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May. 29th, 2018 09:43 amIn therapy, Dr. M. noted that, in many ways, I tend to prioritize the needs and wants, and perceived needs and wants, of others above those of myself. They said I do so to the point of "annihlation of self."
That particular wording has echoed in my thoughts ever since. It's language used to describe mystics or saints; people who live their lives in the service of something outside of themselves, or in denial of themselves, for better or worse. Both people who would be labeled mentally ill were it not for the context of faith, and people who are simply labeled mentally ill. "Blessed are the cracked," Groucho Marx supposedly said, "for they shall let in the light." I've always wanted to let in some of that light.
That description doesn't fit me. I am neither a saint nor a mystic, nor mentally ill. At least, in that particular way. Those people, and their works, are things I've been drawn to as long as I can remember. People who live immersed in their own world and show us images from it like Tom Evers or Henry Darger, are mystics in my conception of the word. Similarly mystical, and equally enthralling to me, are those like Peace Pilgrim, whose mysticism was of this world, rather than another, and who believed that something they could do would change that world. (Incidentally, this is possibly the primary reason I have not and don't plan to try anything like LSD. I feel like I've spent a lot of my life itching for an excuse to be Baba Ram Dass, and that kind of experience might give me one. I might go somewhere I'd never come back from.)
I was raised on stories of people who believed in something strongly enough to make it their purpose and to shape their lives around it. That purpose was typically to put an end to some evil, or at least stand against it in any way they could.
So I'm at a sort of crossroads I suppose.
My goal in going to grad school was to understand how urban political economy works and fight against a kind of systemic inequality that hurts so many people so deeply. I ended feeling that that is not possible for me. Because I did not continue to fight in the face of impossibility, I feel that I have failed at being the kind of person I want to be, at least in that way. Some people are able to fight their fights regardless of possibility of success, but I could not. I did not continue that path.
I concluded that the best things I could do were voting and direct action. And with Trump in power, there are so many opportunities for direct action. Horrible things are happening everywhere; nationally, state-wide, locally. I've known for years that slavery exists, but it's most visible manifestations were so far away I could excuse myself from direct action against them. But here in the US, children are being taken away from their parents purely to inspire fear and terror by agents of my government, innocent people are being murdered by those whose official duties include their protection, and people are coming together to act and protest in movements like the Poor People's Campaign, among other things.
Were I the kind of person I want to be, or thought I was, or something, I would be doing things like, at a minimum, standing outside government offices and talking to people. Explaining what's happening and what our representatives should be doing about it. I'm not though. I'm not doing much that's different from what I was doing before Trump's election, other than being more depressed and anxious.
I feel hypocritical. I am tolerating evil that I feel is intolerable. I don't know how to reconcile my fundamental belief in the importance of being the kind of person I want there to be more of in the world with the reality of my life.
I'm trapped by feeling that, to be the best person I could be, that mystical annihalation of self of the ego-death is what I should seek. If not, how can I be self-consistent?
This has me feeling rather depressed and self-critical.
That particular wording has echoed in my thoughts ever since. It's language used to describe mystics or saints; people who live their lives in the service of something outside of themselves, or in denial of themselves, for better or worse. Both people who would be labeled mentally ill were it not for the context of faith, and people who are simply labeled mentally ill. "Blessed are the cracked," Groucho Marx supposedly said, "for they shall let in the light." I've always wanted to let in some of that light.
That description doesn't fit me. I am neither a saint nor a mystic, nor mentally ill. At least, in that particular way. Those people, and their works, are things I've been drawn to as long as I can remember. People who live immersed in their own world and show us images from it like Tom Evers or Henry Darger, are mystics in my conception of the word. Similarly mystical, and equally enthralling to me, are those like Peace Pilgrim, whose mysticism was of this world, rather than another, and who believed that something they could do would change that world. (Incidentally, this is possibly the primary reason I have not and don't plan to try anything like LSD. I feel like I've spent a lot of my life itching for an excuse to be Baba Ram Dass, and that kind of experience might give me one. I might go somewhere I'd never come back from.)
I was raised on stories of people who believed in something strongly enough to make it their purpose and to shape their lives around it. That purpose was typically to put an end to some evil, or at least stand against it in any way they could.
So I'm at a sort of crossroads I suppose.
My goal in going to grad school was to understand how urban political economy works and fight against a kind of systemic inequality that hurts so many people so deeply. I ended feeling that that is not possible for me. Because I did not continue to fight in the face of impossibility, I feel that I have failed at being the kind of person I want to be, at least in that way. Some people are able to fight their fights regardless of possibility of success, but I could not. I did not continue that path.
I concluded that the best things I could do were voting and direct action. And with Trump in power, there are so many opportunities for direct action. Horrible things are happening everywhere; nationally, state-wide, locally. I've known for years that slavery exists, but it's most visible manifestations were so far away I could excuse myself from direct action against them. But here in the US, children are being taken away from their parents purely to inspire fear and terror by agents of my government, innocent people are being murdered by those whose official duties include their protection, and people are coming together to act and protest in movements like the Poor People's Campaign, among other things.
Were I the kind of person I want to be, or thought I was, or something, I would be doing things like, at a minimum, standing outside government offices and talking to people. Explaining what's happening and what our representatives should be doing about it. I'm not though. I'm not doing much that's different from what I was doing before Trump's election, other than being more depressed and anxious.
I feel hypocritical. I am tolerating evil that I feel is intolerable. I don't know how to reconcile my fundamental belief in the importance of being the kind of person I want there to be more of in the world with the reality of my life.
I'm trapped by feeling that, to be the best person I could be, that mystical annihalation of self of the ego-death is what I should seek. If not, how can I be self-consistent?
This has me feeling rather depressed and self-critical.
