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Here is a trick mind plays very often on us, and on which I comment for the sake of those who, like me, are engaged with their own internal development and rise of consciousness. If I talk about it, abandoning all kind of embarrassment, is not because I have got over it, but precisely because it is one of my most usual problems and, you know what they say, the best way to learn something is teaching it.
It is funny, for a guy who does not believe in coincidence anymore, that my name, which comes from Latin, means “made of fire”. You bet I am, and I have scorched more than one, intentionally or unintentionally.
Fire, as a symbol, is linked in several belief systems to morality (and, obviously, passion too). I happen to be one of those guys with a very strict code for what is right and wrong. I don’t choose it, I don’t elaborate it, justifications will only come a posteriori: I just see something is right or is not. I seem to see things always with an extreme, I might say excessive clarity. No possibility for commitments. To put it in other words, I am one of those persons in which their blessing and their curse happen to be one and the same thing.
The problem comes because the environment around you defends itself from such a feature; one attracts what needs, so maybe this clunky old world of us needs an imprudent asshole saying please cut the 3,200 words crap, this IS bad, period, etc. But at the same time, any alive creature tends to maintain its status quo, and the world just like any other has its defensive mechanisms to protect itself from any inconvenient truth; to that purpose, from your tenderest age, the social body inoculates you guilt antibodies, prejudices, and very efficient fears: it creates within you a “library” of things that must not be not only articulated, but even thought. So very soon your mind becomes divided between the fascinated being who explores the world, and the silent, 24-7 auto-cop.
Such struggle of two contrary forces, when in addition to a temperamental type (fire!), usually generates strong violence and turmoil.
Such violence can be directed against oneself, and then becomes complexes, illness (and material for a lot of posts) or…
it can be turned against the cause of conflict.
Roar!!! Rebellion with all one’s strengths against the unfair situation, the paternal imposition, the naked emperor boasting around about his tuxedo.
However, once you roar you’ve fallen into the trap. Because, once you exert all your power to squash that mosquito asshole, the guilt antibodies start to eat you alive.
You were right from the beginning, but now you have blurred your own triumph and cannot recognize it anymore. You have lost your balance. And you’ll have to wait to regain clarity once the tiny bugs are satiated with your flesh. Better luck next time.
It makes me think of an Ozzy Osbourne song:
No use in saying sorry
for something that I enjoy
The problem is that the antibodies are efficient to the extent that sometimes it is not that easy to remember what you enjoy. Too many things conspiring against simplicity. I also remember a quote in Albert Camus’ journals (which seem to be my source of inspiration for this season’s philosophical thoughts):
I knew already the truth about myself and the others. But I could not accept it. I was writhing, burnt by its red-hot evidence.
Fire again, what a coincidence, isn’t it?
I guess half of you who read this will think it was written by an extraterrestrial being, while the other half will probably know too well what I’m talking about. I want to know of all of you: what’s your situation? How do you manage with the antibodies? Those who are made of water, any advice?
Related posts:
Sick (but not tired)
The key, if you ask me…
There’s nothing wrong with being a freak
The house on fire and the blackest of mists
Nacho and the primal forces