nitroviper
Redshirt
- Local time
- Today 4:14 PM
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2014
- Messages
- 12
I have spent an inordinate amount of time plumbing the recesses of my psyche in an attempt to glean some insights into how I function. One interesting thing I have observed is a tendency to avoid media that evokes strong feelings, the strongest of which bubbles up as a potent and somewhat contradictory mixture of nostalgia, longing, and hope.
There is no singular name for this feeling, at least as far as I'm aware. It seems too complex, and at the same time too raw, to put into words. It's as if there is too much beauty in life to take in, as if I'm too small and too poor in a dozen different ways to contain it, or even fully realize it, or even deserve it. It screams at me, begging to be heard, and it murmurs softly in counterpoint to itself with a quite pride--it doesn't need a listener.
I live in a world inside my head. My world is filled with logical structures and explanatory models that intersect and criss-cross and interconnect in a fashion that I happen to find quite pleasing. I bump into corners and forget to take the keys out of the ignition because I find those things less important than connecting this interesting mental strand here with that one over there.
The monsters of my world have always been feelings. They do not bow to reason. They undermine the structure. They overcomplicated things. They are chaos. They have no right to do this.
Needless to say, this irrational (or extremely rational, as the case may be) vilification of one of my fundamental faculties has not served me well. There are so many facets of life, the joy of manipulating strings of logic being just one of them. And, there is the gestalt, or the appreciation of the gem as a whole, rather than a singular facet.
So, I've been making an effort to let the monsters come out to play. This can mean watching that one episode of that one series that resonates with me in an unsettling fashion, or it can mean listening to that one song that puts me in that strange mood. I, at least, should not feel the need to hide from beauty, even if it feels far beyond me.
Well... there it is!
There is no singular name for this feeling, at least as far as I'm aware. It seems too complex, and at the same time too raw, to put into words. It's as if there is too much beauty in life to take in, as if I'm too small and too poor in a dozen different ways to contain it, or even fully realize it, or even deserve it. It screams at me, begging to be heard, and it murmurs softly in counterpoint to itself with a quite pride--it doesn't need a listener.
I live in a world inside my head. My world is filled with logical structures and explanatory models that intersect and criss-cross and interconnect in a fashion that I happen to find quite pleasing. I bump into corners and forget to take the keys out of the ignition because I find those things less important than connecting this interesting mental strand here with that one over there.
The monsters of my world have always been feelings. They do not bow to reason. They undermine the structure. They overcomplicated things. They are chaos. They have no right to do this.
Needless to say, this irrational (or extremely rational, as the case may be) vilification of one of my fundamental faculties has not served me well. There are so many facets of life, the joy of manipulating strings of logic being just one of them. And, there is the gestalt, or the appreciation of the gem as a whole, rather than a singular facet.
So, I've been making an effort to let the monsters come out to play. This can mean watching that one episode of that one series that resonates with me in an unsettling fashion, or it can mean listening to that one song that puts me in that strange mood. I, at least, should not feel the need to hide from beauty, even if it feels far beyond me.
Well... there it is!