Where I come from, we didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving. Were we ungrateful or did we have nothing to be grateful about? I don’t know. Maybe we needed something big to remember, something substantial, something with a wow factor in it.
Yesterday I was walking home after spending some time with Marco and his family. I had spent the greater part of the afternoon playing in the autumn leaves with his daughter. We had not planned anything special for that day, not even dinner, just a few hours walking in the sun, being together. Thanksgiving had more to do with a nice long weekend than gratefulness.
However, as I stepped out on the sidewalk heading home, after sharing a nice glass of red wine, I suddenly remembered that it was Thanksgiving. I had seen an old lady earlier being picked up by her daughter; she was carrying a plate of goodies. I assumed she had been invited for dinner. It wasn’t dark yet but there was no longer light except for the yellow glow of the street lamps. I could feel the coolness on my skin, my nose was cold. The moon had risen, it wasn’t quite full but it was bright against the midnight blue of the sky. Lazy clouds were passing the moon pushed by a soft breeze. The ground was covered with dried leaves which crackled under the steps. Winter was coming. Somewhere nearby, someone was burning wood; the scent in the air was soothing. It was a beautiful night. And I had spent a wonderful day. And this was good enough a reason to be grateful.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Friday, October 10, 2008
It's All a Little Insane
When I first started my blog, I was very proud of it. Very proud of the fact that I had decided to reach out to people and share with a number of them some of the tribulations of my life. I thought it could be touching and smart. Of course, the main subject I had chosen to talk about was not the most uplifting one, but I believed that one can talk about misfortune and particularly one’s own like a perfectly ordinary thing.
A few chosen friends got the privilege of my blog’s address. For the others, it was up to them to find it by accident. I was not ashamed or uncomfortable; it was simply easier to reveal myself undercover. My friends were supportive and enthusiastic. Most of them already knew the broad lines for having been into my confidences for many years; others were more on the inspiring side of things. One of them however, particularly surprised me, Juliet.
Juliet and I met years ago while studying abroad and we managed to maintain a rich friendship afterward. Although we lived an ocean apart, the distance didn’t seem to be a precluding factor. Over the years, we shared much of our troubles and joys over emails and phone calls and we visited each other as often as we could. I thought we shared similar intellectual interests and a desire to surpass ourselves, to grow and to learn.
Juliet’s initial reaction to my first couple of postings was at best disconcerting. She was adamant that I was not only clinically depressed and in dire need of chemical support but also wasting my potential with incommensurable despair, an unhealthy focus on the past, and ultimately a profound regret for not having the life I hoped for. I was quite surprised especially since she knew how excited I was about the fact that my life was finally beginning to make sense. No amount of reassurance would work, she was right, I was in denial. I should accept my limitations, put an end to this ludicrous therapy and stop questioning myself. After all, too much reflection is bad for the mind. Everybody knows that the Great Philosophers were not especially known for their tremendous joie de vivre. According to her, life made no sense, we never got to know the why, the how and certainly not the thereafter, so what was the point?
What was the point? How could anyone be asking such question? What would the world be today if Socrates, Einstein, Newton, Freud or Christopher Columbus had decided that it was useless to even attempt at finding answers? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t pretend to be of their caliber, but we all have a role to play, people to touch, lives to affect. What kind of legacy do we leave behind when we just give up? Is life really easier afterward? Can we really just stop thinking, feeling, living? And then what? We all have limitations and they can be quite frightening, but are they not especially designed to force us to transcend ourselves?
Her reaction got me thinking. Was I boring her to death every time I attempted a meaningful conversation? It is no wonder she never participated. Was she just bearing her time until we could discuss her latest craft or haircut? That’s when I knew I had misjudged her; we had nothing in common except perhaps, a distant past.
Would it be so awful if my life did not correspond to what I had imagined? I had not imagined anything, I had no life. I died emotionally many years ago, before I even had the chance to live. I was a moth, larvae and I am now blossoming into a beautiful butterfly, thanks to all these wonderful people determined to help accomplish myself. Life has never been so good, so generous to me.
No matter what others may think, it is important for me to understand where I come from, what I have endured, how my life has been influenced in order to be able to understand the choices I have made and the reasons why I made them. How could I choose a different path if I know not how I go to this one in the first place?
