An unusual walk

I discovered, late last night, the source of my deconstructivist, dissect-everything-psychological thinking. Walking my mini-schnauzer on a slight variation of our typical route, I was visited by my inner baby. It appeared in clarity, for the first time in my life, and became my calm but disturbed home for the duration of the walk. I want you to know this was strange: I came to see, to feel who I really was, at the state of true identity. The essential human was still in Caesarian birth trauma or incubator trauma, crying or screaming or frozen. He had never embarked on the train of the world. Nothing after that was legitimate – I mean this at the axiom level, not the lived level. This inner baby could never be right to greet people in the customary way, speak their language, smile at what they smile about. He would forever be his own world. He would be furtive, sneaking – feeling delicious and botched – around human camps, entirely self-enclosed, never looked at or at least never seen. He could never conform, join the rules, the common beliefs, go to a party, play games. He must be his own morality; any other would be a suffocating prison.

I’ve always seen through those eyes, but never acknowledged it with a thought. Being there always, everything hence would be dissociation, the wrong train, unreal-feeling. This is the quiddity of much of the human race. This is what happens when the injured baby or infant is shoved along the path without healing, has to replace his self with his body.

Based there at the one-celled root, I have had the urge to dig to the root of everything, such as the screen nature of a belief, one’s actual feeling beneath adult living, the meaning of musical performance, the meaning of meaning. And the rest fell into place: beyond atheism to agnosticism; dissolving free will; the difficulty of friendship. This dichotomy between the core truth and the life that has to be lived is, shall I say, grand and inexpressible. One thing I see is that all the people out there with absurd existence – crime, rage, irrational beliefs, lostness and complete lack of wisdom – are each hermetically separate worlds that are right. The only joining, the only consensus that is organic and real is that which pre-exists between children without birth trauma, or with lesser trauma, and is left to grow. All the other community is manufactured, to keep the machine running, to keep the self running.