The other day I was reading Eckhart Tolle’s A New Earth, it is quite a remarkable book, its probably the third time I have read it in the last 18 months, and whilst it didnt have the same spiritual effect on me a The Power of Now did, it is high on my list of books in which the process of reading has been a spiritual experience.
On Page 189; Eckhart writes this:
Nobody can tell you who you are, It would be just another concept and so this would not change you. Who you are requires no belief. In fact, every belief is an obstacle. It does not even require your realisation, since you already are who you are. But without realisation, who you are does not shine through into this world. It remains in the unmanifested which is of course your true home
Tolle, A New Earth, p189
And as I was reading this I looked up at my high, large window ledge. On it was my coffee cup, a wedding photo of Christelle and I, and also my clear pencil case, full of a mixture of wax and pencil crayons, and fine tips for colourful writing, and expressing in my private writing.
I looked at my pencil case.
Breathed, a slow deep breath
And realised..
That I am not my Pencil case.
It was a bit of revelation.
I could see my pencil case.
I am separate from it
I can watch my pencil case (it wasn’t moving)
I am seeing it.
I am looking at it
It is in the universe
But I am not my pencil case
It has contents, a mixture of them
And I can slowly or quickly choose them in a number of ways.
The pencils have labels, colours
Yet they are just what they are
They may be broken, some underused
Some pencils left at the bottom, my least favourite colours for writing.
Peach, Grey, Brown.
But what do I mean?
I know I am not my pencil case, surely?
Yes.
But who am I, if I am not my pencil case?
Am I my contents?
Am I my past?
Am I my labels?
Am I my emotions?
Am I just an object? just a tool?
Am I what others made me out to be?
Am I just a container, full of these things?
Feeling sometimes broken, sometimes raw, sometimes colourful, sometimes grey.
Feeling sometimes the tools connected to the writer.
I am more, or maybe I am less
Maybe all, Maybe I am the universe and I just Am, all at the same time
Connected and Isolated
Embracing natures warm bliss, and treading a tightrope of trauma
Gentle steps, sometimes joy, sometimes anxious
I am , I just fucking am.
I am not what I can see, I might be a seer
Yet I might get stuck, hiding away, trapped inside, like crayons waiting from the zip to be undone, waiting to be creatively safely found again.
I was ‘playing’ this around in my mind the other day, and I started writing, just to myself.
I often write on paper, even with pencil, just to get thoughts out, to see where they flow to.
Free writing with a conceptual starting point if you will.
And I began to construct that what ‘I think’ and who ‘I am’ have been on a journey.
It could be ‘my ego’ and ‘my identity’ but I prefer to use ‘I think’ and ‘I am’ . I dont mean the ‘I am’ that self talks back the lies.. like ‘I am fat’ or ‘I am stupid’ .. I mean the ‘I am’ identity. The bit of me, the bit of you that is who you are.
So here goes…
I am, and I think are on a journey.
Its one where ‘I think’ has led the way, I think.
Historically.
Led like a shiny steam engine.
‘I am’ has been just been pulled along for the ride,
a set of carriages with passengers, scared inside.
or going to the depot, after a fraught ride.
I think, taking them away.
I am, passive.
At least thats how it was- I think
I think, shiny at the front, shiny and bright, brass cleaned,
numbered, fed, water and polished
The Steam engine, attracting the polaroids and DSLRs, and notebooks.
I think.. leading the way
I think.. wanting the attention
I think…racing away
I think..in control
I think…believing the hype
I think..denying it needed anything
I think…lies to get all this
I am.. just a powerless carriage trailing behind
hosting passengers, hosting scenes, hospitality
Trying to please, making the best of chaos.
Making the best of disconnection between I think, and I am.
I am, pulled along and subject to the conditions of I think
I am, second or third class, no power, just a shell.
I think broke down.
I think realised the race it was on, was to a finish line that never ended
I think had gone too far, alone
I think was never therefore I am
I am wants more control of the action
I am is feeling its way
I am has been waiting, patiently
Watching the chaos, overcoming the scares
Hiding, now seizing the chance, the opportunity
Realising that I think is in trouble.
I think and I am not separate.
I am with a voice on the journey
I am letting I think know differently
Its now a different journey, with I am the driver.
