well, and generally invest myself in the right places. 

I think that balancing the logistics of a classroom with the ambitions of 'teaching' is tricky because it might be a blind balance. 

What is expected from formal education? What can be done if you read more later? Will a degree be enough?

Being good with rhythm and voice should be my ambition. 

What is literature?

I am a classroom teacher with some knowledge of 'how to more than exams'.

Yesterday I listened to my body more than before. Things to irk me moved through my body. Colleagues and communication, Brian and belligerence, my body and breathing. 

I am playing more chess and enjoying more than before of Warhammer and the videos. I still think that a group of RPG friends would be a good experience, but I need to find them. 

Each day is a chance to breathe a rhythm. And in feeling that rhythm, I might be in now. 

I am back into the new half-term with pomodoros and habits. Nothing too dramatic. 

I read some of some past posts. I did not leave teaching, but perhaps I have emotionally. And that is good enough. 

I am lucky to have a kind partner now and a calmer mind. After work today I will walk the streets again to the beat of my blood. 

And I will not answer 'what is literature' to a few asserted comments at the end of the day. 

Loving that boy

Joanna speaks about loving the boy element of me. 

That boy element is also a primal part, a driving passion. 

What can I do to love the boy part of me? 

1. Sleep well. No phone, perhaps even earlier, with reading etc. 

2. Look after my body. For a long while the adulting part of myself took some time off... or that other parts of me had their turn. 

3. Enjoy creativity and socialising. See those are connected. Avoid defensiveness through anonymity. 

4. Enjoy living, again, through useful habits. B, B, B, B... 

5. Consider where to invest myself emotionally...  Work is not ideal for this. 

______________

I slept reasonably well last night. A kind of heist was enacted before I pulled back at the last moment, the target absent. This morning I woke up groggy, the grease of food last night still stuck in me. I breathe deep, opening the primal part of myself, despite the nausea, to accept these feelings of tiredness. 

A slight worry crosses over me. I literally cross my arms over my body, telling the vigilant child that I have arrived and that he need not worry. My body calms somewhat. 

This week is a week of Bacon - to see where to resolve the cyncical adult element of myself, welcoming the excited and curious child to breathe energy into things.   

My Ambitions on a birthday

It is the morning of my birthday, and I love myself at last. 

Thanks to Joanna's help, I feel my breath flowing into parts of my body, my belly expanding with the excited curiosity of the day ahead. My breath offers loving energy to a part of me that has been ignored for too long.

Developmentally, the Orc and Goblin army book and Coal Chamber was the significant literature that spoke to the child of my youth. 

I have gained a weight lower than 70kg for the first time in five years (I think? Perhaps I was lower in Canada). I am now recalibrating my body to accept this reduced weight. I am excited to see my body change and feel better, even though a few people say I look gaunt. I do not think I look gaunt. 

Listening to new music is a habit I started about a week ago. I have done so every day. That music does not have to be enjoyable, just to feel a new way of playing guitar, of adding textures of playing. 

This holiday has been one of my best. I am more in touch with the child part of me, that essential and primal element that has been working overtime since my youth to keep me safe. I have enjoyed Warhammer custom battles and a lot of chess.  Yesterday Grace took us to a day spa, which relaxed me. 

Love is a way of 'increasing what I can tolerate'. That seems Brian's mantra, and how I know him. 

I feel excited about the near future. When I say 'I feel', I mean the primal and essential element of myself. 

Yesterday I enjoyed the day. One pomodoro completed my habits. 

Should I refresh my habits?  

End of a Holiday?

I have found some half-term holidays to be difficult because of my lifestyle and mindset. 

This holiday I have slept more than before, with more fruitful hours in bed, resulting in more REM sleep. Although I wake up with heavy eyes, no feeling of nausea remains because I am well-rested. 

I see my boss today. Investing my emotional time and energy into something else is a better ambition. 

More often than before I have faced some of the things that I fear and worry. Have I healed from my past trauma, the scars of which are more emotional and developmental? Have I grown to love myself more than before? 

That question of myself is tricky. There are multiple selves that I want to love, and otherwise. 

Imagination is the richest experience of the innerlife. Sometimes I find myself discovering that imaginative world. A placeholder for the city, Allansia, that city-state in the world that the boy in me wanted to experience. 

Darkmane entered the city. But the story is no longer about him. There are various guilds - magic, engineering, thieves, fighter, cleric, government, crown - that all compete for supremacy. In each of those networks are smaller stories, extraordinary events for the lives of those people. Each interacts and manipulates another for gain or not. 

Outside the city are existential threats. Another city-state threatens to invade, or even a hun-like horse race crosses the land. Perhaps even low-magic options could exist, be it zombies (meh) or dragons. 

A greater threat could be the notion that an imagined world is more real that the 'real world'. That the imagined world impacts the real world. The real world is corporal. It is needed to stay alive. 

CAn I describe

Better day yesterday

Yesterday I saw Martin. Afterwards, I effectively finished the next stage of my MA. 

Today I have plans to see Stuart and play guitar. 

The holiday continues as I desire.  

At times I am still triggered by things, but that is... something I can redirect? 

Hobbies and a Time Frame

Yesterday I experienced the familiar ennui that can strike me when I 'relax' too much. 

Mindfulness is necessary each day, it seems. 

Today I will see the boss, and potentially do some MA. 

Each day I am reading my book, playing some guitar, and listening to some new music. 

Part of me wants to 'do more'. But I find myself not really wanting to do so. 

Music Playing Again

I have played guitar for 22 years, but find myself limited. 

Even when I play my guitar, there is some lag. Maybe that is because of the wireless receiver? 

