Supernerd Boy and Mr. Robot (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 196)

During my shared little shit fits and grumblings of frustration over observing people and their disheartening behavior towards themselves and one another, my girlfriend has often asked me if I believe that everyone is unstable and delusional. My answer is always the same; the overwhelming majority by far. Her response to my retort has become set in stone. “If you think everyone else is delusional and unstable, doesn’t that mean that you are the common denominator and suggest that you might be the only one who is delusional and unstable and not everyone else?”

I believe it to be an oversimplified and distractive question, but I still understand and acknowledge its merit. At this point in the dialogue, I have to remind her that I have never really declared my sanity or used it as a pedestal to stand on in front of others. If anything, I have flayed myself wide open in admission and vulnerability for anyone who desires to know the real me. I remind her how much time, how much desire, how much effort, and how much luck has been necessary for me to escape most of my demons and achieve the degree of stability and enlightenment which I have. I further remind her that it is a constant and never ending process for me, just as with anyone else attempting the same, to keep the delusion in check and to perpetuate personal stability.

Maybe it is an exchange and exercise she needs to test me with periodically, a barometer to see if I will continue to remain true to my thoughts in the challenges of time and redundant inquiry. Sometimes, questions and answers need to be repeated to fan the flame of motivation necessary to willingly engage your fear. And I should always re-challenge and reevaluate my perceptions and conclusions. One should never be allowed to become stagnant in the acceptance of such beliefs.

So, with all of this forever branded into my mind, I found it quite intriguing last night when watching a brilliantly written television show, to observe an imaginary character from the subconscious of a paranoid schizophrenic empathic genius, deliver an eloquent and comprehensive monologue, defining and illustrating how despite his existence as a delusional construct of a psyche, his inherent awareness still defined him as being more real, specifically far more real, than what the rest of the world had become and was systematically continuing to be with its collective awareness, perceptions, and behavior for over at least the last fifty years.

Bravo Mr. Robot, bravo.

Cribb          2017

Most Mouths (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 193)

One of the most bizarre and most difficult experiences I find myself continuing to endure in life is when a person seeks my help, knowledge, expertise, commentary, support, and/or advice in exuberant word, but only pseudo-action. I was in my mid-forties before I was finally able to accept that most people don’t even mean or know exactly what they actually say. Most mouths operate on an advertised level of nobility or expectation or polished distraction, while the actions of their host proceed unhindered and untethered in a whatever direction which is often completely antagonistic to their proclaimed desire. Is the pleading and bloviating of falsity a sincere attempt at the ideal, to strive to be better than the demon which pulls our visceral strings? Or is it just a barking mantra of parroted and regurgitated irrelevance, known all along by the speaker to be the penultimate tarbaby of destabilization which might be placed in the arms of the empath? Do these mouths cry out through the bars, as a prisoner might, from the hellish dominion of their maximum security psyches or do they just bullshit on a stage, seeking only power, glory, fixes, and dominance throughout the show of their singing and dancing? Obviously, whichever option rules, a neurotic glitch of the psyche is occurring during these discrepancies and it does appear that most are unconscious of their volatile inconsistencies between word and mouth. To push irrefutable awareness and acknowledgement with eyes stapled wide open on to them or not, that is the question. Who sincerely seeks shelter, aid, and healing, but can only handle so much in their fragility and who is just playing in the dark arts of emptiness and boredom? A terrified, bruised and broken Angel or a conniving Demon, spreading hell on Earth in every way imaginable? I suppose that at the end of all of these questions, none of the answers really matter. What matters most is my response and if I do the right thing, if I proceed as a creature of light, love, and stability. If I can do that, the rest will sort itself out as it should or as best it might, and the darkness that does prowl in its insatiable hunger will never be able to prey upon me.

Cribb          2017

The Veterinarian – My Rattlesnake Encounters in the Great Outdoors

This gave me a little jolt of excitement over the Labor Day holiday weekend. I apologize for the redundancy of my words (I was still jittery when trying to film the video) and the ineptitude of my editing skills. I haven’t figured out how to zoom in the video except on my phone. This is the fourth Timber Rattlesnake I have encountered in the Great Smoky Mountain National Park out of a total of six that I have come across in the wild. The other two were encountered while hiking on Springer Mountain, in North Georgia. In two of the cases I stepped well within strike distance of the snakes. Thankfully, every rattlesnake remained very stable during the encounter and at most, simply produced a peaceful warning that was easy to hear and identify. If you turn up the volume, the rattling can be heard for the first 10-15 secs of the video. The rattle movement is also easy to see during this time frame.

