my damned brain.
i wish i could take it off like a pair of glasses and let the world be pleasantly fuzzy.
samira and i were talking yesterday about how our male friends comfort people, and she proposed that, instead of pure heart-felt empathy or cold practicality, i end up using a sort if anthropological way of soothing and trying to understand the situation. i didn't realize it at first, but this frightens me. what i study, while it is a part of my life, has no part in certain areas, especially ones where the heart knows best. fucking academia. why do i find myself thinking of religion, morality, philosophy, when i am just trying to live. are these the components of my spirit? that third shining face in the triad of humanity... mind, flesh, soul. see?... another fucking construction... i think of it to help me concieve of the world, believing that understanding is the ultimate goal. how nice it is to sometimes believe that there is no purpose... how free... what lovely rivers and shade-tree there are in that field beyond right and wrong (pardon the literary reference... it's rumi). i don't dispise academia... its merits are many (tho not unquestionable)... i just want it to stay where it belongs, not shackle me to a boulder so i can have my fucking heart torn out every day, only to have it grow back with hope that, perhaps, the boulder will become an infinite valley of widflowers, and the hawk become a woman, a truth, a spark of silent completeness.