The brain takes charge

Gray, boring, dull, yawing, blasé, undeveloped, unintentional, melancholy, haphazard, flippant,

casual, overcast, inactive

Inspiring isn’t?

I have spent the last few months floating along in a sort of limbo (not exactly the edge of hell type though) with the only intentional actions being:

- I make sure I have clean clothes for work

- I clean once a week

- I check out more books that I could possibly read from the library

Somewhere I lost some of my fervor for life and the magic of the little things has slowly been hazed over. I think about writing, I think about art, I think about sitting with a cup of tea and staring out the window or sending a card to my friend

…but so much of that is just like a bird that jumps out of the field and flutters in front of you and then vanishes.

Certainly I am not depressed. I am active, social, do plenty of stuff, I'm happy (though not content). It’s kinda like I’m on selective Jenny auto pilot. My brain knows I like incense so it has me light it at night. But it keeps me from writing under the influence of the smell. It knows I like chocolate pudding when I am pmsing so it has me go buy it- but I don’t pay attention to its chocolate-ness like I normally would.

Perhaps I put myself through too steep a gauntlet earlier this year in trying to figure out the answer to questions that I don’t know yet. I do that. Sometimes I say to myself when I am crying about something

“tsk- you are too intense. Stop the drama”

“But I like the intensity- it’s colorful”

“well sometimes it’s too much color”

“Impossible !” I say to myself. And I go on crying and reading and asking questions.

“This is ridiculous. GET OVER IT” because some part of me realizes that a good slap in the face is more effective than writing writing writing about something over and over again sometimes. Sometimes you just need to take a break from intensity to ENJOY the color it produces. Sometimes you just need a red balloon and a peaceful mind.

So maybe my few months of induced melancholy and a numbed mind was like my brain saying

“hello? Shut up- what you’re doing is impossible. Quite trying to be like a 70 year old sage with a 27 year old brain! It’s like trying to figure out how to do quantum physics when you can barely remember how to do long division.”

And then my brain slapped me.

And I was like

“ok”

Only I didn’t know my brain was having a conversation with me and I didn’t really know I agreed with it like a little kid nodding his head in agreement because all he wanted was to get to the end of the lecture and get a red balloon.

Only I think technically- I didn’t get a red balloon cause the last few months have been a little colorless. I think my brain thought that was necessary for my mind and I should do without.

What does it know? It’s only 27?

So there you have it. Last night I went to a coffee shop and sat and read for a bit and people watched and all of a sudden my fervor returned and I thought “HEY! Where's my RED BALLOON?!”

and my mind was like "you agreed to give it up moron- your brain told you how tired it was"

and i was like "I WANT MY RED BALLOON BACK!!!" and right there in the coffee shop I slammed my book down and yelled and started pounding the table till someone brought me a red balloon and licorice tea and played some really good jazz music.

and I remembered how much I love people, and God, and reading, and learning. REALLY LOVE it.

And my brain just sighed….and was like “whatever. At least I got you to sit down for a bit.”

That’s when I concocted the whole story above -with my renewed creativity.

Regret

If life were a dream, if life had physical representations of what resides in your thoughts and souls- here is a piece.
Something painful has happened.
This mysterious, almost menacing fog has descended on your path.
People handle that grey matter differently depending on who they are. I plunge myself directly into it and sit down. I close my eyes and feel the full course of pain till it has swept through me.

I know the pain.
Then I begin to walk through it. I probe it.

I find whatever beauty I can in it. Like a crocus pushing its way through the snow, or a bite of chocolate pudding during PMS.

I believe all pain carries opportunity for beauty in my life.

“Life is pain highness” said Wesley to Buttercup before he revealed himself.
If life is pain, and life if beautiful, then pain too, is beautiful.

I spend however long it takes to find the beauty, then, I step out of it –and release it.
Essentially, I see the dark for what it is- so when I step outside of it, it dissipates, I know what I am leaving behind, and I let go.

But what happens if you get lost inside?