I do not support the needless killing of snakes and I would ask anyone predisposed to such a reflex to thoughtfully reconsider their approach. I understand that sometimes such action may be necessary, but most often it is just an irrational fear response.

Sincerely,

Dr. Cribb

Of Flag, Fascism, and Fellow Man (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 187)

To care about a flag (or other inanimate object), a flag that you think you somehow get to personally idolize in whatever supreme image you choose for it to represent, over a just as if not more so valid interpretation from others of the symbolic association/coupling of that same idol, more than you care about the freedom, respectful coexistence, empathy, equal rights, and wellbeing of your fellow man, you are a fascist. The quality of a human being’s soul, the validity of his perspective and the capability of his leadership, is determined by his present and ongoing unbiased compassion, empathy, stability, integrity towards, and peaceful co-existence with his fellow man. To suggest or support the idea that a person not displaying emphatic blind obedience or resigning recognition to your idol or an idol you and your group have chosen to represent an institution, region, country or cause, is un-American, anti-Christian, universally disrespectful, inhumane, and over-dominant bully behavior. It is sweeping collective subjugation shrouded under the prideful masked hood of a supposed respectful-to protect and serve-patriotism; a forced worship and bended (or un-bended) knee under the declaration of the prime importance of celebrated freedom.

If you want a flag, a statue, an idol, or any other symbol to represent anything positive and nurturing for all, it must be represented in the objective reality of the present with love, empathy, respect, honor, and integrity via the persistent actions and behavior of all of those claiming the symbol or idol.

You don’t get to force someone to get up off of a bus seat or to stand as you see fit. If you want them to stand for something, then be the difference yourself, set the example, make them want to get up and stand by your side, next to you, in your cause, in your effort, in your belief, in your prioritizing and unifying love. That’s how you make a difference in the world. That’s what we need more of. That’s how you unify the races, a country, and the world.

Less will fail as it should, because less is nothing more than empty, numb, and over-dominant, doublespeak/doublethink lip service.

Cribb          2017

It is Little to Give (Love vs Sex 246)

“What is there I can give you? Love, it is true.”

“And is that so little?” I asked looking into his eyes.

“Yes, my dear, it is little to give you,” he went on. “You have beauty and youth. Often now I cannot sleep at night for happiness: I lie awake and think of our future life together. I have lived through a great deal, and I think I have found what is needed for happiness: a quiet, secluded life here in the depths of the country, with the possibility of doing good to people to whom it is easy to do good which they are not accustomed to receiving; then work – work which one hopes may be of some use; then leisure, nature, books, music, love for a kindred spirit – such is my idea of happiness, and I dreamed of none higher. And now, to crown it all, I get you, a family perhaps, and all that the heart of man could desire.”

“It should be enough,” I said.

“Enough for me whose youth is over, but not for you,” he pursued. “You have not seen anything of life yet. You may want to seek happiness elsewhere, and perhaps find it in something different. At present you believe that this is happiness because you love me.”

Happily Ever After

Leo Tolstoy          1859

Cribb Comment: I am extremely fond of this passage. Tolstoy reveals the hard to tell truth about love that most do not want to hear or even come close to contemplating; it must be grandiose and dramatic, fervent and uber passionate, and a thrill ride of unending emotional hype, stimulation, and volatile exchange, never just basic, simple, easy, and quietly profound in its energy and transcending bond. He also touches on the attainment and understanding of happiness in life which requires a security and willful stability in individual perspective and contentment of purpose. His promotion of the importance of untainted and unhypocritical good will towards his fellow man is also captured elegantly and succinctly by “doing good to people who are not used to such things and doing so without forcing this “good” upon them in an overstep of intent.” Lastly, his point of youth and its hunger, aware or unaware, for more than love, for more than genuine happiness, is presented with the unselfish tenderness and empathy of a saint. It is an undeniable truth that most youthful “old souls” can’t quite accept about themselves and their overriding desire. They seem unable to digest that real happiness and real love might just be too pure, obtainable, and stable, for the premises and constructs they have anchored into their psyche as defining a normal existence.

I would have preferred for Tolstoy to postulate a manner or theory in which these two characters could have worked together to address and resolve the youthful subconscious yearnings (their burden of misunderstood nervous and excitable egocentric energy) of the wife more effectively and profoundly. It would seem that Tolstoy might believe such a transition utterly impossible without the context of further life experience to curb and temper such youthful yearning.

