Yes, I'm still alive.

Hammering the cramps.

Community is an overlooked part of my practice, particularly when it comes to the interpersonal aspects of the ILP. The shadow stuff and the 321 process just isn't as immediately appealing as writing essays or doing one handed clap pushups (I can dream). It is, of course, a vital part of any attempt to change yourself in a fundamental way, lest you end up pulling a Darth Vader and being a very deep, very annoying jerk.

 I'm willing to best that a lot of us here on Zaadz can be a bit.... socially inept at times (or maybe I'm just projecting, or maybe it's a male thing, but the whole early adapter somewhat tech savvy introspective meditator demographic tends not to partaayyyy too hard) so online communities can relieve that pressure somewhat.

 So Go! For the good of the city! and join this comments thread over at Integral Practice. Play nice and contribute and maybe we can hammer out the cramps.

Scalability. I think I've lauded it before, but one of the best things about the ILP is that it's scalable. So when you have a severe rib injury or whatnot, you can still practice, in accordance with what Paul calls the one repetition model. That is, in whatever practice you choose to do, make sure you do at least one 'rep' (he was referring to fitness; pushups and the like, but you can apply it anywhere. Just do something and the rest will follow).

 ***

Just a little sidenote: I've referenced Paul so many times that it's not even funny. Maybe he should compile all his suggestions (emotional inbox being the latest) 'cos some of them are pretty damn good. Steve Pavlina eat your heart out.  Plus, I smell a new breed of fiction coming on. Out with hysterical realism, in with... actualized re-capturing of the fragmented self? Wank! But you get the picture.

***

Now, in some instances it may be physically impossible to complete at least one rep of your auxillary practises (see Ribs, Bruised) but with the one minute core practises, you can at least keep that intentionality from disappearing. It's an inspired inclusion, and one that I can't praise enough.

 - - -

I think it was William from Integral Options who suggested that blocks will start emerging around day 30. I think mine have emerged earlier, because of all these injuries. But that's for tomorrow.     

What a crap couple of days. The whole Gafni controversy once again strikes at the heart of the teacher-student relationship. 

 Best to do as Paul says, and just be aware. Constantly aware. That's more than enough practise for today.

When things fall apart.

 Kill your idols.

Today is a photo of a kitten precariously situated on a tree branch, a worried look spread all over its cute little face. HANG IN THERE says the caption. Usually I'd be tempted to smash my face into such a poster, but today, despite a bizarre run of misfortune, I'm happy just to be practising. 

Yay for unexpected feelings of contendedness and joy.    

My ridiculous run of injuries continues. I had quite a nasty cough after my bout of flu, so nasty that it made me bruise my ribs. That's right, horrible painful bruised ribs, which means I can't breathe properly and it hurts to cough or laugh. As Paul points out, when you're in the middle of a self-help kick, any interruption feels like a solid blow to the gut.

 Still, practice is going well, and I have no desire to give up, even when injuries interfere with certain goals.

There's an air of unreality about my current practise. Not because it's going poorly or exceptionally well, but because I'm in an in between state with regard to commitments that doesn't require me to do anything other than sit at my computer and study. This frees up a tremendous amount of time for performing ILP related material, and so to a certain extent it feels artificial. Despite the fact that I'm technically employed full time, I don't have to get up early (I try to anyway) and I don't have any engagements that are particularly pressing.

Compare my situation with that of my girlfriend, who's constantly busy with a degree that demands a lot more attendance, not to mention a large amount of travel time and constant forays into extra-curricular activities. Somewhere in that whirlwind she finds time to do as much ILP stuff as possible.

There's not much I can do about my current situation (not that I'd want to anyway) so I guess the trick is to demand more out of myself. I've been blessed to be put into a situation where my practise is my primary daily obsession, therefore, I should be getting more out of it and demanding more of myself. That means more writing, and getting things done on time for a change.

So tomorrow brings with it a trip to the library and the photocopying of countless journal articles, coupled with a strong desire to get 5000 words written this weekend, and thus have a first draft completed almost a month before due date. Viva productivity!  

Paul offers the following advice:  And so Tuff Ghost, and everyone else feeling bad when practice apathy bites them in the butt, take solace: it happens to all of us, because practice is more than just four core modules.

It certainly is. Condensed to an essential mantra, practice is nothing more than the commitment to be better tomorrow than you are today. Or even more simply, to be better in the moment. Leaving aside the ultimate fruit of practise, which is the ability to just practise, or not practise, or whatever paradox best expresses the be here nowness effect for you, leaving that aside, we can't really escape (nor should we want to) that this is about betterment of self (body, mind spirit) through expression of self (self, culture, nature). Following that impulse can take you to some strange places. It can also have unintended consequences.

For example, a friend of mine took her first ever lecture the other day. We'd discussed how to go about it, and I employed her to do two things. 1) Keep it interesting, that is, don't just read a whole bunch of prepared notes. 2) Don't talk down to people. Assume that they're there and they're interested, and that they're willing to do the hard work to understand what is being said.

Well, she gave the lecture (on animal liberation), and not only was she called a terrorist, but one disgruntled student walked out. Others took to heckling her in the lecture, which is practically unprecedented in a liberal faculty with a mostly liberal student body (political science). But she stuck to her guns and came out of it with an interesting story to tell. Even though I don't agree with her position on most issues, I'm always engaged by her willingness to be engaged. I also feel really, really guilty when I eat meat now.

- - -

So with that in mind, I've decided to pursue writing my comedy show with a bunch of friends, and to use it as an active part of my practise. I've written about the connection between spirituality and theatre before, but suffice to say, there's not a whole lot of anything that's typically 'spiritual' about this show. It's edgy and smutty, and some will certainly find it reactionary (I prefer 'second-tier, you comedic plebians!). But it's about being committed to a public aesthetic and a private ideal, an expression of something I believe (through the ancient art of swearing at unexpected moments). And thus, not only does the mundane become an expression of practise, but so does the unusual and the extraordinary.

It's also nice to have a shining beacon when you're feeling particularly nonplussed about going for a jog or meditating. I suffer for my comedy. If you come and see the show, you can too! Thanks, I'll be here all week.

Kids dance together

A looming sense of purpose can drive your ILP in a certain direction. For me, that's three exams and a five thousand word essay on religious vilification. In the short term at least, that''ll be pushing me on. So, for the first time since I can remember, I've started an essay quite a bit earlier than I thought possible.

Thanks to all the people who responded to my post over at VC on Bigmind. If any of you have seen the ILP BiGMind DVD and would like to comment, please do so over there.