Why is it that in the middle of a shower I get the urge to go work out, thus negating the shower? And why do I want to sleep in when I must get up but arise early when I have no obligations? How deep do my contrarian tendencies go? I used to think it was optional, just something I could put on to help differentiate myself from the crowd. But then, why did I want to differentiate myself? Why was that important to me? It must have had some deeper underpinnings.
It happens to me all the time, really. And it’s annoying when I would actually like to accomplish something. I have to play cat and mouse with my urges. I must outwit them in order to achieve a goal. If I want to answer a non urgent-business email, somewhere inside I need to be planning to do something totally unrelated to writing. Then there’s hope of me doing what is opposite. Same is true for working out, unless I’ve somehow embedded it into my routine at the moment. But even my routines have to be interpreted as contrary to something else to stick to them.
My stomach tells me it’s already full when it’s time for Thanksgiving dinner, but eat aplenty when I really shouldn’t. My arms start aching when it’s time for a concert, but feel great when I don’t have any upcoming performances. See how deep and visceral it is? It’s not something easily accepted either, because it’s inherently opposite to the natural course of events. My mind is trying to follow and shape my life path, but my insides are making all sorts of detours.
It’s like I live inside a magnet or a rubber band. I’m being pushed and pulled along by an unseen North Pole or puppeteer pulling an opposite-handed string. Sometimes I think it’s my soul’s way of keeping me in a homeostatic state, keeping me centered in a way. Perhaps that’s the good side of it. So maybe I should learn to give in to the North or South Poles and let them do what they’re apt to do anyway, without intrusion from my conscious self. I do not really know what percentage of consciousness versus unconsciousness is really my favorite. It’s a fluctuating thing which is not exactly under my control, but I can tell when it’s out of whack, I guess.
This blog affects that balance. Writing affects it. As does psychotherapy. They both seemingly merge the conscious and unconscious in a smooth way. You can keep track of the intricacies of the merging process there. But again, it requires either outsmarting or randomly falling into the correct circumstance to get to this place of symmetry.
originally published on 12/5/10