hopelesshappiness.com

One, two, four, five, seven, six, nine, ten, eleven, thirteen, twelve... In recent weeks I have discovered that this is how some people count. My workload has recently increased, but the hours I am available to work, have not. So until "the powers that be" are able to effectively restructure, I have been given some limited temporary help, and others are pitching in when they can. To aid in this transition, I have created a number of process guides. When given these step-by-step, numbered sets of instructions and one round of training, more often than not, the instructions are set aside and these grown-up, responsible adults forget how to count. And even once they are on their own, if I am nearby, they often choose to ask me rather than to find the answer amongst all those nonsensical hieroglyphics.

Perhaps it is a question of ownership. Or power. Or comfort. Or perhaps, in this day and age of instant social contact at one's fingertips, it is simply an aversion to the impersonal nature of written instruction. As cultural diversity, social interaction, and individual aptitudes have evolved, (all, I believe, for the better), learning styles have also changed. So perhaps my expectations for one to take ownership, without power, and with some discomfort, and to additionally count accurately from 1 to 13 without becoming distracted, are too high.

Really!

Perhaps Not.

Perhaps instead, I am being too quick to judge, and my expectations, (instead of being too high), actually fall short. I say this now, because as the learning process (for these specific tasks), has advanced, I am beginning to notice fewer questions and more frequent referencing of the written process guides. And I have found that thirteen really should go before twelve, and we really can skip eight. We have improved the process. At the beginning, what I took to be an inability to follow instructions was instead, a product of the aforementioned advanced and evolving individual aptitudes. Learners today don't necessarily have an aversion to the impersonal nature of written instruction, but we do have an aversion to blind obedience. Learners today are skeptical. Learners today need to ask questions, and want to understand. This is good. My original assessment was wrong.

To extend this thought, I believe that this practice of skeptical questioning and this desire for a greater depth of understanding, is more apparent and easier to implement in an impersonal circumstance, (such as written instruction). To add a friend or family member, or even just an acquaintance or a stranger with a charismatic personality, creates a more personal circumstance which has the potential to discourage skepticism and quell disagreement. This is not good.

Did I mention that I was wrong in my original assessment?

It is much easier to be skeptical than to be questioned. When I think about that and actively acknowledge that it is much easier to be skeptical than to be questioned, I also realize that the more personal and/or the more emotional the circumstance, the more difficult it is to practice productive, two-way skepticism. Even with my active acknowledgement, if another does not also actively acknowledge the value of being questioned, the learning and growth is halved. And this is why the fringe is the fringe, and also why the mainstream is divided; a network of tributaries of varying widths and depths and speeds, that split and evolve and rejoin and split again, with the fringe running alongside on the banks, trying to simultaneously dig new channels and keep up. It is no surprise that, (at least for now), most individuals choose to float along on the widest, shallowest, slowest, safest branch they can find.

But it is also encouraging to learn that thirteen can come before twelve.

Late last week, I had a difficult and disturbing dream. A stainless steel dinner fork was being held to my ribs on my left side. It was being maneuvered in a way to find entry between my ribs so as to gain access to my heart. I could not stop it. Finally, after multiple attempts, the angle was steepened and a potential opening was detected. I felt the eating utensil slide between the ribs, and rip and tear its way upward. I felt all four tines apply pressure and then slowly and painfully pierce the quivering muscle. I awoke still perceiving the sharp pain. After a few moments, it began to subside. I lay awake for some time afterward working to understand what it meant that in my dream I would wield such a weapon and cause such pain to myself. It is hard to explain the simultaneous feelings of horror and satisfaction upon finding this unexplored passageway leading to my Lifeblood.

The day before this dream I had an echocardiogram. With coronary artery disease and 7 Stents, the test was normal procedure. Today, (Wednesday), I got a call from my doctor's office with the results. Last Fall, at the time of my most recent Stent implants, my ejection fraction was 33%. It is now at 55%, which is in the normal range. This is not good news... It is great news! I have been worried; and I am fairly certain it is this anxiety that encouraged the content of my dream.

In a sense, I feel vindicated. For the past nine months, I felt I was to blame for the damage to my heart; but if there is truth in that, there must also be some truth in taking credit for the improvement. And regardless of the reality that both blame and credit are commonly exaggerated, it still feels good.

The connection between body and mind and emotion is undeniable. To dream and realistically---(realistically, in the sense that it is taken seriously and impacts physical and emotional responses)... To dream and realistically represent unspoken feelings and fears in a mind glaze of hallucinatory symbolism, is (for me) an indicator of the untapped depth and breadth of my potential for understanding. I do not consider these sleep forays to be magical or mystical, and I would consider them from "the beyond" only if one considers this "beyond" to originate from within. Unexplainable though it may be, in my sleep, I can see further, and delve deeper. In my sleep, I have less of a say. In my sleep, I am more truthful. In my wakefulness, I am afraid.

