Oneiroid

I said goodbye to my colleagues at work, with a perky attitude and a grin. As soon as I stepped off the building steps, my shoulders slumped and my eyes fell to the ground. If I could curl into a ball and just drop, I would have. I walked to the subway fully aware of the heaviness on my shoulders. I could not look up, as if some magnetic force had bound my head down. Finding my way into that busy subway, I sat down and looked to the ground. I sighed and wrapped my arms around my knapsack which was now propped up on my lap. I closed my eyes and then came the thought, "I wish I could die." This isn't a new thought to me, every now and again I gladly contemplate my wish to end my life. To rid me of all things. My brain, in an attempt to distract me provoked me to look up and ahead to see the face of a young woman who had her eyes closed and her head leaning back slightly. I mentally commented, "She's beautiful in a very worn and exhausted way." She opened her eyes and looked blankly to the side, to a point which was clearly extradimensional, it seemed; then I watched as a tear rolled down her cheeks. I was startled, "She's crying?" I thought. I immediately felt my shoulders curve further inwards and I hugged my knapsack tighter. I could feel my eyebrows furrow and the corners of my mouth tense. She allowed the teardrop to roll all the way down her cheeks and another one rolled from the other eye. She maintained her gaze to this unearthly place. I could almost smell the melancholia hovering around her, not seeking comfort or an observer; it just was. I had dichotomous thoughts, on one side I wanted to comfort her, to acknowledge her...and another thought was, let her experience her melancholia in peace. The second thought was the strongest; it was like the bouts of sadness that wash over me sometimes when I would like to simply cease to exist. Even when nothing was wrong in my life (or at least majorly), I'd want to just die. The milder forms of just feeling a heavy rock on my chest and tingly anxiety in my peripheries; those stimulate me to find something to absorb myself in; or as Baudelaire worded it "get drunk."  But for the more darker themes like this evening, I felt helpless and hopeless. I feel suspended in the hopeless and timeless state where nothing tasted like anything and nothing could bring me peace. The young woman got up and left her seat heaving on her back a congested knapsack. She turned and I did not see her again. And that was it. 

Gems from Henri-Frederic Amiel

It has been a long while, but I am here never the less. Today I wanted to share some of my absolute favourite quotes from the philosopher Henri Frederic Amiel. I have also attached some of my own commentary to it. Enjoy!

"Our true history is scarcely ever deciphered by others. The chief part of the drama is a monologue, or rather an intimate debate between God, our conscience, and ourselves. Tears, grieves, depressions, disappointments, irritations, good and evil thoughts, decisions, uncertainties, deliberations— all these belong to our secret, and are almost all incommunicable and intransmissible, even when we try to speak of them, and even when we write them down."

My commentary: I've always related to this. Somehow, reading it today made me question it. It is not all intransmissible...it is not all incommunicable. We are sort of like icebergs floating in the same ocean. We are all bathed in that human condition. Only when we have that exceptional chance to genuinely converse and listen to each other, that's when our history can be communicable.

“Let mystery have its place in you; do not be always turning up your whole soil with the plowshare of self-examination, but leave a little fallow corner in your heart ready for any seed the winds may bring, and reserve a nook of shadow for the passing bird; keep a place in your heart for the unexpected guests, an altar for the unknown God. Then if a bird sing among your branches, do not be too eager to tame it. If you are conscious of something new - thought or feeling, wakening in the depths of your being - do not be in a hurry to let in light upon it, to look at it; let the springing germ have the protection of being forgotten, hedge it round with quiet, and do not break in upon its darkness.”

Ready for something sweet!

 “Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are travelling the dark journey with us. Oh be swift to love, make haste to be kind.”

 This man lived in the 1800s and was speaking about "the modern man". It is interesting how this still describes "the modern man"

“At the bottom of the modern man there is always a great thirst for self-forgetfulness, self-distraction; he has a secret horror of all which makes him feel his own littleness; the eternal, the infinite, perfection, therefore scare and terrify him. He wishes to approve himself, to admire and congratulate himself; and therefore he turns away from all those problems and abysses which might recall to him his own nothingness.”

