February 11, 2010

Unscrambling my mind and wanting to see people as they are.

I don't just want to be touched, to sit passively, to receive, to be driven to thought. I see people around me and I want to touch them, to connect with their souls. But I don't know how! Every opportunity they give me, I must understand how my thoughts fit into theirs, and listen, be touched, be moved, and somehow, move back, express myself in words that don't say what I want them to. Rearranging is hard; I suppose it's the price of connection. And if I start with myself, I can't get anywhere, well, I suppose this, me speaking, writing, now goes against that. I feel like I have to start with myself, and see myself as I am, before I can honestly interact with those around me. But I'm not giving anything to anyone, I'm just expressing my thoughts.

All of my thoughts are so jumbly, they ramble around not wanting to stay on topic. I think, I don't want to talk to you unless we'll have a good conversation, and in so doing, I use people, make them things. This reminds me of the thought from the Sacredness of Questioning Everything that so convicted me:

"Like the God in whose image people are made, people are irreducible. There's always more to a person - more stories, more life, more complexities - than we know. ... Perversion is a way of managing, getting down to business, getting a handle on people as if they were things."

This reminds me of how I approach people sometimes. I think in terms of justice: that they cannot expect me to solve their problems. Looking at it objectively, I can only do so much. They cannot place blame on me for their own self-constructed false dilemmas. But the thought of mercy breaks in: I think of the comment I wrote on Micah's blog, was it yesterday?: mercy bewilders. It sends my own little scheme, my own perfect categories sprawling. Mercy is redemption, as David Dark says, redeeming. Giving things their proper, right value. In a way, we all deserve mercy. But perhaps that muddles the issue.

I'm still thinking in the back of my head what to make of this that I'm writing. I wonder if it's more introspective journalling, or blogging, or purposeful communication. I wonder if I'm saying this to declare one of my own self-constructed false dilemmas: a belief that I simply cannot connect with people around me, or edit my mood to fit what they're saying. (I, ugh! don't want to think of replying to emails or having conversations with people as obligations!)

Maybe I've said all of this because it had to be said, to somehow give me peace so I can reach and change and touch, so I can understand myself enough to know how to respond. They are thoughts that I want others to hear, but I don't know why: I mean really, who cares for this one-sided transparency, this irrational trust? Or perhaps this is all spurred on by the lack of risk involved in virtual communication. Marshall McLuhan said that the medium is the message. I hate to think that everything I try to say through buzz, or blogger, or chat, is all colored, changed, by the media (but oh, it is, it must be) and that more than that, my words are only going into one stream, one message, joining along with every other self-absorbed sharing of thoughts in the same type of media, the full force of which go to say something about people's short attention spans and the impersonality of their deepest friendships.

Who is listening? If I am to be honest, I'd say that I'm not. Or, that too often, I forget to. I forget to hear with all of myself, I forget to see and stare and know. Maybe it's because the communication is ongoing. Contacts have a constant access to a distracted version of myself. Now that is why I stay invisible so much. Because when I am online, I want to give my attention to people, to focus on them. To stop my perversion. (Still working off David Dark's ideas.)

So, if my own distracted mind has been somewhat emptied onto the screen, am I ready to be open, and more, to listen, and ... allow my mind to be reorganized? Is that even the point of this ramble?

I just hope that seeing myself sanely will help me to love. And whatever happened to losing my life to save it? I've been thinking about that, too.

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