2017

Who do you think loves you? (Love vs Sex 244)

A woman said to a man “You have repeatedly called me a bully and a person who suffers from mental illness and delusion, how could you want to be with me if you believe that and I am constantly making you miserable?”

The man replied “I never said you were making me miserable. I never said that. You are putting words in my mouth that I never said. Instead of trying to tell me what I believe or how I feel about you, you might do better to pay attention to objective reality and my actual behavior, that is if you want to engage with the truth. You do not get to tell me how I feel or put words in my mouth to justify your fears. That is a distortion and a manipulation of reality which I cannot acknowledge for more than what it is. I cannot defend myself against your delusional projection and I will not. You are avoiding reality by creating a false premise regarding all of my feelings for you. You need to engage with reality.”

The woman flustered, fearful, and full of emotion, shot back “You have called me delusional. . .and a bully. . .and you have told me I was mentally ill! You have told me those things many times! Those are real! I am not making any of that up. Those comments, your comments, came out of your mouth. They were and are real, and they have happened many times. How can you think that I am such a monster and say that I do not make you miserable all of the time?”

“I have said you were a bully and that you are being delusional. I have also said that you suffer from mental illness and you do. I said all of those things and they are true, they are. I stand behind every one of those words and I am not recanting any of that. You are not always a bully, and you are not always delusional, but you do suffer from mental illness, and all of those things are connected and part of the same issue. I have discussed that calmly and indisputably with you a number of times. You know that.” Maintaining as stable of a tone and cadence as he possible could, the man continued, “How many times have I told you myself that I have also been delusional, and a bully, and suffered from mental illness? How many tales have I recounted about my negative and ugly experiences from being lost and confused in that delusion in the past? I have moved beyond almost all of that now, but it still lingers and I suppose that it always will. So, I’m not pointing any righteous fingers at you or pretending like you and only you are some kind of demonic abomination. I am trying to help you, you damn fool.”

He turned away from her for a brief moment as her silence and softened expressions seemed to suggest that she was trying to process his words. He gave her this moment of silence alone, intentionally, before continuing with what he needed to say. “I would look at your question differently. I would look at it and think about it in almost the exact opposite manner. Why would you not consider that if a man you know who is highly aware and perceptive, who knows you maybe even better than you know yourself, . . . if this man knows every one of your damn archdemons and slithering sufferings; your bully behavior, your supreme delusions, your overwhelming fear and insecurity. . . if he knows all of the intricate complexities of your mental illness and anguish. . . if he knows all of that shit, and not just the happygolucky superficial or watered down version of yourself that ninety-eight percent of the other guys and other people assume is the total culmination of you, . . . that he is the one who truly knows the totality of your existence inside and out, and that even with that knowledge and the burden of that knowledge, he has chosen, willfully chosen, to stand by your side despite all that excessive and weighty baggage you keep toting around with you everyday. Who do you think loves you? A person who just plays with your pseudo-perfect selfie projected persona or a person who truly forms a union with the good, the bad, and the ugly of you? You need to answer that question.”

Cribb          2017

 

Attempting to Serve as a Healing Hand of God (Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 183)

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From an involved surgery from last week.

Balancing life in your hands, knowing exactly how delicate, remarkable, and interdependent, such a force happens to be, is grace, a blessing, and also a curse to those with a comprehensive awareness of the responsibility of their involvement and intervention when attempting to serve as a healing hand of God.

Are you good enough? Are you deceiving yourself in your own perceptions and/or your own capability? Are you being too meticulous and tedious or perhaps, not enough? Can the fear of failure or mistake be kept at respectful bay? And in the end, no matter the reality and the truth, will you be judged an unquestionable hero or incompetent charlatan by those in the periphery of the act? Is it enough or too much to be the only one who might know the truth either way?

It is a supreme honor to be sincerely entrusted with such responsibility and faith. It touches my soul and lifts me up more than you know. I hate to fail a patient, a client. . .and even myself, but nothing is ever guaranteed, no matter the intent and no matter the skill. This is the burden that weighs upon the true healers and that you might not ever see. These are the thoughts that linger and dwell throughout their daily lives, in between their every breath. These are the demons they (we) must fight alone, for themselves (ourselves) as much as for what we may do for you and yours.

This surgery actually went as well as it possibly could have and the patient is recovering in good fashion, but he will be on my mind day and night, 24/7, for the next 11 days, that is until he has passed out of the real post-op risk period. I’m hoping for my hospital, my staff, and myself, that once again we will all be heroes. . .for Sampson and his mommy.

Wish us all luck if you will.

Dr. Cribb