Perhaps some people can go through life making as little waves as possible. Perhaps they may even be the happiest of all. I have after all cursed my own brain more than once wishing for a greater level of inanity. In spite of everything, there is nothing more stimulating to me than a conversation or a book that haunts me for a while and gets me thinking. And as long as I think, I am alive.
A few chosen friends got the privilege of my blog’s address. For the others, it was up to them to find it by accident. I was not ashamed or uncomfortable; it was simply easier to reveal myself undercover. My friends were supportive and enthusiastic. Most of them already knew the broad lines for having been into my confidences for many years; others were more on the inspiring side of things. One of them however, particularly surprised me, Juliet.
Juliet and I met years ago while studying abroad and we managed to maintain a rich friendship afterward. Although we lived an ocean apart, the distance didn’t seem to be a precluding factor. Over the years, we shared much of our troubles and joys over emails and phone calls and we visited each other as often as we could. I thought we shared similar intellectual interests and a desire to surpass ourselves, to grow and to learn.
Juliet’s initial reaction to my first couple of postings was at best disconcerting. She was adamant that I was not only clinically depressed and in dire need of chemical support but also wasting my potential with incommensurable despair, an unhealthy focus on the past, and ultimately a profound regret for not having the life I hoped for. I was quite surprised especially since she knew how excited I was about the fact that my life was finally beginning to make sense. No amount of reassurance would work, she was right, I was in denial. I should accept my limitations, put an end to this ludicrous therapy and stop questioning myself. After all, too much reflection is bad for the mind. Everybody knows that the Great Philosophers were not especially known for their tremendous joie de vivre. According to her, life made no sense, we never got to know the why, the how and certainly not the thereafter, so what was the point?
What was the point? How could anyone be asking such question? What would the world be today if Socrates, Einstein, Newton, Freud or Christopher Columbus had decided that it was useless to even attempt at finding answers? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t pretend to be of their caliber, but we all have a role to play, people to touch, lives to affect. What kind of legacy do we leave behind when we just give up? Is life really easier afterward? Can we really just stop thinking, feeling, living? And then what? We all have limitations and they can be quite frightening, but are they not especially designed to force us to transcend ourselves?
Her reaction got me thinking. Was I boring her to death every time I attempted a meaningful conversation? It is no wonder she never participated. Was she just bearing her time until we could discuss her latest craft or haircut? That’s when I knew I had misjudged her; we had nothing in common except perhaps, a distant past.
Would it be so awful if my life did not correspond to what I had imagined? I had not imagined anything, I had no life. I died emotionally many years ago, before I even had the chance to live. I was a moth, larvae and I am now blossoming into a beautiful butterfly, thanks to all these wonderful people determined to help accomplish myself. Life has never been so good, so generous to me.
No matter what others may think, it is important for me to understand where I come from, what I have endured, how my life has been influenced in order to be able to understand the choices I have made and the reasons why I made them. How could I choose a different path if I know not how I go to this one in the first place?
Perhaps some people can go through life making as little waves as possible. Perhaps they may even be the happiest of all. I have after all cursed my own brain more than once wishing for a greater level of inanity. In spite of everything, there is nothing more stimulating to me than a conversation or a book that haunts me for a while and gets me thinking. And as long as I think, I am alive.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
The Magic Trick
I have been through some terrible things in my life, and some actually happened said Mark Twain. I was about to discover the same thing.
I had made up my mind; I would let the hypnotist perform his tricks on me. Useless to say, I was terrorized. There was something very unsettling in the idea of letting a complete stranger access my mind. I mean, I am not talking about someone to help me stop chewing gum; I am talking about finding out deep poisonous secrets completely unbeknownst to me. Still, considering where things were at, there was not much left for me to fear but fear itself.
And so the session began. I sat myself comfortably on a bulky coach and grabbed a large cushion which I held protectively throughout the entire time. He handed me a headset playing a series of meditation scenarios designed to help me relax and facilitate the induction. After a few minutes he removed the headset and took over.
