Author Archives: zmanmark

Chasing Perfection

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According to Greek mythology, Momos, the God of blame, ridicule, scorn, and mockery, believed the only God or Goddess that was blameless was Aphrodite. Aphrodite failed to, and could not commit any wrongdoing; she was perfect. For the rest of us, including the rest of the Greek Gods and Goddesses, our attempts and desire to be perfect are futile. If we are perfectionists, sadly, we will always be disappointed.

What does it mean to be a perfectionist? Why do we give ourselves such impossible standards? What do we chase when chasing perfection, when trying to be perfect? And how does one let go of continuing a cycle of incessant striving? All are questions I have been facing these last couple of years.

One of the most profound things anyone ever said to me about myself was from an older friend. He once said to me, “It’s like you are running a race with millions of people; you are five miles ahead of everyone else, but you’re beating yourself up for not being ten miles ahead of everyone else.” Such a comment made very concise my particular state of mind in relationship to myself, and my life. I was and had been chasing perfection; I was chasing this illusory ideal and it fueled me. It was inexhaustible fuel because the goal was unachievable; nothing could be good enough; I would always have to do more, accomplish more, and achieve better than anyone else. If, in the face of accomplishment, something fails to be satisfying, that is because it is not meant to be. Being satisfied would mean not being perfect would mean letting go of an aspect of one’s identity that one has spent years reinforcing, probably for good reason, though that reason is no longer justifiable.

We chase perfection and allow ourselves to be motivated by impossible standards because it fuels and reinforces the identities we create, and we create identities in the first place largely to protect ourselves from the pains of the world; we create identities or other selves because our original self was not good enough for our parents, for others, or for society. Many times my identity has shifted, more appropriately my aims or goals changed, but the underlying theme remained the same: find a way to be perfect and good enough to prove I was deserving of love and recognition from the world.

Sadly, even in the midst of personal triumph and achievement there was a little voice that was not satisfied; that expected more. Being a Marine in the infantry became, “Why aren’t you a scout sniper?” Graduating with a degree in philosophy became “How come you haven’t offered the world the next great philosophical discourse?” Being recognized for my writing became, “How come you have not published a book yet?” Having successfully roamed and wandered the world became, “Why haven’t you thrown away your passport and really let go?” Visiting over twenty countries became, “Why not thirty countries?”

During one of my long travels abroad I was with my good friend in France. I mentioned to him how it would be really cool and liberating to backpack through parts of the world without any set plan, just wandering here and there without any specific time frame in mind. He said, “You’re doing that now?” My first thought was, “Oh yea, you’re right.” And yet there was this sense that I wasn’t travelling freely enough, wasn’t really going out on the limb. Thus even in the face of great accomplishment, what often ruled the day was what I had failed to do, even though that itself was an illusion.

At times I have certainly come to realize that my goals were set against the backdrop of impossible standards; I have realized that the way I was living, nothing would ever be good enough. The mind creates perfection based around the idea that nothing can live up to it.  Even Leonardo Da Vinci is rumored to have uttered on his deathbed, “I have offended God and mankind because my work did not reach the quality it should have!” Thus for someone caught up in chasing perfection, no matter the accomplishment, nothing is good enough, where perfection seems to be less about accomplishing and more about keeping one perpetually striving.

One of the more poignant understandings was to realize how habitually I would internalize anything that went wrong. This occurred so unconsciously that it became almost impossible to take a look from a higher elevation to see that what paraded as instinct of character was really self flagellation. Caught up in the task of bearing witness to one’s self, one must find a way to not only disidentify from the cycle of chasing perfection, but from the cycle of then being critical of one’s criticality.

Engaged in such a task, I can see that that the very person trying to free himself from perfection and guilt is doing so through a false self that is perfectionistic and guilt ridden. The question becomes, how can a person free themselves of perfection when the very person trying to overcome those things is caught up in them; how does one stop trying to be perfect when it is their perfect trying self that is doing the trying? Of course the answer is by simply stopping and letting go, but it must be done from a different approach. One of the things I do now when I recognize that something is not perfect, a mistake was made, or when I find myself being hard on myself, is that I say it’s ok, and just watch it.

Of course there is nothing wrong with setting high standards for ourselves. Setting impossible standards is the problem. More over, it is the inability to see some of the standards we set as impossible in nature that keeps us striving, continually pushing for what can’t be achieved, fueled by fundamental motivations that no longer serve us.

The Art of the Moment

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There is an art to being in the moment and fully appreciating something. There is a great subtlety involved with it. The art of the moment is where one drops off into an inclusiveness defined by nothingness, where the allure of the sensuous casts a light over all that is and can be felt, enclosing us in a timeless landscape of constancy and synthesis.

