Reason Breeds Insanity

You know, I struggle. I struggle to make meaning of the things going on around me. I hate waking up to conflict. I appreciate NPR, but do they have to start the morning off with combat every morning. I don’t want to know, first thing, that 400 more people were killed. I know that happens without being inundated with this information first thing in the morning. What I have started doing is coming down stairs, walking over to the radio, and turning it to CD. Yesterday I listened to Andrew Peterson, who is a great narratively based Christian artist. He tells the story of being in the far country, and what that looks like for him through the stories of biblical people. Interesting and good.

I am getting ready to go to my rhetoric class and talk about feminism. I should say argue about feminism because that is what it will be. I am a feminist, but I am not sure if I buy it. Aren’t we all just equal. I understand the struggle for women to be equal, but what is wrong with the world that there has been a struggle anyway. I know the true feminist struggle is for equality, but all the language based issues just seem inocuous and irrelevant. I do get frustrated when I know that people are functioning inside an old boys network, when an idea presented by a woman is denied and then accepted when the same idea is presented by a man, but I can’t seem to figure out how to have the sort of Utopian society I dream of without a struggle. You know even women slight each other in favor of opinions by men. Is that just the Midwest?

Why must it always be a struggle? Why can’t we just be peaceful?

I found this on a website of a friend of a friend and thought it was absolutely beautiful:

I, who live by words, am wordless when I try my words in prayer. All language turns to silence. Prayer will take my words and then reveal their emptiness. The stifled voice learns to hold its peace, to listen with the heart to silence that is joy, is adoration. The self is shattered, all words torn apart in this strange patterned time of contemplation that, in time, breaks time, breaks words, breaks me, and then, in silence leaves me healed and mended. I have returned to language, for I see through words, even when all words are ended, I, who live by words, am wordless when I turn to the Word to pray. Amen.

Words by Madeleine L’Engle

What would happen if we all stopped evaluating each other and just loved each other? What would the world be like then? What if there was no drive or push to be the best? What if there wasn’t a coolest brand of anything? What if we all just had enough? What if we all did what we love? What if life were simple and not a game of guessing who your friends really are? What we were all content with ourselves? What if we were all in awe of a higher power who gave our lives meaning? What if everyday were like a sitcom where it all comes together at the end and everyone learns something every episode? What if every day smelled like a baby, that soft smell of their tender skin? What if we all looked each other in the eye and smiled and really said hello? What if everyone could read? What if we all had enough food? What if there were no pesticides? What if we all had shelter if we wanted it? What if I could understand how other people feel and where they come from? No really feel? What if? What if?

Do you have a what-if?

Well, Bec doesn’t know it yet, but I signed us up to run the mini-marathon in May. I figure I need some motivation to make it through the winter, and I’d like to pretend I am Forest Gump. I put that we’d be in the slowest group because I am slow as molasses, the Black Strap kind. I imagine that she will want to go faster, but I’ll meet her at the end.

I think Adam is doing it again. It will be a fun day.

Yesterday I went to find Sam to give him some cigarettes, and what I found was a group of people sitting around him getting high. I think if I was homeles, I’d want to get high, too, and I am glad that someone gave him some shit, but what interested me is that I started talking religion and politics with the most interesting man. We were talking about things from Muncie’s past, like the Mystic Groovies (a weird little shop that sold all sorts of crazy things-and a band, too), Repeat Performance (a used record store), and some other little shops, run by hippies, that aren’t here anymore. I wonder if he remember’s Dame Leo’s.

My point is: you never know when you are going to find someone who surprises you. Probably the most interesting topic in our two hour long discussion was that of Carlos Castaneda. We talked about him with respect to so many things, mostly that he was brilliant but common. We talked about energies, magic, shamanism, Jimi Hendrix, The Doors, and all sorts of amazing things. We even talked about religion and Jesus and being “Saved.” It made me feel like I was back in high school talking with Jaymes, Johnny, Chet, Merideth, and Rodney about life, drugs, love or sex, and happiness. Mostly, we talked about how the world tries to keep us from being happy. The main premise of capitalism is that we will never be satisfied with what we have; we will always have to go buy one more thing to make us happy. All we really need or really want, according to my new found friend is a vision quest that leads us toward our goal of self. I am not sure I buy it, but it makes life much simpler. He was probably one of the most relaxed, at ease people I have ever met. I have nothing else, but to say that I am reaching that place, the one where I don’t care what other people have, where I want to seek for the greater good, where I don’t care about keeping up with the Joneses, and where I am content to be.

We don’t always have to be productive. Sometimes doing things just to do them is an excellent feeling—and excellent feeling that feels better a little fucked up, no doubt. Productivity be damned!