Life In The Penumbra

Today is Sunday, and I woke up feeling somewhat better. I took some Xanax yesterday, which scares me as benzodiazapenes have the potential of permanently scarring the brain, but drugs in the Valium family are known for their pain-relieving properties for facial pain. I don't have the same addiction issues with Xanax as I do with opiates--for some odd reason, addiction to that drug has never set in. I use it sparingly as I'm so leery of it, but what relief it can bring, even a small dose.

I tend to flog myself when I resort to any type of pain meds, thinking that I should be stronger in character to overcome things through mental means, but that's just as nuts as taking too much of something. The cliche "happy medium" comes to mind here--a concept I should perhaps consider more, if that's even possible for an addict.

I got up around nine, and after making my morning coffee, I popped on the TV, and there was that History Channel show again about the plague in Europe in the 1350s. As it has before, this show gives me great comfort, because it's a story about human suffering on an unimaginable scale--a story that was recorded with the written word (as opposed to similar human die-offs like the peoples of Central America who succumbed to European diseases in the 1500s).

It reinforced the notion that the scale of human suffering can vary wildly. Some go through life with the ordinary trials and tribulations of the human condition, while others suffer in such grotesque ways that we avert our eyes, as such unfairness is unthinkable.

Perhaps this is the reason for the current popularity of the philosophical/spiritual concept of the Law of Attraction, which seems to be taking root everywhere. While this idea has been around for ages, current books like "The Secret" have become red-hot bestsellers as they offer people a greater sense of control over what happens to them if they can just "vibrate" and visualize differently in their thoughts and actions. They have faith that if they expect more of life, they will get it, and surely there is some wisdom in this.

When one stops and thinks about it, it really should come as no surprise that this "law" contains such truth, as the evidence for it is all around us. We all know someone who had an ideal upbringing and marches into their adulthood having a natural love of themselves and others. They often find love and success early in life, and clearly it's because they're unencumbered by the baggage that plagues the person who suffered horrendous abuse in childhood, be it emotional, physical or sexual.

When survivors of these diabolical ravages begin to come of age, their view of the world and of themselves is grossly distorted, and much of their energies, if not all of it at times, is spent trying to repair the damage that never should have occurred in the first place. Yet at the same time, they must also embark on developing the survival skills that any human needs so that take can care of themselves and their families (provided they have the emotional stability to even have a family), and to lead an independent life.

For these folks (myself being one), the Law of Attraction provides a new hope and a clear map towards a better existence, whereby we can consciously tap into the power of expectation, which seems to come so easily to the products of happy childhoods.

Yet there is also a grave danger in thinking this law so absolute, for when bad things happen to good people, we can easily slip into the "blame the victim" mentality. If a child is kidnapped and killed, parents can wonder where their thinking went wrong that allowed this to happen. If we are felled by a disease that causes lifelong crippling, we can blame ourselves that we didn't visualize hard enough to prevent this terrible event.

I suppose my point is that there are limits to everything, and that there are no absolute truths in life, for if there were, we would indeed have complete control over everything that happens to both us and the ones we love just by creating a pretty picture in our heads.

A few years ago, I had a lovely friendship with a woman, Elle, who actually started out as a fan of my music. We had a long discussion over dinner one evening about my work and about art in general, and I attempted to explain what art was for me, and that I knew it when I created it.

I said that the click happened when my song was somehow able to encompass a broader statement about life than what was there on the surface. If it was a happy tune, there was also an aching sadness just below the surface, and if it was a sad song, there was a foundation of hope somewhere deep inside it.

Elle (who has a massive IQ) explained it much better. She said that art and music like this exists in the "penumbra" (which Webster's defines as "a space of partial illumination between the perfect shadow on all sides and the full light") and that this is the area in which the Supreme Court grapples with its decisions in order to find truth. It's never precisely in one location, but rather in the grey area between light and shadow.

I never forgot her explanation, as I'd discovered this heady concept all on my own in my dogged attempts to write something so seemingly simple as a pop song. It's wonderful when humans from such varied backgrounds can come to such similar conclusions via completely different routes.

I don't see Elle as much these days, as she's suffering greatly herself, only her trial is full-blown multiple sclerosis, and she's attempting, quite valiantly, to find her own comfortable place in the penumbra.

For both of us, the shadows in our lives are quite dark indeed. But I like to believe that it's in such a state of darkness that any light is best seen, provided we choose to open our eyes.

In a world where there seems to be no absolute truths right now, I suppose that's one truth I can count on.

Hope springs eternal.


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History Repeating

The History Channel had a show on about the plague this afternoon. Half the population of Europe died because of it, and the surviving population was devastated psychologically as a result, questioning the meaning of life. I get this. Families watched one another die tortured, agonzing, senseless deaths. Talk about misery.

Not surprisingly, they all thought God was punishing their evil ways, but in watching this show with the wisdom of hindsight, it's clear that it was just a tragic thing that, well, happened. It wasn't God; it was a pathogen that half the people couldn't fight off. It spread from England to China, and some Christian Europeans began flagellating themselves, thinking that maybe inflicting more suffering on their bodies would somehow stop the insanity.

In my own case, I sometimes think God is punishing me, too, for some evil deed committed in maybe a previous life, or that he's trying to teach me a lesson that I somehow refuse to learn.

But if I'm going to learn anything from history, sometimes things just, well, happen. There's nothing inherently good or bad to the event. As humans, we're simply organisms prone to infection, like bugs, or dogs, or even the dinosaurs, who could actually get cancer.

Many desperately want to believe that things like disease happen to us because of stress, unresolved rage, because we're not spiritual enough, or because we're not understanding the mind/body connection. While there may be some truth to this, another truth is that bad things do indeed happen to good people for no reason at all. Accidents happen, disease happens, as does death. There's no escaping it. Believing there's reasons for it is simply a vain attempt to control it. If we can blame the patient somehow, then we think it won't happen to us.

The History Channel ended on a positive note, saying that the plague ushered in a new era of thinking. People began questioning the Church's authority, now defining God for themselves, and because of the loss of the work force, labor-saving machines were invented that were the very beginnings of the industrial age.

The most positive thing that developed was the beginning of the Renaissance--a rebirth of art, culture and science.

Like the plague survivors, I don't know about this God thing either. But I'm certainly not going to flagellate myself, nor blame anyone else for my misery. (The Christian flagellators actually blamed the Jews for the catastrophe.) The best I can hope for is some kind of rebirth of my own...a new person that will rise from the wreckage.

That's hard to fathom at the moment, as I'm still swirling in a haze of pain and addiction. The plague had to run its course, and perhaps my own dark days have to run theirs, as well. This has been going on for an awful long time, though. Years now.

I'm exhausted.