Could I Be Living A Mechanical Life?

It doesn’t seem possible that I could be a machine. After all, I’m flesh and blood, right? Right! Of course, being mechanical does not mean that I am literally a machine. It simply means that I fail to think about what I think and about what I do each day. If one situation bears a resemblance to one I’ve encountered before, I don’t waste time looking at it anew. I simply do the same thing  I did before.

Why is this a problem? It’s a problem because I can never grow as an individual if I don’t learn from the experiences I have in life. What’s that old saying? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results is the definition of insanity. That’s what I’ve been doing. I’ve been like a machine—doing the same things over and over, reliving the same painful experiences with different people in different places.

I admit that being a machine was comfortable until I woke up long enough to realize what I was doing. Then I began to understand the price for my indifference, to understand what I was missing.

Earth is not just a place to live; it’s a planet of lesson—lessons designed to help me express at the height of my potential. These lessons are what I was missing. The disappointments and pain in my life are not punishments; they are my wake-up calls. They are the way I am made aware of the habits that need to be changed.

The machine in me is the greatest obstacle to changing my life. I glimpse it in my habits, my rigid thinking, my failure to think creatively. I intend to use these things to shake myself awake until I become a fully conscious creator of my life. I realize it won’t be an overnight process. It will happen one habit, one thought, one moment at a time, but that’s all right. As long as I am thinking creatively, I am waking up.

…the Mad Man

What Is Happiness?

What is happiness? Happiness should be akin to joy. It should be a state of mind through which I experience my life. It’s certainly not those times when some event makes me feel happy because those times are only temporary.

How do I reach a place where happiness is my state of mind? If I can remember that my earth life is a class room, not a playground, I can use those opportunities when I am not happy—in other words, when I’m upset—to figure out how to change the way I do, think, or respond to life. After all, the only way I have for receiving feedback about how well I’m doing in my inner psychology is through the quality of my experiences.

Once I understand the power and the responsibility I have for changing my state of mind, I will have to take the next step of becoming the manager of my life. I will have to observe and analyze how I respond to the world around me and how I am internalizing those events because this is what keeps me from achieving a state of happiness.

… the Mad Man

Surviving The Rifts

Against my best judgment  I went to a wedding and listened as two people told each other that they would be together forever.   For many,  forever  is short-lived. It’s six months  later, and I just read in the paper that same couple is  getting divorced. 

How can so many people think in one moment they have found the perfect partner and a short time later, they’re in the middle of a rift, headed for a divorce, and in a battle over who gets the television?    Their excuse for throwing in the towel  is that he or she  married the wrong person.  This scares me when I think about marrying Sara.

I have read  that  no one is just one person. I am  a  bunch of men in fierce competition to use the body  I  see in the mirror.  When I think of this idea in terms of relationships,  I don’t know if I should laugh or cry.  But if this is true,  it does help me understand  why marriages are so fragile. The two  people who were front and center when they decided to get married are not the same two people who will be front and center when they are trying to survive the long term responsibilities, the difficulties and the choices you have to make when living together.  

This put a new spin on why Sara and I get along one moment  and vow never to speak to each other again the next.  We are each a bunch of personalities. Some of them get along and some don’t. When I think about  that,  I find myself smiling about the possibilities in relationships. Then this thought came to me. If I am like a room full of men in different moods, can I deliberately call into the forefront a personality if the one I’m using is not serving my best interest? 

I am going to share this idea with Sara as soon as she’s in a better mood, but right now I am going to keep my distance because  it’s safer this way. 

…the Mad Man

Pet Rocks – Hope for the Future?

For some strange reason I was glad to be back with the guys at the coffee shop after being gone a month, but I soon discovered that not much had changed. After we gave the weather and the economy a thorough trashing,  we started  talking  about what was the greatest thing a guy could have In this life.  Dan said “Money.” John said, “A mansion in the mountains,”  and another guy said, “A  swim suit model for a girlfriend  and to be young enough to at least seriously consider the possibilities.” We all got a big laugh out of that one! 

