Halloween

Today is Halloween, the day the dead come out to play. Kids and kids at heart dress up like all forms of fanciful creatures; Spongebob, Superman, some generic Roman, French maids, barely clad soldiers, cops and nurses. I heard someone say it is an excuse to wear as little clothes as possible and get away with it, "I am Eve in the Garden of Eden before the Fall of man."

I visited friends in Washington DC and being the voyeurs that we are, we roamed the streets to see what was out. It was interesting for me, (first time) my friend was not impressed. There was nothing original, nothing amazing that we found in Dupont Circle. I watched the costumes, envied the camaraderie, the carefree attitudes, carousing and all. I have said before that I have never fit into this scene and I have found no substance in it repeatedly. Yet part of me longs for such daring, honest expression of nothing (or whatever it is people are expressing). Dave Matthews borrowed from Solomon the King (in Ecclesiastes), "Eat, drink and be merry." People are making merry! I want to join the merry-makers' ranks, they look alive and for now enjoying it.

There was a lot of flesh out, the whole wear as little as possible thing. I enjoy looking at flesh, just looking for now. I hope it never evolves beyond that. All the girls in their ridiculous costumes showing off legs and breasts and...I will just watch thanks.

What about Halloween? "Let the children play," we say where I am from. Let them play. My friend asked me what I would dress up as. I could not give an answer. My time is past.

Emotions

BBC's cult TV show (who determines what is cult and what is not, and on what grounds?) Dr Who is a quirky but amazingly entertaining show about time travel, space, human-alien relations in the hope for universal "peace, love and understanding" but usually failing on all three. The Doctor has many foes, the Dalek are the most notorious, they do not die! Who/What are the Dalek; they are clones of a psychotic ugly named Davros, who is bent on world domination (even though he is eventually governed by his creations). They have been stripped of all emotion, except hate. They always sound angry, so angry your voice screeches kind of angry. And so we will add anger to the short list of Dalek-able emotions. When they have The Doctor cornered, they (and the Cyber-Men too) point out the futility of human (and other species') emotions, a quality The Doctor holds in high esteem. What they consider a flaw, he, and many others consider a gift. Not I. Not usually.

Much to my wife's exasperation I find emotions to be a waste of energy/effort. Had I been given the chance I would have picked a few and left most out. I just find them annoying, the buzzing bugs of the summers of my soul. They are probably out pollinating important flowers or some other important thing, but oh what a bother! The behavioral vacillation resulting from emotion-linked living is a major pester. There is much to be said, in my book, for consistency. Walking into my world and knowing were I stand. It helps you behave however you need to and our exchange is a lot more efficient. Flip side; throw emotions in and every meeting we have is prefaced by testing the waters to know how I am faring (emotionally) so that you can bring up this thing but save the other for a day I am more inclined to respond favourably. In short, let's dance. Step on my toes and I will bite. I don't like to dance, I wish I could. I cannot. I do not.

Anger; the downfall of many. I am terrified of mine and my loved ones' anger. I have learned it is difficult to control. It is a pressure release valve, you pull the switch and it gives all until the pressure is safe again. Do we need the pain that release causes, the shame when we have to go back and apologise for saying more than we should have? Anger is best contained, if possible never invested in. The more you love someone, the more you know their insecurities, the easier you can strike that Achilles heel in anger and cripple your opponent with one snide remark (meant or not, the damage is done to be erased with much difficulty.) I would chuck this one.

Excitement; something good is supposed to happen and I should start celebrating now? I have watched this movie before. I was so excited about it. I thought it would be all that and bag of curly fries and it wasn't. It was so far from it the memory makes me cringe. What was I excited about again? Why should I spend (cough waste) the energy, all I have are what you, me and the other person think is going to occur? We do not know anything. Why then should I rejoice over what might be? I do not get excited (not entirely true, but true enough). I am waiting to be excited when the exciting thing actually happens. Nothing so far in life has been as good or better than I have been told or led to believe. I am sad to say, absolutely nothing! Chuck this one too.

Fear; not the things that go bump in the night. This one is my friend, it is funny how assurance is not an emotion, yet its absence is. The world is going to chew you up and spit you out, wait for you to catch your breath and do it again. Brace yourself, you were not meant to come out of life alive anyway, so there. I choose not to fear the travails of life, but my constant bracing is evidence to the contrary isn't it? Yet without fear what foolish things would we walk into face first? And in what state would we leave? Fear in Love preserves (Proverbs 9:10, "The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the Holy One is insight.") Pure fear cripples, it punishes, it is cruel. Once in a while, toss fear and go ahead and do something you know is going to hurt. Keeps you sharp. I ran 9 miles, for the first time, without training. Ouch!

Joy; my disappointment in spiritual life. I have not met Joy. I weep from my want of Joy. I will keep this one (when I find it).

Empathy; a good one. How can one knock empathy? I work in medicine, I have empathy. I will keep this one.

There are more. These are my favourites. I wish I were an emotional metronome, knowing how far I go on either end, but staying within my bound (and narrow) amplitude. I am not aware of how much I swing. There is a swing and it may be more to one side than another. I long for consistency.

The Dalek needed some fear with their anger and hate. I see them victorious in their conquest, but the lack of fear causes them to underestimate The Doctor and always leads to their demise. I do not like knowing that I am wired to react, makes me feel like a puppet on emotion's strings.

Anticipation

People may seem comfortable with their lives, we even give an illusion of control when the reality is this; most of us live as if our world were in a toilet bowl in constant fear of the hand that is coming to flush our 'comfortable' little world away. I know I do; I am constantly braced for a crash that never comes.

I am on my way to a new job. Had I made a few choices different about a year or two ago and taken an offer I refused - I would have ended up right here. All the other variables are external, I am convinced I would be in the same spot. There is a level of comfort in that. I am walking the Path. No one can determine the true identity of the Path, it proves itself as you walk on it.

For a long time now, roughly seven years I have had this growing sensation. Named three to four years back it is a distinct foreboding, a state of emergency in response to an event either absent or moving so slowly in slow motion it is years away, an internal bracing for impact that still has not come. Since it tarries, one would think I would/should drop my guard and relax, maybe live a little but I can never shake off! It is very convincingly imminent. In a way it is (also) as if I am ready to pounce or be pounced upon. Sometimes it feels external, as if I am the target. Yet when describing it I always end with it being internal so that I am the one set to pounce. Think Wild Kingdom, just before the lion starts the chase, he is crouching in the grass, every muscle locked and loaded ready for dinner to look away and he is onto it, now hold that moment and add to it the sensation the prey is enjoying; it knows for sure something is about to happen so it does not move. It carefully watches every corner, waiting patiently for a tell tale sign of danger that it may decide to fight or fly, if fly then which way, but it can't quite make out the danger. Sum those two up and hold for seven years! Go it?

The few bumps I've had were less than I prepared for. The crashes were not what I braced for, and even then I have landed on my feet. So what is this, what do I do in response if anything? Is this my survival instinct? Or is it mild paranoia?

Go on, flush it I will be doused and washed away no matter how hard I brace. (And suddenly I feel like I am poking a wild beast with a stick...hmm.)