Nobody Knows

Consciousness is worthwhile but the loneliness that accompanies it is sometimes a painful price.

Panic and Pain

I walked the floor at home in labor for about 30 hours with my first child. At 5 AM it was decided that I should probably take a ride to the hospital. I was relieved to see the sweet face of a long time friend who was working her shift that morning.

Pain of that magnitude takes over sensibilities and essential skills are forgotten. Approaching delivery without heavy medication had my brain wracked. The situation at hand was out of my control and I was panicked. My nurse friend grabbed my hand and held my gaze. She gave me instructions on my only job at hand: just breathe.

Emotional pain is not that different from physical pain. When thoughts begin to spin out of control, those essential elements of survival are quickly forgotten. Much of life is beyond our control and is at the mercy of the tide. I get so lost in my own thoughts that it becomes impossible to attempt any decisions or solid plans. On a day of spastic thoughts recently a friend emailed me instructions on my job for that day: just breathe.

Interesting how familiar phrases can trigger reflection. Reading those words took me back to that moment in labor and helped calm my mind. I complicate things beyond recognition. I allow "what if"s and "what now"s to frustrate me into a fit. The result is always the same - another beautiful day is lost to stress or depression.

For an anxious mind, snatches of calm are invaluable. Such a simple act of awareness can back me away from the ledge better than no other. Maybe I should have it tattooed on the palms of my hands.

Open Book / Case Closed

Melancholy writers are known for words that address the darker sides of life. The danger is that once words are said or written they tend to linger and stick as if etched in stone. Consequently, the concern for the reader is that the writer ultimately remains of that opinion stated. What must be remembered is that writing is a therapeutic soul purging. Once the topic is thoroughly considered and expelled, the mind is free to move on to other things.

Several nights ago, suffering from frustration and lack of sleep I had this to say:

This journey has had me out on a limb for quite some time. My body is tired and my emotions are thin. Familiar layers begin to circle my soul to provide protection. Heart vows echo in my mind: "I'll never...", "I won't ever..."
I am capable of giving in spite of my own need yet I wonder - when does giving merely become an enabling of narcissism?

So where I am right now?
Right in the fork of Fuck It Street and Nevermind Drive.


Moving forward and circling back is a frustrating cycle. Yet it seems to be a necessary component of growth. Expressing the hopelessness felt at that moment in my process served its purpose. The thought was opened, expressed, and reabsorbed. The effect: another step taken under a lighter load.

I'm coming to appreciate the emotion expressed within art. Not only for the insight into the originator's soul but also the recognition of growth and freedom the artist surely experienced through the process.

Focus Shift

This blog originated as a means of therapy while I dealt with issues of doctrine and theology. I wanted to believe the Christianity I had been taught, but had so many doubts that rational thought overwhelmed the superstition. Much of the baby went out with the bathwater. I have no more interest in searching dogma and doctrine. It matters not who is right. The essential question is answered on an individual level. If we agree to disagree, we've made more headway than most.

Lately, instead of searching specifically for God, I have been more focused on finding myself; digging through the rubble with hope of finding my original face. I have heard that each one of us contain The Holy. If that is true, perhaps in my search for me, I will ultimately find the Truth by happenstance. That's not the intended goal but it would certainly be an ironic end.

Psychologist Carl Jung has my attention at the moment. I struggle with a myriad of issues that are, in my self diagnosis, neuroses. Anyone who knows me would not find that a shocking conclusion. The antidote to a neurosis is awareness and consciousness; a frightening undertaking. Quoting Jung below will expound better than I could do in a rephrase:

Conscious realization prevents the unmentionable atmosphere, the general cluelessness, the blank disregard of the troublesome object; in short, it stops the painful content from being repressed. And though this may seem to cause the individual more suffering, he is at least suffering meaningfully and from something real. Repression has the apparent advantage of clearing the conscious mind of worry, and the spirit of all its troubles but, to counter that, it causes an indirect suffering from something unreal, namely a neurosis. Neurotic suffering is an unconscious fraud and has no moral merit, and has real suffering.

To quote another mind of our own decade, I've added a link below to a song full of angst and searching for oneself. If you can get past the imagery (or if you fully enjoy it) the lyrics are profound. Embedded was disabled so only the link will do.

Sober

If suffering is an unavoidable fact of this journey, I'd much rather experience pain in a meaningful method rather than completely in vain. I will continue to peel back layer after layer as I shake hands with shadows and take delight in the glory of existence.

Rudders, Oars and Currents

At the moment we are born we are thrust into an existing system. Everything we experience in early life is by way of a system already in place. Language, behavior, ethics; all fed to us from others. We ride the waves of life with navigation of rudders already in motion.

As life progresses, a point is reached that we grab our own boot straps. With much effort and energy we push forward against ideas and prescriptions that previously nudged us along. Each one's boat is his own and with great strides he works the oars. If life can be directed, why, then, does the struggle lead to such frustration and feelings of helplessness?

Currents exist below the surface of our understanding; pulls that overtake our best efforts and deliver us in pools we never expected. Many times I grab the oars and struggle with all that I have. Hope for control over my destination is enticing. Inevitably, exhaustion wins out and my direction remains unchanged. Wisdom and peace only surface when I become fluid and cease fighting against what will be.

Life is kind and beautiful.
Life is cruel and unrelenting.
If tranquility can be found in the undertow, surrender is worthwhile.

Acceptance

barn's burnt down;
now I can see
the moon

~ Masahide ~