Watching Band of Brothers and thinking about the imperative that human beings wage war with one another. Absurd though the notion is, philosophically, it is one of those behaviors that we perpetuate despite compelling evidence to the contrary. My father and my father's father saw war. There is an emptiness inside me for not having 'done my duty' because I have only experienced it vicariously. I know that I have no business being in one, nor can I offer support to any effort which would seek to glorify or sanctify it. I understand that resources are limited in this world, that there is a perception that there is too little _________* to go around; that a perspective focused on the lack of some need intensifies the need, and that inevitably, war is waged to secure it. The problem I have is with where we draw the line between us and them. The truth is, we are all us, there is no them, really. It is only when we look to distort the vast number of similarities between us that a them can emerge. This is just a short note to put into words my ideas about this problem. I wonder: will human beings always be at war with one another? Will there be a day when the whole of us is united in peace? What will need to happen? Is it possible? Is there any reason to kill eachother? What ultimate good is served?
Money, weapons, food, energy, power(?)
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Let go, relax
Is my mantra, now. Amidst another bout of lower back pain, I am searching for reasons behind the frequency it flares up and hurts. I am at a loss as to what to do about it. The best I can manage is to remain focused on what is: this hurts.
What is pain, anyway? Resistance to feeling something I would rather not feel? I do not understand it as pain solely as a physical ailment. There is a psycho-somatic component to it also. And God knows I tend to hold on and dwell on shit. So, that makes my current strategy-to breathe, relax, and let go all the more important.
A list of what I hold on to:
• Vicki and the fact I have yet to see her grave.
• Justine being in my future as she was in my past.
• I am an artist.
• I am an athlete.
• I am youthful, that I still have time to fuck off with my time.
• I will pay everything I owe back.
• I am angry, sad and frustrated about how unfair this all is- that there is no one left for me, that I have sacrificed and toiled and given up just about all I once cared about for *this*?
• In order that I move forward I must have my vitality, physical well-being, energy and strong core.
• I will live up to my first-born responsibility to be available to help my folks when the time comes.
And there are likely other things I hold on to also.
Regardless, it doesn't alleviate the real issue: I do not trust my body.
I live in daily fear of this very state. That some minor movement will cause me a weeks worth of pain that leaves me huddled on the floor, curled up and scared. It feels like a karmic curse, sometimes. I never really accepted it like it seems I am being asked to.
That I may well be permanently disabled, that no amount of behavioral, therapeutic nor mental adjustment will ever heal the root injury.
It makes me crazy, my brain comes up with crazy ideas and I am left sleepless, angry and in despair.
It is times like this that reminds me why I wish that I had never been born. The sheer irrationality, that my mind cannot wrap around it makes me insane, that life, above all else, is really about pain and the pursuit of pleasure, avoiding pain at all costs.
So today, as much as I would like to be mobile and explore the neighborhood, seeking to re-op medicinally, I feel destined to sulk like an old cat who is unfit to do much else but curl up and feel sorry for herself.
I resent my body's imperfection, which is nothing compared to how mistrusting I am of my mind- churning out antagonistic thoughts that pull me in multiple simultaneous directions, none of which benefit from enough truth to be reliable. Alas, I am broken, not strong. I want to be strong, yet it is not my destiny apparently. I do not know what else to do now but rant. That is, other than letting go and doing what I can, thinking what I can to relax.
I put an immense amount of pressure on myself. I wish my ambitions were reasonable in scope, but they are not.
I wish I was in excellent physical condition, but I am not.
What is pain, anyway? Resistance to feeling something I would rather not feel? I do not understand it as pain solely as a physical ailment. There is a psycho-somatic component to it also. And God knows I tend to hold on and dwell on shit. So, that makes my current strategy-to breathe, relax, and let go all the more important.
A list of what I hold on to:
• Vicki and the fact I have yet to see her grave.
• Justine being in my future as she was in my past.
• I am an artist.
• I am an athlete.
• I am youthful, that I still have time to fuck off with my time.
• I will pay everything I owe back.
• I am angry, sad and frustrated about how unfair this all is- that there is no one left for me, that I have sacrificed and toiled and given up just about all I once cared about for *this*?
• In order that I move forward I must have my vitality, physical well-being, energy and strong core.
• I will live up to my first-born responsibility to be available to help my folks when the time comes.
And there are likely other things I hold on to also.
Regardless, it doesn't alleviate the real issue: I do not trust my body.
I live in daily fear of this very state. That some minor movement will cause me a weeks worth of pain that leaves me huddled on the floor, curled up and scared. It feels like a karmic curse, sometimes. I never really accepted it like it seems I am being asked to.
That I may well be permanently disabled, that no amount of behavioral, therapeutic nor mental adjustment will ever heal the root injury.
It makes me crazy, my brain comes up with crazy ideas and I am left sleepless, angry and in despair.
It is times like this that reminds me why I wish that I had never been born. The sheer irrationality, that my mind cannot wrap around it makes me insane, that life, above all else, is really about pain and the pursuit of pleasure, avoiding pain at all costs.
So today, as much as I would like to be mobile and explore the neighborhood, seeking to re-op medicinally, I feel destined to sulk like an old cat who is unfit to do much else but curl up and feel sorry for herself.
I resent my body's imperfection, which is nothing compared to how mistrusting I am of my mind- churning out antagonistic thoughts that pull me in multiple simultaneous directions, none of which benefit from enough truth to be reliable. Alas, I am broken, not strong. I want to be strong, yet it is not my destiny apparently. I do not know what else to do now but rant. That is, other than letting go and doing what I can, thinking what I can to relax.
I put an immense amount of pressure on myself. I wish my ambitions were reasonable in scope, but they are not.
I wish I was in excellent physical condition, but I am not.
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