(no subject)
I'm so confused about emotions. I have real problems making sense of them. About the only ones I can clearly identify is the erotic stuff or melancholy. These are quite broad categories, as to the erotic stuff, for me, also belongs the lust at the forbidden, and to melancholy belongs sadness and depression as well as cynical moods or sarcastic kinds of serenity. Sometimes I even think all emotions exist in the dichotomy of melancholy and the erotic stuff. I could imagine some people not minding to be melancholic and in the mood of Eros at the same time, but that's hard for me. In fact when I have prepared myself to enjoy the Eros and then happen to find melancholy at my doorstep the Eros is completely gone. As far as girls go I still enjoy cuddling and the like, but even just kissing is out of the question. I still feel as if there's something more in melancholy, as if it has something in it that could enhance my experience of life.
This could be because of a false association in my mind. I mean that in my childhood and youth I had many very positive experiences during grey and rainy days like in october, november, march, april. I was never quite as happy as on many of these grey days. A certain calmth overcame me, a sensibility and yet also an inner strength so as to be able to enjoy positive things I sensed but not be shaken by negative things. I remember sitting at my desk as a kid, looking out into the grey day, onto the grey street, and just loving something which I saw/felt/loved then. It's quite hard to analyze. It was a feeling as if the borders of my body are covered with lot's of hair, and as if all of these hairs have nerves, and then as if I stop feeling the insides of my body and just feel with the outlines of my body. I had a kind of meditation when I was a kid. I would sit down on the carpet and think "Who am I? ... Who am I? ... Who am I"?, and back then this was a mystery to me, because the normal answer of "I am me" or "I am Daniel" or "I am the boy that lives there and there" never satisfied. I wasn't asking who I am. I was trying to reach. In a way, it might be comparable to when people start asking themselves who God is. Or when something seems mysterious and you want to know more about it without feeling curious. Back then I knew curiousity harmed what I was usually trying to reach with my meditation. What I normally wanted was getting the shivers. Yes, getting shivers. I loved how it felt to be shaken inwardly, when I felt like a fast twitching eyelid.
It seems that these were experiments with self-awareness. Children normally don't look inside themselves. The outside, the world, the people, the things, is interesting enough. Later on one simply becomes acquainted with it. The intensity I felt when just going out into the rain simply lessened more and more, until it was gone.
It's hard to remember emotions. My love for M is but a faint memory. I cannot reproduce the feeling, except, faintly, by watching a movie or piece of music from back then. Yet this is only a superficial reproduction. The self from back then has gone. I sometimes fear it had been erased when I was 22 and got schizophrenia. I've often feared it cost my soul, and I sometimes imagined I would now just be some sort of organism only, a machine set on a path, predetermined and worthless in its entire existence.
The strange thing is that the first schizophrenic episode culminated on silvester 2000, around midnight. That was when I heard the first voice. Later on I found out that jews believe that God judges the world each New Years Day. Since that day my old self is gone, the self that I had valued and tried to realize for a lot of my life. And since that day I find myself unable to love with clarity of mind and intensity of emotion. Sometimes I think I do love, but it is without the warmth of heart and thought. I rather feel cut off from something. I can still do what lovers do, kissing, smiling, touching .. and I can do it just like anyone else. But within me I know I'm lying. This isn't love, it's some sort of polite responding to requests.
My only salvation from this lies in poetry. For only in poetry I can say this is one more thorn of the rose of love. Only that way I can believe that my life is a story, a voyage. However, I may not analyze this, to prevent a deconstruction, yet without analysis I feel unable to remain believing these days. So eventually I run aground again. I think I've shipwrecked a 1000 times. And each time it's worse. Not so much in the sense of emotionally burdening, more like each time the thought becomes more forceful that at some point I fucked up. Or that life is youth, and aging after youth means dying.
God is one solace. Yet it cannot replace logical thinking, believe in God even contradicts logical thinking. Take the trinity. How can God be the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, at the same time? How could God be in heaven while being on Earth in Christ? But at least the believe gives hope for heaven, and more importantly, for me, the being given a new body which I think also means a renewed self. Life on Earth is pretty much a one-way street, all of the time. And it's so hard to live with most people. Anyone wants to avenge himself if you do him wrong. And only signs of submission or tears change people's minds, or proving to be more dangerous than them. I don't quite believe in all of evolution anymore, but there's a lot to be said for our similarity to chimps or orang-utans, or even just dogs. Even they remember it well when someone hit them. But we humans take that to a new level. And it doesn't help in remedieing our society from our hostilities.
