Face of Evil

In the time that I have worked with people with significant mental health problems, there have been occasions where I worked with people who committed serious crimes: arson, murder, rape... In all these cases, the person in question found nothing wrong with the act they committed. They all had their explanations. And for each of them, what they did made sense and there was nothing to feel bad about.

When you ever encounter in literature or film a "satisfying" villain, I believe what makes that villain acceptable is the sense that this was a regular person that ended up going down a wrong path. That perhaps, initially, their path wasn't so far from the path most of us walk. Over time, they ended up in a darker and darker place... their eyes adjusting as they go... until finally, what appears as darkness to you and I is perfectly clear to them. That is to say, that a villain's perspective on life changes gradually to accommodate their increasingly evil world in a manner that the world does not appear evil to them.

A true villain should not realize... should not believe it when they are told that they are a villain... just like someone who is color blind may not know that what they think is red is actually green. And, in the end, the real tragedy is not that they have no remorse for what they do. It is that they have no awareness that they have done grievous harm that demands reconciliation AND, when justice finds them, they are clueless as to why they are being punished or killed.

Brownie points

I have not posted in a while... not that I think anyone might notice.  But, I liked this exchange with my youngest daughter as a fine example of 7-year-old problem solving and me being... playful:

My wife baked some brownies for a party today.  My 7-year-old, A, walks into the kitchen while I am cutting the brownies to put on plates.

"Dad, are those brownies for us?"

"No, they are not."  I lied a little.  I was going to set aside the imperfect pieces for them.

"Well, could you set aside three for Z, S, and me?"

"No, I will not."  I am going to set aside more.

"Well, could you give me one then?"

"No"  Not right now.

"Well... could I have the knife you're using to cut them with?"

"No"  Not after all the no's I've said...

"Well... could I have the pan the brownies were in?"

Aw... now I feel like an ogre.  I tell her I was just teasing.  Her response?

"Dad!  Now can I have a brownie?"

Forbidden Knowledge

The Book of Genesis suggests that, since the beginning, there has been some knowledge that must be withheld and that there can be dire consequences in its revelation.  Our modern "Information Age" seems to challenge this concept constantly.  Information that was once held sacred or secret is transmitted around the world for anyone to consider and utilize (such as my post on aiki).  On Thursday I attended a very interesting presentation on reiki.  As a part of that presentation, the presenter gave us copies of  some of the once secret reiki symbols.   When I inquired as to whether the casual dissemination of knowledge that was once held secret was prudent, she looked at me as if I had just sang the national anthem of Pottsylvania.

Must some knowledge be guarded?  Is it possible that some knowledge is not only too dangerous for anyone to hold but could also be considered evil?  I was able to talk to a wise philosopher about this just last night about this.  And, while I could try to give you a bastardized version of our conversation, you might be better off reading his blog in order to get a grasp of this issue (http://thepietythatliesbetween.blogspot.com).

For myself, based upon our conversation, I would say that I am convinced that some practical knowledge, or know-how, is too powerful for anyone to be aware of and possibly use.  And, I also believe that some practical knowledge, because of its potential to tempt us to commit evil acts, is in of itself evil.  Thus, next time you come across something that was hidden or locked away, or perhaps even guarded, I would hope that you would not take from that particular "tree" or share it with anyone.

Kiai and Aiki

As a quick refresher from my last post on this topic, I'll describe kiai.  It is  a powerful yet relaxed exhalation of air from the diaphragm, coordinated with movement, along with a simple utterance.  It is thought of by many as a "battle cry."  But, it represents a lot more.  Not surprisingly, there is a Japanese martial art entirely devoted to it, kiaijutsu.

Kiai can be translated from the Japanese as "concentrated or united spirit" or more simply as "spirit."  Thus, it is not the sound that is as critical as the realization that the kiai is the presence or even projection of one's own internal energy into an interaction with the environment.  If a karateka utilizes kiai correctly, it should be palpable to anyone nearby.  Without even hearing a sound, observers should experience a "disturbance in the Force" if you will.

