HEAD(hed), (n.) 1. the top part of the human body or the front part of an animal where the eyes, nose, east and mouth are. "Your brain is in your head." DIBS(dibz), (n.) 2. a thick, sweet syrup made in countries of the East, especially the Middle East, from grape juice or dates. [Arabic "debs"]--World Book Dictionary, 1976.
Finishing Chapter 8. Halfway through but it’s an uphill climb. Need a break but afraid of stopping.
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"That Awful Disease" (Self-Assessment, part 2)
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Here's one of the greatest magic tricks I've ever witnessed-.
Recently at the Oscars, Actor Matthew McConaughey presented the award for film editing, reminding us (in so many words) that movies are an illusion. We like to be fooled, to be entertained. Appropriately, The Academy thanked the people who go to to movies, keeping them in the business of making illusions. Why? Because we'll believe anything, as long as it makes us feel good.
Do you trust your eyes? We over-trust our eyes, which is why the illusion works. The simplest distraction, the smallest deception occurs and we go spiraling off on a tangent.
Do you trust your feelings? Are they accurate?
About mid-afternoon many folks start get grouchy. But why? Mars, Incorporated has figured it out. Folks aren't grouchy. They are "hangry" and Mars has connected the Snickers candy bar with that feeling to sell their product. Some folks just need a snack and they profit by connecting a message to a feeling that may actually be in accurate. The same is true when it comes to eating in general--we may not actually be hungry but thirsty and our bodies are willing to wring out every drop of water from wherever it will find it. There's a reason why food and drink is always served at meetings where decisions are made.
Can we trust our feelings? Perhaps no more than we trust our eyes. Our emotions may be in overload but are they right? Our perception may say one thing, but what does reality say? I learn this lesson every time I go to the gym--when I start my training I say, "I got this" until I reach the "what have I done to myself" stage because I thought one thing but the workout says another.
"Heraclitus called self-deception an awful disease and eyesight a lying sense." (Diogenes Laertius, Lives of Eminent Philsophers)
"The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?" (Jeremiah 17:9)
Rather than tossing our hands up in despair over our condition, we need to train to be discerning of ourselves, learn to personally assess ourselves. Slow down and not rush to conclusions.
I'm nearly finished reading Joan Didion's collection of essays, Slouching Towards Bethlehem. The book was discovered through another book I was reading, Jon Krakauer's Eiger Dreams . If Jon felt this book was good enough to pack along on a mountain climbing expedition, then I'm interested. Took me three tries, but I finally found my copy on Amazon. One of the best book buys I've made. Joan selected the title of this book from William Butler Yeats' classic poem, Second Coming . The book title is shared with one of her larger essays, a record of encounters with people in the 1960's drug culture. Didion's book is divided into three distinct parts: "Life Styles In The Golden Land," a collection of articles capturing the California experience of the 1960's; "Personals," a few of essays of the first-hand nature; and "Seven Places Of The Mind", some thoughts about those parts of California that are now long gone. One essay...
“VANITY, saith the preacher, vanity! Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back? Nephews—sons mine … ah God, I know not! Well— She, men would have to be your mother once, Old Gandolf envied me, so fair she was! What’s done is done, and she is dead beside, Dead long ago, and I am Bishop since, And as she died so must we die ourselves, And thence ye may perceive the world’s a dream. Life, how and what is it? As here I lie In this state-chamber, dying by degrees, Hours and long hours in the dead night, I ask “Do I live, am I dead?” Peace, peace seems all. Saint Praxed’s ever was the church for peace; And so, about this tomb of mine. I fought With tooth and nail to save my niche, ye know: —Old Gandolf cozened me, despite my care; Shrewd was that snatch from out the corner South He graced his carrion with, God curse the same! Yet still my niche is not so cramped...