Yesterday I meditated a bit on my relationship with the feminine. I realized that I am addicted to feeling anguish. When I see a girl I am attracted to, the predominant emotion is not love or lust – it is anguish. Even before I try getting with a girl, I already feel anguish over a love I can never have. So I asked myself whether – given the choice – I would choose to be in an actual loving relationship that feels good and rewarding or feel anguish over a relationship I desperately and vainly pursued. To my surprise, I realized I would choose the second. I can not imagine having a mutual loving relationship without at the same time being constantly terrified of losing it. I have made myself an identity out of my pain.
The funny thing about unconscious ways of thinking is that they tend to fade when you make them conscious. So I awoke today and had this weird feeling of unease, of dread. Felt like I was not myself, somehow not in control. I felt like I was not aware, yet I was aware of everything. I walked past a few girls and felt the usual need for some kind of approval, like a smile. That usually does not happen, so this feeling of inferiority overtakes me – only that it does not today. I feel it, yet it does not hijack my thoughts. It is just there. And that scares me. Or does it scare my ego?
Yeah, I realized I was not my usual self. I used to feel like myself when I had this feeling of tension and slight pain in my upper back and in my head. When I felt weird, I just used to focus on that pain and it made me feel like myself. Today, there was again this voice that told me to focus on this pain to be myself, to look at the world and the moment through the eyes of that pain and through my head. Only that I recognized it as a voice that I did not feel any need to obey to. It was like that which I used to think was me was now suddenly separate and a bit like an external voice.
It still felt like me-ness, only that I was aware that this feeling of me-ness was not me.
I felt a very strong resistance to this weird form of awareness. Suddenly, my identity was gone. The whole point of my past life seemed to be to obsess about not getting any from women and feeling bad about it. Or it used to be about trying to prove myself to others. So I was walking the street and I still had these thoughts; but something was different. I was not identified with these thoughts. And these thoughts kept whispering into my ear: Come, you know this is you. Come back to overthinking and obsessing about this stuff. It will give you purpose, meaning, something to be angry at, something to aim for. But I just felt no need to do that. I just observed it. And as I said, it scared me. I pointed my inner eye to where I used to think is me. It felt familiar, but it no longer felt like me that much. And this fear was – I think it was the fear of this part of me to die. Yes, fear of death. Fear of losing who I am used to be and becoming something entirely different. Yes, dying.
What point is there, what meaning is there, without that pain? Is that even me? A weird and unfamiliar new me is lurking underneath, much deeper, much calmer, much stronger. But the old me looks at this new me and sees danger, threat. The strength of the new me and its awareness feels like an an attack to the old me.
And the old me screams: You can not just be that. You can not just not feel anguish and pain about girls. What arrogance of you to want to be this confident. What will the others think when you no longer feel obliged to please and suck up to them? What will they think if you no longer feel guilty for your existence? It is the only reason they let you live!
And the new me just looks at the old me; without protest, but with calm and – as it seems to the old me – malevolent gaze. Only that it is not malevolent. It is neither benevolent. It just is. It just observes. But the old me does not want to be observed.
Yeah, I figure enlightenment is still some way ahead. But then, who cares? I made enlightenment into some goal for my ego. I thought that when I become enlightened, I will finally get all the girls and respect and I will not care. But my ego did not realize the prize it would have to pay for that goal. It thought that it could achieve not caring by pretending not to care, whilst still craving all that validation underneath. But that is not how it works. It will actually have to die, this craving and this pain. Sooner or later. And who will I be then? I have no idea. There are no words for it. I will just be, I guess. And the ego that wanted the enlightenment to achieve its goals – will no longer be there to witness it.