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Taking Stock

"When you examine the lives of the most influential people who have ever walked among us, you discover one thread that winds through them all. They have been aligned first with their spiritual nature and only then with their physical selves." - Albert Einstein

Sometimes I just run out of things to say, I guess. Or, probably more accurately, how to say them.

This past week I've been doing some heavy-duty thinking about a lot of things that have gone on in my life, and in a wrong-headed kind of way, I did a lot of "comparative" living. You know, the "if only...." and "why couldn't..." kind of thinking. I don't know why I allow my thinking to stray there on occasion. Nothing ever gets resolved, and old wounds and older issues are given a new life.

I've been doing a lot of surfing on the various MySpace accounts, profiles and discussion groups. Some profiles I visit are because for a few brief minutes I pretend that there, but for the grace of god, go I. I can pretend to go shopping for a character to try on for a few minutes, like we shop for clothes to make a public statement of who we are, and then, like a worn-out pair of jeans or an out-of-style haircut, shuck that one and move on to some other persona. But these are real people, and that's a form of identity theft. Is it stalking? Scary? Sick? or just some good, clean, all-purpose fantasizing?

I celebrated my birthday yesterday by doing absolutely nothing. I got two phone calls from well-wishers...getting the first one reminded me it was actually my birthday. It's just not a big deal for me anymore. Like weekends blur with weekdays now that I'm on disability, so birthdays blend with blahdays and blogdays. Time is a measurement that takes on less significance with me the more I have of it. What a waste.

For anyone who has been reading my blog entries on a semi-consistent basis, you'll know that I have worked out in my head an organization of thinking that satisfies me at all levels that I'm able to personally comprehend. I've had these grand designs of writing it all in book format, and still might. It still makes sense to me, and I'll continue to jot pieces of it here as the mood moves me. But I'm not kidding myself. While I truly think I'm on to something very unique and exciting, and it's worth making a record of, I'm realistic enough to understand it'll never get the exposure I'd like it to see. Que sera sera. But, if that's the case, why bother at all?

The insight that I believe I've had these past few days is that I have lost the 'brakes' on my thinking process. Because I have been purposely exercising and actively practice seeing everything from multiple perspectives now, I'm finding that I can't shut off that point of view very easily. And it's exhausting. Not only do I now not simply accept things the way I used to, and just move on, but now there's a kind of compulsion almost to linger over trivialities until I have demolished them from every conceivable angle.

Case in point. I don't know what your personal attitude is about the show/phenomena, but I watched the finale episode of American Idol the other night. I made a point of watching it from as many different points of view as I could imagine during the show, to see how it would affect my watching 'mood'. I saw it simultaneously in a variety of vastly conflicting and different ways. I saw it as a popular current talent show for kids who can sing, like in the original days of television when they'd have the various amateur hours. I saw it as American music gone big business, and what a gross capitalistic exploitation of young talent it was. I saw it as a pathetic over-indulgence of crass Americanism. I saw it as a democratic embarrassment that more people voted for the winner than have ever voted for any President in the history of the USA. I saw it as a transition from my generation of music to the next. I mean, c'mon, Dionne Warwick, Meatloaf, Al Jarreau...Prince for god's sake! I saw it as a conspiracy to manipulate the minds of the masses. I saw a coverup exposed, if people would only see the signs (along the lines of 'Paul McCartney is dead' or 'the da Vinci Code'....that one was fun..and a tad scary!). I saw it as light, fluffy entertainment. I saw it as a self-engrossed phenomena, symptomatic of our selfish, consumer-fetish indulgences. I saw it all those ways, and many others. The thing is, I could write an entire blog entry supporting each and every one of those views...and this is all going on in my head non-stop. That's what I mean by 'exhausting'.

My point is, I think I'm unable to NOT see multiple meaning and translation in everything now. Which raises the whole question of truth, reality, and existence itself. Constantly. Perhaps there is something to be said for narrow-minded, red-necked, stubborn bigotry, bias and prejudice after all. At least you only have to consider one line of thought. Belief systems cater to that a lot.

Purpose? It's either internal or external. If it's external, I probably don't have much say in the matter except as an aware observer. If it's internal, I should be able to figure out if I actually need it in the first place, and if so, why ...to what end. If I can answer that, then priorities should pretty much be self-determining, shouldn't they?

