Reporting from the Experiment (Contrast for Clarity, Happy Impulse vs Irrepressible Urge, Direction)

Dear Fellow People. It’s been a while and I’m back with a brief Report from the Experiment.

So, those of you who read my post entitled  The Gentle Donkey, must have grasped that my initial impulse mainly consisted in doing nothing.  I rested, I napped, I did nothing,  I entered the world of idleness, of Nothing at All.

People who found out about my move (ie, leaving my job) excitedly asked me “so what’s your plan now?” to which I answered “there is no plan! That’s the point exactly!”, which either let them down or instilled in them a sort of hysterical response of kindly stifled panic. Except for the ones who took my same exact plunge. They didn’t ask if I had a plan. They smiled at me with camaraderie, a celebratory smile of respect and reassurance. “You did it too!” the smile said, “good for you!”. And except for the Eager Souls, of course, the ones thirsty for examples of Freedom.

So, after the long initial period of rest, a chirpy impulse induced me to buy a ticket to Hometown where, utterly content, I would delight in the sheer contemplation of a bunch of luminous young humans (one of them my own 20-year old offspring) who reside there and whom I utterly adore. The mere thought of them brushes my heart in velvet.

Well, I did meet up with the lovely bunch and reveled in their spontaneous glow but soon realized they live in what is quite a non-nutritious place for me. The humus of the land does not nourish my seeds, so to say. Yes, dear reader, it is not conducive to the anticipated bubbly flow.

Did contrast take me off course?

I wouldn’t say so. But I will confess it stirred up a feeling of frustration in me. No wonder. One of the meanings of frustration (I often look up the meaning of the words I choose, dear reader, just to make sure I picked the right one) is: “the prevention of the progress, success, or fulfillment of something”. Well, hell yes – residing in what I perceived as a non-nourishing environment had apparently blocked the cheerful flow of my Experiment, what I thought was going to be a sparkling chain of impulses.

Yet, in the light of this experiment, ie, succeeding moves triggered by impulse, the case was that a spontaneous urge to be there and get things done did exist. I was supposed to be there and nowhere else. Which brought me to the realization that these impulses of mine are of (at least) two kinds:

Happy Impulse & Irrepressible Urge.

Happy impulse is bubbly, it dances, it is light. It springs into pink bloom like a flower in the desert. This is the impulse that triggered the purchase of the plane ticket to Hometown, dwelling place of the Beautiful Lovelies.

Once I got to Hometown I was immediately washed by Irrepressible Urge: to rub my flat’s forgotten and heavily soiled balcony, throw away piles of unused, unread papers, pimp up a boring lampshade, paint two walls in deep turquoise green, wrap another one in wallpaper, embellish and clean, empty and trim my little abode in Place of Birth. Irrepressible Urge is unequivocal and direct, cannot be restrained and just happens through you.  It moves you, uses you as its tool.  It is not always sparkling, may be dead serious as a matter of fact. Like a child engrossed in something they’re doing. There is no thought involved, it is inevitable action gushing out.

Both Happy Impulse and Irrepressible Urge are free from Doubt. So I guess they are both perfect, they both count as ok on this new Way.

Which brings me to Direction. Every way has its direction. You are going somewhere, towards Something.  So there, my Direction in this Experiment is Total Surrender to my ever Unfolding Nature.  The embracing of my Truth, the feeling totally Comfortable in the Now-expressing-me, the direction is total Trust in me as the Creative, impromptu Weaver of this Canvas that is called my Life.

the first blog post.

Hello fellow People. I decided to start this blog because I want to share and keep track, together with you, of my Experiment.

In French, Experience and Experiment are designated with the same word, “expérience” and it is in this spirit that I want you to understand my word, Experiment, here.  Life is Experience after all and what is experience other than fierce and froliky Experimentation.

So the scene is the following. I’m in my mid-forties. I have a 20 year-old son who’s taking good care of himself and for whom I have set aside a small amount of money to help him, if necessary, during his University studies.  I am finishing to pay off the mortgage for a small flat I bought when I was 26, situated in my home town.  I am renting a flat in the city where I worked and have been living for the past 3 years which I sporadically share with 2 lovely people (who thus help me lower the above-mentioned rent), I have some savings  (nothing radical, just something that allows me not to panic and gives me some leeway for the next 3 or 4 months).

Two weeks ago I burned out.   And I decided not to go to work again.

What I decided to do instead is the thing I really want to do, the one thing that truly interests and intrigues me in this Lifetime now, the Curiosity that tickles me the most, and that is

to see what happens when we follow our real and authentic,

genuine and actual, moment-to-moment,

big and small,

glorious and banal

impulses

Not our judicious, common-sense, prudent and logical cerebral thinking, not our fears, not some plan, but our truest, most immaculate, in the moment prods, in the moment itches.

Do we live? Do we die?    This we shall discover.

It is quite late, my dear fellow Humans and I will go to sleep now.

But do stay tuned, if you so desire, for the story of the Gentle Donkey, elucidations on why this blog is called The Weaver and, of course, for the periodic accounts of this Experiment.

Ciao.