The Social Contract

I am a thinker. I am so apologetically and with much embarrassment, but even with the weight of that understanding I remain a thinker. I often counsel people searching for their life's purpose to pay attention to that which they do when they have nothing to do. If you find yourself singing your life needs to contain much singing, if you find yourself dancing or reading or taking care of people or telling jokes then you fill your life with that. I think...constantly, neurotically and obsessively; I think about thinking and how I feel about my thinking. I try to feel about thinking but inevitably find myself thinking about my attempt to feel about thinking and then correspondingly feel guilty having spoiled my attempt at feeling with thought. I have this whole stand up routine I deliver to friends when I am attempting to convey the intensity of my neurotic thoughts. I really should create a flowchart that begins with "Any topic of conversation", passes through several incidental intermediary stages like "Impending collision of the Andromeda galaxy with the Milky Way" and ends with "You (me speaking to me) are worthless and a failure and generally a drain on the human species".

It's funnier in person.

Just now though a thought appeared which I trust because it was accompanied by a feeling of rightness. Perhaps, the thought goes, the pervasive anxiety and epidemic of neurotic thinking I am experiencing is symptomatic of not applying my proclivity towards thought in a productive manner. You see I have made my life in the world of music which is a world deeply distrustful of analysis. I often feel like an impostor trying to evade detection by the "real" musicians. Analytic thought is truly my greatest talent. The creative lifestyle has come much more difficulty for me. I've had to learn it piece by piece. I love it though. I love it wildly and passionately and with a profound sense of purpose and meaning. Analysis mostly makes me feel dirty and whorish, like I'm selling myself. This I think is largely due to an internal dichotomy as to prospective career choices. My feeling self very much wants to continue on with music and to grow my creative powers to their full potential. My thinking self, which is nothing less than a little bastard, advocates towards a profession in the law. The choice then presents itself to me as being between happiness and material comfort.

But what if I've created a straw man here. What if the problem is not analytic thought in totality but this singular material manifestation of it in my contemplation of a career in law. After all there are plenty of miserable, unexpressive, wonderfully talented musicians out there drudging away day after day for money. That's just as terrible an existence isn't it? What if I need to be applying my reluctant talent towards more wholesome pursuits. What if by doing so my brain turned its attention away from the neurotic, obsessive and anxious and towards the love of knowledge, which is what philosophy is supposed to be.

So then we begin where I began my love affair with knowledge, in the arena of political philosophy. I first entered the minds of the great thinkers of western society at the invitation of my 11th grade AP US History teacher. An amazing man and amazing teacher. He would indulge my rebellious but intellectual tirades and challenge my thinking, which was refreshing in that it was not dismissive. He began nudging me towards this book or that and I ate them up voraciously. I was a huge consumer of enlightenment works which influenced the American founders: Locke, Montesquieu, of course Jefferson and eventually I found my way to Rousseau.

Rousseau was fascinating to me for several reasons, firstly he was a musician. I was not particularly moved by his music but knowing he lived in that world spoke to my own struggle at the time between my analytical and musical selves. Secondly he just wrote differently than most other philosophers. If you've ever had the displeasure of reading Aristotle than you understand how tedious and monotonous these people can be. Now don't get me wrong I appreciate the mental dexterity and the enlightened minds but on a fundamental level, reading philosophy is often boring as shit. Rousseau isn't though. He is brash and emotive and has a keen flair for the dramatic. Let me show you some of what I mean by taking you through just the very beginning of his Social Contract.

Watch how he begins with this odd statement of humility (rare among philosophical types):

"This little treatise is part of a larger work which I undertook many years ago without thinking of the limitations of my powers, and have long since abandoned."

...So two words in he is self deprecating, this little treatise, which he then follows with a recognition of his mortality. Continuing on...

"...Of the various fragments that might have been taken from what I wrote, this is the most considerable, and the one I think the least unworthy of being offered to the public. The rest no longer exists."

That's his introduction to his work. "Uh hey um, I wrote this stupid thing and it was part of a bigger thing but I was too stupid to finish it so this is the least shitty part of what I was trying to do before. I burned the rest". Refreshingly human I think. One of the most irritating parts of reading philosophy for me was the prevailing sense of having intellectually conquered nature or the universe or the subject of their little treatise. It always felt like a newer more pathetic manifestation of the same obsolete male impulses towards screaming and thumping one's chest at having killed something. Humility is generally lacking in philosophy but Rousseau intrigued me with this little opening. Continuing on...

