1. Disintegration therapy: deeper work involves not learning how to function under soulless, intolerably superficial and basically un-sane conditions, but rather the task of disintegrating and then establishing a more congruent and authentic self out of the ashes, so to speak. Therapists who are just advocates, or who are all about trying to train people to be happy with bullshit life are no better than denial peddlers. The fact is that the bargains in a lot of the life we have created are extremely thin and one would have to be dead inside to settle for them. Rather than learning how to be happily un-sane the path of becoming established on much more solid and real ground is available. But disintegration is dangerous, of course, so it's best to have assistance. Just reiterating old Carl Jung's take on alchemy, solve et coagula and all that. I just hadn't really thought of it along these lines or really gotten it on a gut level before. Anyway, who would want to go through such a process? It seems a lot more attractive to just learn how to be a normal person and be happy with all the fucking stupid shit we are told to accept.
2. The problem of desire. It became clear to me a couple mornings ago how weird the experience of desire is. This was around coffee in the morning, but it applies to the whole pattern. When I first wake up, the thing I desire the most is some coffee. It's a super addiction. It feels urgent. Once that little bit of caffeine gets across the blood brain barrier, and my endocrine system switches up, there is a moment of what we call "satisfaction." Desire sated. But this is a fleeting experience, of course. When camping, in particular, while I'm "enjoying" my cup of coffee, I'm usually also breaking down all my gear and getting ready to move on. I rarely stay in the same place more than one night on these Baja trips. While doing these mundane tasks, the coffee gets cold. Then it's not so good. Then I sometimes start to feel obligated to finish it. And the Jetboil and coffee mug are the last things to clean, and they go in the kitchen Sterlite and often sort of hold up packing the car. So then it becomes this weird feeling of "having to finish the damn coffee." Compounded by how the caffeine makes me cranky and restless, what was urgently needed becomes problematic. We want, and would be bereft if we couldn't have, and we're briefly sated, and then we're done, we don't want anymore, and in fact, what was wanted is a source of obligation, irritability, regret, a "problem." This is not a profoundly new insight into human experience, I realize. But somehow I became acutely aware of this baffling cycle. Entire philosophies and religions have sprung up to try to wield this aggravating pattern in a positive way, or to do away with it.
3. I should trust my intuition more. The whole time before I headed down here I was thinking, "You should get a full size spare tire." Of course, I did get a flat—I whammed into a gigantic rock on an otherwise pretty good road to Punta Baja from El Rosario, and a couple days later the sidewall exhaled it's last breath. It was a strange experience, because I had driven out the very rough and rocky road toward San Francisquito from BahÃa de Los Angeles, and had taken the road a little too hard for my touring-rated tires. Warning lights and so on went on. I drove all the way back to camp, parked the car and was sitting in it, reading about what all those warnings meant, when I heard a very loud "whooooooooooshhhhhh." Aha, so that's what. I drove 120 miles on the smaller, temporary spare, to Guerrero Negro, and a tire shop had a nueva llanta, an exact match. Lucky. I never really had an offroad vehicle before so now I know that it should be equipped with properly rated tires, and even with the ability to go fast, slow is better, and I'll be getting a full size spare. But the main point is that I ought to trust my intuition. I often feel like I need proof, solid evidence, definite information. My gut is in fact providing very solid and definite information and I am often choosing not to listen. For example, when I don't trust someone or think they are lying to me and hiding some whole part of their life. I talk myself out of it. There's no evidence. There's no proof. But yeah, yes there is, the lack of trust itself. That is all the proof I need. I don't need the facts of situation. I just need to realize that *not trusting someone* is very important information, in and of itself.
Anyway, here's some pics from the trip. Media management is fairly hopeless in Baja, given the shit wifi and my own technologically weird realities—slow computer, dying phone, etc.
But I don't come down here for connectivity anyway.
hmmm, haha, well, no pics. Not working, of course. All of my 16 avid readers will just have to wait. At least you don't have to experience the crushing disappointment of having your desire fulfilled.