I want to understand. I want to see further. I want to delve deeper. I want to be more truthful. I believe by opening myself to these dreams I am strengthening these abilities, and in turn I am productively confronting conscious fear and anxiety.

It is Thursday morning. Last night I had another disturbing dream, exposing another unspoken, personal truth. I will not reveal details for fear---(a product of my wakefulness)---others will judge. (On a visceral level, this dream was drastically horrifying.) Yet, (at the risk of sounding Freudian), I still maintain that these mindmares, when properly examined, have more potential to reveal deeper personal truths than the decorum of our daily wakefulness ever will.

I have consistently had disturbing dreams for some number of years now. And, (as implied above), in some regards they are thought-provoking and helpful. Do I have these dreams because I am more open to truthfulness? Or are they merely a by-product of my (healthful) diet, my (coronary) medicines, or some other chemical or biological process or influence? Though I just spent this much of this paragraph on these questions, as I ponder them, I don't believe they are relevant. Perhaps I needed to get past these questions to realize that it is the content of my dreams that is relevant. It is the content of these disturbing dreams that help me to see further, delve deeper, and speak unspoken personal truths; (just, perhaps, not out loud). And by recognizing these exposed anxieties and fears, I believe I am able to, (not only build creative tension leading to productive confrontation), but also provide a sharper contrast, thus adding discriminatory value, to those all-too-rare, meaningfully substantive feel-good moments, such as I experienced yesterday.

Which, in a roundabout way, brings me back to my dream and those feelings of satisfaction keeping pace with the more obvious and expected feelings of shock and horror. How/Why is that a feel-good moment?

... ... ... ... ...

I could present some mystical, Karmic reasoning, such as: By seeking a passage that leads from this plane of empirical existence, I was symbolically seeking a path to Enlightenment. And though this answer has some possibilities, it also has some impossibilities. I will move on.

... ... ... ... ...

Perhaps a more practical explanation for these seemingly inappropriate feelings of satisfaction is that I have lived a Life. And while I have been far, (far, far...) from Perfect, I am satisfied with my effort. And while the prospect of those final moments may be horrifying, I should actively and productively confront the associated fear of what comes after. Death is inevitable. I must work hard from this moment to that moment to maintain satisfaction with my effort. This week I felt a weight lifted and effort rewarded. Instead of weeks or months, I have extended my outlook to years or, (perhaps excessively optimistically), even decades; and I have been reminded to continue my effort. In. Each. Moment.

Today is Saturday. Late yesterday, as I wrote the last words of the paragraph above, I believed this post was complete. This morning I received an email from an old friend in another state, who is battling cancer. Near the end he wrote, "You beautiful people have enriched my life." This is an example of sharp contrasts that add value to life experience. This is what makes the effort worthwhile.

It is a very difficult task, to live compassionately. For me, to move outside of my center to an extent that will allow another, (or others), to live beside me in a solitary cocoon of empathy and understanding can feel like a severing of an appendage of my essence; (this sounds extreme, but think about it). Based on my limited observation, most individuals are unable to even conceive of such an arrangement. I believe that individuals who suffer loss and embrace the pain specifically to learn from it, are more likely to make this Herculean effort toward sincere compassion, than those who insist upon the comforts of single occupancy.

Compassion in its perfect form---(a large silky bubble voluntarily inhabited by 7.4+ billion individuals living in equitably mutual beneficence)---is likely not attainable; at least not in my lifetime. But I would like to think that the possibility is at least conceivable, by a significantly increasing number of individuals, in my lifetime.

To move toward Compassion in its perfect form, one must move away from one's own center. Many would argue against this tactic, perhaps claiming that to love and/or care for another, one must first love oneself. I believe this argument to only entrench one more firmly in their personal center, thus denying another the possibility of equitable shared space. Love and Compassion must include willing sacrifice; and if I sacrifice, it may encourage another to do likewise, creating a second shared center; and then a third shared center; and then a fourth; and ultimately 7.4+ billion shared centers. And remarkably, when multiple individuals create space in and around one's own personal center, we now have more shared, supportive, compassionate, loving center space than we ever thought possible.