I tell people that I live my life with no regrets because regrets don't do any good. To be honest, there are two things I regret in this life. I am lost in them. I find I am transporting myself halfway back into my regret and wishing it away. Taking back something that is already done.

It is haunting me.
I have closed my eyes and sat down. It isn’t there *says a stubborn 5 year old or a 5 year old adult*

I realized this yesterday when I went to work. Usually, if I have any unfounded sullen feelings they dissipate once I kick my brain into some other gear. When it’s real- any other gear aside from mind-numbing denial seems to um…push me over the edge a bit (this is what we call a wall/locker kicking moment- the second in my life’s history).

So I’ve realized, my “post-quarter-life crisis” -that I sarcastically and flippantly make fun of myself for- is induced by these two regrets I can’t let go of. I don’t know how other people can let go of things without really knowing what it is. Or how people can hold onto things and still live a relatively normal life with sparks of happiness.

...I apparently do not have that gift.

All or nothing baby. I’m like the pendulum that defies physical science and just never loses momentum from one side to the other.

The good thing about that is… I see beauty in everything.
The bad thing is…when I can’t see the beauty I’m like a puppy looking for their stick with their eyes closed. Stupid.

The ironic things about this all is…. I see the beauty in my collective post quarter life crisis, just not in the individual components. Unfortunately, it's the individual components that keep me here.

So I'm stuck until I find the beauty in these two regrets. ....maybe the question isn't- when will i see the beauty? Maybe the question is, when will I be ready to see the beauty and finally let go.

The Great Marshmallow Experiment

The marshmallow experiment is a famous test conducted by Walter Mischel.

A group of 4 year old children had marshmallows placed in front of them. They were told that they would receive another marshmallow if they waited 20 minutes before they ate the first one.
fast forward to their adolescent years... research indicated that those who held out the 20 minutes scored 210 points higher on their SAT in comparison to those who had eaten the marshmallow right away. They also were more calm and competent versus sulky and irritable later in life.

This is an interesting concept to me and I often find myself thinking "don't eat the marshmallow". In fact, I once wrote a note and tacked it above my bed that read:

"Remember the Marshmallow"

I mean, of course, metaphorically.
The concept, in my opinion, is not that it is bad to eat the marshmallow right away. That, in and of itself is fine. The marshmallow is good, why not enjoy it now? So what if I don't get another one, maybe I don't need another one. Two, might make me sick.

The problem though, is when I eat the marshmallow immediately because my mouth is filled with so much saliva I can't function until that gooey mass of processed sugar is in my mouth. That is when you are controlled by the desire.

Another way of looking at it I think is to imagine a beautiful smelling rose. When you smell it you take part in it, in what it is. You enjoy what it offers. You walk away happy that you got to smell it. It's just there- a passing pleasure that was lovely.

But what happens when you are always thinking about how good it smells and your mood is worse when you can't smell it. The aroma of the rose no longer enhances your life, it dominates it. In other words you no longer take pleasure in what it is, you are only interested in what it gives you.

Your admiration and derived pleasure for something beautiful has become a selfish desire no longer bent on appreciation, but on satiation. You only want something because it momentarily satisfies a desire not because that thing is necessarily good or beautiful.

Not that splurging on say some chocolate pudding when I crave it means I am doomed. spontaneity is beautiful too and it doesn't mean domination. I guess what I'm trying to say is I think there is a balance and that's what the marshmallow test reminds me of. It reminds me to enjoy what I have but when enjoyment becomes something that controls or consumes me- I've lost the beauty.

that's all. just...if your going to eat the marshmallow- be careful of what it can do to you. It can be delicious and wonderful and you go on with your day with a little wonderful. Or it can haunt you till you taste it again, and again, and again.

I'd like to think maybe I'm the kid who held out 10 minutes for the marshmallow and decided I was cool with just one and ate it and went on my merry way. sweet.

Disclaimer: I do not recommend trying this experiment on your children with marshmallows. They are bad for you. Try it with your favorite organic fruit...like watermelon or strawberries. It'll be a serving (or two if they hold out) of fruit and an indication of your child's future SAT scores. BONUS!