 Turning away from the abysses which might recall him to his own nothingness hehe this sounds so appealing. Where's the nearest abyss I can turn to? :)

The first sentence just struck me. Respecting the oscillations of feelings. I think that's an incredible concept.

[...] respect in yourself the oscillations of feeling. They are your life and your nature [...]. Do not abandon yourself altogether either to instinct or to will. Instinct is a siren, will a despot.

Holy shit this is such a simple thing but it is HUGE as well. Respecting one's own oscillations. We are NOT meant to be static or stable.

Here's another one that I particularly like. I feel sometimes when I read for this guy that he is speaking right to me. Giving me his views on how things should be done. I like what he says...even though I may choose an alternative method.
Here's a teaching one:

"The highest function of the teacher consists not so much in imparting knowledge as in stimulating the pupil in its love and pursuit. To know how to suggest is the art of teaching."

The art of suggestion, eh!

I'd be curious to hear your thoughts on this.

"The test of every religious, political, or educational system, is the man which it forms. If a system injures the intelligence it is bad. If it injures the character it is vicious. If it injures the conscience it is criminal."

Do you think the product of a system is a valid enough measure of its legitimacy/goodness?

I will leave you with those quotes for today. Hopefully I will be back with some more quotes or commentary or nothing at all :)

Be swift to love,

Wegdan

Orwell 10 min Biography

An audio narration of George Orwell's life.

Source: https://www.biography.com/people/george-orwell-9429833

The fire

Today there was a fire in our hospital. It was quite a disturbing ordeal for me and pretty much everyone. I didn't realize how much I cared for the patients until I observed myself actually brimming with years when they were shouting from the window and when they finally exited the wards and escorted down I struggled through the messy and havoc laden crowds to reach them. As I was passing each person and looking at their faces and asking them if they were ok I was crying. I was so relieved to see their faces again and see them safe and sound. They were either sitting or standing there confused. A middle aged man curled in a ball on the floor and grasping the metal rails saying that this was the end of him. He was terrified and rocking to and fro. Another man collapsed and lay with his eyes open staring into the sky and not responding to anyone. A young woman screeching in distress followed by uncontrollable laughter. People were confused. Some were asking if they could drink now or should they wait longer until they have their ECT session today. a teenr asked my to help him find his slipper as he had cold feet and he just awoke out of the ECT session barefoot. It was a sight to see. The people whom I hGgggg had rhodidn didn't think much of..Now were the dearest to me. My heart was brimming with tolerance and kindness directed to them all..They all looked so vulnerable and scared in one form or another it moved me.

An hour later when they were safely transported back up to the wards they are put in a room to be reassured and to be asked about what had happened..How did the fire start and what did everyone feel during this time. They were sitting in a circle except for a few scattered peripheral patients. One of the peripheral patients was a middle aged man diagnosed with schizophrenia standing still arms by his side rocking gently and staring at the floor smiling to himself. He didn't seem quite concerned. Another man was standing by the window gasping for breath despite the fact that there was no smoke nearby. Another was chattering quietly to himself. Another one in the group was having an occulogyric crisis, his eyes kept going upwards without his control. Other patients would pat him on his back and tell him to try to put his eyes down. Another patient expressed aloud how he can't trust anyone anymore and that he is paranoid that all of this happened is in order to hurt him and that the only solution is that he goes to jail to get away from it all...A young man with bipolar mania jokingly asks him if the takes drugs because he himself used to get paranoid when he too cannabis and the guy just shook his head and said no..Not me. Another one started stating that Germany knew all about him and his work and perhaps they're waiting for him to give them the signal. Another patient was giving hand signals to other patients which was recieved by black stares from the others. Some of them were just sitting there quietly listening to everything. Every single person was spontaneously themselves. It was a beautiful sight to see each individual respond so uniquely and so authentically. As silly as this sound but seeing this today made me realize that I am working in a mental institution and I felt good around these people and that they deserve care and kindness and treatment. It made me realize the sheer vulnerability of these people and how it doesn't take anyone to help them. I can help when I truly care about them. And they deserve it

Once upon a time in Japan

Once upon a time in Japan 

Compiled by Sayumi Kawauchi

Translated by Ralph F McCarthy

 

Scanning through the books at the library a compact, colorful book caught my eye immediately. The front cover had pictures of a man on a turtle, a little boy riding a bear, a flying man, sparrows dressed up in kimonos, a sleeping ogre…intriguing mixture of things.