While I am pretty confident in my use of kiai, recently I have been focusing more on "aiki."  The concept of "aiki" is the complimentary component to kiai that is rarely discussed and, in the past, had even been viewed as a "secret" component of the martial arts... unless you practiced  Aikido.  Put most simply, where kiai is a coordination of  internal energy into a concentrated and powerful emission, utilizing aiki is to coordinate with external energy.  

In a recent demonstration of Aikido that I attended, the use of aiki was described as responding  fluidly to the external energy of an attacker and returning their energy to them.  Instead of making a strong block against an attack, aiki would have you guide the attack past you and then "complete the circle" and counter-attack.  But, while this application of aiki is extremely powerful, I don't think it ends there.

Use of kiai can and probably should be draining over time.  You are taking the energy within and expending it.  While the above application of aiki should keep your energy level stable during an attack, I think that aiki can also be utilized to increase your energy level.  Lately, while I practice, I have been increasingly, consciously, imaging that I am connecting with the external energy that is in the universe itself.  Not only have I found that I can maintain myself through a very demanding one-hour-plus workout, I just recently experienced something compelling through my study of aiki.

We were going through our usual Thursday's intense workout which lately the shihan has been striving to make more physically demanding.  As a part of that work out, all of the openhanded katas are reviewed.  Towards the end of the evening, the more advanced katas call for scissor kicks.  Not only did I still have the ability to easily get through my katas last Thursday, I felt strong.  And, when it came time for a scissor kick, I flew!  Even I was astounded.  I think one of my scissor kicks took me over twelve feet forward when normally I might only go six to eight at that point in the workout.  And, it was effortless.  

I know many students of the martial arts struggle with kiai and their practice is thus diminished.  But, perhaps, providing instruction on aiki is what is needed.  As I have experienced, aiki can give you access to tremendous potential energy.  I believe that having the sense of the potential energy of aiki will make the application of its compliment, kiai, much easier and more natural.

Nature and Pharmacy

When some people talk about mental illness, the emphasis has become almost entirely upon biology -- specifically genetics involving neurology and neurochemistry.  They may give a tip of the hat to the world we live in by stating that stressful events are the likely trigger of the expression of genetics with undesirable consequences.  But, if there is a solution to be had, it is almost solely in the manipulation of neurochemistry to address "a chemical imbalance."

These people speak of a chemical imbalance as if it is NOT one of several competing hypotheses to explain mental health issues.  While I have certainly witnessed some medication have miraculous effects on people, it rarely is a total cure.  Moreover, I have witnessed sufficient examples of medication having little to no effect to be confident that the chemical imbalance hypothesis is just that -- a hypothesis.  

So, why do people buy into the chemical imbalance hypothesis more so than the psychological and social hypotheses of mental health problems? If  I were a cynical person I would think that it is simply about money.  That there is more money to be made in pharmacy than there is in self-help books and support groups or even therapy session bills.  That may play its role, but I actually don't believe that to be the reason for the success of the chemical imbalance hypothesis in the fight for the hearts and minds of people.

Certainly one reason may be that biology is viewed as a hard science -- more "true" because it involves things that can be easily touched and measured.  Measurement leads to numbers and attaching numbers to life can be reassuring to people.  Numbers are believed to be a meaningful reference, a touchstone that people can believe tells them something about what is happening and if there is change.  This is of course not exactly true.  There is no true "zero" on these scales and thus they are really arbitrary with no fixed scale.  Thus, the numbers are only relative to other numbers on the exact same scale.  Therefore, the information can not be easily generalized.

Another explanation is the loss of guilt.  If biology is to blame, that means the identified patient is not.  Come on?  Who can choose their biological make-up? Even the parents aren't somehow responsible.  Afterall, they too were born with unchosen genetics and had no way to control what they would pass along and in what combination.  This also means that a person is essentially powerless by themselves to change the situation.  This leads to solutions external to themselves.  While this could result in such a person seeking medication advice from a physician, it seems as likely that they will seek external "solutions" through the use of alcohol and illegal drugs.

