Fractal God Geometry, Childlike Awe.

 I started talking about this in a previous post: the return of childlike wonder. I was thinking about it, as I washed my hands the other day, and noticed the soap happened to be making particularly good, big bubbles. Maybe there was something about the light as well, but it was beautiful, and made me reflect on being a child, and playing with bubbles, with joy and awe and wonder. Soap bubbles are pretty amazing. this perfect, super thin sphere, swirling with iridescint colors. And if your hands are soapy enough, you can even hold them and move them around. And the way they interact with other bubbles, an organic, fractal kind of geometry.

I remember making wire-frame type structures to dunk in bubble solution, and making different shapes with it, like cube bubbles, and such. And I was just feeling grateful, that I could still wonder at and enjoy the beauty and order and mystery and depth of complexity, in the world. In fact, it doesn't feel like I can 'still' do it, but more like I had somewhat forgotten how to do it, and slowly, it is coming back to me.

It reminds me of some of my recent dreams. At least two, maybe three recent dreams, I've been bawling in them, deep heaving sobs crying. You might think that's a bad sign, but I really enjoy that kind of cathartic depth of feeling. My emotions are generally pretty even, and so something like deep, moving sadness, can have a refreshing quality. Like the tears are washing away some long caked on dirt. Sometimes, in my dreams, I'm sobbing for God. I'm feeling, deeply, the loss of God not being there, or at least, not feeling him there, in my heart, in my experience, and I wonder if that is a little taste of what some of the Indian scriptures talk about, with the Gopi's, the cowherd women devotees of Krishna. That deep heartfelt yearning for God draws God irresistibly to you, so say the scriptures. And so that kind of sadness, those tears, are precious.

Because I believe that journey to One requires incredible focus, dedication, intensity. And so a depth of feeling, yearning, is a great gift in that journey.

One phrase that has stuck with me, I think from the Bhagavatam, a series of stories about God in his/her/its various forms, I think in fact another Krishna story, one devotee (maybe even a gopi devotee) says something like 'may I always have pain, so that I never forget to think of you, oh my Krishna.'

Finally, the soap bubble motif made me think of another saying from my favorit spiritual teacher, that goes something like, 'the body is like a water bubble, the mind is like a mad monkey, so don't follow the body, don't follow the mind. Follow the conscience, which is the voice of God within you.' That part about the body being a water bubble, made me think of those bubbles. He's talking about our bodys impermanence. Not even a soap bubble, which can last a little longer. Just a water bubble. Appearing for a moment, only to pop and merge back in with the sea.

Cat family, Trust, The saga of the plant.

Alright, it's time for two posts. Last week was full steam ahead, as I had a paper and a presentation due the same week. But I focused and got it done, so all is well. Grateful that I'm not doing three classes at once, or that would be my everyday experience, and then some. This week I've got a more relaxed schedule, time for other work to get done.

Though I an running into the other issue. When you have free time, sometimes you use it to goof off. This is perhaps one of the main reasons I hesitated to go down to two classes. However, if history repeats itself, it will just take me a few weeks to readjust and tweak what I need to keep myself focused.

Update on the plant I adopted, it got aphids. I just sprayed it with insecticidal soap the other day, and wiped the aphids off leaf by leaf. As well as cutting off about half the plant, which had died, perhaps due to the transplanting shock. Now, after spraying it, it seems like another third of it or so is starting to wilt as well. I may have potted and cared for this plant, just to watch it slowly die. That's ok though. A little sad, but I will learn from it. And hopefully next time, I'll do a better job.

One cool thing though, I got one ripe seed, from one of the flowers, so I planted it back in the pot. Maybe I'll get a baby plant. Though if I don't, I'm not sure what that means. Did it not get fertilized because it was inside, or does it need a freeze to activate the seed? In any case, I'm having fun, I've re-sparked my sense of curiosity and childlike wonder and play. It feels good. maybe I'll talk more about that in my second post after this one.

What else... I'm not sure how much of this is TMI, talking about the journey with Suzannah towards making children. We've been trying for over a year (which I suppose is not that long, given we know a lot of people who've tried for multiple years before having success) but Suzannah is concerned about getting older, so we've been slowly going down the diagnostic ladder, looking to make sure everything is biologically ok. So far, so good. For myself, I've got an intrinsic trust in the universe that whatever happens, and with whatever timing, is for my good alone, and so I am not in a rush, or worried. But I think Suzannah is, and I think it's especially hard that many, maybe most, of her current friend group, has already had kids. Maybe she's feeling left behind.

Right now I'm typing this with a loving cat in my lap and another curled up on the couch next to me, and so I feel quite surrounded by loving family already ^_^ (though I'm happy to welcome more)

I also recently had a call with one of my oldest friends, who just had their second child, and was reflecting on what a huge transformation of your entire life having a kid is. I'm sure no imagination will prepare me for the actual experience.

OK, let's stop there and finish this in a second post.

Doing what matters to me. Being present. A special plant.

It's already Thursday! School is heating up. Three papers due in the next ten days, so this will likely be a short one. I've been wanting to transplant a weed into a pot to spend time with in my office. It's a particular plant that I've always had an attraction to, it's delicate, tiny pink flowers always struck me as beautiful, and how it managed to find life, even in the cracks of the pavement, gave me a deep respect for it's tenacity, palanced with it's grace. It's a little bit scragglily, from getting driven by and scorched by the sun, but I hope to keep it alive long enough to create some seeds, and see if I can get a plant to sprout from scratch. This is a plant I've had an attraction to since childhood. I never knew the name of it, and I'm not sure if this is the exact same plant, or just a cousin variety. But it feels nice to finally be taking the time to develop a closer relationship to it. I'll include a picture.

I just finished listening to a book called "Four Thousand Weeks" about time. It had a bit of a different message than my standard time management reading fare. The author's main point was that we have a limited amount of time, and it's not enough to get everything, or even most things, done, and it's healthier and happier to accept that fact and go about choosing the few things that really matter to you, to spend your time on. As well as being present to what is happening, right now, and living fulling in this moment.

It fits with my general thrust, to alter my paradigm around time rather than just trying to do more things, or faster or more efficient things, or organize my things better.

Alright, gotta go, Diagnosis and Treatment Planning class is coming up in three hours, and I'm gonna have to spend all of that interim time reading and preparing for it. Next week my first case conceptualization is due, as well as my big presentation on anxiety disorders, so I've got work to do!

Take care, be well, love deeply,

-Isaac