Holding it in my hands it was smooth and the texture of the covers made me want to open it and when I flicked through the pages I was attracted to the bright illustrations and that tantalizing smell of children's books which I have missed for such a long time. “That’s it! I’m going to read this book!” I thought.

So I borrowed it from the Japan Foundation Library and on the bus ride home, I began to read. 

Let's go through a brief tour of the book together.

First I met Gonbei the duck hunter whom was an unskilled yet ambitious young man who’s high (almost ridiculous) hopes got him literally  flying across the whole country, meeting new people and learning new things. I sort of hoped that my fate would be similar to Gonbei! 

Ever wondered why the sea is salty? Probably not the most scientifically proven theory but maybe just maybe it all had to do with two brothers, and how greed got between them and resulted in the saltiness of the sea! 

Or how about Kintaro the miracle child, stronger than a grown man and he’s just an infant…befriended all the forest animals and even managed to make some negotiations with a big scary bear. Strength combined with kindness are the building blocks of heroes. Imagine you found this tiny little girl in a shining bamboo plant, you adopted her and got very fond of her, then realizing, after all these years, she had to be taken away from you…quite a melodramatic story that emphasized that life and eternity itself is nothing without true happiness and those that we love. 

What if you spent all your days sleeping and waking up once a month just to empty your bladder? I can imagine you’d not be with the best reputation. Taro the sleepyhead in this day and age would probably be diagnosed with hypothyroidism and treated, but fortunately in this tale his ailment saved an entire town, in the most humorous way.

A common theme that links these stories is that people/events are not always as they may seem to the superficial eye, in other words “don't judge a book by its cover” which is precisely why I am reviewing this book! 

An alcoholic  little goblin that bullied passersby to give him their drinks crosses paths with Jinbei, a selfless young man gladly offered the goblin to drink and he was repaid  in a way you’d never imagine.

 That seems to be another strong theme in this book and perhaps Japanese folk stories and that is; giving without expecting return is the key to good fortune. Following the same theme but with a magical twist, saving a sparrow or a victimized turtle…who would have predicted that they lead their characters into beautifully enchanting lands where sparrows are dressed in kimonos (now I know what the front cover picture was all about) and have parties or to an underwater palace where your perception of a few days actually turned out to be hundreds of years. With my interest in the multiverse theory I think perhaps, just perhaps this story is suggesting that our character here (Urashima Taro) was actually transported to a parallel universe.

Can you conceive of a  law that when anyone turned 60 years old you'd have to be taken to the ‘old folks mountain’ where you're left to die?

This story touched upon many themes; love, loyalty, rebellion and defying the law for what you believe is correct. Those ingredients sound ideal for societal reform and they were so simply illustrated in 11 small pages in a so-called children’s book. It was actually this story that made me realize that I must review this book. It is more than meets the eye and teaches children (and adults alike) the very essence of living…elements like despair, curiosity, kindness, evil, hesitation, gratitude, rebellion, submission are touched upon not to mention parallel universes!

I really enjoyed this book by Sayumi Kawauchi and I hope you will be intrigued enough to pick it up and read it if you get the opportunity. 

Thank you

Wegdan Rashad

Everflowing demise.

Just having another one of my breakthrough waterfalls.