"My purpose is to consider if, in political society, there can be any legitimate and sure principle of government, taking men as they are and laws as they might be."

That is a pretty god damned succinct thesis statement. My 9th grade English teacher would be proud. The efficiency of it is artistic. He is writing about political right, whether or not government is a justifiable human phenomenon on moral or utilitarian grounds and he manages to describe that subject in an incredibly efficient, plain and complete manner in just 30 words which average maybe four letters each. (It could almost be a fucking tweet!) It is beautiful and again refreshing. So much different than most philosophers. Continuing on a little ways later, the famous line...

"Man was born free, and he is everywhere in chains."

Talk about a flair for the dramatic. What a gripping thing to say. It pulls you right forward doesn't it? This again is succinct and plain spoken and direct in a powerful way. It becomes the central point of the work; that man is in a sense de-volving, getting worse over time as a result of society. He'll argue everything from moral impurity to freaking prevalence of disease have increased over time as a result of man inventing societies.

I can't only praise him though. I just thought I'd begin by explaining why he is fascinating to me. He is still at his heart a westerner with an unhealthy love of the rational mode, like a stalker in a tree with binoculars. Yea it's good he is passionate about something but there's a fine line between endearing persistence and restraining order, you know what I mean? Consider the following...

"The oldest of all societies, and the only natural one, is that of the family; yet children remain tied to their father by nature only so long as they need him for their preservation. As soon as this need ends, the natural bond is dissolved. Once the children are freed from the obedience they owe their father, and the father is freed from his responsibilities towards them, both parties equally regain their independence."

Now before dissecting this with the rational scalpel, doesn't it just feel wrong? I mean doesn't it get down in your stomach and swirl around, kicking up nauseousness and leaving you feeling uneasy? I know as a male I feel the impulse to sometimes act brutish and coldly in vulgar indulgence of the desire to procreate as often as possible before death but that feeling even in its most intense form is accompanied by a sense of wrongness or numbness, which one comes to understand as the willful ignorance of wrongness. It is natural to want to protect your children, to see them grow strong and wise and happy. It is natural to preserve the family unit and to be kind and loving. At least I feel that way.

Anyways you can see the cold blooded approach of the rational surgeon (philosophers) whereby emotion is relegated to a vastly subservient position in the hierarchy of truth seeking and silly conclusions such as the one above are suddenly and easily arrived at. It is interesting though to note that even the most rational of formulations must begin with an emotional premise and it is not irrelevant I think to consider the fact that Rousseau himself abandoned his children after being abandoned himself by his father. Perhaps this shaded his conclusion above in convincing himself to simultaneously forgive his father and absolve himself of his own sins.

Such is the game we play when we try successively to place the ideas of philosophers in the box of psychology and then vice versa. At least it seems more fun to me than the all too familiar neurotic arm wrestling in my brain. We'll see how this goes. Maybe we'll continue one with Mr. Jean-Jacques and his inquiry into the principles of political right. Maybe someone out there will engage in a substantive discussion of his flamboyant and irregular treatise. That would just hit the spot.

Good Times

You and I

If you'd have me, I'd love to take you to the cliff's edge. When the sky is dark and cloudy and the waves crash softly, in humble restraint of their power. We would study the stars, sand collecting in our hair. I would hold you close and tuck the hair behind your ear. Our lips would meet gently with our eyes closed tight and the music of the ocean leading a long overdue first unrestrained dance.

If you'd have me.

Breathe

As I breathe in I sense the anxiety beginning.

As I breathe out I embrace it.

I am writing this way and not that, which makes me feel regret and disappointment. I embrace the regret and the disappointment and turn myself to writing this way now.

