Meditation

Faster Than The Speed of Human

by

Everything seems to move so fast doesn’t it?

New product. New product update. Removing the new product update because of a security risk. Rival product. Must buy!

Social media post. The need to respond instantly. The need to respond to the response instantly, so you can seize the narrative.

Must-see video streaming. Bingewatch it. Now it’s gone. Now it’s back. You don’t want to miss out.

We have more of everything, not enough nothing, and it’s all so much faster that it feels like we’re getting lost. Buy, update, post, comment, watch, we’re all doing so much it feels like we don’t have time for ourselves. We don’t have time to be people.

We don’t have time to be human, we’re moving too fast for human.

No time for a nuanced reaction or contemplation of a purchase. No time to wrestle with ambiguity, with the sheer humanity of our situation. We’re all on to the next thing or the current thing, but it’s always something we have to react to, as opposed to be ourselves having an experience.

In the age of 24-hour internet-enabled media and culture we’ve left our humanity behind. We’re posters, commenters, customers, influencers, podcasts, all checking off a bunch of lists as fast as possible. But we’re not people to the big corporations, to the algorithm, and to each other.

This is why I’m appreciating meditation and quiet walks more and more in my life. A chance to stop, to be myself, to just be. I’m not in Social Media Samsara trying to keep up on a hundred things that I don’t care about or really don’t care to have an opinion on. I’m just there.

You can go so fast you’re not human anymore. Slow down and be a person.

–Xenofact

The Spoons of Taoist Energy Work

by

The Spoons of Taoist Energy Work

No, this isn’t about a highly obscure magic item (yet). It’s a bit more exposition on how my takes on “energy” work in mysticism has some benefits even if it’s not scientifically true. Energy as a metaphor is quite useful in my meditative practices, if only because it gives me better ways to understand myself.

In my meditations, I practice a kitbash version of “Internal Alchemy” from Taoist practices. Essentially I clear blockages of energies, generate energies, and circulate them. There’s 3 basic “treasures” (vitality, chi (sort of general energy), spirit), meridians, etc. But the key thing for this column is you conscience of your body’s forces as having certain functions and being able to be refined, expended, and conserved.

Taoist works often talk about conserving these treasures (usually all three, as they affect each other). One does not wish to waste one’s vitality in pointless sexual and physical indulgences as one cannot generate chi. One does not waste chi with poor habits and racing emotions as that is the powerhouse of the body and source of spirit. One preserves the spirit so it does not drain away, limiting your mental abilities and your ability to achieve higher states.

This may sound complicated, but it really comes down to “stop randomly expending your energies with worries, disconnected indulgences, etc.” One “guards” these treasures and refines them into mental and physical health and even enlightenment.

I found this simple idea of “guarding one’s energies” to be very useful for understanding how I waste the resources of mind and body. Pointlessly pushing oneself at work, obsessing over things you can’t change, etc. just burns you out. Having a more complex and poetic framework just makes it easier, no matter how “real” it is.

In fact, I realized how these ideas go to the idea of “Spoons,” the metaphor used for how much attention/mental energy one has in popular culture. Though a recent invention, it compares to multi-aeons old practices rather well. Another reminder of how metaphors for complex human behaviors are so useful, even if they are not technically or scientifically real.

Now admittedly Taoist practice isn’t just spoons – it’s sort of more forging spoons, using spoons wisely, and making better spoons. But in many ways, the preservation of one’s powers (especially spirit, which is closer to “spoons”) is part of both metaphors.

Ancient practices and modern metaphor. A reminder that a little poetry goes a long way towards our spiritual health.

Plus I get to make jokes about the title of my essay.

-Xenofact

Don’t Know It Until I Say It

by

Those of us who engage in mystical, magical, and meditative activity face a paradox of recording information. It’s useful, it lets us review things, but there’s also, well, some problems.

Sure, it helps to write things down as you might read them. Also, after awhile you end up with a pile of notes and no time to read them. There’s also a little self-pressure to review such things. It takes the fun out of “holy shit, I had an insight.”

Yeah, you may write down great wisdom. But sometimes mystical insights are of the moment, and the future readings might not help. “The mind is a bird on fire” might be a good album name, but what were you talking about? Were you high? Can you remember?

Writing down deep experiences can become its own purpose – and squeeze out your other activity. When you’re trying to record your deep experiences, you might focus on the record and not the doing. When you’re ready to write it down, you might not do the meditation or spellcasting or whatever you need to do to have something to write down.

These are what I’ve experienced. I assume, perhaps arrogantly, you’ve experienced some of them. I also assume you found who other issues of writing down mystic experiences I’ve not had – or aren’t aware of. Let’s commiserate if you want to email me.

Anyway, such negatives are almost enough to make you not want to record your insights for posterity – or whatever.. But I actually have found a very good reason to do so that has nothing to do with future review or recording the wisdom of your ages. To write down or otherwise portray your mystic experiences helps you understand and process them.

You know how it goes, you have something in your head and you can’t quite understand it. But when you write it down, sketch it out, do something to put it in an understandable form you learn. The act of communicating helps you understand what you experienced.

Sometimes you write things down or whatever to talk to yourself. You might not look back on it or reread it or whatever, but at least you get it when you record it. That’s fine, but maybe the act of writing down an experience lets you process it.

I found this doing a mix of art and trying to figure how to write down my various experiences. I noticed when I wrote down things that happened in meditation as small bits of text, like the little chapterlets of The Tao Te Ching, I got them. The target audience was me at that moment, but worked better than just taking direct notes.

So when you record your various experiences in magic or meditation, remember one reason is to figure out whats’ going on right then. Don’t ignore the moment.

Even if you find the moment is the only time you pay attention to what you wrote down.

– Xenofact