I want to play, and I want to play with people. I want to listen to Blitz guitar. I want to enjoy this week off as well I should. 

I want to play music today. 

Back to Music and Breathing

I will be dead in a number of decades. 

I played for a day on TW:W2 as Beastmen. I am happy with my experience, not aiming to complete anything, but dying to Queek before finding my revenge. 

I dropped 'hobby' my list of tasks. In its place I placed music learning, yoga and music listening. These are the things I want to do to access the energy that is developmentally blocked in my body.

I will return later. Language needs to sit in the back for now.  

Integrating

On Friday I spoke to Joanna. 

I experienced my past self being spoken to my present and future self. The healing of some of those scars is very necessary. 

On Saturday I drank wine and played Beastmen in TW: W2. 

Today, on Sunday, I want to engage in hobbies of: 

Yoga/stretching

Listening to music
Playing music

I will continue with my other hobbies. 

Will start these today after my meal. 

Integrating Frustration

Part of receiving is the 'giving' element of frustration. 

How can I work with Joanna on this? 

How can I get to know my own body better on this? 

I can feel this will be a good half-term. 

The frustrations I feel about classroom teachers make sense when I consider how I would deal with the stress of responsibility. 

If someone like my colleagues wants to play the game of 'all that matters is what I think about myself', then the credence of their arguments will suffer. See what the field says. What have the experts already debated? 

Classroom teaching is...

I will play games and relax for now, 

Some righteous anger?

Yesterday I purchased an SSD drive. This loads Warhammer quickly. I started a new campaign. 

I did not sleep great last night. But I did read. 

I want to set my mind in a fantasy world. Of a world of different guilds, of a citystate that sees itself as a bastion against the wilds. Take all the tropes I enjoy so much - two evil factions set against each other etc. 

I have three lessons today. And I intend to enjoy that reality. 

It is time for a relatively relaxing time. 

A few vexations arise, but I don't think I suffer the same extent of anger as I once did. Indeed, I should love and feel sympathy for the part of me that used to pine. 

You were vulnerable. You learned, eventually, of the cynical truth of some.  

Last week before half-term

I have made it to the last week before half-term. 

I feel infinitely better in comparison to how I did at the start. 

I am in a position to begin to love myself, including some of those 'worst' parts. Those parts that society wants me to be awkward about. 

That boy is ill-placed to be a leader, but as an artist and a visionary, he could be better. 

He answered liquid girl at least, calling her to text, not to use school media. That is a way to stop my stomach from dropping out :-D. Feel that stomach bounce and move, but it is a wave that you can ride. 

Today, I will watch again. 

To Love that Part of You that Has Been Working so Hard

The headline I wrote looks strange with nouns and verbs capitalised.  

Friday's session with Joanna once again saw me experiencing something - my voice. 

My relationship with my voice is difficult. I often stumble and bumble. I could vibrate it in different ways soon perhaps. 

Yesterday I did very little. I allowed my to-do list to expand. 

I have slept well over the past few days. I should sleep well again soon I think. 

I am more grounded than before. 

I should love myself. 

Last night I entered that city of my childhood. The guilds seemed clear. Each had characters that would come together against an existential threat. 

For Personal Reasons

I am attempting to live more viscerally each day. 

Language cannot capture or paint or evoke what I want to experience. 

I have been walking the high street more often recently. 

I will venture into school today. 

All of these events, anxiety-inducing as they might be, are chances to live more viscerally. 

I am not necessarily 'up-tight' or similar, inasmuch as I live cerebrally, perhaps too cerebrally. 

This home is perhaps the most nourishing I have experienced. 

Controlling conversations with my voice is something I wish to do. Keep pausing. 

Difficult Dreams

Last night I suffered vivid dreams, waking me up and echoing behind my eyes. 

First I met Liquid Girl again. She was dressed in a striped green and white bikini, shouting to her friends as she played a ball game next to a pool. Outside the pool's compound stood dark green trees, the only life in what seemed to a desert. I was with someone. 

Liquid Girl recognised me. She said some words and her eyes flashed purple, like a Marvel character. 

I woke up and this image stayed with me. 

A request to eat together, perhaps innocuous enough, has gone unanswered. Too much ire on both sides likely remains. The request coming from a work email is even more vexatious. 

I have yet to integrate my feelings about that situation. My teenage emotional development has yet to move past the darkness she represents to which I am so attracted. 

I later slept better. My next dream also turned vivid, a combination of a strange game becoming real life. The environment shifted to the Dubai school teachers relaxing in a huge pool. We were expected to talk about a game publicly. The intensity was unpleasant. 

What am I to think about these dreams? They are dreams. They are strong emotional experiences. 

__

Yesterday I spoke to Ryc and to my mother. Ryc was a good guy. He enjoyed some of my confidence and it was good to see him again. 

My mother agreed with some of the experiences of my youth that I recounted, of weak teachers and emotional challenges. 

I ran a little for the first time in a long time. That felt great. 

I am ready to continue in this vein to aim for being.  

Moving my voice to my chest

This week I still feel great. The annoyance of school does not leak into my evening as much as it did before. 

Yesterday I saw Ian Taylor, my first social for a long time. 

I spoke with more conscious pauses than for many years. 

There were a fair few times yesterday when I sensed the 'stopping up' of my breath. The tension of my body affected my energy. 

The job, the school, the continuation of my mission: all these things are games, and to being games they will return. 

In their place in the evening come films and games, and good food. Who knows how long that might continue. 

Sometimes I feel more connected to the planet below, and feel myself reading and yearning to return to dust. Not to die, but just to return. Dust to dust. The highest ideals are Christian, yes. But we have a greater sense of ourselves.