Sitting Log #48 + Reset Love Core

A nothing day.


Creation-ish sitting streaks


My life is undergoing a complete reset. This is what I call it when my life changes so completely that everything that comes after the reset turns into a “new game”—one with a completely different set of rules.

In-between complete resets, mini resets might occur. But I think this one is a big one, the one that is happening to me right now.

And a reset (of any size) really happens to me, because fundamentally—very truly deep down—I don’t choose its timing or its nature.

A reset involves a combination of the following:


I don’t believe that “owning what happens in my life” equates to “controlling my life.” In so many ways, I have ZERO control. Some things just happen to me, period.

I can decide to act on a desire or refuse to act. But fundamentally, I never know where the desire comes from.

The chain of questions can go on endlessly. And at the end, there is always, “I don’t know the answer.”

Thus, fundamentally, yeah, things happen to me.

I’m not saying that my core is immutable or predestined to be the way it is. In fact, I’m saying the opposite. After any given reset, I get a different core. (A new set of rules, remember?)

But while I have a specific kind of core, it seems that this core has a will of its own. Meanwhile, I don’t know if what I think of as my free will is actually mine or my core’s. Or neither’s.

Even if I were to make a habit of not listening to the stuff that my core surfaces to the conscious, what I do would still be a reflection of desires that I cannot comprehend.


I’ve spent the past ten years or so trying to maximize the time I spend on doing things I must do, because if I don’t, I get physically sick.

I don’t know why I need to write. (Or why my core needs to write.) I only know that it is about survival. This is why & how I do not pay much attention to external factors, when it comes to writing. The only thing I care about is whether I wrote on a given day and whether this cure succeeded in making the sickness go away.

I could attempt to start a chain of endless questions like the XYZ school example above, but what’s the point? Unless I want to quit writing, I’d say it’s a pretty futile exercise.

It’s much quicker to just write. I don’t mind using a quick panacea for my life, because hyperanalyzing the root causes of my desires might only lead to some other version of a “problem” that needs “solving.”

I mean, if I weren’t writing, what would I be doing instead? The answer is, “I don’t have a fucking clue and whatever the options may be, I don’t see how they are inherently better than writing.”

And thus I write. I am just one of many who do this.


The last big reset in my life was the above: me accepting that maybe I should just write.

This was after the rashes, the hair falling out, and in general, being miserable for no “scientific” and “medical” reason. No doctor could have possibly told me that the solution to my sickness was writing. It was just too out of the blue.

But one day I just knew. “Oh gosh darn. I should start writing.”

Yes, really. That’s how it happened.


Maybe all things fundamental—all things very truly deep down—happen this way. Basically, if there’s any kind of love, I don’t know how one might explain that love logically, scientifically, medically, rationally, measurably, analytically.

And the resets, big and small, are basically the big coming and going of love. In hindsight, that was what the resets were. They were a reconfiguration of my core, for love.


Anyway, all this, because the next reset seems to be coming. Maybe in a year or two I’ll know for certain.

I’m just glad that this time, my hair is most definitely not falling out. In fact, it seems thicker and darker than usual? Why? No clue. More exercise from all the golfing might be the surface reason. But why did I suddenly, after all this time never making any serious attempts to partake in any sport, suddenly start golfing? No clue.

Listen, I failed my middle school gym class once, because I refused to do backward rolls. I just couldn’t see the point, and there was definitely no love, because the PE teacher was a grabber and I didn’t like the idea of rolling backward in front of him. So I just refused. My core was telling me, fuck this guy, I’ll take the F.

I think that was the only F on my transcript, ever. But I mean, who fails PE?

Me.

But now I am here, having overcome that F (!) and with my hair healthy and long. Also, no rashes. I think this is the healthiest I’ve been all my life, even with the sleeplessness. In fact, I used to sleep A LOT when I used to be sick. Sleeping tends to be my go-to medicine when I’m truly stressed.

Maybe my current sleeplessness is a way to compensate for all the time that slipped through my fingers back then. Maybe, overall, I’m just too excited? Looking forward to the next reset? Whatever it might be?

Anyway.

Yeah.

Wow, this was a long excuse for a nothing day.

#daily #health #writing #2022archiveQ3


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