Posted by: Harold Knight | 10/26/2009

What is this?


Michelangelo's religious experience?

Michelangelo's religious experience?

[A step back and a sigh. This is a continuation of or a comment on yesterday’s verbal regurgitation. How long can this go on?]



Yesterday’s dissertation on “religious experience” took much of the day to write. I don’t very often have a goal in mind when I start, but I did with that. I did not accomplish my purpose, I’m pretty sure. A person like me obviously cannot discipline himself enough to make a rhetorical claim of any sort and expect to follow it through to any logical conclusion.

Especially after he read articles like Michael Saunders Gazzaniga’s “Humans: The Party Animal.” It is an entertaining read with about as much scientific information as this non-scientist can absorb in one sitting. Evolution made us social creatures and gave us our “religious” brain in the process.

There, Mr. Gazzaniga, run with that no doubt senseless and wrong-headed distillation of your emminently readable and sensible scientific writing.

Here’s the deal for this morning: that writing from yesterday came at the expense of many other things that I should have been doing (preparing for class this morning, for example). I have time to finish that now if I stop writing soon. And I also have time to do the one load of laundry that I didn’t do yesterday and consequently have no clean clothes to wear to class today. But I did have a fifteen minute phone conversation with my dad. In the morning, however, I was furious at church. Some remarkably idiotic mouthy self-centerd woman wandered into the church as I was playing the prelude—which I had spent more time than usual practicing (a chorale prelude on Ein feste burg is unser Gott, by Johann Pachelbel) because it was Reformation Sunday, and she shouted over the music and distracted me so that I could not play—where was my trance when I needed it?—and no one in the congregation told her to shut up. So I, in an almost-even-for-me demonstration of over-the-top anger told the congregation during the announcements that I would never play another prelude again. Take that!

Here’s the point of all of this. Can a true hypergraphic be reflective of what he is doing while he is in the middle of it. Does distance and reflection mean that one is not in the midst of compusive behavior? I know that, when I was an active drunk—at least partly to sedate other demons, perhaps even this one—I was perfectly aware that I was a drunk. I couldn’t stop and didn’t really think it was a problem, but I was a drunk. It got in the way of many parts of my life, of course, as does this. I told myself I would not write this morning. As so often happens. One of my guides in my long recovery from active alcoholism says I should meditate and ask (God? the Great Spirit? the Big Bang?) for help in not doing this at the expense of living with ease in the world. I did this morning, and look where it got me.

Picasso's writing mania?

Picasso's writing mania?

Time to do laundry and finish preparing today’s class work. Maybe. Maybe not. I may be back here in five minutes or I may not. This is simply untenable, but I love it. And it seems to be worse when my emotional (bipolar?) life is out of whack. Which it is. To wit, my outburst in church which is totally uncharted territory. Should I feel remorse, shame, embarrassment about any of this? What would Martin Luther say?

All three of the cats were beside my bed this morning. We went to bed during a violent and lovely Texas thunder storm—wild and loud. They were terrified. They somehow wanted me to protect them? Boy, are they confused.


  1. Maybe the cats wanted to protect you?
    My cats are unconcerned about thunder and so on but are often very solicitous of my well being during such events, as I am rather scared(illogical I know) of thunder.



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