When it comes to walking the talk of putting ourselves first, most of us are very good at the talking parts…
And why is that?
Sure, no one wants to be walking as the always-moaning irrit, or as the guy who’s always making sure his own war-cries are top of the agenda. Because that would almost definitely put you, she, he or I into category: ugh. There where the references rallied go “…that guy like totally literally has an excessive interest in himself… Like no jokes. Bible!”
So we anagram our pain.
An anagram is a word, phrase, or name formed by rearranging the letters of another. Like ‘pain’ for example, which can become ‘I nap’ – quite funny when you think about how most of us handle that example, yes? Even though underneath it, we always know something isn’t as sharp as the tools in our shed should be.
‘Heartbroken’ becomes let me keep busy, call my cousin or the banker and see if I can go on a holiday, and no doubt because ‘lonely and scared’ is easiest buried when we decide it’s a good time to load new land scenery.
I think breakdowns happen a lot more often than the ones that take us down, but just because we hurt in ways that aren’t halting or necessarily harrowing, doesn’t mean we’re not held to ransom by what we’ve deemed ‘stuff’ less than worthy of its own headline.
Until the headline reads:
DIVERSIONS ARE ONLY GOOD PLAYMATES UNTIL THEIR OUTLINES DISSOLVE
There are actual medical equivalents of this subdued willingness to keep the unnoticed just that. There’s the silent stroke that shows no outward symptoms, an absence seizure for epileptics, and a silent heart attack (which discriminates against none). While without announcements, a silent stroke still causes permanent damage to your brain and there will be scars left on your heart no matter how quiet any attack there.
So we hear about someone who knows someone who met someone who endured this happening to them, and follow that up on cue with the freak-out, first: that these happen, second: wondering whether you have had anything like this, and third: acknowledging the lingering-becoming-louder paranoia, humming how am I supposed to help myself if I don’t even know it’s happened?
So how is it that paranoia almost-always trumps our passion to treat ourselves to some *cough* narcissism? Or at least, sooner than we do. Before we’ve cleared our timetable of doing everything for everyone else, and finally like totally literally, decide it’s okay and shouldn’t pose a problem to anyone else if we take a gander through the Gallery of our DNA?
If it sounds bad, there has to be a good side, right?
Life leans in ways that will have us riding square wheels through its hard-time hills, which – whether it feels that way or not – also discriminates against none. And we know that we know this, when we see, hear or read about others’ hills they rode, once they’ve come to where they are when they can war-cry about it all.
Depends where you are among your hills when you hear them, I guess.
The James Baldwin excerpt (included in my mashup below) speaks of poets and their re-telling our truths – for the healing we all need, and that which comes with reflection.
The artistic metaphor is not one I stand by exclusively. I believe that, just like writing and music are The Church of Me, a person who loves to garden, weld, knit, fetch the kids from school and get them ready for extra murals, build muscle in the gym, wage war in a computer game against unmet friends made through an internet connection, take pictures, look at pictures – whatever starts the smile from inside their chest – there is every he/she in their own reservoir of goodness. And there is the hallowed hello from your Church of Me.
Just like these little trip-ups eventually call our attention into headlines – triumphs work the same way. There on the other side of the breakdowns, when tremors become more thrilling, and the building you began work upon starts to look like something more than just a dug-out foundation with materials set aside it, your chest-smiles grow and eventually present something composite of your new architecture.
No jokes. Bible.
Maybe you could enjoy some nonresistance to a little narcissism?
Mine for the purpose of this share – though surbated – are summated here … as / in / from and for ~ DRAGONFLY LEA.