Yes. So true. And at the same time and another level the apparent safety and foreclosure are a lie, are unreal. One can drown in a bathtub.
Conversation
The poor guy is, in a split off way, talking about his struggles with anxiety on Twitter at the same time he is peddling a cure. The daemons have him. He just doesn't know it yet. He may yet come to learn something of the art of drowning.
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This is a fine thread of exchanges to be reading on a Sunday evening. Thank you all.
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Thanks my friend. The initimable , the nightjar, her dark, keen eyes and her brave soul are the propitious ground. One needs a truthful atmosphere for wee bits of truth to emerge.
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For what it's worth, my own (limited) experiences with psychedelics have all straddled the boundary between terror and ecstacy.
I'm at a loss when I see people eager to commodify such experiences. It seems profane, for lack of a better word. Similar story with meditation.
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Yes. Perfect. Meditation is an excellent example. So easily framed as pleasant relaxation. The danger lies in the fact that we may thereby make contact with ourselves. A frightful experience ensues.
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Indeed. I experienced my first brush with meditation-induced terror when I was, I believe, about 17.
My revulsion at seeing it presented as some sort of harmless (& therefore toothless) palliative is overwhelming.
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Compassion. Some factors at work in palliative frame: a.) Dissociation. Self-idealizing purveyors have split off their troubled selves and are promoting dissociation as cure. b.) The lie is a very leaky vessel. When it hits a fact, and it will, it will sink.
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Yes. Being still quite young, my passions often tend towards excess.
I am generally reluctant to publicize my views on this topic, at least without some forethought, since I know I will often seek to cauterize where a simple gauze will do... which is surely an overcompensation.
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Excellent. I'm working on two forms of patience. The patience to be with my authentic reaction or emotion. To be curious about it, to allow it and to give it room. And the patience to modulate my response so that I might communicate it to others in a sociable form.
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My tendency to brutalize my bullies from kindergarten age instilled rather too much concern for polite behaviour in my formative years, I think.
I am still learning to accept there is value in my passions, and also to live with them without indulging my anger too readily.