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By Adam the Alien, on April 8th, 2003 “What one part of nature best represents you?”
A simple, harmless question, asked of a group of slowly tiring partygoers shortly before dawn. It seems the careless, energetic games and dancing of the night are completely over. Everyone sits together in a room, sharing their thoughts and emotions. And it is here, sitting and thinking about the question, that my mind turns away from the carefree bliss the night has been. Upon stopping and thinking, my uninhibited subconscious is replaced by my repressed conscious mind, and the depression that my over thinking everything inevitably brings.
As I mentally withdraw from the aura of closeness that has settled on the group, I think again on the question. So many options to describe the many different and conflicting aspects of myself, but what describes the whole? Then the image enters my thoughts, and will not leave: ice. Ice? Why ice? The joke that I assume will enter the others’ minds if I tell them is that I see myself as “cool.” But of course this is not and has never been the case. So why ice?
Not because it is cool, but because it is cold. Isolated. Frozen.
As others answer the question, the image in my mind expands. Not just ice now, but a lake, completely frozen over. Beneath the barrier, the lake teems with life. Wondrous plants and animals, such as the world has never seen. Slowly dying. Slowly freezing as the endless winter, a winter that has lasted more than a decade, makes the water ever colder. They don’t even realize they are dying.
I see myself, beneath the ice, finally realizing that I must escape. I see myself clawing desperately at the frozen wall between me and the world. I make progress, but is it enough? I have been beneath the ice so long, I have missed so much. Even if I break free of the trap, will it be too late?
I am snapped back into reality by one of the others remarking at how open the group is. Like family. Family? My family is on the other side of the ice. Of all people, they are most separated. I hide my true thoughts and feelings from them more than anyone else. Thus the comparison only serves to isolate me further from the others in the room. I bottle my emotions again, and drift back into my little world.
Bottle my emotions. Something I have done my entire life, more so as I grew older. But bottles can only contain so much. The bottle was full many years ago, and still I attempt to put more into it. So the bottle leaks. I begin to laugh for no apparent reason. I stab a friend with a pencil for the merest trifle. So it has been for years. It has become too much to contain. In addition to the usual social issues, the usual inability to act on my own advice, larger tragedies have occurred. The death of my grandfather, the terrorist attacks, and the death of my favorite aunt. I am trying to hold back a waterfall with a cork. Still I cannot bring myself to be fully open. So my emotions force their way out. They force their way out in tears, when I am alone, when I cannot contain the sorrow any longer. They force their way out in the form of creativity. Stories, films, artwork. Aspects of my psyche spilling out for the whole world to see.
My thoughts return to the events of the night. I recall dancing. Dancing? Idiot! Stupid, pathetic, idiot! It was, however, close…so close to breaching the ice. No longer worried about holding back the waterfall, I nearly escaped the frozen trap. But now I can feel the ice reforming, and I am too tired now. Too tired from holding back the flow to dig my way out of the ice. The bottle is cracking, the water is freezing, and I know that this is no way to live. But if the only way to escape is laying bare my emotions? My writing, already, leaves me open to mockery. Pain. But if I do not write, I will simply cause myself that same pain.
So what does one do when the only escape from a painful death is risking pain and death?
By Adam the Alien, on November 22nd, 2002 There is a reason for everything. Everything we do, everything we say, everything we think. When people say that there’s no reason for why they do something, enjoy something, or believe something, it is only because they do not know the reason. Or, at the very least, they do not know how to explain it.
Thus can everyone benefit from analyzing themselves. Not being analyzed by someone else, be they family, friend, or therapist. After all, it is far too likely that some aspect of oneself will always be hidden from such people. No mortal knows any individual so much as the individual themselves. Therefore, the individual must analyze themselves.
Analyzing oneself is not always easy, of course. But it is done by many. It may take on other names, other forms. An inner journey. A spiritual quest. Meditation. Whatever the method, whatever the name, it is all truly the same thing. A person seeks to find who they are, where they fit in the grand scheme of things, and perhaps if there even is a grand scheme. They are discovering things about themselves they may not have previously known. Hopefully, they are discovering the motives, the logic, the thinking behind their actions or, better, their thoughts.