The last reason I imagine that the chemical imbalance hypothesis is so appealing is that people want relief from discomfort and they want it quickly.  The idea of "life is pain" to many is just a funny throwaway line from a movie ("Princess Bride").  The chemical imbalance hypothesis is appealing in this manner as it leads to a quick solution.  No need to change your lifestyle or how you view or react to life.  Take this pill and problem solved.  Of course, it rarely if ever works out  that way.

I don't think any one of the above reasons explains the success of the chemical imbalance hypothesis.  It unfortunately is likely a combination of these reasons that keeps some people misinformed, powerless, and dissatisfied with the care they receive.   And, more importantly, not looking to other possible explanations and solutions.

Dissociation: Who is your co-pilot?

Note well: The following experience was arrived at through poor judgment and could have been quite fatal.  Realize that your own adventures will befall you without putting yourself at unnecessary risk.  Please, do not purposely try any of these experiences for yourself.

If you do something often enough, it is said to become a "routine."  Certainly I've developed quite a few so far, but only one so far was nearly fatal.  

If you drive a car, you likely have experienced dissociation.  Dissociation is a complete or partial disruption of psychological functioning such that one's body takes action but one's thoughts, feelings, and memories for that action are not readily recallable.   When one drives along a given route with repetition, eventually there is only a memory like pulling out of a parking lot and then getting into your neighborhood.  It is as if you have an autopilot for your car and like you took a nap.  That may be so, but, go figure, you have to remain awake for it to work.

It was the year after I graduated from university and I was working as a research assistant and resident computer guru for a smoking cessation research group in Rochester, NY.  It was also probably one of the loneliest years of my life.  Most of my undergraduate friends had left Rochester and my friends in Buffalo were caught up in the beginning of their own lives.  At the time, my girlfriend, K, was in her second year of undergraduate study in Johnstown, PA.  To see her I would have to drive over 300 miles.  It was about five hours through some of the most rural sections of New York and Pennsylvania.  I drove roundtrip at least once per month if not twice per month.  I would usually leave right after work and eat as I drove.  After a while, I thought I had every bend in the road, every abandoned farm, every  broke-leg dog memorized along the way.  Eventually, I started dissociating, which wasn't a problem until I convinced myself that the autopilot function would work even if I took a nap.

Just past DuBois, PA, where Route 219 met Route 322, the road slowed from 55 miles per hour to 25 miles per hour in order to make a near 90 degree turn ending at a t-intersection.  Cement barriers bracketed the turn to emphasize the need to slow, make the turn, and come to a stop.  The fact that traffic on the 322 moved briskly at about 75 miles per hour always made the intersection thought provoking.  But, with too many repetitions, it wasn't compelling enough.  Just past DuBois, PA, I fell asleep at the wheel.

My first memory upon awakening was of my car just about to enter the concrete encased turn at 55 mph.  I recall  the twin circles of light, from the beams of my headlights , growing rapidly upon the approaching barrier and thinking, "I am not going to make it."   Without a sound, I slammed hard on my brakes and pulled the wheel hard right.

Frighteningly, my car leapt into the air and began to spin like a top toward the curve.  I thought, "this is how I die," as with each revolution I approached the concrete wall.  Then, astonishingly, before I could hit the barrier, my spinning car began to follow the path of the curve!  Rather than rejoice, I recall realizing that the curve ended at a t-intersection and, more likely than not, I would sail out into the intersection and then get grand slammed out of this life by a tractor trailer going 75 mph on the 322.  I had time enough to wonder if it would hurt when my car suddenly stopped.  Stopped spinning, stopped completely, right at the t-intersection.

