I rather liked what I wrote in my journal yesterday -- I don't write everyday, but often enough -- so thought I'd share it with my readers (both of us).
Feeling a bit lost. A two hour afternoon nap will do that. It’s the day mostly shot. Could have watched a film. Read. Written. Didn’t need a walk or work out. Already had the former and it’s the off day for the latter. The old saw is that I needed the sleep. This is undeniable and I should it accept it and move on.
Accept it and move on. How often in my life have I needed to do that yet failed? Constantly. It’s not as easy as it sounds. Regrets are persistent naggers. Hovering around poking at the brain.
I read some years ago about the Italian mafia killing someone by putting him in a cage with a very large and hungry boar. The man didn’t stand a chance. Now that I think about it I can’t say for sure the the the boar was described as very large or even large. One assumes and sometimes accepts it as fact in later recollections.
We change our memories. Indeed our memories are not so much of actual events but of previous memories. We get things wrong a lot that way. There are many parts of my life that I’m shaky on. Things from my youth that I can’t be certain happened or at least not in the way I recall. The fact that I was high a lot of the time is no help. That’s one of the worst aspects of having been a practicing alcoholic: there are holes bored into your memories. In my early years of sobriety I recalled a lot that had been forgotten. Events, occasions, interactions that had been buried came flooding back. Some clear, others hazy. Many more memories remain inaccessible.
I know there was one person who I’d been friendly with who refused to speak me again after one night of debauchery. It was most definitely as a consequence of some things I said. I had — and not without reason — a lot of pent up resentment towards her. As it was I soon moved out of town. She subsequently died of cancer while still in her early forties, maybe late thirties. I’ve always felt bad about how things were left between us and especially about not knowing what in blue blazes I’d said.
I started this off with a memory of reading about a boar killing a man. Obviously a horrible death with terrifying last minutes on this planet. Likely the man had been a “snitch.” Criminals are rarely merciful in dealing death to those who they feel betrayed them. A garroting or a bullet in the brain is not enough. The victim must suffer. Imagine such a mentality. Imagine being in a line of work that requires one to torture people to death. I’ve read awful accounts of the manner in which Mexican drug gangs dispose of people. Many victims have done nothing to harm the gang. It makes one shiver to contemplate the level of evil that persists throughout the planet. The willingness to kill and torture without — seemingly — giving it a second thought. No remorse at all. I feel bad after a negative interaction, I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I…. Not worth thinking about.
A lot of torture over the centuries has been done in the name of religion. Tells you all you need to know about the impact religion has had on the world. Bad enough they put prohibitions on certain activities, that they’ve demanded a cult-like adherence to bizarre behaviors, strictures and codes, they also kill and maim those who don’t believe or believe else ways.
Religions appeal to people’s tribal nature. You get to be part of a group. They can provide structure, rules to live by and give meaning to life and explanations for eternal questions. This has been of great comfort to many over the millennia. It is undeniable that religions have helped many, providing succor, nurturing, support and guidance. But look at the damage too. Look at some of the ludicrous beliefs and practices that people have developed.
Still it must be acknowledged that myths are important. Myths explain, give meaning, are part of folklore, oral traditions and belief systems.
Myths often require heroes. We’re not supposed to meet our heroes. We’ll inevitably be disappointed. I suppose this is because people make the mistake of transforming their heroes into something non-human. It is the humanity of a hero that makes her or him compelling. Who wants a robot as a hero? You should hope your hero is human and thus fallible. Of course there are certain sins we can’t forgive. Some wrongs are so bad they have to knock a hero of their pedestal. A hero who rapes can’t be a hero anymore. But maybe one who committed adultery can be given a pass. Heroism, to turn a phrase, is in the eye of the beholder.
I’ve also been thinking about how nice a full belly is. Not too full. Gluttony leads to the just punishment of a bellyache. Stopping when you’ve had enough is not always easy, but is always wise. Pity those without enough. Appreciate a good meal and don’t abuse the privilege by over indulging. Same with so much else. Spirits for one. Take it from one who knows.
Nice to have written again today. Always a blessing and this journal is to be commended for providing an important service.
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