Ever get annoyed? Ever feel like someone needs to be told where the dog died? Or handed a crowbar and a tub of Elbow Grease to help them pry their head out of their arse? Congratulations--you've come to the right place.

And when I'm not commenting on the latest thing to piss me off, I'm trying to figure out my own twisted life. Because, hey, I'm like that.

On a gentler note: for anyone dealing with depression, anxiety, and other assorted bullshit: You are NOT alone.

And if you're looking for a laugh, search on the key word "fuckery." It's just my little thing (as the bishop said to the actress).

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

A few thoughts on reincarnation

OK, bitch for the day (because I always have to have something to bitch about because otherwise, you'd think there was something wrong): I hate touch pads on laptops. I really do. Because I have large hands (leave it alone, leave it alone), I am forever brushing the Godsdamned touch pad and relocating my cursor. MAKES ME CRAZY!

Yeah, I know--craziER. Thank you, oh, my Greek Chorus that lives in my head. It's crowded in there, y'know?

Now, if you've ever gotten into a serious convo with me about the afterlife, you know that I believe in reincarnation. There are several reasons for this.
1. I am an egotistical bitch and hate the thought that my fabulous self will cease to exist when my body gives up the ghost.
2. The concept of heaven/hell annoys the piss out of me, and I refuse to believe in an all-powerful Creator who would do something THAT FUCKING ROTTEN. I mean, if you've got THAT kind of power, you'd hope you'd be a little more enlightened. But then, look at all the shit parents out there... Hmmmmm... May have to reread Frankenstein again. Such a brilliant book. And nothing is scarier than pregnancy.
3. I am "in touch" with several of my past lives.

Yeah, I just heard the screeching of your mental brakes, and your brain caroming into the wall in a fiery crash. Yes, you read that right: I am in touch with a few of them.

Now, I am of two minds on this phenomena--and this plays into the theory I am about to expound:

Viewpoint One: Rational Mind
Being a highly intelligent, exceptionally creative and imaginative person--and having been so all of my life--AND having witnessed a lot of horror and pain and been subjected to quite a bit of the same AND having a couple of broken switches in my brain and fucked up body chemistry, I am dealing with a really highly evolved, high-functioning form of Multiple Personality Disorder, the extreme end of Dissociative Disorder with a hefty side of PTSD.
Everyone is familiar with Sybil Syndrome--severely abused child develops other personalities to help her deal with the aftermath of the abuse and allow her to function; her "real" personality is unaware of the others that step in to help whenever something triggers the PTSD flashback, the alternative personalities that protect the broken psyche.
Multiple Personality Disorder has been proven to be real--researchers actually "mapped" the brains of sufferers and documented the change in brain chemistry as the other personality took over during a stressful situation. It's pretty damn impressive, in an upsetting sort of way.
Really makes me think about that unused 90% of the human brain. WTF is living in there?
Now, me, as a control freak and director, I can totally see that there is no fucking way I'm letting anyone else drive except me. I know who I am. I am in the driver's seat because whenever I let someone else drive, they wreck the fucking car, and my soul has enough Godsdamned dents in it, thank you very much. So, I see these other personas--which are very much bits of me, very much parts of who I am, just a little stronger (in the case of most of them) when the shit hits the fan for me emotionally and chemically.
In short, whoever is most appropriate steps up and helps out.
Now, I am also an actor. I am someone who was trained to analyze a text and take on the characteristics of the person in the text and develop gesture, voice, etc. to bring that person to life. I have ALWAYS been a mimic, and a damn good one. It's endearing and infuriating. I am fully willing to own that these past lives are just characters I've developed to help me a) through the lonely times as a kid; b) as a means of surviving my Boston Irish Catholic socialization.
I'll talk about the Bogtrotter Handicap in another post.
So that's the Rational Theory of Past Lives

Viewpoint Two: The Spiritual Side
I'm a Celtic shaman, or at least an apprentice. What is that? Look it up; too tired to go into now, and it's deep and long. (LEAVE THAT ONE ALONE!) There's a great book on it by D.J. Conway called By Oak, Ash and Thorn - if you can get past the "fuck the normals who have oppressed us" rhetoric, it's very good. I know about the shattering of a soul, I've been through it, and I get it. I know about soul retrieval, and what it's like to lose a part of yourself. As an artist, I've lost contact with my essential creativity more than once because of soul damage.
Because I do believe in the eternal soul. It's one of the few good things I got from Catholicism--the belief that every person is animated by a unique, eternal spirit. Little known fact: it is perfectly acceptable for a Catholic to believe in reincarnation, so long as they believe that the soul retains its identity from lifetime to lifetime.
I can buy that.
I know that I know things I shouldn't know, have no way of knowing. I know that there are places I've gone to for the first time, and for me, it was like coming home. I knew where I was, what I was doing, where to go. My voice changed, my body changed--stance, walk, carriage, gestures--almost like being "dropped in" to another body. There are certain cultures outside of my own and time periods that I have an instinctive grasp of, a native's view of them, despite the fact that I am not a part of that particular group.
Most folks who have dealt with me one on one frequently have met Big Mama. You KNOW the personality I'm talking about--Southern as pecan pie and Jim Crow, tough, funny and in-yo-face. I love Big Mama; she's funny, confident, tough--people love that persona. She makes them smile (and scares the fuck out of others). I love her Southern honey, her, "Chillllle! WHUT YOU SAY!" attitude and hearty laugh, her down-to-earth, no-shit delivery. I love letting her havethe floor once in a while, because she is a hoot.
She was also a HooDoo Root Doctor, Conjure Doctor, Root Worker, Voodoo Queen, whatever you want to call it, and I get part of my instincts with putting together charms from her.
Is she real ? Did shje really exist? Beats the hell out of me. I just know she's there.
I find great comfort in this. Enormous comfort. Why? Because it means that the life lessons and information that I've gathered won't be fully lost. It means that the person I am will continue, even if I never have a child.
Yeah, I said I was an egotistical bitch. I'm good with it; you should be, too, because I am ETHICAL to the extreme.

I also like the thought of it being non-linear. I mean, what if the folk belief is true and if you've been a really good person in this life, you come back as a cat? I like the idea that Piddy is me in my next life--I've EARNED that good a life at this point, doncha think? Nothing to do but sleep, eat, have the greatest fuckin' metabolism on the planet, play a bit when I feel like it, and be worshipped... nice life. Reallll nice life. My soul will take it.

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