I am going to Yearly Meeting, and rather than delight I anticipate feeling bored, lonely and out of sorts, getting cold and wet, my phone discharging and not recharging. My default state is fear- of what??? Increasingly I am tongue-tied, as when I think of something to say I immediately think of qualifications, even think the opposite is true, and to free that log-jam I type rapidly, without judging. Fear of-
bad things happen-
OK for this month, not sure after
death- not quite welcome it, would solve some problems- would not be worried any more, not sure what to do with life
-fear of process?
Thinking about Yearly Meeting Gathering, trying to set aside the fear, I anticipate joy- connection- understanding- laughter
We share the idea of Hell as ideas of heaven you don’t understand enjoy or fit in: others sit on the clouds, but I keep falling through; others play their harps but I get wrong notes- a martyr might find his seventy virgins unattractive…
-What stops me from doing things? The feeling that there would be no point. It is better to be bored than frustrated. It seems I am merely and always ineffective. If I play the piano, errors creep in, so that it is not worth all the necessary practice, and eventually I don’t play at all.
fear of failing, not matching my judgment.
I can’t achieve what I want and don’t even know what I want. Everything is a waste of time.
To put that into a coherent paragraph- my life as I have created it is all that I fear. I consider it- sitting at home watching telly, scrolling facebook, not reading, not spending much time with friends, and find it ghastly yet desirable. It could be my way of rebelling against other people’s ideas of what is desirable. I have picked up ideas of what I ought to desire, but do not. I am like a teenager in a strop/ funk/ sulk, for I have no idea of what I might actually desire, that has been driven out by the need to conform to other’s ideas, and then simply to hide away and not be noticeable. I sit in my living room watching telly. That is not enough for me, not nearly enough, a complete waste, but I don’t know what else I might do, or want to do.
I fear that I will make an effort and not achieve what I want, or not be able to construct a coherent plan that I might reasonably hope would achieve what I want. From this base of dissatisfaction I have to find new ideas of what to want, or how to get it, and forming the ideas seems just too hard.
I do not anticipate finding joy.
She asks, there is so much judgment in this- whose judgment is it? Yours?
-Well, I am not facing anyone else’s judgment at the moment, though I have taken it into myself from others.
-self can be hardest taskmaster of all.
My life now is bearable and unbearable, horrible and desired. I feel dreadful frustration.
I trust the Yearly Meeting Gathering enough to go.