This will most probably be a rambling and at times incoherent post as the last few days for me have been of a similar nature. A few personal crises that have chosen to emerge at the same time, as these sorts of things always do. I let the stress get the better of me and it impacted my professional endeavors which is a personal disappointment, but I will deal with it. The nature of the issues are not important; what interests me is the mechanisms we use to continue to function in the midst of unwelcome events.
In my first book I wrote a line that went something like this: nothing makes much sense when you’re in the middle of doing it.
Sometimes nothing makes much sense for well after the fact as well.
It’s a strange old game this life thing. The awareness we have of living, of a journey, and eventually of our own impending mortality. My cat calmly toys with a fly that will end in the insect being consumed. The cat has no awareness of this. If a larger predator returned the favor to my cat in kind it would end its existence in fear, pain, and terror. But the lack of awareness means it can function at will, right up until that fateful moment.
We get to do the same but with the understanding that goes with it. That’s some kind of pressure, although in all honesty in some of the places around the world in which I have lived I’m not sure that all humans have this same awareness. Being close to becoming an animal is losing this capacity for the predisposition of events. Or maybe returning to be an animal, I don’t know. I’ve always said that children are little barbarians waiting to be civilized.
I don’t even know if the word predisposition is correct in that context. And that’s after looking it up. Like I said, a little incoherent tonight.
The things that I value in life are inevitably the things that I can lose. Personal traits and talents, relationships, even some material things. I’ve been running on empty for such a long time now that finally when we get everything all sorted out, that’s when the crap chooses to rise to the surface in an unwelcome murk. When you’re surviving you push away and avoid dealing with your shit; but eventually everything has to be dealt with and the longer that you put it off then the worse the calling card will be.
Churchill used to get the black dog. I don’t suffer from that same ailment, I just run out of steam. The kettle has been dry for some time now, which makes my output on this blog all the more fascinating for me. Sometimes I encounter an old article that I have written and it is like reading it for the first time. If it wasn’t my name at the top of the page then I wouldn’t know that I was behind it. The thoughts are mine but the words seem to come from someone else. Although to be honest, some of the thoughts seem strangely alien as well. Not in that I disagree with them but I have trouble believing that I was able to come up with something of that nature.
I feel that these last couple of years of running on empty is the reason why I have stalled on my third book. But already in the acknowledgement of my own personal reality I have inklings of green shoots as regards to new ideas for how it should proceed.
We all go through phases. I stopped raft guiding around the world after several years of only seeing the summer months. I missed the cold and darkness of winter. Something about that time of year means a recharging of the batteries inside of us. I think that time is very important and maybe something of a similar nature is occurring to me in a personal way now.
Like I said, not making much sense tonight. We’re not robots, after all.