Sunday, November 8, 2015

The only way for an artist to work, really, is to let go.  Release from effort, let it happen.  Occupy the present, free from ego, free from the past, free from the future.  Look at the bigger picture beyond the details.  He realizes it is not his by own effort.  He knows that it comes through doing nothing, like taking a nap, or meditating, stretching in a yoga pose, walking through the woods, unaware of how the mind is working until it speaks its formulation.

And in this seemingly 'idiotic' mode, it becomes obvious to him what everyone else is ignoring as they go about their business.  The process is magnified.  The more he stops to see, the more obvious it is the modes human thought falls into.  What the crowd ignores, passing by focussed on a duty, becomes what he sees, as if by physical law.  It's left up to him to see beyond the mind that puts what it sees in terms of dualities, good, bad, hot, cold, me, not me.  Maybe this is all he gets.  Maybe it seems of no practical use whatsoever.  Maybe he only can understand it to degrees.

Perhaps all he learns is that he must move away from all the distinctions and assumptions of the previously 'normal mode,' the constant mental activity of judgment.  This brings him, interestingly, the underpinnings of good mental health and decent realistic self-esteem.

Whereas before he worked at an art form searching through the past for meaning, noble as the effort might have been, nothing new came of it, nothing of any particular value other than 'a first novel,' an early work.

The ultimate point of his work taken as a whole went far beyond that as far as grappling with the reality of a human mind, the intake of sensory details, the attempt to make sense of input.  The early work was small detail work, the filagree for an apprentice to see if he had the patience.  Hopefully it would allow him the self-confidence to let the mature work happen, the saying of what one really had to say, that which he seemed to notice working in life.  The results of it fell within the natural parameter of a perennial philosophy, just as his father had wisely and presciently predicted.   The studied ironies of the past fell in to a studious effort that had worked itself through.

Trust the archaic mode of thought.  Trust the mind's inner workings.  Trust the meditation's wordless forays into the unconscious mind.  Trust the intuitions, and do a bit of recording them.

Recognize that having blood type O leads you to think in particular modes.

Compare that lone thinker to the power of mass media, the web, the widespread instantaneous exchange of whatever focus driven by itself and its own mindset.

Contrary to the thought that he was doing everything wrong, in great need of putting in more effort, more salesmanship, more industry, more PR, the better thought to follow was to follow instincts, to relax, to find natural footing.

To think that your life is nothing but bad choices is negative.  Put those choices in the context of blood type, type O, makes things a bit more comprehended, understandable.

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