I’ve been keeping journals since I was about eleven years old. I would make them my self, back in the days of good old conventional pen and paper. I would stand in front of a mirror and draw a self-portrait in biro, then use that as the front cover of my diary. Always in A5 format as a ream of A4 blank paper would make a fairly substantial book if each leaf were folded in half. I would write poetry, make drawings, report about my daily life, write wish lists, songs and, anything in fact that allowed me to express myself freely, and away from prying eyes. These journals were my safe haven, and as such they were very precious to me at a time of my life that was far from idyllic.
It’s curious to me that I have always written for an audience, even as a child. One of my lifelong dreams has been to be a published author, so for me it made sense I suppose that I should always be writing with an audience in mind, even if, as with my journals my work was intended for my eyes alone. However, when you write for an audience it changes the way you write, for me at least that was the case, because I was aware of the need to communicate my ideas clearly and to be understood. Doing so taught me to write well, if I think about it. It encouraged me to study my own language, and the language of others. I was an avid reader too, usually detective mysteries, and fantasy adventures, lots of reference guides and self-interest books too, about weird and wonderful things. Always I would be seeking answers to the seemingly impossible and the unexplained. My journaling was as much a process of self-exploration, as it was a desire to be participant in a world that extended far beyond the A5 confines of my journal.
I haven’t always been very consistent with the upkeep of my journal, months, even years will pass sometimes before I pen an another entry. Well, that was the case until I began blogging two years ago, and apart from the odd gap here and there, my journaling across the span of my many, many blogs has almost been a daily affair!
These days the A5 paper book and, the fountain pen have been replaced by a laptop with an internet connection, and my profile pic is no longer hand-drawn. But the content is of the same ilk, and I write for a real audience. I am published, even if it is gratuitous, and by that I mean for free.
I’ve never been reluctant to explore big concepts, despite my fear at times of disliking what I discovered. With every question comes an expansion of consciousness and awareness, and that which was tight and uncomfortable finds new room in which to breathe and grow.
One of my major explorations in life has been to do with the subject of restriction, pain, and death. Far from being morbid or morose, for me it has always been about challenging fears, and growing beyond the restrictions that I was born into and grew up with. The following then, is an excerpt taken from a more recent journal of mine dated May 2nd 2013 in which I tackle the subjects of pain and death head on. Some things I feel, are just important to share, not out of any sense of self-aggrandisement, or self-pity on my part, but because I am a scientist at heart with a genuine interest in the way the mind and body work within the construct of reality and the human condition. So I believe that even if what I write inspires just the smallest glimmer of hope and, a new way of looking at things, then it is an invaluable achievement. In a way, I have always been my own test-subject; the objective writer and philosopher working alongside the subjective explorer.
I had a really terrible night last night, suffering a severe arrhythmia episode that hasn’t really abated….My blood pressure and heart-rate have been extremely erratic for the past three weeks now. I have a real heaviness in my chest as if my heart is not functioning properly. It makes me wonder if one of my heart chambers keeps shutting down [a recurrent problem]. I’ve checked my BP and it seems almost normal, even though my heart-rate is quite fast.
As I lay in bed last night trying to focus on calmness in response to my ever tightening chest, I could feel my greater self, my non-physical energy, present almost to the right of me and, a powerful sense of calm that was radiating from it. I glimpsed for a moment how easy it would be just to let go of the intensity of my physical awareness and, continue on outside of the physical body. I felt it was an insight into the moment of passing, or death. No big deal really.
That is, I could feel quite vividly the vitality and integrity of my being outside of my physical form. My awareness of physical perception is a choice, an experience my being chooses to create and participate in.
As much as my physical state was extremely unpleasant and highly uncomfortable, I felt very calm. I wasn’t afraid necessarily, or panicking at all. I was just acutely aware as I am now that I am experiencing a certain level of physical impairment, but that I am still nevertheless quite calm. I was also very aware that I should not indulge in any negative thinking if I could possibly help it, because I knew that it would exacerbate my symptoms.
I was filled with a sense that all would be ok.
I keep seeing an image of a heart with two doors, metal doors to a seemingly mechanical heart, with the left-hand door being locked. So I get the key and unlock it and, for a brief moment the heaviness in my chest lifts and I feel like I can breathe properly again.
In an odd sense, I no longer feel restricted by my body. As if my mind could go anywhere it wanted. What I mean is that I am really quite aware of my non-physical self as being quite independent of my physical body. My focus of awareness has shifted. It’s almost as if my energy body could get up and walk off if it wanted to, without compromising my physical awareness. I understand this totally [from years of reading Seth, amongst other philosophies, and explorations of metaphysics], but I have never been as consciously aware of it as I am at this moment. I usually only experience this sensation during the lucid state between waking and dreaming.