#81 ·
casualmaker13 said:Look, you haven't lost your mind or anything. It’s just that you haven't really trained yourself to be an observer yet. Because you lack that practice, things don't feel easy or fluid. You struggle to step back and actually detach—to just sit there, be aware of yourself, and watch the sunset while letting all those waves of thoughts and emotions wash over you without getting swept away by them. I guess it takes work.
It’s just like how you can't exactly string together complex sentences the second you start talking.
If you’re actually interested, my advice would be this: just try to sit back and watch what's happening inside your own head. You know, like observing the random images, the stray thoughts, and all those weird emotions that pop up out of nowhere. Just stay awake to it all—stay fully conscious of everything that’s unfolding in the moment. Maybe that's a good place to start.
If you actually want to pull this off, you probably need to cut out all the outside noise. I mean, seriously—isolate yourself from everything going on in the world. Shut out the chaos, close your eyes, and just focus inward. It might make that initial step of becoming an observer a little easier, I guess. Maybe.
At first, it’s just impossible to stay aware for most of the time you spend meditating. It's a bit of a roller coaster, I guess. You cycle through these different roles of the observer—moments where you’re actually conscious of yourself, your thoughts, your feelings, or even just the random images and sounds drifting through your mind or the room around you. But then, you slip. You drift into those states where you aren't really "you" anymore; you're just floating, carried away by that endless internal monologue and the mental movies we all play on loop. It’s always the same stuff, too—like, what happened to me earlier today, what am I going to tackle tomorrow, or that one thing I totally forgot to do... it just pulls you right back under.
With enough practice and time spent meditating, staying present during everything happening around you gets a whole lot easier. You actually start to truly soak in things—like watching a sunset—because you're fully aware of your own emotions and thoughts. You experience the beauty of the moment as one complete thing, without feeling lost in it or like you’ve somehow disappeared into the background.
Since we’re actually awake—you know, truly present and conscious in the moment—we realize that we aren't that sunset we're staring at. We exist even after the sun dips below the horizon, and we're fully aware of the sheer beauty and peace that sunset brings us. And honestly? Just being there to witness it doesn't disrupt anything or make us feel tense. It just is.
I guess anxiety tends to creep in whenever we try to tackle something that isn't coming naturally. You know, when you can't just cruise through it effortlessly, but instead find yourself straining and pushing way too hard. It’s exhausting, really. And honestly, that kind of intense effort usually ends up sucking all the joy right out of whatever you're looking at.
Alright, I have a few questions here...
1) Do you typically formulate every single sentence in your head before you actually say it out loud?
Because I don't... I basically construct my sentences while I'm speaking them. For me, there isn't this separate stage of "formulating" versus "speaking," so your comparison about "stringing sentences together" is completely lost on me.🤷
2) When you say "you simply can't detach yourself"... well, can you even detach from yourself? I genuinely don't get it—if you "detach" the "you" from the "self," what exactly is left behind?
To me, that sounds like fragmentation, and honestly, that's not something I struggle with at all. I can observe myself observing the sunset... I can essentially lease my "self" out to five different "tenants," where each one plays a totally different role... BUT
that doesn't actually address the core question I posed in my original post:
Can the observer be separate from the observed? Don't they function together, like two sides of the same coin?
I’m arguing that they *are* inseparable, and even with the best intentions, I can't wrap my head around how your advice fits into that specific dilemma, so please, walk me through your logic!
Look, in case it wasn't clear, I wasn't asking for tips on "meditation." I was addressing the question of whether the observer and the observed can truly be split apart.
If your "advice" is meant to answer that specific point, then please show me exactly how it relates.
I'm going to ignore the rest of your suggestions—not because I don't value them, but simply because I didn't ask for them. It seems you took my rhetoric quite literally when it was actually intended metaphorically, so I'm taking this opportunity to clarify what I was actually getting at, what I'm truly curious about, and what the "real" question was at the heart of my opening "ballad."