But to truly be in the moment one must give up a sense of being someone in the moment. This is not an easy thing to do. Most of us, even in moments where we claim we are in the present, are not. We are instead judging the world, capturing it, interpreting it in relation to how we have constructed our world in relation to our own identity and in relation to ideas. We try to be in the moment, but we want the moments to be ours, we want the moment to be our own, and the second we begin processing and acknowledging what we are experiencing, the second we are not experiencing.

With stillness and a finely tuned awareness one can watch that moment in an experience where one begins to move from the complete moment of the experience, off into one’s own world away from the present. It is very subtle and rather abrupt, but it can be experienced. In such a moment one will notice that often when perceiving something, one’s mind immediately wants to process that experience and categorize it in relation to itself and the conglomerate of memories and identities. Often, one is more concerned with being able to translate the experience to another. We are eager to put a label on it. We feel the urge to define, that egotistical urge, desperate to think the moment into existence, pretending that thought makes it real.

Thoughts, words, and ideas have a place of course but they are all only representations and as such they can never do justice to the experience, though that is what we desire from it. We want something to show to others and we get frustrated trying to explain ourselves. Language is flimsy at best and so our definition of experience is one that has an experiencer, but this kind of experience is different. When such things occur, the moment is lost and the purity of the experience is lost.

The most rewarding way to appreciate something and to fully experience it is to engage in a sensory experience without feeling the need to think about it or process it; without the need to say anything about it; instead, simply be with it and not try.

Indeed, trying becomes something paradoxical in and of itself. Naturally we are trying to do something, that is, be in the moment, but there is a difference between trying from an egoistic standpoint, and trying, where the intention to be is not a product of thought or conformity to some idealization. Instead, the intention to be becomes. This distinction can be experienced, again with careful awareness; one can watch the ‘you’ that is trying to be; one can see that conception of one’s self that has been created, the ego and the persona struggling to make the world more real and permanent than is possible.

In the end what “defines” the ability to be present has nothing to do with any force of the mind, there is no thought, or even mental effort. It is a letting go, an observing without an observer, a being without a being.

An Elucidation on Narcissism and the Nature of Self-Love

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Narcissism is a word and concept that is used and talked about extensively throughout the world of psychotherapy and everyday life. At once a term used to describe a condition of self obsession, it is also, at heart, a term used to denote a certain characteristic phase of life and attitudinal struggle to understand the relationship one has with his or her self, how that self stands in relation to the larger world, and in what capacity one is able to share that self with others. Underlying all of these is the relationship one has to one’s self, i.e. being able to love one’s self. But what does this mean?

It is often said that one cannot truly love another unless one can love his or her self. But what does this mean in narcissistic terms? Does a narcissistic person actually love himself or herself? Does loving one’s self make a person narcissistic? The goal of this paper is to elaborate on the term narcissism. Tracing it’s relevance in respect to the early stages of life, I will examine its core meaning in respect to neurosis, and will tackle some of the misconceptions associated with being narcissistic, all with the intent of understanding the topic in respect to self love and what it means to have a healthy relationship with one’s self. The goal of therapy, after all, is to help a person feel and maintain his or her innate worth, a kind of love in respect to one’s self as a living thing and a human being. I will begin with an assessment of the myth of Narcissus as found in Ovid’s “Metamorphoses.”

What does the myth say? What does the myth say about love and self-love? And why did this myth and its title figure come to be used as a reference for a neurosis? In the myth the young boy Narcissus, is cursed by the God Nemesis for refusing to return the affections of a young nymph. The curse is administered because Narcissus refuses to share himself with another. Not knowing exactly why Narcissus was unable to love another we are forced to surmise that Narcissus refused to love another largely out of arrogance. It is hard to know in what ways narcissism differs from arrogance, but since Narcissus refuses the love of the nymph before he has fallen in love with his own reflection, one must assume there is a difference between the two terms, and that the arrogance associated with the refusal of Narcissus to love is more about an unhealthy relationship with himself, or lack of a relationship with himself, than it is about an over zealous infatuation with himself.

There is a clue into this distinction when one examines the role of Echo. Alexander Lowen, speaking on the myth stated, “One can’t truly understand the myth unless one takes seriously the role of Echo. (Lowen, 1985, p26-7) He later stated,

It is significant that Narcissus fell in love with his image only after he rejected the love of Echo. Falling in love with one’s image – that is, becoming narcissistic, is seen in the myth as a form of punishment for being incapable of loving…Who is Echo? She could be our own voice coming back to ourselves. Thus if Narcissus could say, “I love you,” Echo would repeat these words and Narcissus would feel loved. (Lowen, 1985, p26-7)

Without assessing the role of Echo it is easy to interpret the myth of Narcissus simply as a curse laid on a young boy for his arrogance in refusing to love and be loved. But Narcissus is unable to love, not necessarily because he feels no one is good enough for him, but because in some sense he does not feel he is good enough. The tragedy is that if he could but return the love of Echo, she herself would reciprocate that love, “mirror” it, or “echo” it back to him.

