I wrote this in October of 2011 as an exercise in introspection. It is part of the work I undertook with my dear Friend Dr Igor Malakai, of whom I write in the 8-13 project. It’s a meditation on how we feel, and how honest we can be about our condition.
I wrote this under a different name, and while somethings remain, I was, if I’m honest with all who read it, a different man when I wrote it.
The Way I Feel
Amongst the many proverbially complex questions, and the true paradoxes I have found in life, this is by far the most difficult not only to understand but also to explain to anyone other than myself. And that in itself seems to betray the idea of honesty, especially with self, as even I cannot seem to appreciate what is currently happening to me.
The inevitable contrast between feeling and reality and my observation of their discrepancies create quite an uncomfortable set of circumstances that may lead to emotional and even physical maladies.
Discomfort briefly, yet unfairly summarizes my affliction, and the perpetual question of “why?” torments my mind incessantly.
I think I know what my problem is. I think I clearly understand where these unsubstantiated feelings arise from. Yet, as they are, according to my own senseless rhetoric, of a tenuous nature, I don’t know the first thing about my confusion. That word has come to carry so much weight and merit, becoming a permanent and popular addition to my own limited lexicon.
Silly, how a word that indicates bewilderment and represents lack of clarity can have perfect meaning in my own meaningless search for self.
“Self” – Now there is a big one! Or is there anything at all?
My enduring exploration of the human psyche yields countless understandings and discoveries about the human mind and, at the same time, left me wandering, and wondering why my own is so different from the rest.
Different in terms of knowing more than the rest, as with much arrogance, I think that I know more. Thus, my knowledge becomes useless and futile – no wisdom!
How do they do it?
How do they get on with their lives?
How does one exist in ignorance?
And then again, one does not, but the many do. Yes, it seems that our cultural cluster has accomplished something amazing; they have normalised ignorance and made it a virtue.
I look for answers out there, and I find many yet continue unsatisfied with what I know. I look for solutions inside, in the dark corners of my own mind and find none. Yet, the silence is pleasing, the emptiness comforting, the solitude gratifying. I can stay here forever, and without yet wanting to, because as I think about my meaningful connections, I crave those unsatisfactory answers that lead to further confusion.
Oh, What a beautiful confusion! I’ve come to love it.
How noble is it to not know why?
How wise is it to allow oneself to embrace a mystery without genuinely wanting to solve it? My latest mystery has a peculiar name. And I love to wonder why. Why? How did this come to pass? Why such choice to allow another to enter my private space, my inner sanctum?
NOT LIKE ME!!
Not a very logical choice! There is so much to speculate about the reason. Yet, in light of humility and my redundant declaration of true honesty, I must admit that I enjoy it. This feels new and refreshing. Still, honesty must be dealt with first.
Why is there such an intriguing person I do not own in my life?
When did my perspective change? Or has it? Is this a vain attempt at learning a new lesson? Such an abortive gesture may only culminate in loss, and that loss may be more than I can or want to handle. How do I proceed? Why so many questions? Why not use my flawless approach to persuasion and seduction to happily anchor this fascinating being to me and to my will?
Finally, a meaningful and honest question and one that deserves honest answers that can only be given by a righteous person – and that is not me.
As a result of my ephemeral condition, there is a sense of trust and belief in myself combined with a permanent return to my lack of faith in everyone else.
It has done it: brought me to my knees in an unconscious effort to quicken myself once more.
I am of it, but with a lingering feeling that not much is mine because I have allowed others freedom, I often and unnecessarily doubt my stability.
Control seems to be the one true illusion that eludes me when contemplating eternity in this comfort zone. Now, that has little sense at its base, more groundless and tenuous than my own feelings of admiration for such a mystery.
I must run! I must hide from this excess trust and comfort, it’s the only way I know how to survive, and now I remember how I once almost did not. Nearly perishing for love seems, in the mind of the romantic fool I thought I was, to be the most righteous way to go. Yet, I say this without remembering the painful cancellation of my debt to the Karmic world.
Haha! And yet again, I resort to feeling and allow it to eclipse my critical thinking, a clear sign that I have learned nothing from my experience.
That’s right, I have learned nothing from my experience. And when teaching, I appear to know more than nothing. I am a teacher; I am also a doctor who, without hypocrisy, lacks all powers of edification and healing.
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In the vacuum of solace provided by those I have helped to change, I have erroneously found consolation. Here I think about my Alex, and I feel worthy of respect and admiration. I think of nothing that can eclipse that impressive ray of sunshine and the fantastic feelings that such purity and power bring to my heart.
And the ones I have changed without the intent to help? There are many, I must admit, who owe it to me to be complete human beings.
And that lifts my spirits. But only until the memories of those I have pushed to the very edge rush into my mind and again take control of the insecure bastard who wishes he never had.
Who is he? How did he ever have so much control? The answer to that can be found without honesty or intelligence, as it is pretty evident that he didn’t care. Not for a second, nor for an instant, did he hesitate to take what he wanted nor what he needed, and that gave him power, or rather that still does.
And then, a sudden yet expected regression to the mean, my own mean.
Where all is perfectly balanced, and power and control are no longer the elusive substances they were just seconds ago. They are real, as real as my mystery, and the merger of the two will give me closure.
I am strong and confident, and I have created order out of chaos and confusion. I am not afraid to lose, for, in my mind, I have lost it all already.
I have no doubts, I am empty, and it is fantastic, like the gratifying, comforting and pleasing silence and solitude of my mind. I feel rested, like returning home from a long trip where everything has been forgotten.
I am home, and though I find my house in disarray, I can now rebuild.
That is truly…
The way I feel.
In memory of great men
Written with Cisco Jose
June 30th 1977 – March 21st 2011
For Dr. Igor Malakai
September 17th 1970 – March 29th 2009
— Peyton Dracco