Previously: What's a rainbow, in the context of managing how I think about, and in, my internal weather system? Since I couldn't answer, and didn't like "Rainbow as a door," I started with an anti-definition.
View attachment 15336
Initial Observations
I need to be more careful about laying out data labels: the two columns imply something I don't mean. Panic is not the opposite of control; panic is how I regain control by playing to my strengths. Paralysis is not the opposite of certainty; it's the aftermath of shock. Something useful happens when I group panic, paralysis, and certainty, I notice. Control and certainty do not go together. Confidence underlies both, I see now, but when I wrote "catastrophic loss" I was thinking about certainty of catastrophic loss, which links through "numbness."
That certainty comes from the Hanging Judge, who hates ambiguity. She's a judge. She's the face of The Law. She wants to decide. Since she consistently rules against me, she's never going to decode certainty positively, and she's never going to decide that my best is good enough just because it's all I have.
So if the above is the taxonomy of a cloud, what is the taxonomy of the rainbow?
Hope is part of the rainbow, although it's not necessarily the bright sprite from Pandora's box. It's the unilateral covenant from God, which was made to me as well as to every other person: God will not destroy me nor will God forsake me.
Panic, Hyperfocus, and Flow
Hyperfocus and the flow experience that sustains it is the rainbow. I will give up food and sleep for the joy of writing. Flow is faster than panic, as fast as lightning, and more sustained: it glows rather than bolts. Perhaps flow is the silver lining of the cloud. Panic is easier to access, and builds the cloud. The painful process of channeling panic into coherent, philosophical thought can trigger a hyperfocus state and launch a flow experience. It's the way to the rainbow, and it's a tough walk, because writing the dance to the rainbow includes some difficult steps:
I don't believe anyone writes "for themselves." We write to be read, if only to ourselves, but we write to be read. For me, writing does many things, all positive, and it is the absolute best method for channeling panic. The thoughts have to show themselves. Since I am not just writing for myself, but to enable people to see me think, I am showing vulnerability.
Whether in the mist of the cloud or the mist of the rainbow, it looks like this:
View attachment 15338
We start when the Anxiety Trigger gets hit. Do I recall Mindfulness--as in labeling a troubling thought or using an affirmation? If yes, go to the first Rainbow Step. Otherwise, move my comfort zone to panic and go see the Hanging Judge, whose gavel whirls in the tornado as my options and my energies become exhausted.
Do I resist the temptation to retreat to panic from a temporary improvement, or do I try to rush things? If I continue to be Mindful--and I think this is a different form of being Mindful--I take another step on the Rainbow Bridge. Otherwise, I'm in a hurry, I "feel the need for speed," I get a speeding ticket, and go see the Hanging Judge.
Your judge might agree with the Hanging Judge. However, my experience of other people is generally that they judge me less harshly than I do, even though my fear is of being judged and found wanting. There's always somebody who decides it's her job to "cut me down to size"--oddly, this is almost always a woman--but it's rare enough that I'll risk it if the tidal flow is strong enough.
Now I'm in the zone (the one I'm actually in as I write this): Doing What I Do Best. Ideas come easily, words come easily, shifting from visual to verbal and back is silky, and happy accidents occur. Yes, that fits. I'm also aware that if I use my default strategies, I fall into the abyss, and somebody has to get me out, but that's just a fact, not a reality, right now.
You've noticed that this process never ends.
The First Rainbow Step is not the Hardest
The interesting thing about showing vulnerability is that it also shows strength. Not power, but strength, and a display of strength is certainly doing what I do best. In this case, the short essay is my natural form. I play at haiku, and business process description is fun and engaging, but the essay is where my powers peak. When I hunt the forum, I'm looking for the thread to embroider a blank page. Sorry for being so chatty! And I am then entering the state of being vulnerable, because I do cast a lengthy shadow, and then I choose to risk myself by showing the work...as a comment.
I don't process very well in conversation--I'm usually hosting gale-force winds at the time--but watch what happens when I speak through a keyboard.
Who dares to claim /
they speak for me /
must write better than I,/
about being me.
