May 31st, 2011
|09:00 pm - Something I Really Want In Life|
WARNING: there's a fairly graphic image described behind the cut. Okay, you have been warned. :)
I had a dream once, which made an impression on me.
I was part of an elite team of FBI agents or something similar (think the Behavioral Analysis Unit, if you watch Criminal Minds). We spent most of the first part of the dream chasing a particularly vicious child rapist/murderer. It was very exciting and featured a lot of running around, driving in cars, and dodging traps set by our suspect. Some of these last were quite cruel, designed to capture and kill slowly, inescapable doors covered in spikes that closed on one, etc.
We finally tracked the perp down to his home, a single-wide trailer in a rural trailer park. It looked run-down, but fairly normal: a broken-down truck parked outside, flower pots with straggling plants in them hanging from the makeshift roof over the driveway, dried grass growing through cracks in the cement.
But we got there too late. He was still alive, but only barely--one of our agents found him sitting in a lawn chair next to the truck. He had used a piece of broken glass to castrate himself. The dream did not stint on the imagery; it was bloody and horrible.
Our entire team wandered around, supposedly looking for evidence, but really quite distracted by the scene we'd discovered. We talked about why on earth he might have done it, what could have been going through his head, and how gross the whole thing was.
But oddly enough, none of us were particularly disturbed. Yes, it was disgusting and bizarre and horrible, more so than even what we usually saw, but... it wasn't going to </i>stick</i>. It was more a curiosity, a one-up story to tell in the locker room, than anything that shook our basically good view of life and humanity.
I want that kind of groundedness in my real life. To be able to dwell next to the nastiest bits of human evil and yet find it curious or odd rather than terrifying.
Current Mood: thoughtful
I've had a few dreams like that. I dreamt once that I had to kill a child, and was weirdly detached when I did. (The child knew I was going to do it and was fine with it, too.)
Do you mean you don't want to feel the depth of horror/sorrow/loss? Or to be able to let go of it once you had? Or something else I'm not getting?
Do you mean you don't want to feel the depth of horror/sorrow/loss?
I suppose that's close. It feels wrong to say, because I've always used the experience of emotion (right down to the depths) as my default, my only way of trying to be fully aware and understanding of the world.
But I'm bored with that now. Or not bored, but just exhausted because evil (and it was, in this dream, far more about horror and evil than it was about sorrow or loss; I think I've made that distinction before in blog posts about these topics) has so much control over the whole world. I'm sick of the fact of its existence controlling my responses, when I know it doesn't have to. I want to be able to see and acknowledge evil without being affected by it, just like my team was in the dream.
You and I are coming from opposite ends again. *g*
In my own life, I've learned that following all my emotions; dwelling on them, getting deep into them is, yeah, not a good thing. They turn into obsessions and control me.
But I tried not feeling them so deeply, and as it turned out, they just bottled up and got worse. Like I had a numb layer over a storm that I couldn't control. I was losing touch with both my emotions and other people.
So now my current course is to feel them and then "dissipate" them; to experience the height of excitement and the depth of pain for a bit, and then sort of disperse them and relax myself. It's more than not hanging on to them. I feel them a lot like I feel a powerful song, switching into that mode of feeling for awhile. But then I consciously let them go, or air them out. So far it seems to work.
Does that make sense?
Hmm, we may be coming from opposite ends, or we may be talking a bit at cross-purposes.
So now my current course is to feel them and then "dissipate" them; to experience the height of excitement and the depth of pain for a bit, and then sort of disperse them and relax myself.
I have a difficult time doing this. I think it's because it's not just about emotions, for me; it's still about truth, about trying to figure the world out and feeling like I have to fit in all the horrible stuff before I can be sure I've got it accurate.
When what God seems to be telling me, lately, is that it's both truthful and good to focus on the beauty in things, the stuff that isn't immediately obvious, or that people don't talk about but is still there. (Like spiritual freedom in Christ; like the joys of deep platonic friendship; like physical affection and pleasure in the physical world in general.)
I feel as if maybe, when I'm better at that, and better at trusting my own view of the world, I'll also have arrived at the ability to see evil and horror and not flip my s***, if you will.
Ah, gotcha. I can see your point. Getting that foundation of truth, of beauty and goodness being more real and more enduring than the ugly things, is essential.
The way I see it, it keeps me from despair when faced with the horrors that are thrown at me. If I know the pain is temporary, that someday all the wrong parts will be scrubbed away, it's easier to endure. Is that more what you meant?
Getting that foundation of truth, of beauty and goodness being more real and more enduring than the ugly things, is essential.
This. Yes. It's not even quite as straightforward as what you said in your next paragraph, in the sense of future hope for change, it's more just the groundedness of knowing the good things and having them at the root of one's being. (i.e. my icon *g*)
And (if I can drag this out even longer *g*) recognizing that goodness and rightness persist - even blossom - in places where, at first glance, it seems that all is twisted and defaced. Truth is surprisingly hard to kill!
The image in my mind is of the flower I saw growing up through the gravel in the yard of Dachau. Dachau, where the Nazis sent officers to learn how to be more cruel. Horrible things went on there, yet also art, and music, and courage, and compassion, and a little yellow flower.