Bim?
Bim (not to be confused with:
Bam Bim
Used there as a chiefly onomatopoeic device) is the shortened form of ‘Bimshire’, one of the names given Barbados. This was thought to be a demonstration of England’s favour by referring to the island it had “colonised” (parasitised) as it would one of its counties, like Buckinghamshire or Cheshire.]
The Dreamless Sleep
If you travel far enough, you can change your external reality. Get on a plane and switch dimensions. Returned to the one in which I’m surrounded by deep salt water rolling towards me from the horizon in every direction, I fell into a dreamless sleep.
“Dreamless sleep” is ‘depression’, another word (like ‘gay’ and ‘priest’) from which I distance myself because it has come to be associated with the unintended…and then each consciousness has a unique experience of it and I can only speak to mine. Now (simultaneously place and time), for example, the dreamless sleep is a good thing since, as the plane transported my body inter-dimensionally, the dreamless sleep translocated my mind to another orbital of consciousness.
It seems to be that a state of rejecting the present, of dismantling the infrastructure of the previously governing paradigm, requires that I be cocooned. In this way immobilised, I make the least effort to direct my actions, which are directed for me, reflexively; it is a deceleration on a cellular level, a retreat, as if sensing the coming of a period where the earth will fill with ice from the sky. It is a hibernation. Anyone who’s brought thinking upon themselves should be prone to fall into the dreamless sleep.
What I’ve learnt
Freeing myself from the culture of living to work, this is what I have learnt:
Acceptance
What if there is nothing wrong with you? This message of letting things be what they are when there’s nothing else to be done, is reminiscent of Echart’s acceptance of now.
An integral part of this acceptance of now as an antidote to anxiety and the sense of overwhelm, is pointing the finger at the stories I tell myself (you know which finger).
Gratitude
I watched Capernaum and Makala and considered that my life is one comfort after another. My mental habit of resenting my personal wage labour Hell has prevented me from enjoying being free of it and to reflect on what I’m grateful for:
This is where I live…albeit as an inhabitant, not a tourist.
I’m acting from relative privilege—I get to return to this place of lush vegetation and dizzying colour, where there’s a room with a bed for only me to sleep in, free (relatively free, I may be paying with my sanity); my father is investing (money) in my ‘escape wage slavery and do what you love’ project and I’m single and debt free with no children hating me for not having a home with a bed (for each of them to sleep in) to return to.
There’s been a diminishing desire to escape my reality, specifically by swimming, then drowning in rum because…
I’m doing exactly what I want: I am custodian of a small plot of land and, like God in The Garden, I cast out the weeds; I’ve freed up time to write and read; I’m working on the relationship with my parents, or rather, the relationship with my parents is working on me, and I have purpose in helping my mother with my autistic sister who is a full-time (ok…90% of the time) nightmare.
Meditation
It does all the TED talk speakers say it will regarding focus, memory, calm…. The calming effect is so unwavering it seems pharmaceutical, that’s the surprise. I imagine my neural pathways unravelling and snaking towards an Eden no longer forested in manchineel trees. It is an Eden that does not allow snakes, however, so we will see.
Since I’ve been meditating consistently, (daily for over a month now), my heart no longer stomps around, kicking at its cage. I have also become present enough to (usually) talk myself out of reacting to the maternal gaslighting.
Interim Phase
Being at home is me doing what I need to for now. I started to look for off-grid communities again out of a vexation that rose up in me over my newfound freedom being tainted by pressure to monetise my life again.
I’d be better focused on living if I could have enough each month (I’ve worked that out to be 800 US) to be able to spend a weekend away from the madness, and to save for trips abroad: back to Brazil and, to keep up my languages, a French (Guadeloupe) and Spanish speaking country (Colombia? Panama? There are direct flights now from Barbados!). AND I’m getting excited about visiting Africa! (This is how doing what I want works: I’m broke, I get excited anyway, things work out eventually). A friend has a place in Tanzania and I’d like to go to Ghana, on the other side. I was still researching the best way to do a safari…but came across this screenshot I’d taken way before I knew my friend had bought the place, and have decided to apply magical thinking here (Ndutu! Serengeti!).
Value of Time
I’ve awoken from the dreamless sleep to having more of what I need to feeling contented and grounded —TIME with which to build my life. My own space would be nice…I’m manifesting a beach house on the East coast (magical thinking again, I know…but if it keeps me positive and that takes me in the right direction, I’m Harry Fucking Potter). You can never guess with these things…maybe I’d inherit one…you know, after I’ve been house sitting for/giving my ass to a nice couple for a while.
I see what building a “successful” business means and am saddened. My brother’s business is taking off, but he’s in his head all the time working things out when he’s not spending the same number of hours slaves did slaving. He makes an effort to be present, but he’s like me saying I’m meditating some days when I’m 60% planning my day. We live together, but I miss him. Most days he doesn’t have time to eat. I guess it’s been an often successful strategy to give up your life now for a better freedom later. And my brother has always had those qualities I lack…maturity and self-discipline to do what needs to be done.
I resist reality…particularly what seems to be the choice between capitalism and vagrancy (at least in Barbados). I enjoy the effort I’m making—it’s the ideal amount for me. And I’ve had my first sales! But I’ll tell you about that in another post.
If I could sell on consignment to a few places, maybe I could make the amount I want without the stress to ‘people please’ by presenting a sanitised version of myself (in Barbados, with its population of about 280, 000, you need to appeal to everyone to have a large enough market). You might find yourself putting on a performance to get ‘likes’ on a page you’re hounded to pay Facebook to promote because the people making the real money have created the illusion that these are the standard prerequisites for patronage.
Right now this is my philosophy:
Do what you like, like what you do.
Apologies for rambling and repetition when it occurs. It’s me trying to convince myself, which is one of the reasons for this blog. I’ll write when I write and fill you in about what’s been going on since I got back. Still just trying to be more me while (hopefully) encouraging you to do the same.
Much love.
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