This past two weeks I have put forth much thought and effort toward a manageable process that would move me closer to this end. I am moving slowly. I began by working to be aware that much of the communication from me to another, is faulty long before it is verbalized. In the gaps from feelings to thoughts to words, much is lost. Realizing this creates a new awareness that since it is likely impossible for me to effectively communicate urgency or importance, it is also quite likely that the individual or individuals on the receiving end will not adequately or accurately interpret passion or emotion. When stated as such, this awareness feels basic. Yet I still find myself, (more often than I like), to be dumbfounded as to why another, (or many others), do not clearly understand what I work so hard to communicate.

This past two weeks, I have worked to hold on to this awareness (of perceived inconsequentiality) into and through my astonishment over other's misguided perceptions; only to find, on the other side of my astonishment, others staring back in astonishment, astonished that I have not clearly understood their communication or adequately interpreted their passion and emotion.

So Far:

1. Faulty Verbalization.
2. Inadequate Interpretation.
3. Two-Way Street.

This is approximately where my active thought has come to be, in this moment. In this past two weeks, to stay focused and aware, and to continue moving toward compassionate living, I have been assigning two values (with a sum of ten) to each interaction or encounter with another or others. (Truthfully, I have found it difficult to implement in every case, but I have worked it into a fair sampling.) For the first value I work to quickly gauge the circumstance and the individual (or individuals) encountered in order to glean a number that will depict their perception of their relative importance compared to their perception of my relative importance. The second number becomes the difference between the first number and ten; (which, of course, depicts their perception of my relative importance). This sounds like an exercise in frustration, but I have found that when I turn the process on its head, I suddenly come to a better understanding of their center. I believe that the more frequently and consistently I practice this, the more likely the two versions will become one, ultimately, (no matter whose perception I begin with), resulting in a personal relative importance never more than five. Imagine that! Human interaction with a promise of equitable understanding. Talk about potential to alleviate suffering!

I would estimate that when I start with another's perception, on average, they believe their relative importance to be a 7, leaving their perception of my relative importance at a 3. When I turn to my perception, being truthful to myself, these numbers are reversed. With close friends and family, the numbers are more in the neighborhood of 6's and 4's. Two 5's have been rare, and I have yet to come across another whose perception of their relative importance is less than 5; and I don't believe one's own perception 'should' be less than 5; (or for that matter, ultimately, with practice, more than 5).

I believe there are SOME, (perhaps MANY), that may incorrectly interpret another's perception, believing that they place personal relative importance below THEIR own ego-inflated sense of importance. But I also believe that if one of THESE many made the effort to question and listen and understand, THEY would discover that THEIR interpretation/belief that another individual thinks THEY are more important, is in actuality a product of power. (In other words), there is circumstance in which it behooves one to step back and let ANOTHER believe in THEIR confused sense of importance.

This process of understanding that one's center appears to be more consequential than it is, from within the center, is only the first step toward compassionate living. Once I have made room and allowed another, (or others), in, to share my center, this alone will not resolve the power struggle. To work toward two 5's, I may, at least in the beginning, have to sacrifice a larger portion of my center than I would like, thus (depending on the degree of willingness inherent in the sacrifice) creating discomfort or even pain. This is the more difficult task. Looking back, to this point in my Life, I believe that when I have experienced prolonged discomfort and pain, (where "prolonged" is defined differently according to circumstance), I have evicted my tenant(s). (In the case of my Wife, Children, and Granddaughter, evictions have always been temporary, but have taken place nonetheless.) I believe this revolving door of compassion is common for most of us, and again I have come to an awareness that, when stated, feels basic and obvious:

When I allow another, (or others), into my center, I often expect gratitude in the form of agreement. Instead, to more sincerely practice compassion, I must allow them to maintain their own center within mine. I cannot dictate another's beliefs or methods AND maintain sincere compassion. We can seek common ground and then discuss and/or (passionately, but respectfully) argue ways and means to enhance productivity and to improve on the status quo; and then we must thoughtfully step back with individual dignity intact, and with mutual appreciation.

I see now that in my Life, though I have cared for and even loved others, and though I have made sacrifices in the interest of others, I have never truly and sincerely lived compassionately; because I have always, (in the process of caring and loving), worked to bend others to my way of seeing things. I have bullied in the name of the Greater Good. I have evicted in anger and self-righteousness. I have dismissed and ignored with certainty and disdain. I have caused pain for the sake of power and control. And in this moment, I feel shame; and sadness.

And in this moment, I also feel an active hope, welling up from my center. If I am able to see this, I would like to think that the possibility of Compassion in its perfect form is at least conceivable, by a significantly increasing number of individuals, in my lifetime.

Random Thoughts:

• It has been a mobile week. I have traveled 1,453 miles by air, 1,201 miles by vehicle, and 18.6 miles by foot. Parallels can be drawn from this perspective based on mode and speed of conveyance, to one's everyday perspective based on (varying degrees of) complexity and depth of thought.

