Where do you exist, part 3

Wherein I discard my previous generalizations and try to make new ones.

I went on my yearly Dead Poet's Retreat this past weekend, and I was able to get answers to the question from about 20 more people.  And again some of the answers have thrown me for a loop.

My previous generalization about men being mostly in their heads and women being mostly in their hearts - I now throw it out the window.  Several of the men on my retreat indicated their gut as their center.  And two or three of the women indicated their heads.  Some new, random observations:

• The gut thing is interesting, as in many ancient cultures, the gut was thought to be place where the soul resided.  And for at least one of the men who so indicated, I would consider him to be a bit more scholarly.  But that's probably a red herring.
• I do think many women instinctively choose their chest as where they exist, perhaps even a majority, although a slim one. 
• Two women now have indicated an area around their throats.  And these women have extremely different personalities.  For example, they are on the opposite sides of the introvert/extrovert spectrum.  I'm going to be giving a lot of thought to what they might have in common.  
• One woman indicated the location by waving her hand over her head, to indicate 'way up there'.  Hers is an interesting story that includes an accident that erased all of her long-term memories, so that she essentially had to grow up all over again, and she has a completely different personality than she did originally.
• One woman was very clear that her soul resided in her dreams.  She has very lucid dreams and remembers them all.  And she feels strongly that she 'belongs' there.
• The first man to answer indicated his gut.  But he also predicted that his wife would be in her head.  And sure enough, she was.
• I think my baseline for trying to unravel this mystery goes back to where it started.  All of the men in my men's group indicated in or near their heads.  And my first impulse was to generalize: men=head, women=chest.  Which turns out to not be true across the board.  But that doesn't change the fact that my first sampling did have the head thing in common.  So the next question is what else might they have in common that the head location could be an indicator of?  My next guess is that it's an inclination towards the theoretical.  In our group, we often get sidetracked by theological or philosophical tangents.  And we all enjoy it.  Now, I've had those types of discussions with non-head people, so it's not that non-head people can't enjoy a deep conversation.  But there is a certain giddy joy for the guys in my group in that regard.

As for me, I'm still joyfully mystified and trying to figure out what this all might mean, if anything.

Where do you exist, part 2.

Since I last posted, I've been asking around.  The answers are fascinating.  What I've determined is that for most men, their consciousness is in or around their heads, while most women live in their chests.  There are exceptions - I know one guy who exists primarily in his chest, and a woman who indicated her throat.  But for the most part, men feel like they are head-oriented and woman feel heart-oriented.

Mind you (no pun intended), I've always generalized that men are more logical and women are more feeling (it's a generalization, not a rule).  The question is how are those related, or which came first?  Does someone live more by their feeling because that's where they exist?  Or do they live in that space because their feelings are so strong?

Another thought I've had about this related to an earlier blog of mine regarding hugging.  It makes more sense now, that if women live in their chests, then hugging might be a bit more sensitive.  I've likened it to if a guy, upon meeting another guy, grabbed his head and pulled it to his own, pressing their foreheads together.  It would feel weird and inappropriately intimate.  So, I do wonder if some women have hugging issues for the very reason that it requires them to press their very selves into that other person.

And, clearly, this also explains why men love to lay their heads on women's chests.  Ahem.

Where do you exist?

My men's group tonight hit on a fascinating topic.  Each of us had a different location of where we feel like our 'essence' or soul exists.  You know, when you close your eyes and you're just thinking - where do you feel like you 'are'. 

Personally, my consciousness is right behind my eyes.  For a couple of the guys, it was also in the brain, but further back.  For one, it is right between his ears.

Two of the guys felt like their consciousness was not inside their heads, but attached, either on top or right behind.  One of them stated it was like Geordi LaForge's visor on backwards.

And one of the guys felt like his consciousness is several inches behind his head, completely detached.

Weird, wild stuff.  And it led to more questions.  Do women feel differently?  Do people with heightened emotions feel it more in their chest?  Is it different for blind people?  And what correlation, if any, is there with people's personalities?

Feel free to let me know where your consciousness resides.

Blog Therapy: My childhood may not have been as I remember it.

I had lunch with my mother today.  And she mentioned that I'd taken a certain medication from 2nd grade through Junior High, at which time I suddenly refused to take it anymore.  It was an early ADD medication, the idea being that I had trouble concentrating in class.  And I really don't remember taking it at all (she's told me before - it's not like it's a secret).  And when she mentioned how I refused to take it anymore, I didn't remember that.  But some of it's coming back to me.

