A blank page sometimes still fills me with anxiety. There’s something about a blank page and me sitting in front of it that stirs something up within me. I don’t know what’s going to flow out. There’s judgement about whether the stuff I’m going to write is going to be any good. Even though its highly unlikely that anyone’s ever going to read this. Where does this anxiety come from? Where do these judgemental thoughts come from? And more importantly where do they disappear off into after sometime.
The more and more I look into the phenomena of thoughts, feelings, sensations and perceptions, the more and more puzzled I get. Its like I’m here and then there’s a constant flow of experiences flowing through me. Just floating through me just like how clouds and birds float through the sky. They do not leave any footprints. Even when I look at my so called past, my memories, I can see that even they are nothing but thoughts, images, sounds, sensations, feelings that I am experiencing right now. Then there’s another thought that comes in and tells me that this happened to you. This is your past.
The thought that qualifies the experience is an experience in itself. The idea of ‘Me’, ‘I’ is also a thought, an idea, a belief. Its created again and again. I can see this because this idea of I doesn’t exist in my sleep. In deep sleep, I am completely unaware of my body, my thoughts, feelings, the world, time and space. Its almost like magic. Everything vanishes. But when I wake up, I know I’ve had a peaceful sleep. I did not stop existing. All experiences vanished but I was still there.
The judge, the cop, the worrier, the disciplinarian, the ambitious, the pleaser, the perfectionist, the planner, the exaggerator, the critic, the avoider, the joker!