Pit of despair

You straddle the present, keeping one foot stuck in the unfinished past and the other stomping down the uncertain future, leaving an empty space between your wobbly legs. You fill this vacuum – the devil’s hungry crotch – with all manner of dramas, meltdowns, obsessions, addictions, self-delusions, and a lifetime of meaningless fucks. And this is how you pass the time, counting down the years of a life with no present tense; feeding the universal pit of despair with everything but the kitchen sink.

Your new normal

“Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal.”
~ Albert Camus

You expend tremendous energy trying to survive this demanding, unforgiving, unbalanced world; hoping to find just a bit of happiness before the game is over.

The traditional, normal approach, is to make whatever efforts are deemed necessary to survive and possibly thrive in this world, usually following some previously prescribed set of rules for success, and this takes up the bulk of time during your early and middle years. “Keep up the effort, stay positive, and live to fight another day,” they say, “and your cherished dreams will come true!” This is the Traditional Normal.

The abnormal, as it is commonly referred to, is when you’ve finally given up or reached your symbolic dead end, but feel too overwhelmed with despondency to even realize this, thinking you are just too exhausted, getting old, or suffering a mental health issue. This becomes the New Normal for you and the burgeoning, disillusioned older generation; the prime fodder for today’s psychiatric and pharmaceutical industries.

Sensual woman

A man feels both excitement and fear over a woman’s sexuality, a conundrum that seems to defy resolution. He takes delight in being the focus of her desire, yet fears the rabid lusts of other men, who lurk in the shadows, awaiting their turn.

And so he either succumbs to his fear, judging her desire as bad, accusing her of indiscretions or fantasies of the worst kind; or he resolves to appreciate the blessing of her sensuality, rejoicing in God’s masterpiece, a gift to all who experience her, both near and far; now, then, and tomorrow.

Weight of the world

“I tell you solemnly, that I have many times tried to become an insect. But I was not equal even to that. I swear, gentlemen, that to be too conscious is an illness – a real thorough-going illness.”

~Fyodor Dostoevsky , Notes from the Underground

For the people who contemplate the convoluted complexities of life, there is a tendency to struggle with an existential anxiety and depression, sometimes to a disabling degree. It feels overwhelming to know how everything works, or think one does, leading to all kinds of paranoia and insecurities, including a sense of inevitability or hopelessness to change anything – the feeling that the dead weight of the world is upon one’s shoulders. And there is no cure for this, no medicine to transform the deep thinking soul into the simple-minded outlook of a task oriented human being, as Dostoevsky so elegantly pointed out with his insect metaphor.

Field trip

The lot of us roamed the state park, back and forth, like zombies searching aimlessly. We’d keep going until Liz – the activities coordinator – blew the whistle, and then we’d scramble back to the bus.

Lenny and Chip, the OCD sufferers, zigzagged the grounds in convoluted patterns, understood by them alone. Reminded me of the football patterns I ran with my mates behind Foley field, about 40 years earlier. The difference being that we never crossed into each other’s lanes in those days. But, Lenny and Chip crashed into each other at one point, almost coming to fists over it, before arriving at a compromise with my assistance.

“Avoidance is the key,” Lenny told me after calming down.

“Yep, stay in your own lanes, and all will be good,” I said. And I gave him a thumbs up. He smiled, gave me a pat on the back and continued his zigzag patterns. I felt validated from the pat.

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