It’s usually desirable to find something that makes you feel satisfied or that makes you feel ‘good’. But have you ever found a reason to be self-destructive?
I’m not asking if you’ve ever done anything self-destructive. I’m asking if you have ever intentionally done something for the sake of being self-destructive, and not just been self-destructive as a symptom of something else. Have you ever given into fear? Have you ever done (or allowed) something that just made you more scared?
When it comes to me living, I find it useful sometimes to look at my being as several distinct but unified bodies. Father, Son, Holy Spirit– something like that. Separate but one. I’m not the trinity mind you, but there is in my head a little coucil– the dreamer, the planner, the worker– that ultimately convenes and leads up to what I ultimately am to the world.
Not often, but sometimes, the Dreamer asks the Planner and so the Planner does what he does best: he comes up with a plan. to make something happen. But sometimes the Worker doesn’t want to get started, because the Worker has ideas of his own. But the Planner is kinda creative– where asking nicely doesn’t work, a little fear might help.
Yes, willing myself to get something done is sometimes an act of agressive coercion. The Planner unchains the three headed dog of everything he knows scares the Worker shitless. And the Worker isn’t happy, but he wants to survive– so he runs in that one direction and works his way through that jungle, which is exactly what the Planner had planned. The Dreamer doesn’t like this, but when fear is used to manipulate the Worker, the end result comes.
Back when I was younger the dance between the three parties was a lot more kindergarten. There might’ve been some bargaining, some bullying, some ‘you’re full of shit’. Nowadays, it’s politics. The Worker’s been through a lot of shit, the Planner has been given some pretty inconceivable tasks to actualize, and the Dreamer has had his share of dissapointments. Now the three have that sort of love hate relationship characteristic of only the strongest families– and every now and then, they disagree, they fight bitterly and there is a lot of suffering but in the end it’s all done for the good of their world, which is the me as a whole.
Of course, there are times when none of those three know what to do. But whatever.
Today is Halloween.
While I was picking up some rackets downtown for a stringing job, I heard a troop of daycare kids singing to a march, them being a little platoon of zombies, witches, ghosts and pokemon. They’re all clinging to one of those mutli-kid cloth things with twenty handles that keep them in line, all tromping by the fountain to the tune of a daycare person who looks like she’s having a real ball. At the backend of the troop is another daycare sergent, there to make sure there are no stragglers, his voice also booming.
I don’t have a spidersense or anything, but there are moments where you can ‘feel’ something in the air, a tingling. Those two daycare workers weren’t just any daycare workers, they weren’t just some 15 year olds doing a summer job. They were two middle aged folks, and as I watched them tromp by I was surprised to find from them fighters’ aura.
I mean, though you might think otherwise because here were two grown adults skipping about like children, if you watched closely they were alert and aware. Their eyes scanned the crowds for potential threats. Their eyes were alive, constantly counting and recounting how many kids were there if they ever had to turn their heads away, steering clear of people with hot coffee and avoiding the janitor wheeling about with the trash bins.
I see people like that taking their jobs seriously and it makes my day. When I have children, if I ever was forced to put them in daycare, they’d go with people like this: people who are alert, who look after the children as if they weren’t just daycare workers per se but as if they were bodyguards to a dozen little presidents.
And yet, here they are, singing a song and skipping about the mall tiles. They make it look so easy, and if you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t even notice how alert and alive their eyes are.
Someday I too hope to lend my eyes to protecting something big (or in this case, many small things). I see something like this and I feel more safety and more substance in a pair of middle aged daycare workers than I do in the average metro cop.