Good, enough for now. Goodnight!
This could be because of a false association in my mind. I mean that in my childhood and youth I had many very positive experiences during grey and rainy days like in october, november, march, april. I was never quite as happy as on many of these grey days. A certain calmth overcame me, a sensibility and yet also an inner strength so as to be able to enjoy positive things I sensed but not be shaken by negative things. I remember sitting at my desk as a kid, looking out into the grey day, onto the grey street, and just loving something which I saw/felt/loved then. It's quite hard to analyze. It was a feeling as if the borders of my body are covered with lot's of hair, and as if all of these hairs have nerves, and then as if I stop feeling the insides of my body and just feel with the outlines of my body. I had a kind of meditation when I was a kid. I would sit down on the carpet and think "Who am I? ... Who am I? ... Who am I"?, and back then this was a mystery to me, because the normal answer of "I am me" or "I am Daniel" or "I am the boy that lives there and there" never satisfied. I wasn't asking who I am. I was trying to reach. In a way, it might be comparable to when people start asking themselves who God is. Or when something seems mysterious and you want to know more about it without feeling curious. Back then I knew curiousity harmed what I was usually trying to reach with my meditation. What I normally wanted was getting the shivers. Yes, getting shivers. I loved how it felt to be shaken inwardly, when I felt like a fast twitching eyelid.
It seems that these were experiments with self-awareness. Children normally don't look inside themselves. The outside, the world, the people, the things, is interesting enough. Later on one simply becomes acquainted with it. The intensity I felt when just going out into the rain simply lessened more and more, until it was gone.
It's hard to remember emotions. My love for M is but a faint memory. I cannot reproduce the feeling, except, faintly, by watching a movie or piece of music from back then. Yet this is only a superficial reproduction. The self from back then has gone. I sometimes fear it had been erased when I was 22 and got schizophrenia. I've often feared it cost my soul, and I sometimes imagined I would now just be some sort of organism only, a machine set on a path, predetermined and worthless in its entire existence.
The strange thing is that the first schizophrenic episode culminated on silvester 2000, around midnight. That was when I heard the first voice. Later on I found out that jews believe that God judges the world each New Years Day. Since that day my old self is gone, the self that I had valued and tried to realize for a lot of my life. And since that day I find myself unable to love with clarity of mind and intensity of emotion. Sometimes I think I do love, but it is without the warmth of heart and thought. I rather feel cut off from something. I can still do what lovers do, kissing, smiling, touching .. and I can do it just like anyone else. But within me I know I'm lying. This isn't love, it's some sort of polite responding to requests.
My only salvation from this lies in poetry. For only in poetry I can say this is one more thorn of the rose of love. Only that way I can believe that my life is a story, a voyage. However, I may not analyze this, to prevent a deconstruction, yet without analysis I feel unable to remain believing these days. So eventually I run aground again. I think I've shipwrecked a 1000 times. And each time it's worse. Not so much in the sense of emotionally burdening, more like each time the thought becomes more forceful that at some point I fucked up. Or that life is youth, and aging after youth means dying.
God is one solace. Yet it cannot replace logical thinking, believe in God even contradicts logical thinking. Take the trinity. How can God be the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, at the same time? How could God be in heaven while being on Earth in Christ? But at least the believe gives hope for heaven, and more importantly, for me, the being given a new body which I think also means a renewed self. Life on Earth is pretty much a one-way street, all of the time. And it's so hard to live with most people. Anyone wants to avenge himself if you do him wrong. And only signs of submission or tears change people's minds, or proving to be more dangerous than them. I don't quite believe in all of evolution anymore, but there's a lot to be said for our similarity to chimps or orang-utans, or even just dogs. Even they remember it well when someone hit them. But we humans take that to a new level. And it doesn't help in remedieing our society from our hostilities.
Good, enough for now. Goodnight!