The Dancing Paradox

purple sun

“The belief that time is a linear, directed sequence running from A to B is a modern illusion. In fact, it can also go from B to A, the effect producing the cause.”

~  Umberto Eco, Foucault’s Pendulum  ~ 

It doesn’t happen often but I just lost the first paragraph I wrote here. You’ve got to watch it when using the Apple Magic Mouse. Ham-handedness causes problems with the mouse because one of the mousy features is that you can slide backwards or forwards, without using the back-button on the keyboard, you just slide your finger across the mouse and the page slides to another page. It happens to me by accident, and if I have not tapped the ‘save’ button recently I piss myself off, as I just did a few minutes ago. I hope I have described this clumsy occurrence adequately. I woke up in a mild panic, which is only now abating. It may have been from a dream but I sense that it is a random artifact from the PTSD. Either way it clouds my mind for a while. PTSD mystifies me. We know where it likely came from; a freak bicycle accident back in 1984. It was right at the borderline of fatality. Lucky me. But friggin trauma can make a mess of a guy.

I’m explaining this for any new or old readers who are not familiar with this part of my background. There is no moaning to be done at this point, nor whining. The accident was a double-edged sword in that I had the head trauma and a subsequent dazzling magical mystery tour all at once. My perception told me that I had died and come back to life. They call it an NDE –  Near Death Experience. It’s the darnedest thing! So for these many years I struggled within the vast paradox brought on through the dance between celestial luminance and hard-wired chronic trauma. The point is that sometimes I wake up in tiny tremors, as I did this morning, because a part of me desires to go back to the celestial realm and part of me wants be here in this life. To add to the whole mess I also have the genetic misfortune known as Bipolar 2 Disorder. Friggin pisses me off on occasion. And sometimes the depression gets the best of me, and fighting it feels kind of like watching the Three Stooges trying to pass through a door all at the same time. Yes, humor is a powerful tool when it comes to enduring a down cycle.

I think I will leave it at that for now.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

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