This may sound strange, finding the thinking behind thoughts. But that is exactly what it is. Often unbeknownst to the individual, the subconscious is flooding the mind with millions of thoughts, which then lead to the conscious thoughts, the thoughts they know they are having. The subconscious has more control over thoughts, beliefs, and actions than most realize. Or, perhaps, more than they want to realize.
Fear is a prime example. There is nothing so utterly silly as a fear with no precedent. People constantly fear things which have never brought them personal harm. Things that have never caused their loved ones harm. Yet still the fears exist, like some race memory embedded into the DNA. Some fear the dark, seeing images of monsters, murderers, wild animals, or other things. Their conscious mind knows there’s nothing there in the shadows that isn’t there in the light, yet still the darkness is frightening. The subconscious is saying something. But what? Ah, this is what the individual must find for themselves.
An even better example is the fear of the opposite sex. Race memory, instincts, cannot be blamed for such a thing. It is in a human’s instincts to procreate, be it for pleasure or simple survival of the species. The subconscious, for many, weighs things out, then sends the results to the conscious mind, which chooses to talk to a crush or flee from them. For each individual, this subconscious process is different. Therefore each individual must find the process themselves.
The only way to improve any situation, to overcome one’s fears and doubts, is to be aware of the reason behind everything. People cannot seek to understand others, to understand the reasons behind the universe, until they understand their own reasons. For there is a reason for everything. But those who remain unaware of their own reasons are nothing. They are no more than pawns of fate.
By Adam the Alien, on November 22nd, 2002 I hear footsteps. My pulse quickens. My conscious mind panics. They are her footsteps, there is no doubt. The sound is very distinct. No one else walks the way she does, and her shoes are quite loud.
She speaks to me. All that comes out of my mouth is gibberish. I do not know the color of her beautiful eyes, for I cannot maintain eye contact. She smiles. Her smile is radiant, glowing. Has there ever been such a smile on a mortal being? Certainly not. She is an angel. Perfection embodied.
She speaks, and if I could but continue the conversation, I could know her better. I could be happier. But I panic. I say something stupid and walk away, shaking. Why do I do this to myself? I know what to do to make my life better, happier. Why do I sabotage myself?
And then it occurs to me: I am sabotaging myself, aren’t I? I give myself advice every day, in a thousand different situations. Always I choose to ignore my own advice. I seem to be intentionally making myself miserable. Why? Why do I do these things to myself?
I forget or ignore work that is not only easy for me, but work that I enjoy doing! I choose not to pursue my greatest story ideas! I avoid social gatherings! I keep parts of me a secret from even closest friends and family! And then there’s always her: she brings me unimaginable joy in her mere presence. When I see her, I am happy. When she speaks to me, I am ecstatic! But always I avoid lengthy encounters. Always I run from bliss.
Is it that I enjoy misery? In a way, yes. Why? Because I want attention. I want my life to be so miserable, that people will pity me. Feel sorry for me. Care about me. I force misery upon myself to gain the compassion of others. Perhaps she will one day notice my pain, and speak to me about it. Comfort me. But of course, I will simply avoid her again.
Ironic, is it not? I make myself miserable to gain attention, and thereby achieve joy. But if I achieve that joy, I will no longer have my misery. Then what? How can I make people care about me then? So even when I am offered a chance at happiness, I flee. I choose misery. I choose pain. I choose depression. I choose it so I might have another chance at joy. And thus, I am caught in an unending circle of my own creation.
I write stories. I dispense advice. The morals I have learned from this self devised trap are truly wonderful things to be aware of. Still, I cannot bring myself to act upon these lessons learned. I have the key to the cage that traps me, and I do nothing with it. I cry for help, while choosing not to help myself.
People read my poetry, or hear me speak. They guess who she is quite easily. A second guess is rarely required. So, it is that obvious, is it? How so? Has the part of my mind that wants release from this trap intentionally made it thus? Are my poems, my stories, a cry for help? My mind, it seems, is waging a great war upon itself.
And no one wins a war.