I sometimes wonder if they understand the unique plight of poverty. I think in the end it’s irrelevant but it means more hurdles to pass and less margin for error. I can see that I must focus all my energies on deep awareness as any other energy is wasted. One of the profound thoughts he left me with is the simple idea of being present in the moment. Fear and anxiety he said, are anticipations of possible futures which may or may not happen. The pain and anger I carry are remnants of the past. My task is to be in the present. To prepare my body and mind to be fully engaged in the now and then to simply do it. I told him last night after he offered to share his home with me and filled me with love and acceptance; after he spoke of family and told me he was proud of me for what I had accomplished…after he said these things and told me I had everything one needed to be a powerful conductor, a musical mind, intelligence and an ability to conduct, after all that I told him that I was always struck by his ability to say to me and people I’ve seen him speak with, precisely what we are prepared to understand and to hear at any given moment. Before this trip I considered that quality to be some mystical talent possessed by a higher being. I think now that perhaps it is the result of a good deal of practice at being present in the moment. He is communicating so precisely with us because he is practicing deep awareness.

The thought that wants to surface now is an immense expression of gratitude. I am shy actually and I think I make him uncomfortable when I say it but I know he has saved my life. I find myself wanting to speak the words “how many times can a person be saved”. I love that man so very much.

I need to listen to myself more. I think that is an important step to take at this time. The suppression of my inner voice feels to be the cause of many of my problems. I must embrace these feelings and not run any longer.

As I breathe in, I sense the beginning of pain.

As I breathe out, I embrace the pain.

Thank You

snapshots of thought

I feel the gravitational pull of the law. In the past couple weeks I've had the cautiously satisfying experience of sparring with two lawyers on their home turf. I am conflicted because on the one hand I have been given a great talent for rational thought. It comes easily to me and when I indulge myself I feel a sort of lawyers high from the experience of prolonged expulsion of rational thought. I just can't decide if it's more of a runner's high kind of thing or more of a meth addict kind of thing. It often leaves me feeling dirty.

The first person was a woman I've never met, who has never met me but who by reading snippets of postings on the internet has decided I'm harming indigent children (exact language). She filed a 5 page email complaint against me to our district alleging I was "using and exploiting children" through various policies of our department. She insinuated several times that I was benefiting from fundraising and explicitly said several times that I was discriminating against and harming poor children. Luckily I believe I possess the ideal skill set for responding to such claims. I am a fanatic, dionysian musician possessed with a natural gift for the law who also happens to best express his thoughts in writing. Add to that the rhetorical skills I've refined over the years in the practice of writing and I delivered what I think was a rather effective response.

The second person is my former landlord who seems to be an overall terrible person. Lawyer, personal injury lawyer turned bankruptcy lawyer who represents banks turned foreclosure specialist who starts a debt collection agency that files thousands of law suits a year against people who owe a few hundred dollars on credit cards who then gets judgments against these people and when they can't pay he brags about his innovative foreclosure unit which takes people's houses away from them. All around class act. Trying to dick me out of my security deposit. Much less noble response to this one but I did spend a bit of time reading the california civil code and a supreme court ruling.

The movie 3:10 to Yuma also has been in my thoughts. The choice that Christan Bale's character makes at the end has had me thinking about purpose. This is a newly birthed thought and doesn't have the legs it needs yet but it really does strike me that purpose is choice. In the case of that character it was that time, that place, the series of events in his life that led him up to that moment which made his choice powerful and filled him with purpose. It at first strikes me as a silly obsolete male impulse on the surface but upon further inspection it seems to me a moving instance of genuine purpose. Maybe that thought will mature in the days to come.

The pain continues. I read two articles about anxiety today that were more illuminating than anything I've ever read about it before. Both were by people with anxiety who wished only to share their experiences. One of the articles talked about the selfish nature of a panic attack in that you are consumed with thoughts about yourself. This rang quite true for me and opened some new doors of thought that I hope to be helpful. I think I moved a bit today. I felt the loosening of rock surrounding the mind which accompanies mental movement.

I have been starving for human contact these past few weeks. Genuine interaction, conversation, understanding, revelation, spontaneity, touch, comfort, shared pain. I have been so fixated on these things that I only just realized how much I really need to make other people feel good. I liked filling the void and raising self esteem. I liked guiding people through their own journey of self discovery and sacrificing parts of myself to do it. I need it. I feel incomplete without it. These are the toughest things.

Good Times

3 quick things

In my eclectic brain three thoughts have found nourishment the last couple days.

1. The overly intellectual part of my brain is busy weighing the viability of the hypothesis that the stubbornly high unemployment rate in this country can be most adequately accounted for by Marxism.