Then I brought up the idea that the best  thing a guy could have was hope and that was why Pet Rocks were such a hit. They all looked at me like I was crazy. I tried explaining that Pet Rocks were just another way for us to believe in possibilities, but that idea went over like a lead balloon. Someone quickly changed the subject.

Nevertheless,  the idea of  how popular Pet Rocks were has always haunted  me by how the simplest  idea made someone rich.  I know that ideas  have power. After all, it if were not for ideas,  I would be naked,  living in the trees and spending my days looking for something to eat.  Now that’s a scary idea.  

Ideas are like seeds. In some strange way I do consume them,  and then they use me as fodder to grow into my experiences.  So  just  for the hell of it, I decided  to write down my ideas for a few days and see if they did spawn my experiences. I didn’t remember to write everything down, but I did remember enough of what I thought to recognize that what  a lot of what went through my mind became my experiences.  

So, if ideas are like seeds, and they grow my experiences, then there is no one to blame for my experiences in life but me.  I don’t like this much. It’s easier to blame experiences and other people for my life than blaming myself.  Maybe the Pet Rock phenomenon is a reminder that even the simplest and seemingly inane ideas can harbor great possibilities. It gives me hope, which I still think is the greatest thing that can happen for a person. It means that someday I may no longer be….

…the Mad Man

Thank God, I’m back!

I'm Back!

My neighbors, John and Dannye  invited me to visit family with them for a few days in Memphis.  I agreed because I am always trying to appear friendly, keep the peace and, I couldn’t find a reason to get out of it. Besides, curiosity got the best of me. They appear to be happily married and I thought I might just find out what their magic formula is.  

Secretly I wanted to take another whack at trying to find Elvis—I still think he’s hiding somewhere in Memphis.  I was only supposed to stay for a few days and those few days extended to a month!  I never did find Elvis, and I never found out what makes John and Dannye get along so well.  So I wasted all that time and never even made it to Graceland! This kind of disappointment is what makes me…

…the Mad Man

 

 

Moods Are A Form Of Madness

“I never promised you a rose garden.” The truth is that no one on this planet lives in a rose garden. Knowing this certainly helps me feel better about myself. I seem to have so many moods that it’s no wonder people have so many different opinions about me. Some think I have a good personality—at least that’s what my mother always said. Others think I’m a screwball. Others are more diplomatic—they give me the benefit of the doubt. They just say that my ideas and behavior are just a little questionable.

People who seem to be in the know say  that my moods attract my experiences. Yeah,  that’s an idea  that makes me mad and at the same time scares me a little. What if this idea is really true? I have heard that being aware of your changing moods, your opinions and your likes and dislikes is a gift because it opens the door to your being able to choose how you want to feel.

The problem I have is with the idea of subpersonalities. This is the accepted idea that we are not just a single “I.” We are made up of different personalities that were borrowed from people around us after we were born to meet the expectations of others. Many of these parts  of me are in a constant battle to be seen by expressing through me as me. Each of these subpersonalities tends to react differently to situations in my life—hence, my changing moods.

So I find myself smiling when I hear someone say that they like a person because he has such a good personality. I always want to say: Which one of your subpersonalities is thinking that and how do you know who he will be the next time you see him? But I won’t because I am trying to stop being such a wise guy. After all, the wise guy is one of my subpersonalities, and the only way to get rid of him is to starve him out.

Ideas like this keep squirming around in my head, driving me crazy. Moods, subpersonalities—a good excuse for my being…

…the Mad Man

Sliding Into The Slipstream

Something I have learned that has helped me is remembering that I live on the planet of lesson. I didn’t come here to have a good time, make money, have a wonderful relationship—although I won’t complain if I find this is so. Earth is not just a place to survive; it’s a school. I’m here to learn what works and what doesn’t and make a conscious choice about them rather than just being bounced around from experience to experience with no idea what’s happening.

What I want to know is this: why is it so hard to use my experiences to teach me what works and what doesn’t? My memory seems to be okay. My brain seems to work, at least most of the time. Still I seem to get caught in a slipstream, and once I’m in it, it’s goodbye, Charley. I fall right into the same old ruts.

I’ve decided to try something different.  I’m going to write down the situations and people that I’m aware of that cause me to slip into the wrong attitude. Then I’m going to memorize them and hope like crazy that I can remember them when I’m tempted to slip back into the same old crap.

