More Or Less Mind

If you read this blog regularly (and I have seen the stats, so I know that you don’t), you might have determined that I am what has been called a “compulsively pensive” person.   In other words, I think a lot.  It’s just how my mind works, how it always has.

What many people wish for me is a state of mindfulness.  That’s the wonderful place where you are so focused on what you are doing that there is no room for distraction, no room for questions, only for the action of your heartbeat.

Mindfulness, of course, is also mindlessness, where your thought schema doesn’t get in the way of your heart acting and speaking on its own. 

I once told a boss that I worked best when interacting with others over new things.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.  “You make other people crazy, push their buttons, challenge, baffle and offend them.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “but it’s when I hear myself explain the point or answer their questions, I get delighted by the ay the interaction is full of revelation, words and ideas that wouldn’t have come out if I just thought it out on my own.”

That’s still true, of course.  I have learned to chew over conversations to listen to what was said and what was revealed.  It’s usually true that the advice I give others contains what I need to hear anyway. 

When I have to give a presentation, I create a strong outline, put it onto foils, and then I talk to it.  I love it, because I am always suprised by what flesh comes to fill out those bones, what I am channeled to say in response to my audience.  It’s at that time I am most mindful and most mindless, letting it come.    ]

Barry Humphries says that he could write what Dame Edna says, but never as fast as she can just say it.  That means that there have been a few times Barry has had to step in to calm things down, but it also means that there are many times that Barry has been as delighted and amused by what the old dame comes up with as the rest of us are.  It’s that moment of mindful/mindless creation when the synergy happens and it is magical.

I have been close in the last few days, just doing the work and not being self concious, but that’s not my norm.   And it’s not my norm for the same reason it is for Mr. Humphries:  I have been taught that I need to be the gatekeeper, that I need to always control the mercurial inside of me because otherwise, as my old boss noted, I’m just seen as too intense, too cutting, too sharp.

My natural state is editor, shaping what is inside of me for public consumption, and that editor is one part that doesn’t seem warm and natural, rather being wary and circumspect.  A glimpse of that is enough to set people’s detectors off, wondering what I must be hiding behind those calculations.  I may love good editing, but even a good editor always seems a bit separated from humanity.

To come more from my mindful/mindless-ness, I need to come less from my gatekeeper/editor.  You’d think that’s what coaches would want to tell me — “Don’t think, meat!” — but they are not at all sure that they trust what is in my heart, that they believe I should just let it be or just do it.  There isn’t a cute little puppy who wants love inside of me, there is a beautiful hellion who wants truth.

There are all sorts of stories of how we trannies pick names.  I started with my given name in my guy-in-a-dress period, and took a long time to come to a name.  I wanted one gender neutral, and had sounds that appealed to me.   I eventuall came down to Callan.  Many years later, I looked it up in one of the baby naming tools on the web, and it is a feminine name (that surprised some people) which apparently means “powerful in battle.”  Ah, the wisdom that we have even when we don’t know we have it.

People want for me to go below my mind, to get closer to essence and come more from the godhead inside of me.  But they also know that essence is always there in my writing, even if the editor keeps it well filtered and small.  Raging & Outrageous may seem compelling in some ways, but if not tempered by thought, they also seem indulgent and nasty.

I know what people want from me, to get past the editor who keeps me small and let the energy and desire flow again, flow from mindfulness, flow from mindlessness.

It’s just that they then often blanch when they see the dragon.

But my heart?   Well, it’s not in the editing.  It’s in the raw source.