Flow, Path, Work, Fear and Stress, Side Ways, Openings

I am a sick victim of Extreme Selfishness in the process of acquiring any sort of external input. One tells me information and I immediately judge it towards its relevance to a small set of personal factors. "Do I even like this?" is the first filter I apply, and the level of exigence to anything crossing my senses has always been so high it is a surprise I was even able to be part of society. This is my drama. At some point in childhood, I must have had a sense of urgency, awareness of life threatened, enough to lower the bar enough. How can I read a book that is..

Nakamura and Csíkszentmihályi identify the following six factors as encompassing an experience of flow.
  1. intense and focused concentration on the present moment
  2. merging of action and awareness
  3. a loss of reflective self-consciousness
  4. a sense of personal control or agency over the situation or activity
  5. a distortion of temporal experience, one's subjective experience of time is altered
  6. experience of the activity as intrinsically rewarding, also referred to as autotelic experience
Those aspects can appear independently of each other, but only in combination do they constitute a so-called flow experience.

Skill here is really the capacity to open the faucet of the mental machine, not the pre-existingability to complete a task, but rather the preparatory disposition to deliver intelligence. 

What I LOVE in a flow: the absence of bullshit and the absence of anxiety, worry, apathy.

We forget: the important is the path, not the goal: in how we got to a state, by going through a way/channel/behavior that doesn't look like the goal: we take off/transform part of reality. I need a light imaginary world before doing anything. Some forget superstructures. Manipulating the goal-objects immediately, "à froid", is a resistance.


 It's forced work, in a relaxed state, that shapes the grounds, the mental walls, of what is needed to advance. An absence of distraction. It reminds me of special Sunday afternoons (it is Sunday) where school work was advancing positively. A shade of control and controlled neutrality and focus.


Fear and Stress.

They deserve eulogies and constant resuscitations.

  • My best teachers were disciplinarian
  • I believe in smart authoritarianism
  • Humans are lazy
  • I feel best when concentrated and heavily mentally occupied
  • Happiness comes after but through concentration
A truth hidden from all self-help medicine. The need for the right balance of protected non-anxiogenic stress and fear.
  • there is such a thing as the right balance, the perfect medium
Translations of Swedish word "frisk": fresh, sweet, healthy, sound, snappy, lively, well, good, strong, lusty, whole, hale, smacking. Stark: strong. Kall: cold.

Frisk och Stark.


I think in side ways, hence need more work than others to get something complete. I'm not good at focusing clearly.


The structure by which a word that is put down brings back and up its vivid lives.

The poet. The writer. The something. As spoke Alain.

The immanent emptiness of country life.


A word on transparent structures, superstructures. The-thing-that-really-matters. Really, as in, pertaining to reality, yet intangible.
(As in, the scientific image of physics and biology, the understanding of gravity when things fall, understanding of a person or of a group when we need to address them, the intuition of flavours when cooking, the immense je-ne-sais-quoi that should govern our lives as full of heroism)
First, linkage to tangibility, sensations. Mathematicians talk about a beautiful (glass) castle, poets evoke many sensations, music is full of breathing and violence. Metaphors make up the human language of superstructures. Memories and/or logic are their food.
A note on word-structures: most likely the most fruitful. Self-generating and surprisingly power-inducing. A sweet constant mind revolution. Choose wisely thy path, then speed up.
Optionally, how fully can one imagine (realist), recover (idealist)? Mankind limitations? A being so absorbed to forget about Stuff, towards mental alienation. Actors are never as fascinating as when they do not seem totally inside their role.
Finally, structures that don't feel like such: the invisible aspects, a poetic structure, subconscious power. That's where the true power of self-generating word-superstructures come to play, words evoking more than we always think they do. Once they've been liberated from the constraint of being used like tools, words quickly behave like slaves: a bit less manageable, requiring more care, slightly resistant, requiring education and control. A this point slaves need to be emancipated and we need to abandon sovereignty. Then words become coworkers, friends, then stories can get written.

