Sometimes you just have to have the veteran sense to stick it out without making bad choices. I remember times when the sense of things floods in without filter and it felt like too much to behold. I wonder now whether it was an excess of light or simply my sorting, my meaning making mechanism had stopped working, the input was severely tweaked so it felt pure. Feeling overwhelmed, it was a waiting game, knowing that what I felt was not what really was, and it was a question of choice. In those moments I defined myself. My environment and my perceptions were no longer determining factors. Decisions assumed epic proportions and I created myself in those moments. In those moments it felt like nothing was reaction, movement simply was.
I lost that somewhere, writing is one way to bring it back. I hope it works. Bad habits are like riding a bike, you never forget how, you just hope you loose them in the attic. Choosing is the same way, you never forget how to choose. You make small things so significant that it feels like you have no choice, but you always do. You can argue the point, but you must remember that where you are right now in this moment came to be from a string of actions you chose.