Schizoaffective

Lake Michigan from Algoma, WI Sometime in the next decade, none of the three of us will have a reason to return to Green Bay. We grew up together there. One of my two friends, I have known since first grade, the other since about 8th. We sat masked for COVID on the back porch of the house of one of my friend's parents, a house I first visited 43 years ago in order to tape some Ted Nugent albums. We are all in our mid 50s. Our parents are either dead or not doing so well, and the in-laws or parents are all that keep us coming back. Soon, they won't be with us, and our siblings all live in other cities. I had the acute sense that, in spite of not having gotten together as the three of us in about 20 years, this was closing in on the end of something. One of my friend's father died almost 50 years ago. We were in Cub Scouts at the time. It was my first encounter with death. Our den mother led us scouts to his house, where we stood outside and sang. He came to the large picture...

by Jay Paul To live, all must eat. Eating entails consuming dead plants and animals. We live through death. Birth and death is the pulse of nature. Well, this isn't entirely true. The flares of stars and their tendency to rhythmically spew elements into space, especially upon demise, is, perhaps, more fundamental. But from the human perspective, as an animal on earth, the pulse of nature that seems most relevant is that of birth and death. Our bodies will all be eaten. Even bodies embalmed with chemicals and sealed in plastic in a concrete grave will be found out by flesh eating bacteria. It is the fate of all humans, together with all animals, to end as food. However, this starts well before we die. While we are still alive, all sorts of mites are in our intestines and the rest of our body, feeding on us and, oftentimes, doing things that happen to aid us biologically. We couldn't live without certain bacteria eating away in and at our bodies. To live, we need to be eaten. Bei...

 "To me, freedom is choosing to respond attuned to fate, so the moment can blossom in its full richness, reaching with fate's power into the past and future, and throughout all space." I ended last week's blog post with this sentence. This week, I am going to explain it fully. We'll begin with the notion of "freedom." I was arguing that true freedom has less to do with ego-based choices than is often claimed. Instead, freedom is responding to all that is around me in a given moment in an attuned manner. What are free people attuned to? Paradoxically, they are attuned to fate. I am using the word "fate" in a manner that does allow for some choice. By "fate," I am thinking of all that impinges on a moment: history, current events, biology, biography, climate, and so on. Most all of this is well outside our conscious control, and even outside of our knowledge purview. There is no way to grasp all that goes into the possibility of a momen...

by Jay Paul   What am I going to make of being schizoaffective? Certainly, I don't choose to wallow in self pity and self negation, mirroring the greater society's poor opinion of people in my category. I want to contribute what I can; specifically, I would like to contribute what I can from the openings provided me by my very schizoaffective. Yes, schizoaffective is horrible and horrifying in many ways. But it also reveals aspects of experience that would otherwise stay hidden. It is a view from terrific loss, when seen from the conventional notion of success, but it is a unique view that offers a lot to humanity. Schizoaffective has taken so much from me. I had a respectable middle-class career, and that is no longer. In fact, my career, prep school teacher, was not even the career I had trained for. I'm a Ph.D. in English, and when I went to grad school in the late 80's, professorship looked like a promising career. The G.I. Bill Ph.D.'s were going to be retiring...

by Jay Paul  While meditating, I, like most meditators, frequently find myself lost in thought, perhaps thinking about an old girlfriend or about all the chores I have to do later in the day or my fear that my mental health symptoms will reappear. As I catch myself thinking like this, I most often simultaneously notice my breath. I feel myself inhale and exhale, all the way in and all the way out. My profound sense when this happens is that breath is much more grounded and connected to experience than is thought. What follows are some observations on breath and thought based on this experience and sense. Breath is wiser than thought. Thought flits and flecks, comes and goes, rarely landing in a solid manner. Even the greatest of thoughts, such as Isaac Newton conceptualizing gravity when the apple hit him on the head, are superficial compared to a single breath. Respiration connects us humans to the rest of nature, to the way bats and rats and lions breathe. It connects us, in its ...

by Jay Paul Estrangement is neither good nor bad. It is a position I find myself in many times a day. It occurs when I need to step out of my most intimate involvements with people and things, to see as a stranger, one who is not so involved. I do this to understand conceptually what is going on. When I am clear, I go back into the involvements, having reoriented myself. This is the role of conceptualization: to solve estrangement and allow me back into my involvements, to help me be intimate in my world once again.                    When I am driving, I usually do not rely on concepts. Oh, I rely on training and experience, but these have become habituated into my very muscles, well below the level of conceptualization. I don’t  think   when I drive, unless I have to. When driving I make sense of little around me. Other cars are blurs of color, as are pedestrians. Sounds come from them, too. Not thought, but habituation marks...

