On Saturday my memory begins with meditating. I don’t remember what came before meditating on this day.
I lit some incense and meditated for 42 minutes inside my room at around 5 PM. Then I went outside and met my roommate’s friend who was in the living room. This person, who we will named Traveler, had traveled through lucid dreams and had some interesting experience with meditating and dreaming realities throughout his life.
Later in the night Traveler had some sort of anxiety attack, for seemingly no reason. Another roommate talked him out of driving since he was in no state to do so.
Seeing him have an anxiety attack made me question whether I have had any anxiety over the past weeks, or in my life, whatsoever. Whatever I’ve experienced as “anxiety” seems to be more like “regular life discomforts” compared to Traveler’s travels.
At some point during the night, on Saturday, I decided to retreat to my room and not worry about the anxious worrying of Traveler. I woke up at some point on my back, which I rarely fall asleep on, with the lights on and the sun out. I had no idea when I fell asleep. I woke up later in the day and went shopping. On the way back, the sunset looked stunning so I went home, got my camera, and drove a while before I got to a good place to take photos.
I shot photos for about half an hour, then I went home and put away the groceries and made some food. Maybe I heated up some rice and beans, I can’t quite remember. Sunday was a day of rest.
At around 10 PM I took two melatonin and went to bed.
Today I ran 4 miles in 33 minutes and 20 something seconds. I also did yoga with my friend before running, which was nice for my back. After the run I lit some incense and meditated for 42 minutes again.
Earlier in the day I ate some Chipotle-flavored tofu on a burger bun, and I realized while running that a mixture of spices, such as the ones fond in the Chipotle flavor, is not beneficial to me. Burping up some chemical-concoction of the mega-corporations, which was designed to sell tofu, all while running is definitely far from beneficial.
I like how I took photos yesterday. I ought to do that more often. Just today I realized that I may not have any “hobbies,” because when I find myself with additional time for doing whatever I’d like, it really ends up being “space” or “filler” or “time” between the things I either have to, or ought to, do.
A few days ago a friend reached out to me. It seems like they’ve been reading my writings from the messages they sent, because they knew a little more about me than I had shared (with them) recently. Then towards the end of the conversation they said “I like the stuff you post online ;)”
Well that was nice to read.
I don’t know if I’ve written about this certain idea that I am about to share just now. I checked the note covering the time I would have most likely written about it, and my quick glances came up short. One time I met a friend at a hookah lounge, and their own friend who lived 2 hours South of me mentioned that they like to read my site and keep up with my mile time. I was dumb-founded. I thought only a handful of recurring people read my work.
A few weeks ago, when I was in Richmond, where this person who read my work lives, I saw them. When I did, they told me that they read about the day that I met my friends at the hookah lounge, and found out that one of them reads my work. So effectively, I heard this person say that “I read about the time I shared with you that I read your work.”
That was such an “inception” sort of feeling. I pondered on this reading of reading of reading concept some more. If someone in my world, i.e. reality, inspires me so greatly that I write about them, and then my writing is inspiring to them and they read it, then they will be inspired and any actions which they take that inspire me would be in part, inspired, by me.
Isn’t that interesting? That is to say, if this friend who has been reading my work is inspired to become a chef, and I see that the result of my writing was them becoming inspired to be a chef (because of the few, i.e. one dozen, meals I wrote about and took photos of that I created), then the result would be inspiration of the self to manifest whatever it is that I would dream of, knowing that I have all the inspiration I need.
It seems like just asking the question of if, is enough to give the results as if that if has already come.
To be continued…
Also published on Medium.