Saturday, October 18, 2014

Shakytown

I don't usually treat this blog like a journal.   I'm generally more interested  in the questions that day-to-day events help surface.  What's the lesson/meaning of events not the events themselves.  But...the last few days have been pretty tough and I don't I have any understanding/lesson to share here.  So I'm hoping spending some time writing down specifics will help guide me toward a better understanding of what's been going on and what I should do.

They started about five days ago.  "They" is an interesting word here.  I know it is the proper plural of "it" but it seems to give "it" a more personal character.  Like "it's" alive and in many ways it feels alive to me. "It" is a mysterious being that comes uninvited into my body, heart and soul that scares the hell out of me.

"It"/"They" have been visiting several times a day.  The first conscious thing that happens is that I feel sharply nauseous.  Very close to vomiting.  This startling discomfort makes me aware that I have been daydreaming about something disturbing.  The maddening thing is I can almost grasp what I was thinking about but can't get it.  It keeps slipping through my hands like night dreams/mares I try to recall when I find myself suddenly awake.  The nauseous feeling passes after a few moments and then I feel immmediately blanketed by a deep feeling of dread.  I force my self to breath slowly and focus on my breath like I do during meditation.  This begins to calm me down and I gradually feel less panic.  Each episode lasts less than a minute.

I've had around ten of these episodes during the past week.  I've never experienced anything like them before.  I don't like them.  It makes me feel as if the ground I'm standing on is being pulled out from under me and I don't know what/who's doing it,  why it's happening or when it will happen again.

I've just stopped writing to do a web review of anxiety disorders and panic attacks.  What's happening to me doesn't seem to be a classic panic attack which apparently last longer and usually have more physical symptoms such and chest pains, difficulty breathing and heart pounding.  The symptoms I can identify with are feeling nauseous, dreamlike sensations and, excuse the word, terror. The description I found of  the feeling of terror was appropriately frightening, "a sense that something unimaginably horrible is going to  happen and one is powerless to prevent it."

What is happening is clearly related to anxiety, which is probably related to many of the issues I've talked about in this blog over the past several years.  Retirement, aging, loss of (fill in the blank), yadayadayadah.  Excuse the self-deprecating tone here but it does get old talking about all of the same age, life-stage issues ad nauseam.   Ah there's that nausea stuff again.  Interesting.  It's like I'm getting a wake up call.  I need to pay attention.  But to what?  What's different? What's causing this crapola now? What should I do?

Things have gotten uncomfortable/scary enough that I have started reaching out.  Yesterday I talked at length about this to my wife Dorothy and my friend Bill.  Both were great listeners.  I felt their care and support and talking out loud about this stuff was helpful and hopeful.

Today I'm writing this blog as a selfish, therapeutic tool.  It feels right even though I know such an extremely personal expose (put accent over last e) might be crossing a boundary and a turn off for some readers.  Again, this still feels right.

So I still haven't looked at the Why Now? question very carefully,  Here's a few off the cuff ideas.

Tomorrow's my 67th birthday.  Hmmm.  Why does 67 seem like such a bigger number than 66?

Golf season is ending.  I've been spending the last six months golfing three times a week and practicing often on the the days I don't play. This has been a convenient, fun, and in many ways satisfying past time. but I have a strong sense that it's losing its utility may be fading as an effective diversion from looking at, and dealing with the BIG questions.  This is the first Fall in recent years where my enthusiasm for the game started to go south before the snow fell.  Hmmm.

Boredom.  I've now been retired over three years.  Much of this time has been wrapped up in the excitement of building a new, post-employment life in a new community.  It's been a challenging adventure getting settled into a new home. We now are active  members of a wonderful church.  Dorothy and I are involved in many church-related activities which we both find satisfying and enjoyable.  I have a group of guys I play golf with regularly  who are usually fun to be around.  I keep a regular health regimen.  I swim, walk the golf course, eat well, drink in moderation, and take my meds and supplements religously. I meditate daily.  I spend lots of time playing my guitar and singing.  Most always to myself but once in awhile there's a couple of guys from church I play with.  All this sounds great. These are all accomplishments of the work Dorothy and I have done to establish a new life and home in Binghamton.

So why did I start the above paragraph with the word "boredom"? Because it's true.

Perhaps my life  has become too predictable and safe.  The sense of adventure, which I crave, is rapidly fading.  Is this all there is? If it is, why the fuck can't I be happy and content. I have so much to be grateful for. Why do I feel I want to turn over the apple cart and take a hike into the unknown?

