What I'm Reading: Tolle's Now

I'm having a Jimmy Neutron-esque brain blast right now and am seriously praying that my fingers can keep up with my flow of consciousness.

So, to start, I'm reading Eckhart Tolle's The Power of Now and have been reading it with a grain of salt initially. In the first couple of chapters, he challenges the reader to turn of their "thinker," to stop overanalyzing everything and thinking about everything and to stop identifying their "self" with their "thinker." My problem with that is that I love the thinker within me. I love the random junk that comes pouring from my fingertips in regurgitated brain barf that, like a craftsman, I work to shape into digestible sentences and thoughts. Sometimes, when I channel that "thinker," it's like everything just explodes and my head is so full of creative inspiration that I can't possibly contain it. That's when I write.

I did understand the importance of turning off the brain, though. In my experience, I've learned the few times my head is quiet are when I'm driving, running or singing. And, really, if you think about it, that makes a lot of sense. During each of those activities, I'm so hyperfocused on everything going on around me that I'm completely in the "Now." When I drive, I'm monitoring my mirrors and the traffic and constantly revving myself up to be prepared for whatever may happen. When I run, I'm focused on my breathing, my heart rate and on the predictable pace of my feet. When I sing, I'm focused on my breathing, my control, my tone, my expressions, the sound and emotion and performance. During all of them, I'm only Now.

So while I initially recognized the importance and the benefit of shutting off the thinker, I thought it was something I didn't want to do. Until I realized that "brain barf" isn't the thinker. Brain barf is Now. It's a tool I use when I channel something so internal and pure and let it flow past my head, past my filter, through my metaphorical veins and onto my computer screen. I didn't realize it, but it's not brain barf at all. It's Now barf.

Woah.

I also didn't realize until today, but since I was about 12, my mantra was "Live in the now, never regret." I made what some people would call mistakes at a young age and I was so sick and tired of dealing with other people's responses that I just said "forget this." I chose to largely forget my past, to move on, to seek the thrill of spontaneity and of living on the edge. And I chose not to think of my "mistakes" as mistakes. I chose not to regret. I chose to learn from the situation, make any necessary changes and move on. Little did I know, but I've been far more enlightened that I could have ever realized. I had the pieces to the puzzle, just no guiding picture to help me place them all together.

I'm not even half way through the book and am having revelations. Just today, I was reading about how Tolle says that harnessing the Now is a way for people to evolve.

"What we are doing here is part of a profound transformation that is taking place in the collective consciousness of the planet and beyond: the awakening of consciousness from the dream of matter, form and separation. The ending of time. We are breaking mind patters that have dominated human life for eons" (55).

When Tolle talks about Now, he talks about the intense focus, the hyper sensitivity. He even sometimes describes it as another dimension. When we see our world through the lens of now, it's as though a filter has been removed. It's more focused. It's life in HD. When I thought more about "focus," I went on some thought roller coaster and started thinking about the "collective," and how so many more people are being diagnosed with ADHD.

At Marie Claire, I often had trouble focusing. I couldn't think straight, I couldn't process, I didn't feel motivated. I don't know where I was, but I wasn't in the Now. I was, like, floating in some timeless blurry observation tank, watching everything happen around me, the movements slow and the sound muffled. And I don't know what it is, but that's been happening more and more frequently. So I've looked into certain things that might help fight that, help motivate me and help me be more focused. Caffeine helps in the short term, endorphins and yoga are always useful... But I've been looking at drugs as well. I don't know if that's the answer to my problem, but I've seen the benefits that meds have on people around me. And it's worth an honest conversation with a doctor.

So when Tolle talks about the collective consciousness of the world, I can't help but wonder that maybe we've already digested his teachings. I mean, obviously, there's always more to learn. But people jump in and out of the Now on a whim nowadays. They can harness it by chasing thrills or adrenaline, by running or by popping a pill. And they can escape it by drowning themselves in a book, playing video games or drinking a beer.

In a weird way, I think there's a lot of truth to what Tolle argues. I just wonder if perhaps his 12 year old book is a little outdated. Maybe Adderall is the new Now. But then again, finding the Now in a pill is certainly not enlightenment. Food for thought? Or maybe I'm succumbing to the "thinker"...

Poem: Pieces

When we disagree, it's like two steel trains,
hurling toward each other at hundreds of miles per hour,
bracing for the collision,
preparing for arguments with evidence and persuasion.

And when we do collide, it's a never ending rush,
of emotion and perfect syntax.

When we fight, it's all business and momentum.
Never relent, never give up.
She taught me that.
Come to think of it, she'd make a great lawyer.

She'd make a great anything, actually. Especially a writer.
I'm guessing her brain barf is far more snarky than mine,
I'm a novice, she's a master.

Whenever she's around, there's no writer's block.
We just sit and talk, laugh, expand, explore.
She's so full of ideas and turns of phrase and transitions.

I'd like to think that I've stored away little pieces of her,
her stoicism, her sarcasm,
her super sly winks from across the room.
Her eyes, her laugh, her taste for adventure.

Of course, there's also her obsessive planning,
the frazzled freak outs, the curtness.
And both our noses can pop.

