There is something called Light Exposure therapy. I have no idea what it actually is except that I have heard of it. I think it is for seasonal depression- which is why I’ve heard of it. I’m going to take a different approach to it. I realized today that some of my depression is the loneliness in my questions. Or thoughts. I feel alone with my ideas, and not in a poetic way. I have questions and fears that I am afraid to bring to light, mostly because any time I hint at them, I get the blank stares of a population of people who either live in blissful ignorance, or perhaps live in better care of their dungeon of dark thoughts.
My dungeon of dark thoughts frequently has a jail break. I can’t pretend they don’t exist. I used to think that my problem was that I had the dungeon. That I had these mysterious dark questions or thoughts -and that they really needed to stop existing. Now I’m starting to think that their existence isn’t the problem. It’s the loneliness that I feel in asking them. Maybe we all have the dungeons and maybe a lot of us actually know about them. Maybe these questions are part of what makes us human and alive, but the problem is that we’ve somehow internalized the idea that they are meant to be kept dark and isolated. Maybe I can shine light on these thoughts and questions. That won’t make them go away (like I had thought before) but it will make me feel less lonely. And my hope is that it won’t be a misery loves company situation.
So I’m going to do an experiment with this blog. I’m going to address some of those darker places. I’m going to do what I have wanted to do with the blog all along (and have been doing to some level)- I’m going to shine the light in dark corners. But not the light of eviction, the light of revelation. The light of honesty and truth. The light onto the questions that I do not have answers to. A light into the dungeon that has felt really lonely.
What’s my first question?
Does our life really have meaning? I suspect that this answer (if there is really an answer) does not look like what we think.
Think large scale: we as a human species are so teeny tiny minuscule in proportion to the Universe- even as we currently know it- and we know that we haven’t seen the half of it. Even in the narrowed scope of planet Earth- we are a point that has only been recently added to the giant composition of time and space. A dot. We have made a mess of everything within our dot, to be sure. But it could all be undone in a second. With a solar flare- we don’t even have to do it ourselves. Then poof- our existence is unknown. Unremembered. Like it never happened.
Think small scale: our human body is so crazy intricate and interesting. We have dedicated our entire existence to survival and still don’t know the ins and outs of how our brains and bodies work. We are not easy to understand, we are complex. Panning out just a bit, we’ve seen how our decisions can affect generations. I have learned that my great-grandmother set the tone for generations of my family to be secure in love. One person who I didn’t even know existed until some years ago, was the foundation for the sanity of my family. Truly. This domino affect of the choices we make is no made-up thing. I’ve seen it. Some of our choices really don’t matter, but some of them do in ways we could never comprehend. Maybe they all do.
But what is meaning? Is meaning assigned only to that which is permanent? Does your life cease to have meaning once the dominoes have completed their cycle? Does your life mean everything only and just because it exists at all? We’re all asking this question, and answering it in different ways. Physicists (I think) came up with this butterfly effect theory about how the beat of a butterfly wing can make a strong wind around the world. I do not get this and don’t know how it plays out or if it’s a dumb theory that everyone knows is not a thing now. But the point is- some scientists somewhere put their heads together to see if something insignificant became significant. Or what I would call: has meaning.
Let’s say we settle on meaning as a value that is self-contained outside of lasting impact or permanence. Something can be meaningful in only a second. What then of purpose? Is that the same or something else entirely? Purpose feels a lot like something with results. Something that changes something. Meaning perhaps only needs to exist, where purpose maybe needs to change something.
Here’s my fear. These questions fold into themselves. Part of my brain is engaged with these questions, but then something higher calls into question my entire existence. I become keenly aware that I’m using English, in the US, in a specific time that will be washed away by some other time. I want to ask the question but then I realize I’ve left the gate open to the dungeon and the peeking questions start calling from the darkness “DOES IT EVEN MATTER?!” “Are you wasting your time and everyone else's?” “Who cares?!” “What does this help?” “You will never answer these questions, so why are you torturing yourself with them?” “Are you going to turn into one of those lunatics on the street who talks to themselves about how everything is meaningless?”
I flash to a video that I saw by the Humans of New York guy. It’s of a homeless man who is talking about what he has learned as a 46 year old. He’s clearly homeless, perhaps mentally ill, and he is speaking absolute profound truth. NO one even questions the validity of what he is saying because we all recognize it as truth. But the painful thing is- that we see in this man the price you pay for learning the truth. It means you might not fit into the system, the machine might spit you out. Your comfort with the dungeon means you might be sent to live there. Because no one else wants to really think about it or talk about it. They want to live in the ignorance of the bright upstairs. So you become the keeper of the keys to the dungeon. You become the holder of secrets. You are burdened by the darkness so that the rest of us can function. There are so many utopian books and short stories that play on this concept.
One of my favorite books of all time, which continues to re-invent itself (like it is now) for me is The Giver. In this book, the main concept is that there is a utopian society that has been set up to function utilitarian style, with careful consideration to what will make the safest and most functional community. As the outsiders reading it, we see clear problems with the set up, but within the community there is harmony and health. In the community, there is a keeper of memories. This person knows what’s in the dungeon, and a lot more has been shoved into the dungeon for the community to function. In this community (unlike ours), the Keeper is revered as wise and respected. Their task is misunderstood but deeply important. A boy is assigned to become the next Keeper of memories- and he is the Receiver and the Elder names himself The Giver.
I think even as a 4th grader, my soul recognized that I would play the role of giver and receiver in a way that might be lonely. I recognized the feeling of seeing something that other people don’t see (or refuse to admit). I have long had the passcode to the dungeon. Sometimes I’m able to forget it. Sometimes I’m even able to pretend it doesn’t exist. But I know it's there, and you can’t un-know.
Spoiler alert- in The Giver, the boy realizes he can’t hold this knowledge. The loneliness is too great, and the sense of responsibility to help others change is too pressing. So he plans an escape, and his escape releases the memories into the community- like an invisible force field around the dungeon is broken. The Giver remains to help the community process and heal.
So I’m not the Keeper. I’m not alone, I can’t possibly be. But I feel alone, and selfishly, I want to give a tour of the dungeon so I don’t have to process it alone. I need friends for the ride. I need someone more than the old white philosophers of western Christian Europe. I need you.
Will any of you walk in the dungeon with me? Maybe we can turn it into a cool coffee shop with candelabras. I just feel so lonely down here and I’ve hesitated to bring it up for fear of ripping you away from the sunny day you are enjoying. But maybe you already are here. Maybe we just haven’t found each other because we were too scared to turn the light on. Maybe we can light some candles and it won’t feel so lonely. Maybe it isn’t a dungeon after all, but a magnificent cave with springs and jewels. Maybe it’s a gathering place and we can feel safe exploring. Maybe we’ll never reach the ends of it, but we’ll learn to have joy in the journey.
That’s what I’m really looking for. Joy for the journey.
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