Thus the myth highlights one of the original characteristics of what Freud would term ‘secondary narcissism’ whereby a person withdraws libido from the object onto one’s self. Narcissus is withdrawn from the beginning, and when he sees his own image reflected in a pool, he does not fall in love with himself because he does not know that indeed it is himself he is seeing. He falls in love with an external image devoid of any substance because he does not know himself. If he did, he might have returned the love of Echo or another nymph.

This is one of the main reasons the myth and image of Narcissus is wedded to a psychological neurosis. Narcissus falls in love with an image of himself, and that cannot be obtained because it exists outside himself. This is the tragedy, not just of loving one’s image at the cost of one’s self, but of being unable to love another because one does not have a healthy sense of self-possession.

Thus one of the big misconceptions surrounding narcissism is that individuals who are narcissistic love themselves and are obsessed with themselves. But this is only partially true, and at heart, false. It is true only in respect to a love for his or her external self/image. Lowen described five types of narcissistic disorders ranging from least to most severe where the more narcissistic one is the less one is able to identify with his or her feelings, where one has a greater identification with his or her image (Lowen, 1985, p14).

Thus it is not correct to say that narcissistic individuals love themselves because such an individual does not love his or her self in its entirety. Such a person is obsessed and “in love” with his or her image, but only at the cost of being alienated from his or feelings. That is, the obsession with the external image allows one to escape from his or her internal world of pain and suffering associated with feelings and emotions that an individual has come to distance his or her self from because of pain, guilt, and mistrust.

What are some of the lessons of this story? That being able to love one’s self means being open to receiving love from another? That knowing one’s self and loving one’s self are inextricably linked to being able to share that self? And yet such a love must not be shared out of a need to be validated by another. Healthy relationships are not based on co-dependence. Perhaps love must be received and shared from a place of self-deserving, honoring that place in someone we love that feels drawn to express his or her love and expressing one’s own love from a place of self worth?

The question of the nature of a healthy self-love is a complicated but important one. To love one’s self does not mean to withdraw one’s libido from the outside world onto one’s self narcissistically, but it also does not mean being so dependent on the outer world for love that one’s well-being depends on receiving love and affection from another. There is a struggle in this, and it can be traced back to the birth of consciousness.

Joseph Campbell said, “Traditionally, the first function of a living mythology is to reconcile consciousness to the preconditions of its own existence; that is to say, to the nature of life…The impact of this horror on a sensitive consciousness is terrific – this monster which is life. Life is a horrendous presence, and you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for that. The first function of a mythological order has been to reconcile consciousness to this fact.” (Campbell, 2004, p.3) Thus consciousness arises out of grief, a kind of reluctance to exist in the way that it does; the difficult truth that consciousness comes with an awareness of the difficulty of life.

Shannon Downing pointed to something similar when she stated, “Consciousness begins with the experience of separation and loss.”(Downing, 2004, p.63) That is, one becomes conscious of him or herself only after realizing that the feeling of being one with everything, that the world is an extension without a differentiation between self and other, is an illusion, or was an experience that must inevitably end. Thus consciousness is born of a feeling of being a separate thing. So if one asks what the nature of a healthy self-love is one must ask what one’s relationship to his or her conscious self is.

One might suggest that being conscious and having as sense of self are the same. But it must then be asked if a sense of self is born of loss from the beginning, how can one expect to develop a healthy self love when it is inevitably tied to the experience of separation and disconnection? One can love his or her self out of defense or avoidance, an avoidance of one’s self, and although this may seem paradoxical, this is indeed exactly what narcissists do. Narcissists invest their energies in to their images, their external selves. That is, they becomes obsessed with their external selves because their internal self, the self comprised of feelings, and emotions, the self, irrevocably tied to his or her infantile history, is too painful, too associated with disappointment and loss. As Alice Miller stated, “Narcissus was in love with his idealized picture, but neither the grandiose nor the depressive ‘Narcissus’ can really love himself. His passion for his false self makes impossible not only love for others but also, despite all appearances, love for the one person who is fully entrusted to his care: himself.” (Miller, 1987, p.78)

It must be pointed out that there is no sense of self before separation, but there is no sense of other either. So the question of a healthy self love has its origins in and is ultimately about how one orients one’s self in relationship to everything else. That is, a healthy self love again is not strictly about an other or strictly about a self; it is strictly speaking, not about being loved or of giving one’s self all the love one would like. It is something in between, but what can this be? Is there room for anything else?