Lately we have been feeling this generalized dysphoria. It is a sort of polymorphic dread. Like reaching your hands into a sack of unknown content and cautiously reaching down to explore the contents tangibly, while experiencing a sickening lump in your throat. You could be reaching into a sack of sweets and other benign confectioneries...but you could also be reaching into a morbid pit of scorpions. 
Or it’s like trying to find your way in an unfamiliar pitch-black room...you stand by the walls, eyes wide open yet nothing in view...you helplessly sense along the walls, becoming increasingly conscious of your entire body and coming vis-a-vis with its weakness and mortality. You realize your own senses aren’t enough. 
This heightened awareness of one's own shortcomings is somewhat crippling. It is hypervigilance accompanied with loosening up...you become oblivious to the forces that pull you towards your demise. You are no longer aware of it, but these forces are dragging you slowly towards passivity, negativity, pessimism, surrender, anhedonia and an abominable indifference. Nothing matters anymore. You become more adherent to your 'comfort zone' unwilling to tolerate a little discomfort that may disturb the pristine laziness. 
As long as you are oblivious...you are being drawn slowly right into the pits of this senseless state.. as a patient with oneiroid syndrome described; "a timeless, hateful, spaceless worsening of things" 
The truth is...this void that one is shifting towards is universal. It acts equally upon all living things. Like passengers standing on an electric escalator propelling them in one direction, it’s inevitable...the only way to awaken from this stupor is to realize and to resist.
Yes, that electric escalator is sending endless vicious steps towards the predetermined destination...however you can choose to turn around and walk in the opposite direction...at a speed higher than the rate of newly forming steps. I once saw a child doing so and seeing that face exasperated at how she couldn’t beat the steps and get off the escalator. One must resist until senility overtakes and encapsulates them. 
As long as one is alive one must resist and rebel against that demise. Resist coldness, resist negativity, resist passivity, resist spiritual frigidity, resist physical sloppiness, and resist judgment. All these activities/states arise because of one's lack of resistance. It takes effort to care, to realize God, to hope, to plan, to understand, to refrain from crude remarks and premature evaluations. It takes energy to rebel...everyone is going down the same lane...to truly live is to rebel. We shall not succumb to that ever flowing demise. At least, not today.

CREATE CREATE CREATE

I've been uneasy lately. It's usually related to the fact that when I spend alot of time at home and alone I come to terms with thoughts and feelings within me I dont typically have time to acknolwedge on a  busy day. The hustle and bustle of life, doesnt encourage much reflection. It could allow it of course, if you put in the will to do so...and I've havent really. There are so many new things in my life and new feelings and questions that I have no answers to and would rather avoid pondering too deeply about in the time being.
However, up bobbed a floater in my little ocean of thought...I realized why I've been feeling particularly frustrated lately. I have a sense that something's not quite right...or I should be doing something and I'm not...but didnt know what it was exactly.
I realized what it is...I've stopped creating.
I am only consumed by the creations of others and not creating anything of my own. Listening to other people's songs, when I could be composing my own. Watching other people's movies, when I could be writing one of my own. Reading other people's posts, when I could be reflecting on my own life and documenting it. I'm pro at looking research papers up and summarizing its content...but it's none of my own, it's always someone else's work and effort.
 It's one of the reasons I despise social media actually...it allows you to consume more than you can produce. I didnt quit social media for years for no reason...and during those couple of years I was most productive.
Am I shifting the blame on external causes instead of blaming myself? External locus of control much, wiggy?
Yes
Something in me is crying out to create.
I  MUST CREATE SOMETHING.
I feel accomplished and satisfied when I have the ability to collect raw 'material' from the world around me and process it in my own way and produce something out of it.
I need to create something that pulsates with similar vibes to mine.
I believe that inside every human is this drive to create. Could be as primal as the evolutionary drive to create offspring. Perhaps.
As intruiging as it is to have offspring and all...I dont think they're your creation afterall. You can't own your children and the delusion that you can is oftentimes the source of bullshit in people's lives. But that's another thing for another day.
But I've fallen off track. I think the idea of creation is not to possess. The idea of creating something is to just create it and let it go.
You've created a new tune or a poem or a sculpture or a new piece of evidence for some phenomenon...what shall one do with it other than release out there and let it roam. It can fall straight to the ground or it can float for a while...or it can soar up and rise and leave you entirely.
You've given it life now you let it go.
That's the idea that inspires me....that one is capable of creating and releasing it into this massive ocean of life.