I bought this book, The Secret of the Golden Flower, at the beginning of last October as I read something which implied that the book had set someone off on a transformative adventure. I thought I wouldn’t mind one of those myself, so as soon as it arrived, I bumped it to the top of the reading list. To be honest, Jung’s commentary aside, I couldn’t understand a lot of the actual text: it is very esoteric and requires a base knowledge of Chinese Buddhism that I do not have. Nevertheless, the author/s recommend that people start off committing to 100 days of meditation and I figured I could do that much at least. The last time I tried seated meditation was when I lived in France. It was excruciating: I could not still my mind at all, and it was physically painful to sit in the cross-legged position for more
On Monday 11th April, I started writing morning pages again. This is something I first began in my 20s and kept as a habit for many years. I no longer remember why I stopped but going back to them has led to a more general experiment in trying to remember who I was then. I have been re-reading books from both my childhood and my early twenties to try to remember and recover a self I think I abandoned at some point in my early 30s: the moment when I ‘quit writing’ and almost deleted this website entirely. (Although, I realise now that I never actually quit writing, I just traded more creative writing for academic writing.) I hope I never stop writing morning pages again because there is something profoundly grounding about waking up, making coffee, feeding the cats, and then curling up on my couch with an A4 notebook