What's next?  What should I do? I don't know. I do know that these "episodes" I've been having are telling me something I need to pay attention to and that talking to people I trust and love and writing this blog entry have been helpful.  Thank you for reading.








Friday, July 11, 2014

Solipsism and me

 Today is July, 11, 2014 and I once again have opened my blog with the intent of writing something.  In an attempt to be inspired I reviewed a draft of a piece I started to write last December.  Here it is... It was entitled "Dark"

The beginning is an end.  The middle becomes an end before I'm ready.  The cycles are exhilarating, dizzying but ultimately depressing and debilitating.  My enthusiasms transport and elevate me than leave me stranded on a hill of denied expectations.  Reincarnation into repetitive circles of duka.  Unsatisfactory, dis-ease.

I believe if I''m going to be as present/alive/awake as I can be during this last portion of my life I cannot turn my back and wishfully ignore the sadness and discouragement I often feel.. I have a storehouse of philosophical and physical strategies I use to stave off this darkness but it seems very skilled at finding a chink in my armor.

Today is Wednesday, December 7, 2013.  It seems like its been cold and cloudy for weeks.

No wonder I stopped writing that. Dark indeed but it still rings true. Using that as a jumping off point is like a pre-sex cold shower.  Chilling but somehow still hopeful something will rise up from the depths.

It is now glorious mid-summer.  The grass, flowers, trees are spectacular.  Greens of every shade and hue bring not only pleasing beauty but a satisfying, nurturing comfort.  Maybe this sense of well-being  is some sort of atavistic response to nature's bounty that's triggered by a relaxation of the survival instincts/pressures.

In any case, my wordy analysis above only clouds what I truly want to say, which is simply, It's beautiful outside and the beauty makes me feel wonderful....at times.  There's still some of the dis-ease/duka mentioned above but it's continually morphing into new forms shaped by my ongoing struggle to sort things out.

sol-ip-sism

1. Philososhy, the theory that only the self exists, or can be proven to exist
2. extreme preoccupation with and indulgence of one's feelings, desires, etc; egoistic self-absorption.

That's it.  That's the heart of this blog. Egoistic self-absorption.  Ferdrightnow is my full Monty egoism untempered by fear of social reprimand. Screw it. Let 'er rip Ferd.

So here's what I really want to talk about.... (to be continued)

Saturday, April 5, 2014

Musical Resurrection

I'm playing guitar and singing again. It's been at least ten years since I've been into the music like this.  It's wonderful..  I'm spending hours in the basement with my old Guild acoustic, my new Fishman Loudbox Artist amplifier and a mishmash of new cables, microphones, harmonicas, mic stands. electrical leads, etc.  I'm having a wonderful time playing old and new songs.  It's fascinating to me that I still remember the words and chords to so many songs - well over fifty. Lots of 1970s singer/songwriter pieces - John Prine, Neil Young, Van Morrison, Jackson Browne.

Why now? Not sure.  Maybe a comment my daughter made about how watching John Prine on TV made her cry because it reminded her of my playing.  Her telling me that stirred a memory of the deep satisfaction and joy I used to get from music and am now experiencing again. Another factor is the new amp.  I consciously bought it as an incentive to play.  I figured if I spent that money I'd feel obligated to make the most of it.  It also helped stoke fantasies of playing out at small venues. Probably a pipe dream but fun to think about anyway.

I haven't posted a blog entry in months, almost a year.  I wonder if my playing my heart out for myself in the cellar has replaced my tortuous efforts to express myself in words trough this blog.  It's very difficult for me to write something that feels as soulful and good as wailing on the harmonica while strumming a blues chord progression.  I know they're totally different things but the truth is I want the same thing from each...to get outside of my skin and fly.  Not into a blissful, gauzy emptiness but into a rawness and realness that makes me feel alive. It's beautiful and it's those moments that help me make sense of my life and perhaps make life worth living. I can't help but believe this expansive, connected place holds the same wonder and importance for others.    It makes me think of the the last lines of  "Gracias a Vida" by Violetta Parra (which I've sung over and over over the past few months.)  "El canto de ustedes es el mismo canto, el canto de todos es mi propio canto."  "your song is the same song.  the song of everyone is my own song."

I long to find the music and the words which transport me into the ether of our shared humanity. That reminds me I'm not alone in my loneliness and my joy.  An ending and a beginning. A resolution and a resurrection.