It's weird, really, how people can make an observation about you that you feel misses the mark completely, doesn't represent your internal reality at all. It leaves you wondering about whether you wear the mask so well it fools people or if the person simply saw what he/she wanted to.
So I can be feeling jingle jangled, internally stirred up, and not show it? Well, I guess that's good, right? Or perhaps feeling that way gave me a healthy pinkness to my cheeks, so that I garnered the comment that I looked good. Who knows?
What never ceases to amaze me is how little of our internal lives really registers in the outer world. We live our lives keeping most of ourselves hidden even from our closest friends and family. It's not necessarily intentional, either. It's just that there's no way to share all the internal dialogue going on in our brains: our hopes, our fears, our worries. Even when we try to express the most pressing of these, we may fail to really communicate just how serious something is to us. And if we do feel we've communicated it, it doesn't mean the other people will hear us, that our communication won't be filtered through their preconceptions and be garbled.
It's a wonder, honestly, that anything ever gets conveyed accurately. Sometimes what we display and share is intentional, but other times, we're simply so wrapped up in trying to survive the moment or the day that we have no idea what it is we're sharing with others.
I've long ago decided that we are walking wounded, even when we don't acknowledge it. So much of what we are is below the level of our consciousness that even we don't know ourselves or why we act the way we do.
We may be feeling jingle jangled and not know why, not understand what initiated that physiological response. We'll look for an answer, rationalize the emotion, but we are likely to be wrong in that rationalization. Knowing that, why bother trying to figure it out? I'd rather not know why I feel jingle jangled than guess incorrectly.
It's impossible, of course, to keep in mind that all of us act unconsciously then rationalize the behavior. Instead, we react first, thinking we're in control and so is the other guy. And the dance, the improbable, incredibly complicated dance we do with ourselves and others, continues, sometimes energizing us and other times simply wringing us dry and leaving us mystified at our actions and the actions of others.
We collapse in bed, desiring sleep, rest, a break, only to be caught up in that damned dance in our sleep, with incredible, active, convoluted dreams that leave us exhausted upon wakening, and for a moment we can understand Michael Jackson's use of propofol to simply turn himself off.
To just be: to be still, to be quiet, to be at peace. I don't think I've ever really experienced that. Meditation leaves me antsy. Yoga makes me laugh: some positions really help both ends breathe, you know?
Ah, who am I kidding? Me and a still mind? Nah. Although, if you can explain to me why I absolutely had to have these, you'll understand me better than I understand myself. They are fricking awesome, by the way, and huge!