Out of Sight, In My Mind

It has always been a struggle for me not to be too much in my head.

As a kid I always looked forward to long car rides sitting in the back and to alone time in my room when I could just stare blankly into space and day dream continuously. Yes I was a dreamer creating worlds beyond the present that I could invest myself in by merely staring at a blank space on the wall. My reveries would take me far and I could stay there for quite some time. It was often a shock being jolted back into reality. 

I imagine it is a challenge for anyone to live in the present, after all it is sort of an age old cliched notion of enlightenment to overcome the void." But I think I took mental escapism further than most and at some point this “dreaminess” became complete disconnection. First through the use of substances and the loss of self through all encompassing relationships. Then my lack of centeredness was amplified by the rigours of academia and all the intensity that lifestyle entails.  Pulling all nighters, drinking coffee, and smoking cigarettes (my main hobby for that time and the perfect excuse to buy myself 5 minutes each hour to zone out) did little to rectify my growing sense of disembodiment. Not to mention the piles of literature I read (and took to heart as I did everything deep down) analyzing our fragmented, disembodied culture as a whole. Yes, my head was a more compelling option than getting sucked into the other vortexes of city life (the visual noise of advertisements, that asinine sounds of one-way cell phone conversations on the bus, the sense of being caged in by the ever changing--and rising--skyline of Vancouver, forever in flux.)

But I got fed up when I realized that I could go on a hike and never once look around at the beauty around me; that I hardly noticed anything about the world, unless it involved some form of mediation, direct drama or extreme stimuli; that even when I was jolted for a moment, I  would still quickly block it all out  and return to a faraway space and a disconcerting state of physical and emotional amnesia. When I began to not only really think about, but feel,  my own disconnect though, my head was no longer a comfortable space to be in all of the time (not that it ever really was, trust me.)

I wanted to open my eyes. I was pissed because I knew I had everything necessary at my disposal to be happy and connected to the present (after all I am mobile, I can leave without necessarily physically running away), yet I still had this sense of flat affect when I was engaged in the immediate. How could I embrace the present (an age old question), even for a little while? How could I stop being so damn numb in reality, such an escape artist and pretender?

It happened one day suddenly. I  just snapped out of it. (it was a scary, violent snap mind you! It's kind of a weird, interesting story that I will save for some other post, perhaps one about spiritual awakening and redemption through darkness, because in a sense, despite my faint yet enduring cynicism, that is what it truly was.)Several factors helped jolt me out of myself, including prolonged solitude and room to actually feel my feelings and lick some old wounds, the removal of stimulants from my day to day (including coffee!), committing to a grounding diet, trading in the bus for the bike,  and a looooong break from the Internet. 

For the first time in my life I found myself walking down the street, not only aware of everything around me, but also emotionally reacting to it (sometimes laughing alone like a total nutter!) I felt like a child exploring the world for the first time!

This complete (and very strange) clarity lasted for about six months. At first I dreaded the day that it would go away and even questioned my sanity wondering if this change in perspective was heralding a psychotic break. But I just let go of these thoughts. I had the capacity to enjoy! I also felt no stress and no desire to be lost in space as I could fully invest myself in the present without the urge to find an opportunity to be alone and to take myself away. Yes, I allowed myself some time to think or to dream or to write or to be carried away by a film, but I discovered the capacity to determine when and where. I could hone my attention and like it.

Nothing is Forever. Now that the weather has changed to the typical Vancouver-fall-bleakness, I am starting to feel like my old self, though cloudier in my head (I think the lack of stimulants is making me more sensitive to the permanent greyness that envelops us here.) I try to fight my wayward train of thoughts and to remain grounded by moving my body a lot. But it isn't always working, more often than not my bike feels like a treadmill. I feel tired more than elated most of the time. Yet I am OK with that. After all,  it is a little scary to always be connected to one's surroundings, I was starting to feel like one of those ecstatic-looking old people that roll around town looking like they are on a permanent hit of E!

Most importantly though, I know that I have the capacity to be centered now, which is huge. Because even though I feel depleted and foggy at the moment I am aware of this, thinking about it, and can usually answer why (and feeling drained and borderline depressed during the grey months in Vancouver is actually a sign of being connected I would argue!). I also understand now deeply that no feeling is forever and in knowing so I can enjoy the highs and lows. I can snap myself out of it (though sometimes its hard). And when I pull myself out of my head and into reality I am often rewarded!

For example, the other night I was riding home on my bike completely unaware of the beautiful night and the moon. My thoughts were on this constant loop of fatigue, hunger, discontent with a few dark thoughts thrown into this extended mix and I was kicking myself periodically, thinking why are we back to this old pattern? I decided to snap out of it and my gaze hit a coyote literally 20 meters from me. I stopped and it stopped and we stared at each other for a while under the moonlight (the serious moonlight!). It was mangy, a little creepy, but beautiful!

Then, a couple days ago I was on my way to the Sunshine Coast for some well needed down time. The commute, which I generally love because it is two uninterrupted hours of zoning out, was getting to me. I was feeling anxiety as my thoughts were ruminating. I was having big fears about the future with some negative thinking and confusion seeping in and muffling that voice that says its going to be all good. I was uncomfortable in my head and unable to escape for very long when I would try to push my thoughts to nicer places. I actually started to physically react to a growing anxiety that was getting overwhelming, no doubt amplified by actually sitting still after a week of stimuli. 

But then I looked out and spotted over 20 dolphins on the horizon, this beautiful, sunny, paradisaical horizon. No joke.

And I knew again that all is good because I could stare at those damn dolphins and this horizon and actually give a crap about something beyond me!

I did consider the extent to which the water is polluted and how much the ferry must be screwing with their sonar for a minute or two, but I quickly silenced those thoughts and was humbled by the visualness of this incredible moment in its immediacy.