I remember feeling like I wasn't really a part of my family.  I had this impression, almost like they were all 'acting normal', so that I would be lulled into accepting my place in the family.  Like those stories you hear when they find an abductee is living with their abductor and has transitioned into thinking it's normal.  And being adopted played right into that.  And I'm remembering that my reasoning behind the medication decision was something like, 'Who are you people, and why are you drugging me?  Well, I'm not going along with that anymore.'

There's this cautionary vibe around adopting kids these days.  Not that people shouldn't do it or anything, but just this warning that adopted kids, even if they're adopted as babies, will often have their own set of issues and that they'll have trouble fitting into the family.  And it's strange, because I remember my childhood as normal.  But I'm wondering if that's just because we tend to think of ourselves as the norm.  I'm starting to realize that maybe I am that problem child.

Because, in my family, I'm the one they had to put on medication.  I'm the one they held back a grade.  I'm the one who had that phase bordering on paranoid delusions of not belonging.  I'm the one who struggled with severe depression.  I'm the one who attempted suicide.  I'm the one they sent to a therapist.  I'm the one who didn't finish college.  And even today, I'm the one who's not married and I'm the one who has never settled into a stable job.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not having paranoid delusions now.  I think I'm a fairly normal guy with fairly normal struggles, only some of which have their roots in being given up for adoption.  But I am wondering to what degree I've whitewashed my memories.  I'm left with a sense now that in my family, I was 'special'.  And it's creeping me out. 

It's hard to say, though, because I remember so little - my memories of my childhood are almost nonexistent.  And what little there is - they're mostly not even real memories - I just remember facts about what I used to remember.  I think a big part of that is because I don't visualize.  My brain does not store images, so I don't have those visual cues to help me remember.

So, to my family - sorry.  I guess you did the best you could.  Not that all of your decisions were perfect, but it's trial and error and I get that.

Messing With the Count

You know how when someone is busy counting, some people like to jump in and count with them, but just a little off, to mess with them?  Well, they're doing it wrong.  It's the sign of an amateur.  Also wrong is throwing in random stuff, like '46 ... 47 ... blue ... horseshoes ...'  This is even less effective.

The most effective way is to start just above where they're at and count backwards.  Because people can usually ignore someone just messing with them, but that will make their brain go, 'Hey, wait, what are you doing?  You're doing it wrong!'

So now you know.

Challenging People

As I was going to bed tonight, I felt prompted to pray for someone.  This is a person in my life who can be a little challenging.  They would identify themselves as a Christian, but they've got a lot of issues to work out.  Still, this is someone I see fairly regularly, and I think that's a good thing.  For me, and for them.  For me, as I think we're called to spend time with challenging people, as it helps us to work on being patient and forgiving and all of that good stuff.  And for them, as good, christian community is so important and, frankly, life changing.

Anyway, I was prompted to pray for them.  And I was about to pray kind of my standard, 'Lord, help them to ...'  You know the one.  But I stopped, and evaluated for a moment.  And instead I prayed, 'Lord, help me to be more loving.'

Like I said, this person needs a lot of work.  Mind you, we all do - and I generally think of myself as the most flawed individual in the room.  But it just struck me.  We are to be His hands.  I want to figure out how to connect better with them, how to give them some of what they need.  How to help make this person feel secure enough that they can begin to make the necessary changes on their own. 

So, I did pray for God to help them.  But mostly I asked God to work on me.

Bob & the Blerg

Once upon a time, there was a God named Bob.  Bob had created a pretty cool universe for himself, and he'd spent quite a bit of time seeing all of the sights.  But it was time for something new.  So, he picked a planet, and made up some people to live there.

These people were known as the Anachondrians, and they looked a lot like you, only rather rainbow-hued.  And they loved their math.  They'd have lively parties where they'd engage in advanced calculus and trigonometry and several other types of mathematics that you couldn't begin to understand.  Bob would often join them at these parties, and they'd spend all night doing calculations and coming up with new formulas.

Bob was pleased with himself and how well his people were getting on.  So he decided to do it again.  He picked a new planet in a different galaxy, and created the Shrouds.  This was a race of intelligent gasses.  And they were the sneakist of the sneaky!  They invited Bob to join them on spy adventures and covert operations.  Oh, it was exciting, and Bob had a marvelous time with them, as well.

So, Bob kept making new peoples, each one special and unique.  One was a quartet of giant felines (so big the planet was almost too small for them) with amazing, poofy tails, that mostly lazed in the sun all day.  Another was a dragon made of water that had 18 heads and pondered philosophy for hours on end.  In all, Bob created 100 planets in 86 galaxies, and he had the best time bouncing from one world to another, hanging out with all of his creations.

