Conversation, on a personal level, even in close relationships, is difficult. "Say something" and there's nothing to share. An uncomfortable silence that brings sharply into focus inadequacies of being, on the emotional front. Even the riposte question inquiring about some facet of the others well being is just an attempt to salvage an awkward moment and not out of any felt need to know. An awareness of this insensitivity doesn't lead to understanding of how to generate feeling and memory from the life ones known.
How can life not have touched one and resulted in no residual feeling, just still snapshots of some moments, empty of felt experience. Why? When I know that I lived and felt then, very often with an intensity I then believed to be a passion for truth and a strong dislike for hypocrisy. Where has all that energy gone? Was it just manic energy? My brain chems ruling me?
Who and what I am seems configured more by my aberrant moments that skew my persona and make it difficult to get a fix on my base nature and abilities. The resultant me though is there for me to know and see. Uncaring, unfeeling, a persona best described as dull and boring. A capacity to do nothing for years on end and feel nothing, no guilt or shame or trigger an urge to change what is. An awareness that creates only the knowledge that perhaps What is....was meant to be. There seems to be no other explanation. Is it just Reaping as one has sown, albeit much of it no longer in memory.
One is constantly waiting for something within one to awaken. A need, desire, feeling, some energy that would spur one into action. ...Nothing stirs. Why? Its difficult to make oneself want to, when there is no felt need, no driver. One must FEEL like doing something. How does one make that feeling happen? How does one create purpose, without felt need?
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