11PM: When 7AM Meds Weren’t Taken Till 1PM

Chapter 1: How I May See

I’d like to begin by describing to you a recurring psychological… um… let’s call it a “process”, for now. As I describe this process, that is relentlessly occurring in my subconscious, you may feel a sense of familiarity. We, all of us, have fathers and this process revolves around that most impactful of relationships. Of course, this may all seem to you as the gibberish of a madman sitting alone, in his bed, with no qualifications or accomplishments to his name.

There is a version of my father’s face in my mind. This face is not in my father’s image. Rather, it is a grotesquery, a conglomeration of a whole host of things that all, in a strange and discordant sort of harmony, raised me. Of course, my father is a part of that but so is my brother, my mother, my best friend in kindergarten, and everyone else that has ever interacted with me. “Society”, as you would call it, likely makes up a significant portion of “What Raised Me”. What the face exactly is is not easy to say. The important thing to remember here is that this Face analogy I’m describing is, in reality, a weak, insufficient metaphor for a complex psychological experience. The Face does not speak for anyone but itself. If you are a part of society, as you surely are, the Society aspect of the Face does not reflect you or even Society. It’s subconscious, ok?

Ok, the face, for the most part, asks questions. It asks me questions in a demeanor unreachable in reality; a manner achievable only by each human to themself. The gist of that manner is, among other things; derisive, dismissive, unfaithful, loving, laced with contempt, and unassailable.

It asks me to explain myself.
It asks me why I’m doing what I’m doing.
It asks me if what I’m doing is what I should be doing.
It asks, unceasingly, why I’m failing to live up to my potential.
It asks, as if no answer can ever satisfy, where my life is headed.
It asks, “Please, Josh, explain to me how this thing you’re doing is Productive. Please, tell me again why we should be proud of you. Tell me, right now, why your life is worthy of love. Explain to me again, how this thing your doing has any value, because your last thousand answers made no sense either. How could this be of value? I love you. We only want for you to be happy. How, the fuck, could anyone in your current state of existence be happy? There’s no way you could be! Where’s your six figure salary? Where’s your wife and children? Where is the strength necessary to survive this fucked up world? I have failed you. All humans fail. You must explain to me why, the fuck, you are NOT the failure I’m so incredibly terrified that you are. You could never be a failure to me. We love you more than anything in the world. Why do you so consistently cause me pain? Please, convince me, again and again, choice after choice, why your decisions should not cause me pain through their foolish naivete.”

This is a glimpse into how that face speaks. I have become, through constant and involuntary attempts to answer, an expert in explaining things. I used that skill to teach both myself and the people around me. The Truth is always the victor in argument because only The Truth exists. What exists is The Truth. My belief in this truth aspect of The Truth has been the motion of my legs as I walk blindly, as blindly as all others, through life. Lies, half-truths, and incomplete truths all glance weakly, pathetically, off this Face. It knows what I know. When I feel the disconnection between my answer and The Truth there is no hiding it, like a man hiding his fear on an All-In-Bluff. The face feels it as well.

When that happens, it asks coolly, “Why does the answer you just gave me feel wrong to you? Hmm…? I’m not really anyone but you yourself. If I’m not convinced I know damn well that you aren’t either.”

When, my attempts to assuage the unceasingly gluttonous face fail to satisfy, I know why.

These attempts fail due to only one reason. They are not The Truth, at least not fully. I know that this is the cause of failure because I lied to you, just then. This face can be satisfied. Its gluttony does cease. When my answers fail to be The Truth I clearly cannot know what is missing from them since if I knew the Truth I’d use it. When the answers do satisfy, I take the time to look at them clearly. I see only one universal characteristic that, when measured, always correlates with it’s amount satisfaction. That dimension to measure, with invisible rulers, with Babylonian markings, is “How True it Felt when I said it”.

No other aspect of them is universally present in the satisfactory. No other aspect of them is universally absent from those answers that lack any sustenance. This face can only be satiated with that one fruit that is the easiest of all to obtain only when it is impossible to obtain; Understanding.

I capitalize Understanding to mark the separation of the word from your, or society’s, or even my own connotations. Research, the readings of texts, the taking of lessons, the acquisition of experiences; these are all gains in knowledge. Knowledge alone has much less to do with Understanding than might be expected. Understanding includes, among other things; emotional content, the embrace of paradox, rejection of the self, love, faith in the self, freedom, discipline, allowance, mystery, faith outside of the self, and love again.

This is the process that has led me to where I am in life. It has not been an easy path to walk but, it is easily the easiest path possible. It has been simultaneously colored with struggle and pain, doubt and frustration, joy and freedom, ease and fortune, happiness and despair.

The results of this process have been complex beyond my incredibly meagre, pathetic, and adorable abilities to comprehend. However, the one result that is most pertinent at the moment is the acquisition of an idea; an idea of what The Truth is. My goal here is to describe that truth, my personal, possibly incorrect version of The Truth, in words, as vividly as I can. Actually being vivid, or even coherent, is not my goal. I have no aspirations to greatness. I have no sense of self respect that I could ever disappoint with weak metaphor, with incorrect word, or with disconnected concept. Whatever description I, or anyone, may give is enough to be worth giving.

So, now begins that description. Please, have patience with me.

Chapter 2: The Vision Described

The Truth, is good.

Chapter 3: Conclusion

For now, that’s the best I can do. Maybe, words fail me. Maybe, I fail words. Maybe, but assuredly not, we were able to succeed.