The old habit came back easily. It might be a stretch to call any of my newer habits old at this point, but— I am already tripping over my words. Haven’t done the 04:20 wake up in a few months, and I sure as DNA haven’t been writing before 05:00 since the spring. Damn it feels good. I mean it too. Maybe it’s just pride in my self-control, but I feel really powerful, perhaps a little sleepy too. A little sleepy can be handled under these conditions, which is to say the conditions of health. There is a major difference this time, and it is not a trivial one.
When I started doing the early morning thing this time last year, maybe a little later, as to say “not quite a year ago,” a very different truth to why I changed my behavior must be mentioned. I didn’t do it for myself entirely. My relationship had ended, yet we were still at a high level of contact. We were still pretty sore about the whole deal, but I knew who I loved and was making changes for her, more accurately to impress her. And we all know the cliché, “If you aren’t doing it for yourself, yadaˋ, yadaˋ, yadaˋ.” Of course, if you’ve ever busted your ass for a relationship you know that is complete crap. We can make ourselves do all kinds of crazy shit for the love of another. Many of those things will in fact become habit. Not saying that is the healthiest way to try to enact behavioral reconditioning, as there is a whiff of pathology psychologically in such methods. Yet, it should not be discounted as a powerful and effective primer.
If doing something for someone else gets us motivated, I wouldn’t say that it is wrong. Eventually, I had to ween myself off of seeking affirmation from this failed attempt at saving love through self-improvement, which seemed to work through the end middle of last October. And even after that, when I would try to be vulnerable to love again, without the need for affirmation of my behavior, I still maintained after that went silent. Darian passes away and still I fought. Never had I been so alone internally. No one for which I felt love, or would feel loved by excepting my family and old friends, but that wasn’t the love after which I quested, still quest. In truth, I felt empty leading in and out of last spring. Maybe that is the form my attempt at changing for another took? No reason to dispute that. Changing yourself for someone else is bad, right? The conundrum is obvious. And without that fuel, before the summer came, I fell flat. Waking later, drinking more, smoking casual cigarettes I’d bum off of friends, the loneliness creeping in day after day. I was at the point of relenting to a few admirers I had at the time and just “hooking up.” So glad I didn’t.
How rude. Just grabbing on to someone who was willing to satisfy my own loneliness would be an abhorrent moral behavior with which I will have nothing to do.
This morning, none of these issues are on the table. I wake for myself. I wake to write 1k today, and to see if my stomach has improved over another twenty-four. It has. Still a little sore, but ready for a full day of activity. Not quite ready for fitness perhaps, but then again fitness is a subjective term, and perhaps I am the most fully fit I have ever been. Meditation went well last night and this morning. Ten minutes already goes by in a blink after two attempts. I feel so myself this morning it is unreal; that’s a paradox. Seven hundred of my required thousand before 06:00 predicts a strong start, and I don’t mean unrealistic either.
I don’t feel as though I’ve “hit the ground running.” I feel as though I have my feet firmly planted, my eyes ahead, my mind clear of misconception about the origins of this behavior. I am here for a better experience of this life, so that my perception of consciousness will remember this for what it is—fire for life and fire for who I will become.