Growing up, it was always my dad that I turned to,
about boy problems and general frustrations.
Meltdowns and freak outs.

Once, when I was crying after a breakup,
she looked at me, dead-faced and said,
"Why are you crying."
But she was always strong like that.

At the time, I thought I needed hugs,
and copious amounts of chocolate.
But really, I needed her perspective. I survived.

She passed along to me her love of wine,
And her recipe for the world's best margaritas,
her stubborness, her determination.
Her my-way-or-the-highway-ness.

During high school, we shared weeknights on the couch,
an hour with Lorelei and Rory and Jess.
And Wheat Thins and cream cheese.

I spent school mornings in the car with my dad,
angstily belting out Taylor Swift.
But those nights were for her.

She knows my favorite foods and my taste in books,
the way my cheeks get pink after a third glass.
She laughs at the fact that I constantly hear music,
as if some ADHD-ridden DJ is spinning in my head.

We share a love for good shoes and toe rings,
and for our perfect little black lab
(who she not-so-secretly loves more than me).

At one point in the Netherlands, we stopped for a bit
and spent an hour sitting crosslegged
on the floor of some Dutch bookstore.
It was one of the simplest joys of our European adventure.

She's wild, tamed by marriage and domesticity.
But wild nonetheless.
I would hope that she passed that along to me, too.

I love you, Ma.

###

Ummmm... so

This is a completely random observation that I've been building evidence for over the past couple of years, but I have an uncanny way of unconsciously surrounding myself with people in relationships (see prior post), people from similar climates (California and Florida, most prominently), and left-handed people (only 8-15% of people are lefties, but the majority of my ex-bf's are).

That's all, folks.

In a New York Minute...

I don't really feel like I have anything super cohesive to say right now... Things have really picked up at Marie Claire, so I'm just working to plow through my work and don't have the down time to sit and digest and contemplate what I want to blog about. It also probably doesn't help that I've been increasing my intake of caffeine, which makes me more awake, yes, but less productive. Like, I turn into a machine and crank out all my work, without leaving too much wiggle room for my "artistic freedom."

Things really are incredible, though. I'm treated with an insane amount of respect, given that I'm only a lowly intern. Yesterday, I was in one of the editors' office and she asked what year I was in school, hinting that if I were to graduate soon and a position were available, I would be considered. Which is freaking aweeessommmeeee if only I weren't some prepubescent child who won't be graduating until 2014.

Really, though, I love this industry. And, from the looks of it, I'm not too shabby at navigating it. I like working with so many women (who knew?) and having Friday afternoon bake-offs in the office. Everyone always looks good and smells good and they just so happen to be extremely talented, too. That, and the security guards (there's really only one cute one, but whatever) are so darn attractive.

I'm making friends, I'm planting roots, and I've started feeling out different neighborhoods for their post-grad living potential... Are the windows big enough? Is there exposed brick? Do they allow pets (I will soooo be that idiot that buys a dog and feeds it even when I can't afford food for myself)? Is it safe? As a totally random side note, I'm starting to think my parents think all of New York is a ghetto, when in reality, I feel safer here than I do in Boston.

This is starting to turn all lovey-dovey isn't it (sorry). I'm busy, hence the minimal posts. But I'll get the brain juices flowing and post something in the so-freaky-it'll-blow-your-mind category soon. Get ready.

Frazzled Miss Frizzle

Today was insane. I started off the day running and it legitimately feels as though my list hasn't gotten one iota shorter. It got to the point where I got so stressed-out-to-the-brink-of-a-meltdown that I stopped, organized my thoughts, and cleaned--not one, but--two desks. I cleaned my desk, and then I cleaned the desk I'm currently sitting at because I'm covering for my boss. I cleaned, re-stacked piles, threw away trash and actually Clorox'd the darn things. They're spotless. And I'm still frazzled.

On top of doing two people's jobs today, I also have to somehow figure out the rest of my life. Which I've already spent 18 years try to map out, so I don't see how I'm supposed to figure it out in the course of days. I have Blue Rug Syndrome topped with Salad Dressing Syndrome topped with a nice tasty schizophrenia cherry. I'm like a frazzled Miss Frizzle ala Magic School Bus... all a blur except for my crazy red hair.

As a random-but-relevant side note, why do people bother to have cell phones if they're never around to answer calls or respond to texts (Ahem. Dad. Ahem). Um hellloooo!! Having a mental breakdown over here!!

I need a hug.

Well Hello, There

Hey, folks.

So, obviously, I've moved. I did a little snooping and it turns out that Blogger/Blogspot just has better services for their online blogging superstars. Like the fact that I can redesign my settings and background. I needed a little spring cleaning, so I decided that a move would help.

As I get working on making it look all neat and clean and on updating the links and such, feel free to email me ideas, comments, critiques, and general awesomeness.

As a random venting side note, I was incredibly irritated that the blog usernames brainbarf and brain-barf were both taken. And here I was thinking I was original. What's even more irritating?? They both have one post and haven't been updated in yeeaarrss. Amateurs.

Brain barfingly yours,
Marian