It occurs to me that I’ve been trying to learn as much as possible my whole life. Not that I’m such an academic — just always believing that I need to know . . . well . . . more. It’s a survival thing. And, I do believe that there are many people in this world that have a great deal to share — they’ve worked hard and have a deep understanding of something, and that’s worth paying attention to. But is it truth? Is it my truth? Is there a difference?
Here’s a question: would a dog or a tree ever think it had to learn more? What really is the underlying purpose of learning more, having more knowledge? Is there something wrong with me as I am? Do I need to learn more to feel adequate or worthy? So I’m not circled in the night by wild men carrying torches?
Doesn’t gaining knowledge/experience because of some underlying fear keep the efforting and accomplishing thing going? (re: the feldenkrais thing in the last post). No time to relax into what actually is, what I actually DO know and what is actually true for me at this moment. No, got to keep moving forward in order to learn/gain more knowledge in order to keep the danger at bay.
When I wash the bowl as if I have no idea what washing this bowl is SUPPOSED to be or ever was, like, or what the result or outcome is SUPPOSED to be, but just for the sake of the movement, to move slowly and enjoy being connected to what my body is doing with the bowl, the sensations and the purposelessness of it all, THEN it seems there is some truth in that. It’s nothing I can save or hold. It’s not mine. It doesn’t give “me” anything. Just an experience of that time I washed the bowl that soon dissolves into typing these words . . .