I am has discovered, that it is
I am has emerged from the shadows, the sidings
I am can see the lies, pride and attention
The temptations and weaknesses that tormented I think
I am…. just knows
I am..is softer, messier, truer
Human, grease, smoke, heart and skin
its not a carriage to the engine
Alive.
I am now sees the whole Train
I am can see when I think plunges into darkness
or tries to race to destinations, frustrated or impatient, or critical of the passengers for being slow, or ignoring the signals.
I am can let I think know that it is loved.
I am is the driver, who knows what I think actually needs.
The brake. the coal, the water
And rest.
Attention from the inside of the boiler. Not just the outside.
The driver knows.
I am.
I think wrestled at first and tried to do without I am.
I feel intervenes now and then, the guard with the warning flags, messages from the back. I think knows its place..some of the time.
I think used to completely ignore I feel. Disregarded at the back of the carriage.
Guard in name only.
I am takes more of the wheel
I think can rest, its not on his own.
It doesn’t have to hurry or win.
I think trusts I am.
I think surrenders, to the I am that drives, attends and controls, to the I am that feels and knows. To the I am that discovered itself, found its place and realises it has to stay.
I am helps I think to doubt the lies it had to believe, and those it chose to
I am can help I think to realise the importance of I feel.. the guard
I am can speak softly to I think, and listen to what it needs and wants to say.
Because I am is connected to all.
I am knows. I am is.
I am is the divine within.
I think I am, therefore I am.
Maybe this is helpful just to me, as I realise the journey that I have been on, one from which was dominated by my thoughts, my thinking part of me, and how every other part of me was hidden and disregarded, for reasons ive described in my story above. And now I feel, that I am, and I think is still around, but the journey, just feels and is different.
What about you – what metaphor might you use for how your thoughts, feelings and identity have culminated in your life?
Ive been taking ‘photos’ for over three years. A Camera has accompanied most of my walks, and especially during the lockdown walks.
I see nice things, then think, ill take a photo of it. Or..
Ill go birdwatching and take photos of birds, or actually any nature, foxes, squirrels, rats, mice, anything natural to be honest.
This year, as you may know, as ive mentioned it a few times, ive started ‘learning’ photography.
Actually learning it.
What do all those letters mean on my camera?
What makes a good composition?
What about light?
And what makes a good photograph? If there is such a thing….
But I notice something.
I realised today, when I was across at Redcar Blast furnace and beach, a place id not been to this year yet, but have been a number of times. A place with a combination of natural and man made beauty
It a place where there’s sea birds, benches, beach, and fishermen, but none today.
But as I looked at the photos I took, I realised something. The habits of old are the default. So ive got hundreds of images of birds on the rocks. Though I did also try to get some of maybe more photos where I thought about foreground, the story of the photo, or something of interest. Like the house above, or this one of the boats, banked up on the beach.
I walk around an area and sometimes ‘old habits’ are hard to shake.
But I also realise that im in a place where its conducive to the old habits. There’s stacks of nature and water.
Sometimes testing out new habits needs a new place.
When I found myself noticing that I was going back into ‘old photography habits’, I would stop and have a moment, a rethink, breathe, and know that nothing was wasted, and I would notice myself. On some occasions where I could I would take my focus somewhere else.
I was so busy looking outwards, for the scene, for the bird, through camera or binoculars, that I would forget the more important thing.
Myself.
If I can find a suitable spot, a bench or path, ill set up the camera so it can take a shot of me. If nothing else it means that I am part of my own story of my day. I am important.
Its as if the slow process of setting up camera, viewfinder, focus, timer etc and then getting into position is a mindset shift.
And the results are varied. But it doesn’t matter to me.
This interruption changes my focus, as even in doing this I am practicing new skills, a different focus. Im putting myself in the frame.
Unlearning the old takes time. Unlearning the old, in the same environment of the old is incredibly hard, if not impossible.
Changing mindset, starts from inside.
For me, a change in mindset is to focus on my self. It may not be this for you. It could be to focus on others, or focus on the spiritual or the environmental.
But it’s a change in mindset all the same. Change the focus of my attention, from external to internal.
Something I noticed today.
I suppose, thinking about it, when I shared this the other day, I was given the opportunity to then live and practice it a bit.
James Ballantyne 