Marion Woodman alluded to another possibility when she said, “That’s real love-making, where you experience the wholeness in yourself through the person you love.”(Woodman, 1993 p.119) Here one’s wholeness is experienced in another. It is not dependent on another and it does not negate one’s own sense of self. In fact Woodman later stated in the same interview, “I would say that so long as you don’t have a sense of your own totality, you are going to look for your wholeness in another person.” (Woodman, 1993 p.121) And so one must learn to be whole in themselves, but one must also be able and willing to experience that wholeness in another. Paradoxically this may require a leap of reason where one is other and other is one, where both are connected and yet differentiated.

What is apparent here is the pull between one’s self as individual and one’s self as other. Both must somehow be reconciled. One must be individual and yet one must recognize a greater being than the one connected solely to one’s ego and sense of separation. Thus the question of what it means to love one’s self in a healthy way points to the reconciliation of the reality of one’s individuality, to care for it, not in a self-obsessed partially negating way, but in a way that can own one’s responsibility to his or her self as a living thing, and realize possibly that one’s essence is inevitably tied to something more. Edinger talked about this struggle when he said,

“In my experience, the basis of almost all psychological problems is an unsatisfactory relation to one’s urge to individuality. And the healing process often involves an acceptance of what is commonly called selfish… The majority of patients in psychotherapy need to learn how to be more effectively selfish and more effective in the use of their personal power; they need to accept responsibility for the fact of being centers of power and effectiveness…We demand from others only what we fail to give ourselves. If we have insufficient self-love or self-prestige, our need expresses itself unconsciously by coercive tactics toward others. And often the coercion occurs under the guise of virtue, love, or altruism.”(Edinger, 1992, p.160-1)

Here, selfishness is not something one can escape. But it is a healthy selfishness, a healthy self-love, one that must be willing to wed itself, from itself, out into the world, all while maintaining individuality in the midst of total connection. Edinger echoed this sentiment when he said, “What is required is not the extirpation of selfishness, which is impossible but rather that it be wedded to consciousness and thus becomes effective. All the facts of biology and psychology teach us that every individual unit is self-centered to the core. The only varying factor is the degree of consciousness which accompanies that fact.”(Edinger, 1992, p.160-1)

Thus, although it sounds “cheesy,” perhaps it is as simple as being capable of recognizing one’s self in others and seeing others in one’s self, that what people have in common outshines what they do not, and that where similarities overlap, individuals can experience a relationship that transcends them both. This is a kind of genuine relationship with the world itself, one Shannon Downing, speaking on Freud, talks about,

“He speaks sometimes of a transformed reality principle, of a metaphorical consciousness that would not be a return to the participation mystique of primitive and dream because it would be knowingly symbolic – it would recognize its projections as projections. It would take delight in the exercise of these projective powers as an authentic response to our situation. Such a response would transcend the narrowly “realistic,” utilitarian, and rational response of the untransformed reality principle, but would bring us into a genuinely erotic not narcissistic relation to the world.” (Downing, 2005, p.166)

Thus one can enter into a relationship with the world consciously, aware of one’s own needs and living for the sake of personal pleasure preservation, and yet still derive pleasure from seeing one’s self as part of a greater whole.

In a letter to Jung, Freud once wrote, “Psychoanalysis in essence is a cure through love.” (Bettelheim, 1984, p.NA) What kind of a love was Freud talking about? It may reference a healthy therapeutic relationship, one from the analyst to the patient, but at heart, this “cure through love” may be in reference to a remedy through the experience of a healthy self-love. Such a love means being able to feel that one is a living breathing person; where one can be open in respect to his or her feelings without shame or guilt; Where one can have an understanding of one’s thoughts, feelings, and emotions and be capable and willing to express them to some degree, to share them openly with others, not from a sense of needing to be validated, but from a place of basic self-respect and self-recognition; to share one’s self whether through artistic expression or romance, but ultimately, to have a conscious perceptive feeling that one’s feeling self does not begin or end with one’s ego, but participates in something that is more than both other and individual in essence.

 

References

American Psychiatric Association. (2013). Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of

Mental Disorders: DSM-5. Washington, D.C: American Psychiatric Association.

 

Bettelheim, Bruno. (1984). Frued and Man’s Soul. New York, NY: Vintage Books.

 

Campbell, Joseph. (2004). Pathways To Bliss; Mythology and Personal Transformation.

            Novato, CA: New World Library.     

