As I sit sipping coffee this morning, prepping my body for hours in front of a computer screen, I realize that in order to do anything there must be a story. There must be a going - a movement toward some meaningful end - if I am going to be the kind who opens his mind in every moment and says to himself "Oh, and here I am in this moment." Maybe you don't want to do that. For me, its not a matter of want. I am a slave to my self-perception. I always know that I am there. It hasn't always been that way - sometimes there isn't enough language - I have floundered like a fish through a barrel of light to get here. (And who knows if its somewhere worth being? I think that old wing-ed serpentine cherubim had a pretty good perception of his-self).
Freud did too. In "Civilization and it's discontents" he talks about that fact that he perceives himself, and that it is the cause of great pain. I'll have to go back to get references and quotes, but basically he points out that life is pain because (and I am adding to what he says here, massaging) it is self, and knowledge of self, within a futile death-destined system. Basically: "Oh, Look! I am here and I am... oh, &@#!$$"
Freud prescribed, being a doctor, a good medicine for this great pain: distraction. Drugs might work, he says. Sex. He himself distracts himself with Science. Now theres a thing. Science! The great machine of thought, working, working, toward ... death. That was the only destiny marble that Freud carried in his bag.
But then, I am an artist, not a scientist, and I think I know better. I think I see some hazy sort of light when I'm mid-song, or finishing a painting. I hear some truth calling me out in the distance; "Hey! You! Fish there, in a barrel of light! I'm calling you out!"
Distraction doesn't cut it if you hear the calling. Self pops up, and you've got to deal with him.