Drawing, to see better

A new way of seeing concepts: drawings (paintings) of concepts linked to each other. I see a blue dark nightly sky, with a spheric gradient black-blue, many stars everywhere, probably white and yellow, small. Concepts appear in words, simply styled in clear type.
Shows relationships between concepts. The play between, a vision.

What Freedom Really Is
What Freedom Really Is, 2014
The (night) sky/background is essential to describe elements of otherness, i.e. Life and the World, what else exists.
This drawing above displays what one can think after experiencing the exilarating sensation of freedom, the excitation coming from myriads of possibilities suddenly imagined, as if they weren't there before. After that point, one realises the limits one really has to play with, the fact that one's actions are seriously limited, not by the capacity of action (the ability to perform), but by the final consequences of those actions and their rare importance, rare relevance to the actor's life.
The bullshit/random world thus oppress the small minority of relevant actions, and one gets lost in the desert of randomness, as the force to see through bullshit gets dimmed, obscured by the giant immensity it has to fight with.
The true creative moment is for one to get into an autistic mode within the Meaningful realm, the zone of repetitive creation. The capacity to navigate towards the centre of the Useful Things. Getting lost.

perpetual movement

Intense dreams, nightmares? There should be a new category for sleep/dreams that are so intense that the day coming afterwards feels like another night required to recover from it.
What it shows: nights can be so intense that they leave us perfectly able to function in daytime activities and yet install fresh memories of recent mental activity, and the heaviness which comes from it, the muscular and nervous post-tension static feeling, like a presence occupying thoughts, a neutral force.
What it shows: levels of mental activity at night may grandly surpass those in daytime, for no obvious reasons. This activity must be natural and needed.
What it shows: life is like riding a bicycle, pure respite is never welcome.
What it shows: organic matter acts in all ways at all times, development forces continuously push. Ignoring them is a crime.


Moving to a different place reveals the priorly invisible mental roots one had established in the prior place. The sadness from replacing those roots with another one.. wait, no, it's mental/emotional work,  why sadness? Because those roots linked to us, and it felt that we not only belonged to the former place but also that part of it belonged to us, that some of it was ours. Sadness is that pain from something taken away from our soul, something that felt like possession.
And the brain doesn't distinguish much between space, things and humans, they all get attached to us.
Moving also reveals the energy it takes to re-judge every single detail. Like revisiting an old place, every small details comes back to the surface because the brain doesn't distinguish between details, and they all get attached to us, for no good reason. There is an efficiency in not being sensitive to one's environment that I long for.

Ecstasy Solarised

The habits of a thousand men make up for the demise of the illiterate
the white noise is irreversible
no thoughts left unreversed
there has been some light in the jungle of madness
pursuing the decay from the illusions of more
their plenitude sanctified through thy farms
      beneath mandibles, ashore from sweeps
      bold and lie, though sanctified at peace.
Ecstasy Solarised
    Though bundled through time
i wish the universe unsolved

A good space needs some emptiness.

Happiness is elusive, small, fleeting.
Idea that happiness comes from the negation of noise and ecumbrance, not from a postive addition of things or even emotions. The need for absence for the mind to re-calibrate, re-compose itself , thus creating happiness: super-structures need a vacuum (empty space) to breathe, space to put elements on the side. The more elements, the more space needed.
A starting point for the feeling of happiness thus comes from small elements, a small positive recombination: a physical ease combined with a sight of something that works, a puzzle solved, a miracle of Nature that not only hypnotises us and make us dream and soothes us but more importantly  takes everything away and pushes the image of a large space in our mind, a sort of 'here you go, there is space, you _have_ space'. 
Loneliness and sadness comes from beeing in an unconnected void, not seeing the links tying the space to all elements. 
A small sparkle from a small image is enough, like a fractal image, it has contagious effects.
Space and time, you have space and time.