 

Downing, Christine. (2004). Freud’s Mythology of Soul: The Body as Dwelling Place of

Soul. In The Luxury of Afterwords. New York, NY: Universe

 

Downing, Christine. (2005). Sigmund Freud and the Greek Mythological Tradition. In

            Preludes: Essays on the lucid Imagination. New York, NY: Universe

 

Edinger, Edward F. (1992). Ego and Archetype. Boulder, CO: Shambhala.

 

Lowen, Alexander. (1985). Narcissism, Denial of the True Self. New York, NY:

Simon & Schuster.

 

Miller, Alice. (1987). The Drama of Being a Child, The Search For the True Self.

London: Virago Press.

 

Ovid. Metamorphoses. Translation by Melville, A. D. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

http://www.theoi.com/Heros/Narkissos.html.

 

Woodman, Marion. (1993). Conscious Femininity: Interviews with Marion Woodman.

            Toronto, Canada: Inner City Books.

Memories Most Memorable

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It’s said that when we die our entire life flashes before our eyes. If so, I like to believe that some of our most profound, meaningful, and loving experiences will take the time to play themselves out once more before we fully pass. Which memories will they be? Which memories will we choose to remain with, even if for just a fraction of a second longer?

A few weeks I ago I was searching for such a memory. Frustrated and unable to fall asleep I thought it would help if I could think of a moment from my life where I was truly happy and at peace, a moment of real joy, beauty, and bliss. I wanted to locate that moment and focus on it in the hope that it would cozy me to sleep.

I roamed the recesses of my mind and memory reliving those moments that left a great impression; many profound memories came to mind: memories of first kisses, and first loves; moments with nature, floating on my back down a river, shooting stars, the blue hole in the Red Sea; moments of travel, the Great Pyramid, Petra, Paris; moments with family and friends, cooking and baking with my grandma as a boy, seeing everyone at the airport when I got back from Iraq. All of these have a place in my heart. But in this particular moment there was one memory I settled on.

It is a memory involving my niece: When she was less than a year old she was staying the night at my parent’s house where I was living at the time. It was morning and she was still sleeping up in her crib. I decided to go up to check on her. I slowly opened the door and walked in. I was perfectly quiet and made absolutely no sound. Once in the room I noticed she was still sleeping, curled up into the corner of the crib on her belly the way she always slept. I did not want to wake her and so I just stood there watching her, enjoying the solemnity of the moment. I stood for about thirty seconds perfectly still and quiet before she suddenly and randomly woke up off her belly and quickly looked behind her. She saw me and instantly smiled. It was that moment seeing her smile that stuck with me. That smile of hers shot through me like arrows. That was the memory I was looking for.

I remembered that I brought this same memory up when I was at the monastery of Plum Village in France. During group meditation there was a discussion on happiness; anyone wishing to speak on the topic was invited to do so. Someone asked what lasting happiness was. I said that I did not know, if I knew I imagine I would not have been there. But, I said, there was a moment involving my niece, and I relayed to them the same story I just mentioned. I told them I am not sure what lasting happiness is but I imagine it to be something like the smile on my niece’s face when she looked back at me; something like that.

Memories are a vast realm. I often wonder if such memories accompany us on our journey into the great void? Are such moments grounded in a reality that transcends the confines of time? I hope so. It feels so.

Thoughts on God

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For me God is the recognition of something over and above what my individual will can do, accomplish, fathom, and comprehend; I believe in God when I recognize there are forces, factors, or powers outside of my control that influence the outcome of my everyday life. What are these factors? Well there are a number of them. How do they work? Well I don’t know. I can neither comprehend, nor understand the full force of contributing factors that have come to influence my life and affect how it has sometimes played out; no matter how hard I’ve tried to control my life there have been and are factors and situations outside my control. Where that sense of the incomprehensible reigns, God for me exists as something.

It’s the same when I try to process some overwhelming feeling, or sense of awe, times when I have been overwhelmed by the sight of nature, a beautiful woman, a shooting star, or a smiling baby. At other times I have been completely overcome by an attraction and the feeling of being in love; I have felt that power over the senses; I have tried to comprehend that force behind it only to be left feeling bewildered. It is like calculating the symbol ‘Pi,’ the sense of the immeasurable and incomprehensible just going on and on and on; the feeling and the fathoming are like a repeating decimal.

Many times in my life I have been uncomfortable with using the word ‘God.’ I have gone through a lot of phases of thinking where I was highly influenced by this or that philosopher or this or that school of thought. But even at my most logically oriented, logically positivist thinking I still felt uncomfortable saying that I did not believe in God or that I was an atheist. It did not seem or feel right to me. Nor has it always felt right to say I believe in God, call myself a deist, a theist, or anything else in this respect.

