Thank you, Paul. The wonder is that it is entirely within our control. It just needs the slightest of perspective shifts, an art I am still playing with and probably always will be.
Sam, your post evoked for me for the first time in a very long time (since late ‘60s) recalling being in Dr. Lilly’s “floatation tank”. Initially, it was pure panic of being locked in a “coffin” and never coming out (end of life). It quickly became a wonderful feeling of being in space and enjoying the sights of it. I was looking forward to the second session which became an ideal environment for meditation.
* FYI, Lilly’s goal was to investigate whether the brain required external stimuli to maintain consciousness.
I'm grateful this resurrected a good memory. I love moments like these. And this tank sounds amazing. I did a sensory deprivation tank and wonder if this is essentially the same thing. It was a wild experience because the place I did it have a gym beneath it so the loud bass sounds were the only noise making it into an otherwise sensoryless space. It was almost like a bad trip.
As I reflect on this post I’m reminded of my reluctance to venture into the Idaho wilderness surrounding me in winter. The risks of heavy snowfall, bitter cold and avalanches are real. All the more reason to get my aging, cautious butt out there.
I can’t recommend the book, The Winter Warriors, enough. Much of the book is the story of the legendary sniper Simo Häyhä.
I might add it can snow here any months the year. I bailed a hike a couple of years ago due to snow, freezing rain, wind and ice. 32 miles in one day, 7500’ ascent and 5200 descent.
you walk through the daily motions of life as a unconscious sack of meat, eyes glazed over or glued to a device. no thought, no action, just an automated version of what a human can be.
you have a soul but you fail to acknowledge it or embrace it. you're dead.
you never take risks, you never create, you never seek, you never use the stored potential energy living within your cells. you're dead a second time.
you've died twice and yet still draw breath.
the greatest betrayal of the gift of life. living and breathing and existing as the living dead.
I see you hitting full stride already in the revisioned “What Then?” you mentioned you would be launching a bit ago, Sam. I am full of admiration for this new embodiment of what you want to know/express. Bravo and thanks for the effort! 👏
I really appreciate this, Baird. Like life, it will forever be an evolution, and I am simply enjoying the ride and the incredible people I am fortunate to interact with here, like yourself.
"Misery is a self-inflicted wound. How many of us invent our own misery even when it costs us greatly to do so, perfecting the art of self-sabotage?"
Unfortunately, this does much to describe our times.
And probably because we can get away with it. Nature was not kind to this sort of evasion.
“No longer having firsts” extremely insightful as a struggling retiree. Great writing.
Thank you, Paul. The wonder is that it is entirely within our control. It just needs the slightest of perspective shifts, an art I am still playing with and probably always will be.
Sam, your post evoked for me for the first time in a very long time (since late ‘60s) recalling being in Dr. Lilly’s “floatation tank”. Initially, it was pure panic of being locked in a “coffin” and never coming out (end of life). It quickly became a wonderful feeling of being in space and enjoying the sights of it. I was looking forward to the second session which became an ideal environment for meditation.
* FYI, Lilly’s goal was to investigate whether the brain required external stimuli to maintain consciousness.
I'm grateful this resurrected a good memory. I love moments like these. And this tank sounds amazing. I did a sensory deprivation tank and wonder if this is essentially the same thing. It was a wild experience because the place I did it have a gym beneath it so the loud bass sounds were the only noise making it into an otherwise sensoryless space. It was almost like a bad trip.
At that time, it was totally quiet. First, almost scary, and then a good trip.
Fight for your love, whatever said love may be! I aspire to live by these words!
Let's go, Kai. That's what we're all here for.
Good writing should surprise the author.
As I reflect on this post I’m reminded of my reluctance to venture into the Idaho wilderness surrounding me in winter. The risks of heavy snowfall, bitter cold and avalanches are real. All the more reason to get my aging, cautious butt out there.
I can’t recommend the book, The Winter Warriors, enough. Much of the book is the story of the legendary sniper Simo Häyhä.
It is on my shelf, a wonderful gift from yourself. I can't to dig in, and also to hear about your backwoods adventures this winter.
I might add it can snow here any months the year. I bailed a hike a couple of years ago due to snow, freezing rain, wind and ice. 32 miles in one day, 7500’ ascent and 5200 descent.
That kind of environment will keep you made of iron. Or kill you. A wonderful binary.
you can be living, but never alive.
you walk through the daily motions of life as a unconscious sack of meat, eyes glazed over or glued to a device. no thought, no action, just an automated version of what a human can be.
you have a soul but you fail to acknowledge it or embrace it. you're dead.
you never take risks, you never create, you never seek, you never use the stored potential energy living within your cells. you're dead a second time.
you've died twice and yet still draw breath.
the greatest betrayal of the gift of life. living and breathing and existing as the living dead.
It is a catastrophic misfire. And so easily fixed.
I see you hitting full stride already in the revisioned “What Then?” you mentioned you would be launching a bit ago, Sam. I am full of admiration for this new embodiment of what you want to know/express. Bravo and thanks for the effort! 👏
I really appreciate this, Baird. Like life, it will forever be an evolution, and I am simply enjoying the ride and the incredible people I am fortunate to interact with here, like yourself.
A sharp knife cuts deep. Thanks for the wake up call.
Especially when we learn to use it wisely (or at least try to use it wisely). Thanks Marshall.