So, having figured out my little theory to my total satisfaction, why indeed does that seem not to be enough? I think it's because I'm coming to understand that 'the quest' is not for truth, or faith or purpose or any of those esoteric things. I'm starting to think that the quest is for self-unity. We define ourselves in terms of our bodies, and we tend to define our bodies largely in terms of our occupation. (What's the 'safe' conversation opener with a stranger: "So, what do you do for a living?") That's enough to get us by the day-to-day existence that we're not going to be held accountable for. But what of those moments that are our defining moments?

We spend billions on researching medical techniques to keep our bodies in existence for an extra 365 days, or 423 days or whatever. We have elaborate health care systems, we give tax breaks and day care systems to parents so they can forgo their children in the name of 'work'. We watch Stanley Cup playoffs. We destroy natural wetlands forever just to bring a multi-billion dollar two-week long Olympic event to the world so we can idolize steroid-users and watch skiers pose with their donated skis, brand name toward the camera during interview please. We idolize the Hollywood stereotypes, we emulate the clothing fashion trends. We mourn the death of bodies, but not of people.

My body is nothing to behold. I'm plain-looking with a big nose. I'm skinny, I'm probably gay and I'm bipolar. I'm not lovable or loving, having never been in either place. I've got allergies. I suffer from Menieres Disease. I live alone and am becoming increasingly more and more withdrawn. I'm a wish that didn't happen. But none of that defines me. Perhaps it qualifies me, or categorizes me, or classifies me, or stereotypes me. But none of it is me.

I'm much more complex than that. Primarily, I'm my thoughts. That's all you know of me. And you only know your interpretation of my thoughts. I'm not a person of faith, but I fundamentally hold that I'm a person of spirit. Faith is too monolithic. It subverts individual thought to mass thought. It's too easy to say "I believe, therefore it's true." Don't get me wrong, it's a necessary tool for millions of people, and a great aid in simplifying life. I'm not just speaking of religious type faith here, either. I mean faith in a generic sense. All types. Any type. I'm not knocking it as 'wrong', it just doesn't fit on my foot. Oh sure, I may occasionally say things like "I believe that..." or "I have faith in.." but those are merely linguistic packages, not self-sculptures.

Spirit, on the other hand, goes to the essence of a person's totality. It is so much more difficult to comprehend from a non-spiritual perspective, which is where most of us exist most of the time. It would be easier to simply accept spirit for what it is...the mystery of things unknown. But that would turn it into just another word for faith. No, it's much more profound than that, I think. The diabolical irony of our ability to rationalize is that we are capable of understanding that there are things we can't rationalize. Yet we intuitively are aware.

That's where 'the quest' lies. In attempting to reconcile the unreconciled, never knowing if it will turn out to be irreconcilable. Some choose the search, some choose acceptance. I think I'm trying to choose both. Simultaneously. It's the only way I can see that works all the time and in all cases.

Do thoughts have to be complex? Why can't I entertain 'simplicity of thought', especially since "I've got it all worked out" to my satisfaction? Well, the simple answer is that I can. And I do. Sometimes.

That's the part I find the hardest. The 'sometimes' part.

Thank you for your observations and comments on my previous post. They are all appreciated.

I found this little entertainer out there in hyperspace somewhere. Give it a shot if you like.

Your Dominant Intelligence is Logical-Mathematical Intelligence

You are great at finding patterns and relationships between things.
Always curious about how things work, you love to set up experiments.
You need for the world to make sense - and are good at making sense of it.
You have a head for numbers and math ... and you can solve almost any logic puzzle.

You would make a great scientist, engineer, computer programmer, researcher, accountant, or mathematician.


Happy birthday! My birthday is December 23, so nobody ever remembers it.

Well Happy Belated Bday Rick!!!

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  • I'm Evydense
  • From Edmonton, Alberta, Canada
  • And I'm tired of living in the shadow of narrow-mindedness and ignorance. So here's the fax, Jack! "The Bible contains six admonishments to homosexuals and three hundred and sixty-two admonishments to heterosexuals. That doesn't mean that God doesn't love heterosexuals. It's just that they need more supervision." - Lynne Lavner*** I'm confused; curious; satisfied; realistically resigned to being a frustrated idealist; usually at peace with myself, but not always. Amazed at how little I know, and wondering how much I need to understand.
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