The question then often arises, “Do I believe in God?” Well it depends. It depends on what one means when he or she talks about God. If by God one means some person in heaven, some reified concept specific to one religious faith and system then the answer is No. But if instead one refers to something along the lines of an entity or force that can’t be comprehended or defined but somehow seems to exist as part of something bigger than what one can personally comprehend then Yes, I believe in God.

Another question: Why even use the word ‘God?’ In talking about an inability to control or understand life’s circumstance and happenings why not use the words like ‘chance’ ‘fate’ or ‘luck?’ Or if language is so imprecise, then why say anything at all? I do use other words sometimes but I feel I use the word ‘God’ because it conveys my respect I have toward that power and because it does seem to me to be a living force for me, though I’m not sure of what kind. The word just has an appropriacy perhaps due to some of the connotations that are connected with it.

I often think of the way one uses the infinity symbol to denote infinity. As a place holder the symbol denotes a concept, but as a symbol it is limited in its ability to do justice to the totality of infinity itself. Does the symbol show infinity? Yes and no. It successfully represents a concept but it cannot represent infinity in its entirety. That is how I think of the word ‘God.’ It denotes something but that something can’t be fathomed. It is more appropriate to say the word ‘God’ denotes the absence of.

It is unfortunate that terms become loaded with connotations the way they do, but then again, it is some of the connotations that make me use the word instead of another. Some people develop such an aversion to institutional fundamentalist religion that the word ‘God’ owing to its association with the later makes a person reluctant to embrace the word on any level. Connotations also affect the word ‘atheist.’ Some people may in fact call themselves atheists owing to its usual reference to the lack of belief in a kind of God associated with more literal interpretations and yet still believe in some kind of force or power over and above human will and comprehension that has an ability to evoke awe or a kind of divine zeal.

I think in any case it is important to look at all language as innately flawed. It is such because language can only be a representation and no representation can ever fully depict a thing or a feeling. Language is an incredible creation and its flaws should not keep us from ever expressing ourselves, but its limitations have to be embraced along with its capabilities. Any conversation, expression or communication through language should remain open-ended with an ear for the connotations and intentions that can’t always be translated into words. Even at its most beautiful or most precise, language cannot do one’s thoughts and feelings justice. And that’s a good thing, a wonderfully frustrating thing.

Going Mad in a Sane Society

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This parable is known as the “King and the Poisoned Well.” There are different variations, but many cultures retain some version:

“There was once a wise king who ruled over a vast kingdom. He was feared for his might and loved for his wisdom. Now in the heart of the city, there was a well with pure and crystalline waters from which the king and all the inhabitants drank. When all were asleep, three witches entered the city and poured seven drops of a strange liquid into the well. They said that henceforth all who drink this water shall become mad. The next day, all the people drank of the water, but not the king. And the people began to say, “The king is mad and has lost his reason. Look how strangely he behaves. We cannot be ruled by a madman, so he must be dethroned.” The king grew very fearful, for his subjects were preparing to rise against him. He had a difficult choice: risk being destroyed by his beloved subjects or drink from the poisoned well and become mad like them. So that evening, he ordered a golden goblet to be filled from the well, and he drank deeply. The next day, there was great rejoicing among the people, for their beloved king had finally regained his reason.”

In a society largely defined by its alienation from nature, its disassociation from feeling, its obsession with image, its fast pace, its use of the accruement of large sums of money and material possessions as a marker of success, its focus on doing, its endless proliferation of products, its unshakable faith in technology, and its blind relentless drive towards “progress,” it is quite accurate to say that such characteristics have become the norm, and yet that does that make such characteristics normal, healthy, or sane?

If what is crazy can become what is common than what is common becomes what is normal; if madness becomes what is normal than being sane becomes a kind of madness. When looking at society today, which one is it? With all that composes society today, are the characteristics normal and healthy or are they just common, familiar to the point where it’s too difficult to imagine it could have been or could be any other way? And when looking at ourselves; are we healthy and happy or are we lost in some kind of abnormality, too common to be recognized as such?

If indeed the characteristics I have mentioned are normal, it is fair to say that those individuals who value taking their time, who value being mindful, who value a healthy relationship with themselves and the environment, and who lack an over-riding fascination for the material and the unachievable are indeed crazy, and that is what it can feel like for those individuals who don’t feel they fit in, “Am I crazy? Am I normal?” Well yes and no.

Most people would say they are normal, but being normal and living within normality doesn’t necessarily mean one is not crazy. It may bring some sense of comfort to belong, and maybe that’s enough to make it worth it. But feeling normal with regards to who one is around and who one is in common with counts for very little when it comes to understanding who in society may be living a more full life, i.e. who is crazy and who is not. But then again, if the majority of people are mad does anything else really shine through? The “wise” king after all does decide to drink from the same well as everyone who is crazy. Perhaps he recognizes the futility of being sane. Perhaps politically speaking that is the correct implication from the standpoint of the “perfect ruler;” his job is to rule effectively and how can he do that when those he rules consider him to be crazy? For the rest of us, is such a choice necessary?

