Good, bad, and other questions of interpretation.

I was just walking outside a bit, and feeling very happy, almost high. The source of my joy? Looking at the wide variety of people and experiences around me. Seeing the business man who's walking past frowning, the three people at that table earnestly discussing some topic, the dredlocked messenger guy sorting the best way to weave through the crowd on his bike. I see so much downtown. I have some days where the clash of all those different people trying to get somewhere *RIGHT NOW*, makes me feel sad and alienated. My best days are looking at the wide variety of humans, the buildings they've built, the cars they've designed, the artwork that hangs/juts/poses everywhere screaming someone's ideas/fantasies/nightmares; seeing all this and wanting to laugh for the joy of it. Wanting to stand still and just drink it all in for the awe of it.

Do you ever stop, and look at everything around you? See the forms that were once ideas? See the dreams and words made flesh/plastic/concrete/steel?

I know at least part of this attitude is being inspired by the book I'm reading at the moment. It's called _A Brief History of Everything_ by Ken Wilber, and it's offering an interesting and integrated way of looking at the world around me. A way to see with new eyes, and find value in things that I sometimes can't. (Hey, anybody who can make me look at the behaviorists and agree that they've got good and valid ideas has got something going.) Thanks, tshar, I'm only a short ways into it, but I'm already looking forward to discussing this book more with you.

So, that's the good going on for me right now. Sure beats my nightmare from about quarter to 3 this morning. :P Basically, for some unknown reason I had walking access to the part of I-5 northbound that passes under the Convention Center. I discovered a co-worker of mine there, tied into a harness, and basically preparing for suicide. The set-up was she would hang there, and be killed by the first large vehicle that didn't dodge her well enough. Pretty damn gruesome. I tried to talk with her, to show that I cared and didn't want her to die, and talked about my own impulses towards suicide and how I've always found if I stuck around, things got better. I insisted to her that dying wasn't the answer, that living allowed the existence of the chance for things to improve. She took my hand, thanked me for caring, and sent me on my way.

I walked away numb, knowing I'd said all that I could, and pained that it wasn't enough. I walked back into this building where runnerwolf, damiana_swan and her girls, and sar_anon were all waiting. They knew what was going to happen, knew of no way to stop it, and were being near to hold vigil, though refusing to actually watch this happen. That's okay, because as I looked out the window I saw these stands full of people all eagerly watching, waiting to see which truck would hit this co-worker of mine. I heard this awful thump, and the stands of people exploded into cheers, tossing confetti and streamers everywhere. I fell to my knees and scream/howled my rage and pain at the reaction of the crowd to someone's gruesome death. Sar came in and held me as I cried, and tried to explain that the people out there couldn't help being what they were. That he understood my pain and anger, but you can't force people to be something different.

That's about when I woke up, shaking and scared to death of the other human beings around me. That was the most horrifying aspect of the nightmare to me, not the death, but the reaction of the crowd that accompanied it.

So, which is real? The joyousness and beauty of human creativity and expression? The myriad potentials waiting in each of us to be brought forward and expressed? Or the mindless, blood-hungry crowd that can't wait to see the death and suffering of the different?

Beliefnet Results...

( Here's mine. )