• Where there is no common ground, rather than pointless argument, we should set a date and agree to meet in 100 years, at which time resolution will be further advanced and/or ascertained. Upon this agreement, we can then agree to limit discussion to more immediate earthly relevance and move on to common ground.

• The possibility transcends the actuality. Which is why we are inclined to get mired down in possibility. To work and narrow the gap between possibility and actuality is good. To work and maintain status quo is (at best) nonproductive. Like-minded possibility has potential for (an "us and them") productivity, which in certain circumstance is desirable. The necessity of an "us and them" productivity is lessening with each generation.

• Passion comes from the Latin root "pati," which means "to suffer." Out of the blue, this week, my Wife asked me "does it hurt to be you?" Without hesitation, I responded, "Most of the time."

• Does Darkness inhabit? Or is Darkness inhabited?

"Darkness is impossible to remember. Consequently [explorers] desire to return to those unseen depths where they have just been. It is an addiction. No one is ever satisfied. Darkness never satisfies. Especially if it takes something away which it almost always invariably does." (From the work of fiction "House of Leaves" by Mark Z. Danielewski.)

I don't know to what extent I agree; or disagree. To better understand, I would like to begin before the addiction takes hold.

Why would someone desire to explore any depth of any darkness for the first time? I do not believe that all initial explorations are involuntary. And I do not believe that all initial, involuntary experience results in exploration. I believe if one is thrust into a depth of darkness involuntarily that it is possible for fear and desperation to drive them to blindly lash out and claw their way back to some semblance of light. This instinctive avoidance, (whether frenzied or composed), will not allow for exploration.

So if one is an explorer, either they are thrust into darkness, their eyes are opened, and they choose to explore; or they seek darkness specifically to explore with open eyes. And if one is afraid of the dark, their eyes remain closed and they will never understand reality. So regardless of the circumstance of darkness, exploration is voluntary. But the question remains, "Why would one seek darkness?"

I believe the answer to be, "For Balance." Darkness and Light is a balancing act that will involve fusion and/or alternating immersion. A proper balance encourages and (for some) requires an exploration (of both), which in turn requires effort. Darkness alone typically requires effort; whereas Light alone can result in quiescent warmth and comfort. A total lack of effort, or any imbalance in the effort expended toward each, can result in a warped sense of reality; especially over extended periods of activity. I also believe that a serious exploration of Light will ultimately lead one to understand the importance of an equally serious exploration of Darkness.

So it appears that a voluntary exploration of Darkness is typically preceded by some degree of exposure to Light. After saying this, it feels like a "Duh" moment, because it is obvious that there must be Darkness for there to be Light, and I believe that my instinct leads me first to Light. They need each other, if for no other reason than the sake of definition; and, a serious exploration of one, cannot help but involve the other. So rather than an encouragement to seriously explore Darkness, I believe I am simply encouraging myself to continue with serious exploration; and I am acknowledging that questions raised will naturally lead in and through varying facets of both Darkness and Light.

Further following this line of thought, I might argue that Darkness is less an addiction than it is a necessity for serious thought and for additional serious exploration. I can see how another may interpret it as an addiction from the quiescent comfort and warmth of their (well-lit) sideline, and/or by focusing exclusively on any imbalance favoring Darkness. But as a counter-thrust, I agree that Darkness never satisfies, and I would also argue that Light never satisfies. Those who believe otherwise, (in either case), have a warped sense of reality.

I can make a similar claim regarding the initial premise that "Darkness is impossible to remember." If Light is not also impossible to remember, why is it so commonly and frequently misremembered? I could further argue (from experience) that the echoes from Darkness are a more accurate reflection than those from Light, and the reverberations (again, from Darkness) resonate more soundly and deeply (than those from Light). (And are these observations perhaps an argument that "A proper balance of Darkness and Light" actually implies the necessity for an appropriately greater amplitude of Light? Perhaps; but never, exclusively, Light.)

And finally, I must also argue against the assertion that Darkness "almost always invariably" takes something away. I believe it possible that it, (whatever "it" is), is not taken away, but rather it is lost; or perhaps even, intentionally left. But I do agree that one emerges from Darkness with a sense of tangible loss; and an echo of reality; an echo difficult to replicate in Light; a dark echo that resonates.

Darkness allows one to see that no one is ever satisfied because one should not ever be satisfied.

Darkness allows one to see that it is impossible for one to remember because the past is merely an echo.

Darkness allows one to see that one's sense of loss is created by one's inability to grasp Perfection.

Darkness allows one to see...