We all face similar options in respect to our families, the culture we are brought up in, the traditions of our countries, and the relationship we wish to have with the greater world. Are we willing and able to stand alone for the sake of a personal understanding with one’s self that gives all the recognition one needs? Can this be done without recourse to what is common and deemed normal? Do we have to be a little bit crazy just to survive in a “normal” society?

 

Prose Pieces

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Dashed to pieces against the shores of an arrogant sublimity parading itself down the vaulted corridors of my inner palace; only in my mind, only in thoughts was my reason on firm ground; were such thoughts to venture from the premises and step out into the gilded world, they would find themselves stranded, and what’s worse for a mind mired in self adulation (as all minds are), completely worthless.

–

She was gone now, but his memories were so painfully vivid; they conjured up her ghost around the buildings, along the pathways and sidewalks, in the forest, and on the hills across the fields.

The path went by her room, the path he had to walk everyday to get to town. He walked the path daily and every time he approached her building his heart would pound, his stomach would drop, and his eyes would try and shoot out from their sockets toward its direction. He always looked, and it always made him feel, and the feeling always made him think, and his thoughts always made him wonder, and his wonder always made him afraid, afraid he had lost her forever, and with it, the challenge of feeling love at its extreme limits became a delicate test of teetering on the brink of sanity, unsure of whether the disintegration of his mind taking place, was at heart, some divine and cleansing purgation, or the effect of some disastrous misfortune to his psyche; or both.

–

I could feel my inner adversary warning me through eyes of blotted fire, reminding me of the consequences of failure, wielding guilt – that conjoined bastard twin of the self, congealed to one’s better half and cutting through like a scythe across my gut, the sound of which whispered sounds of the futility in triumph, slicing through my bowels; how any success would never be enough. And yet, to give up – give up what?

–

If only it wasn’t such a struggle to give one’s feelings a home, somewhere inside. Feelings should be welcomed into one’s life to live comfortably along side one’s self instead of being treated like some flat mate reluctantly allowed to live with you for the sake of cheaper rent.

–

All my reasons, my fool-proofed arguments, and land-locked excuses; all my hardness; my determination; all my grit; all was shattered upon seeing her again; from one glance; one look and my gut swelled with desire, the way the sky swells with light from the sun as it makes it’s first nod above the horizon. How does a forest fire begin from a spark? It seems impossible, does it not? but then it happens.

–

He had chanced to utter things that he instantly regretted, that he knew he never meant, words that merely spoke themselves – that is language sometimes.

He had seen her eyes close. He saw she had lost herself in a possibility, a possibility his words had only suggested, but not foretold: that he might get to a point where he could not stand her; something he immediately said would never happen. But the possibility had been spoken, and people live in possibility.

–

Just this once, give up all your memories and embrace the sensation of the ever present void, that “blank check” of creation, dashing itself upon the shores of discernment, not as a conqueror, but as an all-pervading “what will be,” a kind of sempiternal foundation to which an eternity of constructions may lay themselves upon. It does justice to life much as you believe the opposite; if you could but draw reality from the figure of your imagination.

Things I enjoy Most in Life

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Color, light, beauty, breath,

 

Silence, awareness, feeling

 

Love, loving, surrendering to love

 

Relaxation, rest and being

 

Eating, cooking and preparing food

 

Being Naked

 

Working on a deep philosophical problem or text, shinning a light on it

 

Nature: being alone in the woods, Rain; watching and listening to it rain; walking barefoot through grass or sand

 

The perfect evening: Meaningful, insightful, and thoughtful conversation over dinner at a good restaurant with a woman I love, a walk afterword through a good park, and a night of passion and love

How do We Feel About Honesty?

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I could not have been more than five, but I distinctly remember a scene where I was sitting in the middle seat of my parent’s van. In the very back of the van sat my much older sister and her friend. We were all in a parking lot waiting for my mom to return. At one point I looked back at my sister and her friend, they were talking about their weights and whether or not they were fat. My sister then asked me who I thought was fatter, her or her friend. In a moment of unhesitant honesty I pointed to the friend of my sister, who immediately started crying. My sister then scolded me for what I said. I was confused. A few moments later my mom returned to the car. My sister told her what I said, and my mother scolded me even more; “You don’t tell people such things.” Now I was really confused. I thought I was just being honest, telling the truth. Wasn’t that how I was raised? I had not told her out of malice. My only intention was to tell the truth. What had I done wrong?

