Currently Reading The Right to Be Human: A Biography of Abraham Maslow By Edward Hoffman see related

[

mood

|

exanimate

]

There exits within the human soul an inexplicable desire to be free from all forms of bondage. Yet there exists within virtually every facet of life an uncontrollable and often inconspicuous force that keeps one just short of his or her goal of freedom. So then it is safe to say that it is this is the place of my battle: my Armageddon, my cosmic struggle of good and evil. But I am also aware of the illusion that this war represents: the illusion of my desire to stop it. It is much easier to forget my duties, my mission, and rest in a dimly lit room with my eyes fixated on words on a page, devouring the delicious posits of Carl Jung, Thomas Merton, and Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. I sometimes think that I should convert pragmatically to Catholicism for the simple purpose of becoming a monk in order to escape the outside world. I want to be an ascetic without being required to give up my mundane addictions: the internet, relationships that only satisfy the most egoistic emotional hungers, etc.

My frustration lay in the dichotomous extremes by which society, including even those who are closest to me, expects me to measure: I am gay, straight, or bisexual; in a relationship or in nothing at all; disabled or able-bodied. The list goes on, but suffice it to say that I am tired of it; even more so of the fact that people perceive this illusions to be reality when they are nothing more than confines of psychological and spiritual oppression. I expand on Michel Foucault’s concept of Biopower, the dispersion of institutions (education, religion, “sciences”) that enforce the structured expectations of American identity, institutions he calls “agencies of citizenship.” More broadly, and perhaps more accurately, I call them the “agencies of humanity.”

So, I’m beginning to see my reality for what it is: exactly the opposite of what everyone has ever told me it should be. I cherish my paradoxes of being disabled while understanding that is nothing more than a social construct; of understanding that my well being is not contingent upon my parents’ love for me while feeling indescribably guilty for not receiving it; of wanting to fall in love while understanding that he is not the one for me. I need to find my gravity, the force that pulls me to the center of myself and rest in silent expectancy for life, where I shall stand firmly planted even in the midst of its tidal waves.

Currently Reading Sing, Whisper, Shout, Pray!: Feminist Visions for a Just World see related

[

mood

|

content

]

Not all A's but.....


Survey of U.S. History: A
Great Questions of Philosophy: B
Natural Aspects of Psychology (Bio Psych.): B
Sufism & Islamic Mysticism: A

Semester GPA : 3.5
Overall GPA: 3.00 (I'll get it back up.)

Maymester started today: Women & Social Change. Texts: Sing, Whisper, Shout, Pray: Feminist Visions of a Just World and Nervous Conditons. Watched a video about the life and Works of Audre Lorde: A fabulous Black, lesbian feminist and poet.

"I'm beginning to see more and more of my own fragility."

…That’s what I told my therapists (during group—I was the only one to show up) today, and I think that’s a good thing. No longer am I going to ferociously bark at the world to protect my glass-like soul; more important: I’m going to embrace my innate sensitivity, with all its pros and cons, as a gift, one that leads to empathy, understanding, and an unyielding desire to help people actualize their potential, spiritual or otherwise. Indeed, I used to think that I was pretty extraverted, but no, on the contrary, I exist within myself. Mostly because it’s the only place I really feel secure in this world, I suppose. And that’s not a bad thing, either. With all its marvelous beauty, this world is a scary, unfamiliar place to me. I’m more and more frustrated with its archaic and counterproductive paradigms. I’m growing more and more restless because of the status quo and the expectation for me to conform to it.

Just because I walk with crutches doesn’t mean that I’m disabled, and just because I don’t focus on the details, but rather the bigger picture (what psychologists call “global thinking), doesn’t mean that I have A.D.D. Just because something’s different doesn’t make it wrong or not worthy of its inherent right to be simply as it is. Carl Jung embraced this when he evaluated personality differences. The Meyers-Briggs test evaluates what kind of personality someone has while honoring the outcome. (I’m Introverted Intuitive Feeling Perceiving--INFP) I suppose the hardest part of my therapeutic experience thus far is this: the active unweaving of all the pretensions, self-fulfilling lies, and conformist tactics that one employs in order to maintain a sense of pseudo-peace with a quasi-identity at the expense of his inalienable right to stand in firm acceptance of who was, is, and what he shall become. Only when one rejects the societal equations of different and sick; challenging and wrong; and questioning and disbelief will he truly understand who he is. Indeed, the hardest thing to do in life is to be oneself without shame or expectation.

Which leads me to my third point: where and how to find heaven. Indeed, as Tracy says, “heaven’s in our hearts.” The Biblical scriptures say this, too. It’s an active pursuit of peaceful tranquility in life: this takes work, patience, and perciverence. Perhaps the easiest way for me to understand this is to reflect on what I learned in my Sufism & Islamic Mysticism class. A very popular Sufi mystic, Al-Surraj, said that the path to God is primarily composed of different experiences (wajd-literally meaning moments) that are governed by God. While they all kind of tie into another in some ways, the ones that best apply to this entry are maqam and hâl. Maqam is the work that the Sufi must to on his own to rid himself of his egoistic desires; hal is the pulling of the Sufi towards God in a temporary, estactic union with the Divine. It’s a transformative experience that opens the doorway to the next maqam where the Sufi must work. I think I experienced a hal a few months ago, when I found incredible peace; and now I’m working on the next maqam.

That’s the way I look at it.

Currently Listening New Beginning By Tracy Chapman Heaven's A Place Here On Earth see related

"What can we gain by sailing to the moon if we are not able to cross the abyss that separates us from ourselves? This is the most important of all voyages of discovery, and without it, all the rest are not only useless, but disastrous."--Thomas Merton

I'm feeling something in my chest and I don't know what it is. Just a big ball of feeling. A perfect mixture of blissful elation and consuming anxiety. That seems to be pretty typical these days. So many stimuli, internal as well as external. That's the funny thing about life, I suppose. It'll take away what you want exactly when you need it the most. When you know you deserve it. And it doesn't come back until you understand that you don't deserve much of anything in life. Sweet serenity given by impenetrable humility. It's so hard to remain humble when we live in such a prideful, materialistic society.

I suppose I just want everyone to love me. I really loathe it when people are upset for any reason, and it's my natural tendency to channel that feeling back to me in the form of unwarranted guilt. As if everything's my fault. Probably because I don't take care of myself anymore, mostly spiritually. I don't write. Fuck. Why don't I write anymore. I need to, obviously. I've lost myself. My words, my thoughts, my love.

What happened to that all-consuming love I once had--however fleetingly I had it. I want it back. I want my peace. I want my presence. I want to remember what it feels like to be truly here. Truly in my skin. I don't have that anymore.

The Highly Sensitive Person by Elaine N. Aron. Check it out.

In the lovely words of Michael Bublé, "I wanna go home."

In the incredible words of Tracy Chapman: "Heaven's in our hearts."

I want to go back to heaven.

I so wish I actually had the will power to update this biznatch.

Finals week. Brain dead.