Into the warm night i walk.
[TIL #13] What is online manure good for?
The Internet says, there comes a moment in your path of transformation when you are lost, the destination is drowned in a thick fog and it feels like you're not going anywhere, like you're not even moving. The Internet adds, it may be unpleasant and even frightening.
True, in the same minute, the Internet also tells you to get off social media, to make a short video that will go viral (it will this time, promised!), to try this diet and to buy new shoes from a brand that swears to be authentic. The Internet is full of shit, but on manure flowers grow. Yep, i read that online, i don't keep manure at home, who do you think i am. The point is: sometimes, the Internet gets it right. Anyway the meditation teacher on the zoom call said the same. You sit by your homemade little shrine with a picture of a cloud over a lake and a scented candle that's too expensive to light every single time, you sit on the dark blue cushion from the purple shop, and as you practise daily, you become more acutely aware of who you really are and of the true nature of your mind— and the teacher warned you: this new clarity may feel very disorienting and quite uncomfortable.
Weird how sometimes all you need to hear is someone telling you that your situation is normal. Any person says it's OK and instantly your breath returns to reason and the world around you stabilises. You're still in the dark but the noises vanish; those that remain do not sound like something you need to be concerned about. You're still in the dark but the demons recede in the shadows, where they lose all substance and evaporate.
I found out. I mean, i think i always knew something was there but had not really looked closely. Now i know. In my mind, there's a void and swarms of famished locusts and a fair amount of unspeakable things that are not pleasant to observe. And there are open wounds that remind me of the pieces of raw meat hanging in the village market i’d seen in Cambodia, with the flies flying around. There was something in the museum that you visited last Sunday: in a corner of these vast warehouse spaces for contemporary art, a work of art that was some sort of a portion of a tiled wall that opened in its middle to a bleeding wound of bloody raw flesh. You thought this felt very real. This shit's like a mirror, you told your friends, and then the conversation turned to a dissection of favourite moments from sci-fi horror movies.
Breathe. Follow the breath, do not follow the agitated flight of the ideas that will take you on the gloomy spiral down to your dungeon. Breathe. Follow the breath, observe the thoughts, let them pass. Like a cow watching trains go by? Yes, if you will. Am i a cow, why on earth do i think that i'm a cow, why do cows watch trains, do cows actually entertain a genuine interest in railways? Come back to the breath, see the thoughts but don't ride them into the swamp. Don't allow the gloomy spiral to bring you back to your dungeon. Breathe. Simply follow the breath.
The Internet and the meditation teacher have spoken and i am calmer now. I accept that the uncertainty and the discomfort are part of the way, almost like signs that mark the path. I am not sure where i am, the mental map app has gone offline and at night-time the visibility is limited, but it is not a threat, it is not even a problem. It is, it simply is.
As i walk into the darkness, a feeling emerges and grows little by little: i begin to know, like a solid nugget of truth, that i am going somewhere. I may not see a compass quite clearly yet but it feels like i’m heading in the right direction. Into the warm night i walk.
Walk with me?
Photos: Lisboa, 2023-2024.
Camera: Lomography Lubitel 166+ (i was metering light with an app on the phone)
Film: Lomography Color 800 / 100 (expired)
Processed by Máquinas de Outros Tempos (o Porto)
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I’ve had a good time completing the 15-day Meet the Writer challenge launched by Beth Kempton (her Substack is here, and this is a beautiful article).
And what a joy to learn more about Alec Soth’s ‘Dog Days, Bogotá’ thanks to Bailey Richard.
Solvitur ambulando (it gets solved by walking) by Xavi Buendia reminded me of the story told by Alex Webb in his Aperture Worskhop book (On Street Photography and the Poetic Image):
Some years ago I was on a subway with Josef Koudelka, who I had not seen for some years, sitting with my legs crossed. Suddenly Josef reached over and grabbed my shoe, turning it so he could inspect the sole. In his own, direct, Czech way, he wanted to see if I had been walking enough-and hence photographing enough.
Substack has just announced new language tools, which is a much welcome evolution even if the platform is not yet fully supporting multilingual newsletters.
And that’s it for now. Do not hesitate to write back to let me know what you think.
I really enjoyed this read and related to it on lots of levels. You made me laugh also, thanks for that :)