Trickling, Gushing, and Flooding

Posted on June 23, 2006 in Reflections Thinking

Thank you to everyone who responded to my rant. I feel loved. I thought I’d speak a little more deeply on the nature of my irritable angst.

I used to write these all the fucking time. I think I’ll tell my side of the story about Mr. Ecologist sometime soon, if only to exorcise it from my own brain.

What gets me is that the negative views of the others about me get perpetuated. It comes down to whose friends are the ones who can disseminate their views to the widest audience. I just wish my disease wasn’t a cause for attacking or, even crueler, ignoring me. Most of you know what I am on about — that hole inside the social atmosphere that I am supposed to be sharing with other people.

Most of the time I cried for help before I flamed. There’s this rift between me and “the Sane”. Mr. Ecologist once came here and I asked him after all he’d put me through, how could he pretend that we were buddies? He got all pissy. I’ve studiously avoided his blog, but now and then I see a reference. Jealous? I think that’s a piece of it. There never was an apology, an admission of responsibility for his behavior. Factor in anger, frustration, and hurt feelings.

I think a lot of blog writing is empty these days because people are so into being pundits they forget to be human beings. I suspect that these people are pretty normal in their lives, with maybe a few New Age touches (mea culpa, I have my luminous dolphin picture) to the home. You can find them at the local Renaissance festivals and the like. I have seen many of these and even though I share many points of belief, the empty culture repels me.

But I do want contact. Like many of us, I crave what I do not like. Not so much so since I was finally diagnosed rightly. If I possess borderline tendencies, then they are treatable by medication and cognitive therapy. (My love to my borderline friends who continue to suffer. You do have it hard and I earnestly hope that you will rise another day for many more years until they find an effective treatment. Oh, and keep rising after that, too.) There’s an emptiness that I believe I can help fill.

To accept me, the materialism and the cock-suredness has to go. Embracing Uncertainty cures the worst deficits of the New Age psychology and philosophy. This is the social dimension. Near that is the responsible employment of Certainty, which is Science. It’s funny how Scientology — to name one New Age cult (I feel Wicca comes close to my views and should not be included in this damnation) — is at once cocksure and dead wrong. But that is often the case with the New Age which tried to insist, for example, that Gaia was an actual testable scientific hypothesis when it was only a metaphor. The average New Ager sees himself as swimming in the cerulean and blue light of the oceans alongside the dolphins when he is actually broken atop the craggy salt-bottoms of deceased lakes.

Where I have been pushed by my own sorrowful deeds, I have found water, brackish in the first licks, but purer as I root about for what I want to be about. In the slow four years that this blog has been developing and I have been making my serotonin discharged mistakes as well as successes I have found a certainty that is less than grandiose. I am not the Prophet Joel (except in high mania); I have been gathering unto myself a rhythm all my own. You will not shoot me as an arrow at a target because that is not how I travel. I trickle, gush, and flood.

I will say no more. Meditate on that and maybe you will get me.