Distribution Automatique

Monday, April 14

I am most inside my mind critically when I am most outside my mind critically. The same. Pain is diminishing the way the sea subsides. I watched it from outside. I reach outside myself not as deperately as before, allowing myself to regress uncritically but gently bringing myself back again. If it doesn't work out the way you want it to it still works itself out that way. There is still being in that. I can't adore the silence. In one space every small movement is vast, in that movement I am a whole world, It's surprise at being, it's a little defiant but defiance can be over-used the way anything can be. If I am not thinking I am not thinking of the whole world, each individual amplitude, the variation and complication of each shading even in the most familiar objects. Every moment has duration, a presentiment, a disclosure, a destiny and a specific quality all its own. Every moment is a potential memory. We like to control time and memory in the form of scheduled activities, into categories of existing. But when these approaches to fulfillment fail we wonder why.Maybe they lacked a lead-in to something else and this left you stranded, confused about what to do next. The predicted, the genuinely experienced presentiment of the future can be a blindfold because it excludes the moments *between*, the gaps between the shared events. That is your private world.

If I'm running from my mind to the outside, to bring in some interest in it outside itself, or something outside itself to make it forget itself I am probably avoidiing something it could deal with itself. Right now I am utterly astounded by the continued silence of my telephone. But that is always an aspect of being astounded that I can still exist without using it. In sleep, I am *one*, but awake I am two- me and the person called "myself" that watches me. A mind that's afraid of itself can't "get in tune." If I do that in being anxious about my "life" (my biography) I take the whole confusion one step further.