The Transhuman Comedy
Raymund Eich's freelance futurism for fun and profit.About Me
- Name: Raymund
- Location: Houston, Texas, United States
I write science fiction (sf) and fantasy, and I'm a book reviewer for Escape Pod (escapepod.org). I follow the sciences--I have a Ph.D. in biochemistry, but also pay attention to neuroscience and astronomy. When not working or writing, I trade currencies, and with what's left of my free time I read sf/f, history, and economics, play computer and board games, keep fit, occasionally fire up the grill, and love my wife.
Friday, April 20, 2007
On the hotseat
For violating the one-week rule, Gus requested something not-Blacksburg and preferably positive:
I allow myself to be a child. I sit cross-legged on the floor and pound my fists on the rug, grunting and with my face twisting up. I shift forms and rock forward, dipping my forehead further and further, faster and faster, to the floor. The urge to move intensely fades. I sit on my shins, hands limp on my thighs, and stare into distance. I laugh when I realize that my forms are not ones I had expected from the issues that felt hot to me earlier this day or this week; I welcome the deep wisdom of my subconscious for knowing my priorities better than does my conscious mind.
Another active form; I sit on my side, with most of my weight on my right hip, and pivot. This urge fades and I return to sit quietly on my shins.
While sitting, I visualize myself twisting and rolling forward to lie on my back. I resist for a few moments, but commit to entering the new form. I lie on my back, stare at the ceiling, grin, and twist my hips. The rug reminds me of the carpet in the kitchen of my family's house from my elementary school years. I imagine my mother's presence, standing above, looking down at me with disapproval at my silliness or frustration that my imagination takes me places she can't or won't follow; but between me and her presence stands a pane of emotion-polarizing glass or a wad of emotional cotton. I lie on the floor and grin because these are right for me to do, whether approved or accompanied or not.
(In the now of writing the previous sentence, I feel a loosening in my stomach).
I feel calm and grounded in myself. My tribe tests me by asking about the issues I presented as hot at checkin. The issues remain but drained of heat and more susceptible to the problem-solving abilities of my mind. My tribe asks me to show completion of my forms. I sit cross-legged, drum my fists, and rock forward, but without heat; I enjoy the forms the way I enjoy a repetitive, non-strenuous exercise. We check my session out.
I allow myself to be a child. I sit cross-legged on the floor and pound my fists on the rug, grunting and with my face twisting up. I shift forms and rock forward, dipping my forehead further and further, faster and faster, to the floor. The urge to move intensely fades. I sit on my shins, hands limp on my thighs, and stare into distance. I laugh when I realize that my forms are not ones I had expected from the issues that felt hot to me earlier this day or this week; I welcome the deep wisdom of my subconscious for knowing my priorities better than does my conscious mind.
Another active form; I sit on my side, with most of my weight on my right hip, and pivot. This urge fades and I return to sit quietly on my shins.
While sitting, I visualize myself twisting and rolling forward to lie on my back. I resist for a few moments, but commit to entering the new form. I lie on my back, stare at the ceiling, grin, and twist my hips. The rug reminds me of the carpet in the kitchen of my family's house from my elementary school years. I imagine my mother's presence, standing above, looking down at me with disapproval at my silliness or frustration that my imagination takes me places she can't or won't follow; but between me and her presence stands a pane of emotion-polarizing glass or a wad of emotional cotton. I lie on the floor and grin because these are right for me to do, whether approved or accompanied or not.
(In the now of writing the previous sentence, I feel a loosening in my stomach).
I feel calm and grounded in myself. My tribe tests me by asking about the issues I presented as hot at checkin. The issues remain but drained of heat and more susceptible to the problem-solving abilities of my mind. My tribe asks me to show completion of my forms. I sit cross-legged, drum my fists, and rock forward, but without heat; I enjoy the forms the way I enjoy a repetitive, non-strenuous exercise. We check my session out.
Labels: One Week Rule, TTP
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