I’ve made a commitment to take control of my life, especially my feelings.  It isn’t easy, but I’m encouraged by the idea of shaking up the people who take comfort in holding me in the same place year after year.  I know I’m supposed to be learning how to stay awake enough to see that my experiences are my teachers—that they  are meant to help me see what helps me and what makes me…

…the Mad Man

Feel The Burn

I haven’t written anything in my journal for two weeks because I was dealing with a problem.  The problem I have with reading something that challenges me or excites me is that it seems nobody wants to hear  about it. The guys I meet for coffee give me that long, blank stare any time I bring up something that’s not familiar to them or at the very least shakes them up a little. But, I decided to tell them anyway about this idea that experiences are not meant to hurt us; they are meant to make us stronger. That I can tell you went over like a lead balloon. I kept going though. I explained that in order to see problems in this way, you need to feel the burn. Guys who lift weights say that feeling the burn is good because it’s the sign that old muscles are being replaced with larger stronger muscles.

I tried to tell the guys that there are two ways to take a painful experience. One way is to think that bad things happen because you were unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. In other words, you are a victim, and life is going to make sure you stay that way. The other way is seeing the experience as a wakeup call or being willing to feel the burn. Doing this means being consciously aware of the purpose of the experience and being able to learn from it.

I could tell by their faces that I was not going to get any feedback at all. It made me mad at first because I was really excited about this new idea. Then I realized that I was actually starting to feel the burn! So what did this experience teach me? It taught me that I can’t make decisions about how I’m going to think and feel based on what others think. Think about it. If I bounce all these new ideas I’m getting off these guys, the bottom line would be that nothing would ever change. Even I know that you can’t expect to coast through life! You know, it’s possible that I might not always be…

…the Mad Man

Turning Over A New Leaf

I was sitting at my kitchen table looking at five, well-worn volumes of books that came by special delivery. The note pressed under the wrapping said, “I had a feeling that you might be able to use these by now.” It was signed “John.” John is my best friend, and he seems to have his act together better than I do, but he never holds it against me.

First thing that I read in the list of chapter titles was “Thinking In A New Way.” I liked this because I’ve always considered myself a free thinker. The next ones were  “Self-Acceptance” and “Identifying.”  I’m always identifying with what others think about it even though I act like I don’t care.

I think I’ll give these books a whirl. What have I got to lose—they were free! I certainly can’t do any worse than being…

…the Mad Man

Warm and Fuzzy Isn’t All Bad

The people down the street had a dog that barked night and day, rain or shine. I wanted to complain, but I get tired of always being the bad guy so I bit my tongue and waited for someone else to raise hell for a change. Yeah, right! So three o’clock the other morning I finally had enough. I took my flashlight and walked down the street with the intent of having it out with the inconsiderate creeps who owned the dog, but suddenly the barking stopped. I listened, but there was dead silence. Problem solved.

My curiosity, however, got the best of me. Why did the dog stop barking? I decided to take a look. My flashlight told me all I needed to know. It was still alive, but it had had fallen or jumped off the roof of its dog house and hung itself with its leash. It was then that I saw the reason the dog was barking. It was a cry for help. It had no food or water and from the way it looked, it had been that way for a while. I went home and came back with a bottle of water, the remains of my supper, and a bowl. The next morning I called the police, and they referred me to some folks who find homes for abused animals. I made a point of being there when they came to pick up the dog. Then the unforgivable happened: the dog licked my hand, and I felt all warm and fuzzy.

I hate myself when things like that happen. Warm and fuzzy is just not my style. I spent the next few mornings with the guys convincing myself that I was still the tough guy I thought I was.

Last night I woke up from a sound sleep with a question that was driving me crazy.  Why was I the only one in the neighborhood bothered by the dog? Maybe life is like that. My negative experiences and feelings are like the barking dog. They don’t mean to strangle me. Maybe they’re just trying to get my attention because there’s something in me that needs help, needs some TLC. Just before I closed my eyes again, I had the strangest impulse to lick my hand. Maybe I really am…

…the Mad Man