I have a baby on me while I write. What I’ve remembered, is that two days ago, I realised that this isn’t wholly comfortable when babywearing. Still, it needs to be done, for my own sense of wellbeing, and the one message that I’ve taken away from the last few days is that I really need to keep doing the things that keep me together mentally. If I don’t, I run the risk of getting very upset and overwhelmed which isn’t good for B, Husband, or Mum, in any way, shape or form. I’m slowly learning that it’s important to address my own needs as well as B’s, or things will fall apart psychologically. And quickly.
It’s been a while since I listened to any Terence McKenna, but I’m glad to have revisited his stuff with the maturity the last 12 months or so have brought. Every time I delve into the documented experiences of the DMT journey, I finding myself facing that curiosity that could lead me to walk through a door that will lead to a cataclysmic shift of consciousness, for good or for ill. I would love to experience the sensory chaos that is described by those who have experienced it – imagine encountering angels, or the “space where souls are reborn”, “the boy in the bottle”, “the goat faced girl.” What fodder for writing! The experience of it would be deeply informed by the psyche of the individual, so who knows what I would experience if I were to smoke the Orange, Waxy Substance. If it truly is naturally occurring in plants and animals – exists in the human system, even, why mess with that? Is the brain the source of all consciousness? The idea that the brain acts as a radio, tuning in to something greater, appeals. An epiphany. Nothing actually MATTERS apart from your internal self. The external validation sought is such a joke – it doesn’t make any meaningful difference. It is EMPTY.
The organic connection between mother and baby – the giving of milk from the mother to the child, the mechanisms of the bond than enables the maintenance and evolution of the extension of life.. Images from a former experience from many years ago return to the forefront of my memory, taking on new meaning as a living baby sleeps against my chest, deeply comforted by the familiarity of my heartbeat. The miracle of Birth.. Of Life.. The emptiness of former pursuits – the grotesque appearance of the non reality that we exist within… It’s like a bad sci – fi novel. We’re living in a bubble. This could be called a prison that we have all been sent to, and there’s a free world somewhere, on a different planet, and the progress we appear to be making to leave the prison is all a fabrication. A play written by the visionaries who can only save their pioneering ideas in the realms of a sad, propaganda filled fiction.
Something doesn’t compute. In a Hegelistic extreme – going too far one way before swinging back into a space of relevant equilibrium. All we know is that we die. How can we buy into the notion that anything that we do in this life in the material sense has any kind of impact? Actually, that’s an ill founded point of view. Scientific progress, mathematical progress, artistry, the development of ideas.. That stuff makes a massive difference. It enables evolution. Too easy to focus on the side of life that is grotesque, but amazing progress does exist. Einstein. Jung. Lao Tzu. Shakespeare. There’s loads of stuff in my tiny frame of reference that I am allowing to shrink into a hole in an unintelligent way, kidding myself that it somehow is the realm of independent thought. Sometimes it’s just rooted in a deep anger that comes from my personal frustration – things that have affected my daily life – looking for someone to blame.
Almost had a meltdown last night. B just wouldn’t sleep properly, becoming increasingly cranky – and she screamed in distress like I’ve never heard before. So difficult not to judge yourself – even hate yourself – for potentially allowing your baby to get to the point that they are so stressed. BUT if a baby won’t sleep… Overtiredness is the bane of all existence for new parents. I didn’t really know it existed before now, not in any intelligible way, anyway. She’s clever, though! And no doubt felt my pain, so she slept for a good 7 hour stint when she finally went down! Amazing. Thank heaven for the Snugglbundl.
I definitely need to master the dark art of putting her down in it. She didn’t quite settle for a nap this afternoon, hence babywearing, but she’s slept in her crib for two nights in a row with Dad’s help, which is pretty amazing. She’s a clever little one, and maybe she is learning to nap a bit less to learn to sleep more at night during this period. Who knows?! In any case, she’s amazing. Stressful, at times – last night I couldn’t fathom how I was going to be able to keep up the pace of motherhood for the next, I don’t know, rest of my life, but then she smiles, or looks ridiculously cute, or looks into my eyes with the purest love I’ve ever seen and I remember why I’ve made this choice. The nights of uninterrupted sleep feel like they exist in a different universe! Ha, she’s seen The Good, The Bad & The Ugly twice now, amongst many other classic movies, so she’s just part of the scenery now, which feels.. Right.
Anyway, best get on with the rest of the day. Hoping to squeeze in a workout before things kick off this evening.
Can’t really call these morning notes. I wonder how much the time of day affects my psyche, on a fundamental level. Who knows