One day Bob was visiting the Stak (androids with a hive-mind with beautiful voices and penchant for musicals), when his assistant, Angus McFoodle, popped in to report a problem.  Which caught Bob by surprise, because up until now there had been no problems.  Each group of people Bob had created was getting along fine, both among themselves and with their creator.  But Angus reported that on planet 39, the Blergs were not doing so well.

Okay, Bob wasn't completely surprised.  He knew if there was going to be a problem, it would probably be with the Blergs, as he'd given them quite a lot of free will.  Added to that, their life-cycle could be a little confusing.  The Blergs had three lives: Pre-life, Mid-Life, and the Afterlife.  Pre-Life seemed fairly straightforward - grow up, eat your vegetables, listen to your parents, figure out what kind of stuff you're into, and do that.  Mid-Life occurred after the Blergs had lived 70-80 years.  They would die and go to a place called The Waiting Room, where they could sit and drink root beer or coffee or what have you, and have deep conversations about poetry and the meaning of life.  Or, if they preferred, they could play video games.  And all that Bob asked was that they would take turns sitting on the Throne of Blergness while they all hung out and waited for the Afterlife.

The Afterlife was something all of Bob's people had in common.  Once each people had had a good long go-round on their respective planets, Bob was going to gather them all together for the biggest party ever!  He was so excited to see how the Shrouds would interact with the Amarm-a-mamoulles.  Or to watch the Papi-Papu exchange recipes with the dinner eaters from Rahnduva.  It was all very exciting, and it would be the party to end all parties, inasmuch as it would go on forever.

But now the Blergs were throwing a wrench into Bob's plans.  The problem started in Pre-Life.  Apparently, the Blergs, instead of taking the time to know and love and appreciated each other, were growing self-involved.  Each one only interacted with others when they needed to, and even then they could get quite snippy.  And the situation only got worse in The Waiting Room.  Instead of interacting, the Blergs each retired to their own room and played video games, and never spoke to each other anymore.  And because they weren't on speaking terms, there was no way to work out a schedule for sitting on the Throne of Blergness, so nobody did.

Well, this would not do.  Not only was it unhealthy behavior, it was downright anti-social, and would put a huge damper on the party.

So, Bob went down there and tried to explain to them that they needed to change.  And that's when Bob discovered another problem.  Most of the Blergs couldn't hear him.  They'd become so self-involved that their ear canals had changed over time to tune him out.

Fortunately, a few of the Blergs could still hear him.  So, Bob explained the situation to them and sent them as his ambassadors.  And each time Bob sent one of these ambassadors, the rest of the Blergs would come out of their houses and start talking to each other for a while.  But then they'd get sick of each other and start to bicker and fight and go back home alone.

Bob tried and tried to get the Blergs to change their behavior, but it wasn't working.  So, Bob came up with a new plan.  He created a machine and called it the Blergian De-Selfinator, and he installed in The Waiting Room, next to the Throne.  This machine would suck the selfishness right out of every single Blerg.  All it needed was for one Blerg to hop onto the Throne to power it up (it could only be powered by a Blerg).

And then Bob did something quite unexpected - he split himself in two.  One part he called Bo, and the other part he called Ob.  Bo stayed where he was, to oversee operations, while Ob turned himself into a Blerg.  And Ob went down and lived among the Blerg.  He grew up and ate his vegetables and listened to his Blergian parents and then became a famous movie star.  And when he'd become quite famous, he went on the Blerg equivalent of Oprah and explained that he was really Bob.  And he explained that he wasn't angry, but that he was there to help them all out by sitting on the Throne of Blergness for them.

The Blerg were not impressed.  In fact, they thought Ob was quite full of himself.  So they killed him.  Which suited Ob just fine.  He died and went to The Waiting Room, and plopped himself down on the Throne, and sucked all of the selfishness out of all of the Blerg there.

When that happened, the Blerg there were ecstatic.  They'd never been very happy in their selfish state, and now they were free to interact with each other and with Ob.  Life was back the way it should be.  And each and every Blerg from then on, when they died and went to the Mid-Life, was shocked to find themselves in a whole new way.

That's pretty much the story of Bob.  Eventually, they got around to that Afterlife party, and it was one for the record books.  The Creampuff Puffers of Dandeloss were a special hit, as all of the other guests could eat them for dessert and and not worry about calories (it's okay, the Puffers regenerate as fast as they're eaten)!  But everyone like the Blerg the best, as they were so friendly and engaging and seemed to flit about the party making sure everyone else was having a good time.  And everyone lived happily ever after.

The End

Then Jesus told them this parable:  “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent. - Luke 15: 3-7