Tag: Journal

Post-meditation Journal Entry # 15

April 2nd, 2018 (Duration of sit unrecorded)

Over the last few weeks, I’ve felt good about myself. I’ve told myself that I no longer need the acceptance, admiration, and validation that I’ve needed in the past. I don’t need to be Spielberg or what I thought I needed to be when I was 8-years-old or whenever those bad feelings kicked in. For the first time, I was shown this during my sit.

An image-feeling hit me a few minutes into my session. I rarely see a person paired with a strong emotion anymore. Instead, I’ve seen many complex three-dimensional objects and designs in the distance of my mind, but I saw the image of a person paired with an emotion once more. I can’t remember what the person looked like or what the feeling felt like, but whatever it was, it confirmed what I’ve been telling myself these last few weeks, I am where I am and I am no longer where I was.

I hope this sit means that I’m free from one more demon and I can breathe without the weight of needing approval from others.

Approval. Brutal approval. Brutal and endless need for approval, one of the worst forms of emotional slavery and psychological torture, a chain tied to an ankle, tied to a rock, a rock that does not erode in time, a rock that becomes heavier.

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Post-Meditation Journal Entry #9 and #10

8/5/17, 9:58am-10:02am

All I saw of any significance was a triangle shape, like a logo for a company. If I don’t meditate later today for longer, this part will never get in the blog. But I usually have better luck sitting for longer later in the day.

8/5/17, 5:23pm-5:30pm

I was expecting something too much. I couldn’t concentrate. Although there were a few moments where I experienced something. I don’t know how to describe it but “pleasant in the present”. Some moments go by so fast during meditation, but might as well be forever. They’re full of promise. Like getting the money you’re owed, the money you forgot about, the money you desperately need by the end of the week. And you didn’t even have to ask the person that owed you.

I put too much on myself to experience something more real than real. I’ve been entertaining the idea of blogging my entries and indulging in the possibilities as an outlet for me. I kept thinking about it while meditating. It made my session less honest and I couldn’t sit still.

The mind clings to things and I’m the best at it. I’m so pliable with creativity, but when I have an idea that I think is the answer to my personal problems I can’t adjust in my mind, can’t even see other possibilities, too much pressure to control the outcome, to minimize emotional and psychological damage, the opposite of the present.

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Post-Meditation Journal Entry #7 and #8

5/18/17, 1:23-1:46

I am changing. Every second a new thought to cling to, all dictating how to feel and perceive. So many thoughts.

I was successful and I don’t know how I was able to let them go one after the other. It was like changing cloths.

I can only vaguely remember one thought. It was a white male in his 30’s. Short, curly hair. He reminded me of the fat pledge from Animal House. He was wearing a white arctic outfit. I did not feel threatened by him. Although maybe I felt as though he was a loser. The type I’ve often needed to feel better about myself.

    

7/25/17, Time of day unrecorded, 8 minute duration

Chunky thoughts welled up. Or should I say a very big, chunky thought. Or a chunky chunk of thoughts. It was good and made me happy. And somewhat at peace. I’ve been having a lot of negative thoughts about my future these last few weeks, very gloomy. “Create your future,” the closest interpretation of the meditation’s message.

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Post-Meditation Journal Entry # 4 and # 5

5/12/17, 5:00pm-ish, duration unknown

Today’s sit went by fast, but was hard. I want badly to catch the previous experiences, that deep experience. You feel like you’ve touched something. Today, I just didn’t touch anything.

I’m blocked as a writer, so I tried to start a screenplay today. I’ve completed screenplays in the past in between ages 14 and 21. I was bad at it but you couldn’t tell me otherwise back them. I thought that maybe since I completed screenplays in the past, I could finish one now and at least have a piece of work in my hand.

I had an interesting idea. But I couldn’t see the world of the story nor the protagonist. The elements that would compose the word of this story seemed flat and uncertain of itself. It was grey, cold and ashy. I reasoned that it was because I picked the wrong protagonist, so everything else fell apart. Story just might be too boring for me anymore. Not enough time to indulge in another writer’s stories, not sure where my story is going.

5/13/17, 10:00pm-10:20pm

The last thing I saw was Moby Dick. Also, I could see the sea vessel on choppy water.

Sometimes meditation is like dreaming. When you wake those thoughts and images slip away. But with meditation they just fade out like a candle and all you have is the smoke.

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Post-Meditation Journal Entry #3

5/8/17, 7:20pm-7:40pm (Group Meditation)

I sat out during walking meditation. It goes too slow for me. I don’t like it. But what did I experience? I almost jumped at an uncomfortable thought. I inhaled and exhaled through it.

There’s a place somewhere in your breath. It’s a knot, a knot of thoughts. I saw people in it. Or maybe just a person. He/she/them was in the same mind set I was in. It’s a good place, maybe even a peaceful one, but I know it’s good.

The person was male this time, and he was in this knot.

I’ve denied myself this experience, definitely during my sits, maybe in other aspects of life. It’s scary. It’s real. It was a true object of the mind.

Gordian knot, Alexander’s challenge. The son of a bitch just cut the rope, honoring no mystery.

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Post-Meditation Journal Entry #2

5/7/17, 8:20pm – 9:00pm

More messages this time. They’re almost dream-like and too hard to translate. I’m grateful for them. I feel as though I’ve benefited from this sit. I saw betrayal, that’s the word that comes to mind. It usually comes in the form of the image of a woman. So what comes to my conscious mind when I think of betrayal?

Mom’s 1990’s ABC soap operas and Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar.

My interaction with betrayal has been minimal. I don’t set myself up for it. Betrayal requires that you let your guard down and assume loyalty from another. I’ve never felt loyalty, always the loyalty-bearer. I’ve been careful in this life to not act on any oath-breaking impulses with friends and colleagues, it’s not who I am and I don’t want the problems.

So why would betrayal popped up from the subconscious? Is it what the universe wants me to do, to be more vulnerable to those impulses, to take advantage of imbalanced relationships and live a little and stop being so nice?

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3 Poems and a Photo©2016 by Marc Alexander Valle

These are three poems of mine from an untitled series. They have been published in Beechwood Review (http://beechwoodreview.com), a minimalist online journal. The attached photo is also mine.  

Branches, buddings, purple wrens,
landing, chirping, bouncing,
over battlefield trenches

Desert, moon, white, dunes,
sand, blowing,
unearthing limestone ruins

Thick mist clears,
hot air balloon armada
blots the atmosphere

All poems and photography by Marc Alexander Valle ©2016.

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Writer’s Jounal, Part 1: The Imaginary Critic

I finally got back into writing my novel. I skipped out on finishing a chapter, and I started a new one. I have no problem with that. It felt right. My problem was that I wrote only 500 words. I know from experience that only writing more (1000 words a day) will make me a better writer, but you get so caught up in what’s missing from your writing and how it looks.

Writing seems to be about giving yourself the opportunity to look bad to yourself.

You argue with an imaginary person standing over your shoulder, telling you what’s wrong.

This is where you lose your voice.

Can writing ever be pure?

Can we really ever write for ourselves or do those moments exist in between the negative thoughts?

At this point in life and career, I’m going with the latter.

I know I’ve been there. I just don’t know how to get back.

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