What does it take to let go? This might be a strange question for some, but not for me. I frequently lose myself in a thick digital binder of thoughts, systems, principles, and whatever else I happen to deem worthy enough to capture.
My motive is clear. I want to understand as much as I can about my own condition and the world at large. A noble pursuit, I tell my self, but it does not come without its fair share of complications. We just have to look around to see to what extremes we have taken our drive to name and understand every last little thing.
I found that while the systems we have established provide much needed stability to our world and our perception, an over reliance on them lead us down a dead end. Experience is unquantifiable. The sensory input we receive every second of our lives is hard, if not impossible, to measure.
We choose to dismiss most of it in favor of a stable existence. To a certain degree, we require a constancy of experience to function. It could be argued that all these systems exist merely for us to cope with our condition, and I’m not discrediting the importance of that.
But there is value in allowing the raw chaos of sensory overflow when we just sit back, let go, and listen. Allowing everything that we have build to fade away, if only to see what will remain. Our very essence is not to be found in binders or systems.
Understanding everything that is man-made as such, from the words we utter to the jobs we hold and the cars we drive, and allowing ourselves the luxury of letting go, that can be magical and so very important. That’s what this week’s notes are about. That’s what I hope for. For us to not get lost in what we have built.
