|Monday, February 2nd, 2009|
4:30p - With A Loud Clatter
When we last saw our anti-hero, Yohannon, he was fretting about the 2008 US election.
I guess we know how all of that worked out.
Things you didn't know about that contributed to my absence:
The bummer here is that these three items are actually whole epics unto themselves -- This doesn't even include all of the political and newsworthy insanity has gone down just in the last three months.
- I discovered everything I thought I knew about my marriage breaking up was wrong -- in my favor.
- I proposed to Roni (New Year's Eve, and she said "yes".). The processing and lead-in hysteria to that was, to say the least, intense.
- Michele and I remembered we actually like one another.
- Catt lost her job at American Express because she was sick too long. Yes, that's a horrid oversimplification, but it covers the basic gist.
There's tons of stuff I want to say about the personal and external events of my life. However, I've developed a strong sense of boundaries around a lot of these topics over the years, and have made a decision: If you feel comfortable talking about it, and are directly involved, do so in the comments here.
As for everyone, I miss you all. I miss a lot of the camaraderie and fun, the sense of community that online groups used to have for me. I'm not certain how, but I'd love to start that again.
One of the many distractions is that Alameda Power and Telecomm, which provided my net access, sold us out to Comcast for pennies on the dollar for the infrastructure costs. They've been tempting me with an uncapped business line at 16Mb down, 2Mbs up, WITH a static IP. Make me wonder how hard it would be to start my own personal portal server without all of the ads or content restrictions of the big boys.
Of course, the struggle there is no longer the cost (ironic, considering the days when I spent 25% of my takehome pay on creating and maintaining internet servers), but TIME. There's so much I want to do these days, especially as we emerge from my typically quiescent winter period, pratically bursting with optimism, hope, energy and a sense of purpose. Yet I haven't updated my website in years, my "real life" is packed with distractions, and my focus has changed decidedly inward.
While sitting on the porch this past weekend in Phoenix (Lilly looks almost 6 to 7 years old, but is 3 1/2 -- she's getting so much smarter and more articulate it was almost a relief when she threw a more typical toddler's temper tantrum Saturday night) with Catt I suddenly had a memory of that stupid near miss nearly... 4 years ago now?
Blind spots are weird. I remember when I was first taught about the blind spot, and I was fascinated by the idea of seeing something but not knowing what it was. In college, when I took a personal defense class in Tae Kwon Do, I first heard the idea of "teaching" your brain how to process the data from a blind spot better (or at least the theory -- the practice required a level of dedication rare amongst 18 year old freaks such as myself). Later I would marvel at the details of mental functions as detailed by Oliver Sacks, as he explained WHY we have a blind spot, and backed up the Eastern idea that you could change it through practice.
Mental blind spots are like glamours we cast on ourselves. Look right at something you don't want to see, and it's just not there. You simply look elsewhere, not registering the thing, the monster under the bed or leering from the closeted darkness. We complain about the proximity of the local airport even as it screams, pretending thier voice is a jet's turbine wail.
The tales of the dangers of waking a sleepwalker, apochryphal and disproven as they are, seem the best anology to the feeling one gets when that hole in your reality suddenly closes, and the thing that coaleces in your sight is so large, so scary, that your intial impluse is to run in abject terror. I my case, I remembered everything that happened from right before to right after.
To be honest, a lot of what I describe about that night was based on a few flashes that I could remember... that I would LET myself remember. They were about to hit that van. They hit. Sparks, smoke, more than I thought could be possible. I saw two cars coming together right in front of me, the idiots in the SUV and a red car that turned out to contain the nuclear family with the young girl. I was past it.
The missing piece was the part between "I'm cut off" and "I made it!".
Because the math didn't work. I keep seeing the lines in my head of each vehicle, watching a tire as it came toward my windshield, and they all intersect in ways that have me wrapped in twisted metal and dusted with broken safety glass, airbags popping and deflating, at best. In several of my nightmares, that tire's trajectory takes it straight through the windshield of the Saturn, and...
Well, that's the point, isn't it? There wasn't any "and".
The rational response to all of this is to say "but it didn't. I'm here, didn't even damage the car beyond that chip in the windshield, long since replaced. Yet, if this was about being "rational", why suppress it?
Because my mind can't leave it alone. Because, desipte being a techno pagan, my tendency is to view the rules of the universe as magical as breaking them. Because when they do seem to break, right before my eyes, my first impulse is to doubt myself and my own ability to see what's in front of me.
My mind shouldn't be a trick of the light. Reality isn't a picture of stairs that keeps resolving to different perspectives (under the stairs or over?). The lines are all the same length, and those intersections of the white bars on a black background DON'T have shadows. That's what I was carefully taught.
Magic is everywhere. Prayer works. You can move moutains with an idea, change the outcome just by wanting it enough. What you do comes back to you. The cat is alive AND dead. That's what I was carefully taught as well.
And yes, I know there's a collision there, an offset head-on of science and magic, that perhaps the act of observation on the quantuum level is scalable under just the right conditions. Maybe that's where the reconciliation can happen one day, where religion and science can look at one another with the shock of recognition, a mutual epiphany that CHOICE could play as big a role in the world as cause and effect.
Considering the circumstances (the pressure from Audra, working retail and being miserable, the long commutes, fretting about Lilly's upcoming birth), do I take comfort from the idea that, when given the barest fraction of a second, I chose life?
Or do I completely and utterly freak right the fuck out at the idea that it was a choice?
So the blind spot resolved, and now I see something I wasn't ready to before. What does that mean? Do I really see, or did I trade one mental distraction for another?
So yeah, I dropped out of sight for awhile -- remember, this post covered only one minor aspect (minor in the sense that it covered my feeling over an event almost 4 years past now) of my life. More immediate ocurrences have actually shifted whole assumptions into the trash bin, which means -- MORE PROCESSING.
Live, process, write. Used to be a nice, tight little circle.
If I'm not here, you can trust that it's the first two overwhelming the third.
current mood: indescribable
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