At that moment I became confused about honesty. I was confused then and I am still confused now. Eventually growing older, one realizes that being honest all the time is probably not very wise. Everyone has been in a situation where a friend or family member says, “Tell me the truth. I promise I won’t be mad.” But of course that is hardly good insurance. Then quite possibly, one gives an answer that was unexpected and hurtful. One notices the pain inflicted and says, “You promised not to get upset,” with the response being, “Yes, but I didn’t know you would answer in such a such a way.”

Honesty is esteemed as a noble characteristic, one that is valued in relationships both personal and societal. We are raised on phrases such as ‘honesty is the best policy,’ or ‘the truth shall set you free.’ One of the most unattractive qualities according to a number of women is dishonesty. In the movie “A Few Good Men” Tom Cruise demands of Jack Nicholson, “I want the truth!” The response: “You can’t handle the truth.” Even the founding of our country involves a story about the first president as a young boy fessing up to his father about cutting down his favorite cherry tree, saying, “I cannot tell a lie.”

We are raised on the nobility of being honest and yet there is much ambiguity surrounding its true value, not just in our ability to be honest with others, or one’s ability to tolerate the honesty of others, but honesty with one’s self; self-deception instead of self awareness. Everyone wants people to accept them for who they are but how many people can actually honestly say they know who they are and what that even means? Who can honestly say they put an effort into HONESTLY knowing who they are and why?

One is then tempted to ask certain questions like, “Is it best to be honest 100% of the time?” This is what we tell our children even though we then lie to them about Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, death, and where babies come from. Do we truly want others to be honest ALL the time in our relationships? An older friend once told me the real secret to a successful relationship is for two people to be able to be completely honest all the time. Is that true? Are there shades of meaning to what he said?

What about self deception? Is it the mark of a  truly grounded self respecting person that no truth could ever weaken them? While it may be easy to argue that deceit, dishonesty or “little white lies” may be good in certain situations where truth may be to harmful for a person to hear, can self-deception ever have a real value or is it important that we be 100% honest with ourselves all the time, being sure to learn from truth instead of run from it? After all, we can’t change what we are unwilling to acknowledge. On the other hand, what are defense mechanisms but clever little tricks of the mind/ego to protect us from some damaging truth or experience.

I don’t have any answers. I have a good sense for where I stand, but that’s it.

Caring More About Understanding Your Self or Being Understood?

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Many people are more concerned with being understood by others than with having an understanding of who they are. We put only a fraction of the energy into understanding ourselves compared to the energy put into expecting and wishing to be understood by others.

So many things a person does, while from the outside appearing to demonstrate self respect, self-understanding, and self-contentment are really just covert ways of getting attention, asserting an identity, or promoting an idealized image of one’s self.

And of course many people in response would simply assert and take as granted the fact that he or she does know who they are. But in all likelihood they don’t; and they would not feel the need to assert it if they did since saying so verbally would not make it anymore obvious to the rest of us.

I have a personal interpretation of the word ‘understanding,’ and although it’s not etymologically accurate (at least I don’t think so) it has helped me put some things in perspective.

The word ‘understanding’ can be broken down into ‘under’ and ‘stand,’ or ‘standing under.’ What comes to mind for me is a tree; everything a tree is owes itself to the quality of its roots “standing” underground, under what is visible, and how deep and strong they are able to grow. The ironic part is that this aspect is never seen by anyone, and although the fact that a tree is growing large green and beautiful leaves gives some indication to the quality of its roots, the roots themselves will never be seen, understood or appreciated in quite the same light with respect to the tree as a whole.

Like the roots of a tree, all the self-understanding, self-compassion, and self-recognition a person can give his or her self will always be qualities that no one will ever really see and understand. For most of us that’s not good enough, and we live lives where all our accomplishments, far from being done from a place of self worth and self-appreciation are done for attention and recognition; all things one should first and foremost be able to provide his or her self with.

Ask yourself when you do something great or come to some great realization, or have some great experience: “Do I care more about having had such an amazing experience, having touched some eternal aspect of life, or do I care more about being recognized and being given attention for what I’ve accomplished and experienced?” Ask, “Am I content with knowing my true intention for something was pure, that I did something without anyone knowing, or do I care more about being recognized for what I did?”

Ultimately, no one can see your inner peace, your self-compassion, your inner understanding, your true intentions, and connectedness to life. For many people that’s not good enough, which means caring more about gaining such things from others, which means one really never had them for his or her self to begin with. If you have such experiences then savor them for the sake of your own essence. And of course, share those experiences in the special ways you can, but beware the translation will never be 100% accurate, and that the recognition, love, and satisfaction are first and foremost the responsibility of each and every person to provide to and for themselves.