By Adam the Alien, on October 19th, 2002
“I wonder if I’ve changed in the night?” asks Alice. “Let me think: was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I’m not the same, the next question is, ‘who in the world am I?’ Ah, that’s the great puzzle!”
-from Alice in Wonderland, by Lewis Carrol
An excellent question, not usually answerable by the individual asking it. For anyone to easily notice change, they must not be there to witness the change. This is why a person is still the same person, even if they have changed. For those who witness the changes as they occur, it is simply the same person growing, expanding themselves physically, mentally, or spiritually. The events until that moment had defined who they had been, and this was merely another event defining them, an event whose outcome was determined by those previous events and changes.
To any who have not witnessed the changes, however, it is quite obvious. Certainly, this must be a different person than before! Surely this cannot be the same person, for they have changed so much! This is why the other half of the answer is no, the changed person is not the same person. Anyone who does not personally witness the changes in a person as they go along cannot understand what led them to make certain decisions, what led them to become so different. If one does not witness, for example, the person tossing and turning in the night, unable to sleep, they cannot fully understand why that sleepless person becomes irritated at the slightest things the next day.
So now we are at an impasse. Is the person the same person? Yes and no. The answer is both, neither, and everything in between. Looking back on old pictures and memories, even the person asking themselves this question finds that they have changed drastically. They seem like an entirely different person, and yet they can remember the choices, decisions, and actions that lead them from the past to the present. They know why they have changed, why they could not remain the same. Looking back they see that no matter what they did at that time, they would have changed. They see that what they did was a direct result of who they were at that time. So if the changes were brought about by who they were, then they cannot be a different person. At the same time, however, they are most certainly not the same person they were.
So here the answer arrives. Yes, the person is a very different person than they used to be. No, they are not a different person for the changes were brought about by the person they were at that time. Yes and no, both and neither. This is the nature of humans. This is the nature of change.
By Adam the Alien, on October 19th, 2002 Nothing is impossible. Only improbable. If highly improbable things were indeed impossible, life as we know it would never have come to be. Whether it was an omnipotent creator being, a chemical reaction, or both, life existing in this organized chaos we call the universe should have been impossible. But there is no impossible, is there? Nay, impossibility itself is the only thing that is impossible.
Ah, but there’s the problem, you see? If nothing is impossible, then how can impossibility be impossible? A paradoxical idea that gives rise to a new question. What is this idea of impossibility? Whatever possesed the human mind to come up with such a word, such an idea? We use it so frequently, but do we truly know its meaning? Can we even comprehend it? If there is such a thing as impossible, what is it? Where is it? What, exactly, is impossible? The answer has already been stated as nothing. But how can this be?
Impossible, you say, is something that cannot happen, for it defies the very laws of nature. But how can we say this when nature defies the very laws of nature? The simple creation of the universe, whether an explosion of particles, an omnipotent being or both, both conforms to and defies the laws of nature at once. Is this, then, impossible? Impossible even though it happened? Black holes, too, are scientifically proven, yet scientifically impossible. Nature defies its own rules everywhere you look.
Therefore I reiterate that nothing is impossible. And again the subject rises that if nothing is impossible, then impossibility is impossible, and therefore impossibility is possible. And if it is possible, then it is possible for impossibility to be impossible. A logical cunundrum. I have spent this night arguing the subject with myself, and come up with nothing save the same circular logic.
At last, a new thought enters my mind. Why do we, the human race, focus so much on such subjects? Even worse, why do we turn these into arguments against one another? Why must science and religion squabble? Why must logic and faith always be at odds? For logic, often circular, requires faith. Faith that impossibility is possible and therefore impossible. Faith that we were created at all. Just the same, faith requires logic. We look around us, we see that we exist, that the universe exists. And thus we have faith that we were created. We cannot prove that we are here, we cannot prove how we came to be here. We simply know we are here. Logic dictates that we must have been created in some way, but indeed we cannot prove that. So faith comes in, saying that even if we cannot prove something, we must accept the fact that it is. Logic must guide faith, and faith must guide logic.
So have faith.
And have logic.
And, once you have both,
LIVE.
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