2. The cornily sentimental part of my brain is weighing the viability of finding true love.

3. The calmer and seemingly wiser part of my brain is chewing on the idea that the pursuit of validation is among man's universal behaviors.

In the way of meta-analysis I am of course considering the odd grouping of these ideas in a single being, namely myself. How is it possible that such ideas could cohabitate the same intellectual dwelling? To be honest a fourth topic is lingering as well but in an attempt to save the world from my darker nature I omit it here. Apparently my proclivity towards dark humor makes most others feel "uncomfortable". I can't understand why....

Anyways I don't want to spend to much time here expanding on these thoughts but I'll flush them out a bit. As to #1 if you consider the true trajectory of Marxist thought, meaning not viewing it from the perspective of the ultra-nationalist propagandist or the tree hugging idealist, but if you view it instead as the inexorable progression of events Marx described then it is hugely important to look to high unemployment. Marx did not say a communist state would come into being because people would somehow wake up one morning convinced of its moral superiority, it was something that would happen gradually over time as a result of economic conditions worsening. Specifically he identified the mechanization of labor that would take place and consequently lead to higher and higher unemployment. Eventually he thought unemployment would reach a tipping point and people would rise up and start a revolution. We've only moved from a normal rate of unemployment being around 5% to 7 or 8% but still it's worth observing. Did you see the 60 minutes story last week about robots doing more and more jobs? It's worth thinking about...

#2 is embarrassing to admit such a though even exists in my brain. Talk about the path more traveled  I put myself in league with every terrible screenplay, cheezy romance novel and the entire female population of the planet in such speculation. Nonetheless it's there and lingering. Falling in love is wonderful, I hope to do it again someday. Moving right along...

#3 is the thought worth the most investment I think. I think it's the most worth pursuing of the thoughts I currently harbor but I am again embarrassed to reveal myself in terms of the originating event of this particular idea. I sort of left the channel on the Oprah network and she made a comment about how every guest on her show was searching for validation. I think she is describing a true phenomenon with a limiting word. I think validation is a massively common pursuit but I think it's more about being understood. I think we all fundamentally want to feel understood. To connect with another human being in such a way that makes us feel as if that person really gets us. Even if it's just one person I think it can be that simple knowledge of someone else out there able to understand us that keeps us going.

I did a quick explanation there. I'm going to try (almost certainly unsuccessfully) to get some sleep.

Good Times

Tar

I am worthy
of your hate.
only.
take some of mine.

Ah self destruction welcome back. It's nice to have you back on the program. We were just speaking last week with your friend. This last work of yours was elegant and moving in its efficiency. A single calculated act wreaking such destruction. It's good because she almost started to like you. Better to blow it up before it began. Save yourself the pain of dragging it on and ruining it later. Make them hate you, that's the best way. Drive them away so you can be miserable. Alone.

At least then it can end with me.

A Hard Day

It's been a hard day. The memories have begun dying and as they struggle for those last few gasps of air the convulsing sends bursts of pain through my chest. It doesn't seem like a vacation anymore, it feels wrong. It feels to me as if each of the nueropathways in my brain is connected to my nervous system and each time one of the little strands of brain tissue rips its roots from the soil of my brain I feel a flash of pain. Sometimes whole clumps are uprooted and the intensity if magnified. Randomly images force themselves into my mind, almost into my eyes they seem so vivid. Nothing odd or particularly powerful just plain views of the door to my old house or the living room but the implied power is enormous. And the gun shot like manner in which they appear, penetrating my consciousness and then exiting quickly. Before it was a big pain, which while overwhelming and humbling in its ability to physically take me to the floor and override my usually overbearing rational control, was at least finite and even cathartic. Now it is a small leak of pain. It burns hour after hour slowly and patiently. It is a soft hum that you forget is there when busy and then in your solitude it haunts you. It is calm and steady and threatening in its sense of inevitable conquering. I feel it taunting me and my patience like Grant surrounding Vicksburg. I hate it because it denies me the clarity of big pain. There is something healing about big pain, something cleansing. It burns and stings like hell but when it is gone it is like after a strong rain. This dripping brings no clarity. It does not cleanse. It is a smarter pain I guess.

Breathe I suppose. Try to cleanse it with the breath. 

Good Times