September 12, 2014
The mind
is a fickle beast. It renders life a
matter of interpretation. It messes
with facts the way a cat messes with a catnip mouse. Let's take an example of a fact and the way the mind can squeeze
the texture of reality into the most paradoxical experiences.
Here's a
fact: I pay $700 a month to live with
my partner in a 38 foot motor home.
That's for site rent, water,
sewage and a generous stipend of electricity. Interpretation #1---we are poor
white trash who can't afford a mortgage and are forced to live in a funky
campground with people over whom we have no control.
Interpretation
#2: Our overhead is so low that I can afford to work fifteen hours a week and
devote the rest of my time to writing, photography and study.
Here is
a fact and my mind has entertained both outcomes of this fact. Interpretation #1 hit me during May of this
year when I plunged into a consuming depression. I felt like such a failure!
A man at my age with no money, no property, few possessions and even
fewer so-called "fans" of my artistic work. After all, EVERYTHING in my life has been about my artistic
work. At sixty six, it's a little late
to go back and study accounting.
Depression
is no joke: it can kill you. This one
was a dragon, and I was fighting for my life while it was able to breathe
fire. When the smoke cleared I wanted
to wrap its ashes in a little package and put it on the dashboard as a reminder
that I'm not immune to savage and destructive thoughts.
Interpretation
#2 is certainly just as true as #1 and far more comforting. So, dear audience? Which door should I open?
Shout it out! #2! #2! Okay, okay.
The problem is that the mind is like a feral donkey. It won't be cajoled; it won't be baited. It
won't obey the commands of logic. It
allows the nearest emotion to get on its back and then it goes crazy, it takes
its rider (your Self) on a wild, bucking ride across a surreal landscape of
irrational urge and desire. At last it
tires and lets you (and your feelings) get off its heaving flanks and regain
some composure. This is the reason that
all studies of consciousness, from psychology to esoteric Buddhism, focus on
the mind. The fickle beast of the mind
is a problem second only to mortality itself.
Having lived in much the same way for the last 10 years (motorhome replaced by cheap apartments), and since I came out of a 2-year depression, I've realized that really no other interpretation makes sense. Let the other guys and gals have their high status careers and latest 50 " flatscreens. I live for my art because I am my art. I can do nothing else except guard the treasure that is the deepfelt appreciation of that choice. And so I recommend "interpretation no. 2". There really is no other interpretation worth considering.
ReplyDeleteYou have my complete respect and gratitude, Ulrik. Sometimes I feel the old #1 interpretation creeping back into my thoughts. I tell it to go fuck itself. So far it's worked. But I take nothing for granted. Thanks for being here and watching my back, as we say in the U.S.
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