Bring it on.
View attachment 15336
Initial Observations
I need to be more careful about laying out data labels: the two columns imply something I don't mean. Panic is not the opposite of control; panic is how I regain control by playing to my strengths. Paralysis is not the opposite of certainty; it's the aftermath of shock. Something useful happens when I group panic, paralysis, and certainty, I notice. Control and certainty do not go together. Confidence underlies both, I see now, but when I wrote "catastrophic loss" I was thinking about certainty of catastrophic loss, which links through "numbness."
That certainty comes from the Hanging Judge, who hates ambiguity. She's a judge. She's the face of The Law. She wants to decide. Since she consistently rules against me, she's never going to decode certainty positively, and she's never going to decide that my best is good enough just because it's all I have.
So if the above is the taxonomy of a cloud, what is the taxonomy of the rainbow?
Hope is part of the rainbow, although it's not necessarily the bright sprite from Pandora's box. It's the unilateral covenant from God, which was made to me as well as to every other person: God will not destroy me nor will God forsake me.
Panic, Hyperfocus, and Flow
Hyperfocus and the flow experience that sustains it is the rainbow. I will give up food and sleep for the joy of writing. Flow is faster than panic, as fast as lightning, and more sustained: it glows rather than bolts. Perhaps flow is the silver lining of the cloud. Panic is easier to access, and builds the cloud. The painful process of channeling panic into coherent, philosophical thought can trigger a hyperfocus state and launch a flow experience. It's the way to the rainbow, and it's a tough walk, because writing the dance to the rainbow includes some difficult steps:
- Channeling panic
- Showing vulnerability
- Risking the Hanging Judge and her Editorial Assistants
- Doing what I do best
- Being vulnerable
I don't believe anyone writes "for themselves." We write to be read, if only to ourselves, but we write to be read. For me, writing does many things, all positive, and it is the absolute best method for channeling panic. The thoughts have to show themselves. Since I am not just writing for myself, but to enable people to see me think, I am showing vulnerability.
Whether in the mist of the cloud or the mist of the rainbow, it looks like this:
View attachment 15338
We start when the Anxiety Trigger gets hit. Do I recall Mindfulness--as in labeling a troubling thought or using an affirmation? If yes, go to the first Rainbow Step. Otherwise, move my comfort zone to panic and go see the Hanging Judge, whose gavel whirls in the tornado as my options and my energies become exhausted.
Do I resist the temptation to retreat to panic from a temporary improvement, or do I try to rush things? If I continue to be Mindful--and I think this is a different form of being Mindful--I take another step on the Rainbow Bridge. Otherwise, I'm in a hurry, I "feel the need for speed," I get a speeding ticket, and go see the Hanging Judge.
Your judge might agree with the Hanging Judge. However, my experience of other people is generally that they judge me less harshly than I do, even though my fear is of being judged and found wanting. There's always somebody who decides it's her job to "cut me down to size"--oddly, this is almost always a woman--but it's rare enough that I'll risk it if the tidal flow is strong enough.
Now I'm in the zone (the one I'm actually in as I write this): Doing What I Do Best. Ideas come easily, words come easily, shifting from visual to verbal and back is silky, and happy accidents occur. Yes, that fits. I'm also aware that if I use my default strategies, I fall into the abyss, and somebody has to get me out, but that's just a fact, not a reality, right now.
You've noticed that this process never ends.
The First Rainbow Step is not the Hardest
The interesting thing about showing vulnerability is that it also shows strength. Not power, but strength, and a display of strength is certainly doing what I do best. In this case, the short essay is my natural form. I play at haiku, and business process description is fun and engaging, but the essay is where my powers peak. When I hunt the forum, I'm looking for the thread to embroider a blank page. Sorry for being so chatty! And I am then entering the state of being vulnerable, because I do cast a lengthy shadow, and then I choose to risk myself by showing the work...as a comment.
I don't process very well in conversation--I'm usually hosting gale-force winds at the time--but watch what happens when I speak through a keyboard.
Who dares to claim /
they speak for me /
must write better than I,/
about being me.
Bring it on.