The idea was to deepen my relax state into a hypnotic trance where my mind could be more receptive to suggestion. First, he suggested that I felt very heavy and relaxed and comfortable. He made me imagine that I was slowly descending a flight of stairs, into the darkness. Then, he asked me to watch his hand as he raised and lowered it in front of my eyes and snapped his fingers. He did this a few times while conjuring the right words to let my mind go deeper and deeper into my memory. He spoke fast as if he did not really want me to understand what he was saying.
Because the memory is supposed to be extremely accurate in hypnosis, he used regression to help me with that part of my childhood which I could not remember. He kept repeating that I was safe, that I was myself as an adult returning to the past, that I was just an observer and nothing could affect me. I must admit, at that point it felt quite TV performance like. Then, he carried on with more visual scenarios bringing me to a time when I was four years old. At that point, I am supposed to be in a hypnotic trance. It is hard to tell because it is not exactly a mystical experience. If I was in a trance, I didn’t notice it.
According to him however, there is always evidence of trance in the form of a slight flushing, eyelids fluttering or an easing in the breathing pattern. He also used a little monitor linked to his computer that he had attached to my finger to monitor the depth of the trance. Apparently the evidence suggested that I was in a deep hypnotic trance. The mind is then fully open to suggestion and can be worked with.
And at the end of the session; the hypnotist simply suggested that I return to my normal state of consciousness and he snapped his fingers once again. I was wide awake, back to normal.
Throughout I felt like I was in control of the situation. I could open my eyes, move around a little, or simply refuse to answer some of his questions. I did not expect that I would remember so well everything that was said and experienced while in trance. It felt rather more like daydreaming.
Of course, compared to a more traditional form of therapy which requires time, effort and commitment - hypnotherapy – is a swift way to deal with issues. However, there are some issues that may require a better support system to deal with the aftermath of a devastating discovery, than a quick session with a hypnotist may allow.
I had made up my mind; I would let the hypnotist perform his tricks on me. Useless to say, I was terrorized. There was something very unsettling in the idea of letting a complete stranger access my mind. I mean, I am not talking about someone to help me stop chewing gum; I am talking about finding out deep poisonous secrets completely unbeknownst to me. Still, considering where things were at, there was not much left for me to fear but fear itself.
And so the session began. I sat myself comfortably on a bulky coach and grabbed a large cushion which I held protectively throughout the entire time. He handed me a headset playing a series of meditation scenarios designed to help me relax and facilitate the induction. After a few minutes he removed the headset and took over.
The idea was to deepen my relax state into a hypnotic trance where my mind could be more receptive to suggestion. First, he suggested that I felt very heavy and relaxed and comfortable. He made me imagine that I was slowly descending a flight of stairs, into the darkness. Then, he asked me to watch his hand as he raised and lowered it in front of my eyes and snapped his fingers. He did this a few times while conjuring the right words to let my mind go deeper and deeper into my memory. He spoke fast as if he did not really want me to understand what he was saying.
Because the memory is supposed to be extremely accurate in hypnosis, he used regression to help me with that part of my childhood which I could not remember. He kept repeating that I was safe, that I was myself as an adult returning to the past, that I was just an observer and nothing could affect me. I must admit, at that point it felt quite TV performance like. Then, he carried on with more visual scenarios bringing me to a time when I was four years old. At that point, I am supposed to be in a hypnotic trance. It is hard to tell because it is not exactly a mystical experience. If I was in a trance, I didn’t notice it.
According to him however, there is always evidence of trance in the form of a slight flushing, eyelids fluttering or an easing in the breathing pattern. He also used a little monitor linked to his computer that he had attached to my finger to monitor the depth of the trance. Apparently the evidence suggested that I was in a deep hypnotic trance. The mind is then fully open to suggestion and can be worked with.
And at the end of the session; the hypnotist simply suggested that I return to my normal state of consciousness and he snapped his fingers once again. I was wide awake, back to normal.
Throughout I felt like I was in control of the situation. I could open my eyes, move around a little, or simply refuse to answer some of his questions. I did not expect that I would remember so well everything that was said and experienced while in trance. It felt rather more like daydreaming.
Of course, compared to a more traditional form of therapy which requires time, effort and commitment - hypnotherapy – is a swift way to deal with issues. However, there are some issues that may require a better support system to deal with the aftermath of a devastating discovery, than a quick session with a hypnotist may allow.
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