As I get older, I dread winter more each year. I am now 55, and it all comes down to one big worry: slipping and falling on the ice. I have visions of myself cracking a hip or twisting an ankle. I sometimes even worry about hitting my head.  The strange thing is, it's been years since I slipped and fell on the ice. I remember once when I was in my early 30s, I was walking to the bus stop to go to work, and a thin layer of snow covered a slick spot on the sidewalk. My legs flew right out from under me, and I landed on my back, the wind knocked out of me. But in the subsequent years, I didn't worry about slipping and hurting myself as much as I do now. Getting older has made me feel my vulnerability more.  I have always been vulnerable. I could have cracked my head open when fell onto my back. But I didn't feel this vulnerability as I do now. When I was younger, I just assumed nothing bad would happen; I assumed away many of the dangers of this world. I imagine most of us do....

by Jay Paul   finding myself to also be a great raven soaring over a rolling field of long grass and wildflowers and a few isolated trees with great canopies a family walked on a trail mown through the grass the father a young bearded man pushed a baby buggy and the pretty young mother walked along   suddenly realizing that man was me 25 years ago with my now adult daughter and ex-wife in a scene that never happened but is representative nonetheless because we all did love each other in our limited and limiting ways and things did seem open to vast possibilities   then seeing myself as raven floating in the sky and realizing I am also a constellation of a great bear high in the sky behind the blue veil of sky I am a bear constellation watching a soaring raven who is also me watching a man who was me a quarter century ago   this could go on who is watching the great bear perhaps the moon there is no end to the multiplication of selves across space and time   and ...

by Jay Paul water in human form fluid in the fingers in the toes in the toenails and hair water in the soles of the feet   water tends toward the lowest spot all effort merely a twitch on the way down   water in the form of a blade of grass reaching for the sun itself water too   the sun tends down as does the grass as do humans because all is water finding the lowest available place   water joins the two ponds that had been separated by a tended path human effort twitches and stagnates a road is flooded   the water table is up in this part of earth because of more precipitation because of climate change human effort twitches and spasms can only divert the inevitable  tendency of water   the sun keeps drenching us with its water   there is no beginning there is no ending there is no birth there is no death in water   warming ice drips into the pond beneath water in the form of a leaf twists and tumbles down in air   consciousness is the ...

by Jay Paul   The last two weeks on this blog I have discussed visions that I have when I lay down on my living room floor and follow the path of an initiatory image. Strange things happen in these visions, which are like waking dreams. Prepare yourself for what I'm about to say. In some of them, I have even been eaten by giants, traveled through their intestines, and come out alive on the other end. Interestingly, some biologists believe that fish came to populate isolated mountain lakes in a similar manner: eggs survived being eaten by waterfowl who then left the eggs in those lakes when defecating. Visions such as this one have caused me to reflect on death and immortality. I have also been helped by reading Thich Nhat Hanh on "interbeing," especially in his discussion of The Heart Sutra . I have come to believe in a kind of immortality that does not invoke a spiritual realm of any sort—no heaven, no hell, no reincarnation. I want to think through what death is by atte...

It occurred to me that I may have appeared to contradict myself in the course of the last several postings on this blog. On August 13, in a post entitled "Skin," I explained how the skin does not have to be viewed as the boundary between the self and the rest of the world. In fact, skin is one of the ways we reach out into the world, connecting with it, being in relationship with it. I went on to say that consciousness is not inside us, especially not in the neural workings of the brain, but all over the place, both inside and outside. The things of the world we are conscious of, such as birds and piles of sand, are also conscious, though not to the extent a human being is. After arguing for this perspective, I proceeded to write several posts that detailed my recent experiences with antipsychotics. I related how getting off risperidone caused withdrawal symptoms that included anxiety. Anxiety is a mood that, like all moods, affects consciousness by causing us to focus on som...

by Jay Paul I have posted here for the last several weeks about my recent struggles with medication. I am happy to say that, for now, things are resolved. I am on a low dose of olanzapine that does not play havoc with my blood and does not make me feel woozy. Unfortunately, I am having some minor problems with weight gain and sleepiness. I hope they get better as time goes on. But for now, my serious problems are behind me. Now on to this week's essay. _________________________________________________ In his essay “Moral Luck” Thomas Nagel notes that we blame a drunk driver for recklessly driving up onto a curb and hurting a pedestrian much more so than we blame her if she just went up on the curb and nobody was there. This is a case of moral luck. If nobody was there, the drunk driver’s moral, and legal, standing results from her being lucky that the sidewalk was empty.   Nagel’s point seems irrefutable. Much of our moral standing in our own and in other people’s eyes results...

by Jay Paul Perhaps the most common assumption about skin is that it seals off what is “me” from the rest of the world. For instance, I am sitting in this room right now with a bicycle to my right, a computer in front of me, and a bed behind me. My skin provides the barrier between these other objects and what is “me.”             Upon reflection, problems arise with this naive view. The biggest one is that we usually associate our consciousness with our self, but our consciousness rarely concerns itself with what is inside our skin. Except when we are in pain or discomfort, our consciousness focuses on what is about us in the world. Right now, the keys on this keyboard, which are outside me but touching my fingers, are part of my conscious awareness while, say, my heart is not. It’s true that I need the heart to be conscious, but I am rarely conscious of it unless something goes wrong with it.      ...