Our problems are given agency, as if they are somehow ghosts that haunt us… the human mind has been so tortured, so fucked, allowed too much time to sit in it’s own shit. Too much sedentary time allows us to objectify and then subjectify aspects of our tortured selves and then personify them to be real things. Well, something deep inside me calls bullshit, and I say emphatically you CAN run away from your problems—mobility isn’t just something life does, it is the very thing that life IS (life is motion). Problems will die and atrophy, or stop being a problem, if you have time away from the spatial milieu(s) in which they originate. Flight is a form of fight! For those of you narrowed to the American historical narrative, look at George Washington’s strategy for winning the revolutionary war! Try telling the squirrel she’s better off staying where the wolves are and inventing some way other than running up a tree and to another area; try telling the birds this season they should try and overwinter instead of always flying towards the sun and away from the cold. Why would the human experience be so different that we have to face our problems? It’s true you might have the same problem if you leave one suburb for another, because suburbs will always and continue to pile up problems just like stagnant societies always have a sewage problem. Flight has been so denied to us, and always fighting is too burdensome on such weakened, malnourished creatures as we are, that just accepting the problems is cathartic and healing, radically accepting. Accepting our medication, our docilizing, accepting the loss of control, the loser status, the subaltern voiceless people we are. We can just meditate unto death, learn how to be compliant caged birds who can get the joys and live vicariously through stories that are other to us (reading books/blogs, writing a blog, watching television, plays, and other cultural constructions that are available for distraction and soothing); we can be imitate our cages and oppress other cellmates through physical abuse, emotional abuse, sexual abuse. And we can then have the experience of what are officially labeled prisons, to learn horrors that we were usually numbed and hidden from. Another route to channel our energies is that we can put on a play and force an audience to accept our role—they’ll believe our performance and we will also, because there’s no outside referent allowed through the narrow perimeter prison windows to show what life actually is. As a priest or politician, either will be fulfilling enough as long as it’s self-fulfilling. A king who rules over anybody other than himself is just a king of the small pond, no matter how large it appears to be. All are forbidden to be kings of themselves—they are coerced to dress in clothes of many fashions, including tattoos and jewelry. Public undressing is usually an act of coercion or somehow other absorbed into the culture industry Adorno’s thing about dissenters/protesters being absorbed by the totality.
Maybe this perverted mode of thinking is itself originated from perverted circumstances which deny both effective fight and flight. Perverted almost as if by an agent (perhaps agency is relative, and our lack of it does give our infrastructure some degree of it?).
Perhaps domesticated humans aren’t animals anymore, but not because we are something elevated as many stories we tell ourselves would indicate. No, animals are said to have the fight or flight response, but humans usually have neither, and just bow down and “wish it were Friday”. Looking forward to recess, or looking back to recess, because the present is so intolerable. What a social contract we have signed on to…
Edit: I’m going to babble more: Life is largely un-examined when we focus on the individual we find a narrowing of choices because we have narrowed life down to a single cell, we have chosen the part over the whole. the noun life refers to an individual human’s experiences to the negation and detriment to the wider range of life, but also so too to that individual human’s. We will never reach the experience of hell because our very ability to experience anything of great depth is constantly being compromised by the dumbing and numbing wreak of our own shit (and I’m referring to our possessions)… depression isn’t sadness, it’s the being weighed down.
it’s not the lack of feeling with depression that has people kill themselves, it’s an acute feeling of the oppression of things like depression, or like something dubbed “mania” that speaks to how life could and should be, but how it is not actually being lived. depression is adaptation through downgrading to a hopeless situation, unfortunately we’re not built and taboos don’t allow hibernation, but other animals do pretty well in handling their depression, they medicate it with sleep and a quiet vegetative state. We try to make it some metaphysical and physical thing which needs to be overcome by medical technology, but really it is just the geo-forces way of trying to balance us, but we resist balance as evidenced by so many of the things we entertain and make part of our daily lives.
Oh and I did want to say and am not sure If I did say it above, that running from problems will weaken the problem immensely, as a hostless disease, so long as your not running on the treadmill that changes scenery but not the grounding.
Our problems got to the strength and embodiment that they currently wield precisely because we haven’t run from them in the past. They’ve grown as we’ve stayed to tend their furnaces always putting ample new fuel in. Concretely, if humans did all leave the planet, and ran from this place we’ve made such a problem, the planet would surely heal our deep wounds, and wouldn’t be a problem for us when we returned. It might be more appropriate to say such a thing would be our planet running from us, making us so dissatisfied as to eject us through persuasion of ugliness.
Oh and this post I found aggravating and representative of the cliches that so anger me: