I know about neuroses. I hadn't thought about it much, feeling that I was a fine and balanced young man (always feeling young, although the mirror wishes to lie about that) until I went to the doctor's about 5 years ago for sinus problems. As it is these days, I was seen by a nurse practitioner rather than a doctor, and a new one at that. Apparently, she didn't want to pass up anything important, and so, just in case, had me subjected to an MRI. I knew it was pointless, but you never really know, so I went along with it. The morning of the appointment, however, I felt particularly grumpy about it, and as I changed into a gown and all that hospital stuff, I was anything but a compliant patient - really, a complaining patient. The staff took an immediate dislike to me, but I didn't care. What with all this crap? I was told bluntly that I didn't have to do it, but I crankily said, what? I can do it!
So they slid me into the machine and I started hearing the blandest of classical music and, although I was not happy, I was handling it. Then the music stopped and series of loud "clunks" began. Startled, I opened my eyes. I shouldn't have opened my eyes. It was then that a panic of claustrophobia set it, so much so that I had to be pulled out. They nearly sent me packing, but I insisted that I could handle it and was rolled back under. I focused on the third eye, repeated a mantra, and still found it almost unbearable - almost. After a half hour of hell, I finally got myself into a blissful stupor, and by the time they rolled me out 45 minutes later, I was calm and in love with the universe. The staff still hated me, though, and suggested I use drugs next time. They said it took so long because I was twitching and they had to do re-shoots. I again didn't care what they said, but radiated warmth and fellowship. They still hated me. I got a picture of my head from them (grudgingly) which my brother told me would "blow me away." It did not.
What did, though, was the realization of my phobia - my neurosis. It is the first time it has affected me - I am not afraid of flying or closets or caves or anything else that I normally experience. I did figure that it was connected to my sinus infection - that at night I had been stopping breathing, and was waking in a panic over it. Still, the memory remains and I shudder thinking about it.
That kind of anxiety - this neurosis - causes fear on such a level that the world changes in a hallucinatory way. Time stands still - each moment is forever, an aching torment that is almost impossible to bear. That there are millions of people who have to contend with this fear every day is eye-opening. It has led me to have greater compassion for such "nuts," for they aren't making it up for attention, or because they are weak willed. While in the extreme anxiety state, there seems to be nothing that can be done about it. One is left alone and suffering with no hope.
Suffering - it makes a more compassionate soul out of many; but more importantly, it forces us to try to remedy it. I was forced to meditate in a way I had never been before - and, after an eternity in hell, it worked. Others try whatever way might work, and this opens up paths that would be unthinkable to the healthy.
The healthy are content with the way things are - as I know very well. It is as if life will continue blissfully forever, a pleasant road through time. It will not, but one cannot know that until the good times end. Until then, one is opaque; until then, the norm is just fine and "those others" are weirdos or nut cases. Is it any wonder that the prophets appeal to the poor, to the oppressed, to the sick and the "demon" possessed? It is they and usually they alone who would open themselves to a radical departure from the norm. To those for whom the norm is working just fine, why would they change?
And so it is that the meek shall inherit the earth, and a rich man will find it hard to pass into heaven. Contentment seals the mind, yet to be enlightened, we must have it opened (not the brain - we will save that for the MRI). Suffering forces you to do something else, anything that will work, and if the prophet is true, it will work. I hope to never have such fear again, but life may have different designs. And it is, in the end, the best possible opportunity for growth and knowledge. FK
So they slid me into the machine and I started hearing the blandest of classical music and, although I was not happy, I was handling it. Then the music stopped and series of loud "clunks" began. Startled, I opened my eyes. I shouldn't have opened my eyes. It was then that a panic of claustrophobia set it, so much so that I had to be pulled out. They nearly sent me packing, but I insisted that I could handle it and was rolled back under. I focused on the third eye, repeated a mantra, and still found it almost unbearable - almost. After a half hour of hell, I finally got myself into a blissful stupor, and by the time they rolled me out 45 minutes later, I was calm and in love with the universe. The staff still hated me, though, and suggested I use drugs next time. They said it took so long because I was twitching and they had to do re-shoots. I again didn't care what they said, but radiated warmth and fellowship. They still hated me. I got a picture of my head from them (grudgingly) which my brother told me would "blow me away." It did not.
What did, though, was the realization of my phobia - my neurosis. It is the first time it has affected me - I am not afraid of flying or closets or caves or anything else that I normally experience. I did figure that it was connected to my sinus infection - that at night I had been stopping breathing, and was waking in a panic over it. Still, the memory remains and I shudder thinking about it.
That kind of anxiety - this neurosis - causes fear on such a level that the world changes in a hallucinatory way. Time stands still - each moment is forever, an aching torment that is almost impossible to bear. That there are millions of people who have to contend with this fear every day is eye-opening. It has led me to have greater compassion for such "nuts," for they aren't making it up for attention, or because they are weak willed. While in the extreme anxiety state, there seems to be nothing that can be done about it. One is left alone and suffering with no hope.
Suffering - it makes a more compassionate soul out of many; but more importantly, it forces us to try to remedy it. I was forced to meditate in a way I had never been before - and, after an eternity in hell, it worked. Others try whatever way might work, and this opens up paths that would be unthinkable to the healthy.
The healthy are content with the way things are - as I know very well. It is as if life will continue blissfully forever, a pleasant road through time. It will not, but one cannot know that until the good times end. Until then, one is opaque; until then, the norm is just fine and "those others" are weirdos or nut cases. Is it any wonder that the prophets appeal to the poor, to the oppressed, to the sick and the "demon" possessed? It is they and usually they alone who would open themselves to a radical departure from the norm. To those for whom the norm is working just fine, why would they change?
And so it is that the meek shall inherit the earth, and a rich man will find it hard to pass into heaven. Contentment seals the mind, yet to be enlightened, we must have it opened (not the brain - we will save that for the MRI). Suffering forces you to do something else, anything that will work, and if the prophet is true, it will work. I hope to never have such fear again, but life may have different designs. And it is, in the end, the best possible opportunity for growth and knowledge. FK
RSS Feed