A cloud of dust rose up around my recently landed vehicle like when a helicopter settles unto its pad.  The traffic light flashed before me as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.  I realized I had been holding my breath when I began gasping and then looking quickly from left to right as if the world would once again start spinning madly.  I grasped hard on the wheel and caught my breath as reality and unreality renegotiated their relationship.

How did I survive?  Is God my co-pilot?  Am I some sort of mutant with a very limited power?  Did I experience some exotic but plausible application of physics?  The only thing I am sure of is that no matter how routine anything in your life seems to become, don't expect that you can sleep through it without things becoming much more interesting than you would like.

Surviving trauma and laughing it off

What doesn't kill us makes us stronger.  Well, at least if we aren't killed, we are still alive.  Stronger, maybe.  Smarter, hopefully.  And, perhaps, a little wiser.  No matter how bad the trauma, I'd like to think that a person can find something out of a traumatic experience that is of use.  If not to them personally, then perhaps to others.  Thus, here is the one of my personally traumatic experiences that may be of help to others even if just for their amusement.

Note well: These experiences were arrived at through poor judgment and could have been quite fatal.  Realize that your own adventures will befall you without putting yourself at unnecessary risk.  Please, do not purposely try any of these experiences for yourself.

My girlfriend, K, was going on a trip to the Devil's Hole State Park and she asked me to meet her there.  In retrospect that alone should've given me pause. But, being who I am, I agreed.

If you've never been there, it is a beautiful park on the American side of the Niagara Gorge that not only provides a breathtaking view of the gorge and the rapids, but also a long stairway that you can take down to the Niagara River.  Looking to get away from the crowd, K and I took the stairs and then walked along the river.  

The walls of the gorge are made up of layers of shale and sandstone as well as some limestone with a cap-rock of dolomite. There are tremendous dolomite boulders at the bottom of the gorge along the path that fell after wind and water had eroded the shale below them.  Down near the path, the rocks provided a tempting wall to climb and I decided to take them up on that challenge.

I was about seven feet up when the wall presented an overhang.  Considering that I had done well up to that point, and my girlfriend was watching, I figured I should stretch and pull myself up.  What I did not consider was how I would get back down.

Looking back over the edge as best I could, I did not see the path and I only imagined twisting my ankle of even breaking my leg if I went  back down blind... hey, those were some nasty looking boulders on that path!  For some horrible reason, I thought climbing up a shale gorge was a much better idea.

The first challenge I encountered was dwelling on my situation and freaking out.  Fortunately, I remembered the movie "Capricorn One."  When one of the three astronauts was climbing up a rock-face, the astronaut told a long joke while he climbed to keep himself from freaking out.  It really worked!  Even later, when things got dire, telling long jokes kept me distracted from the true gravity of my situation...

This brings me to the second challenge; friction or the lack thereof.  The first 20 or 30 feet up the gorge wasn't so bad.  Then I noticed that the angle of the side of the gorge was, quite naturally, getting increasingly steeper the higher I went.  This did not seem at first to be much of a concern until the rock walls started to crumble in my hands.  Worse was around 50 feet when I started sliding back down.

I realized that if I began to slide and did not stop, by the time I got to the bottom I would end up with worse than a twisted ankle.  The image of my twisted body broken across the rocks was more than enough to initiate a new strategy.  Whenever I felt I was sliding, I would press my forearms and my legs into the shale surface... which would catch a hold of me and stop my descent at the cost of some skin and blood.

The third and final challenge was breathing.  Every time a downward descent would begin, shale would crumble around me until I managed to grind myself to a halt.  Much of the crumbled shale would turn into a cloud of dust that swirled around me.  I didn't quite realize the hazard until I started to cough and began an almost immediate second descent.  Fortunately, the solution was readily available.  By tucking down my face into the collar of my sweat-soaked t-shirt, I was afforded a decent though foul air filter.

When I finally reached the top and climbed over the guard rail, from the wrong side, and looked down it was hard to believe what I had just experienced.  Certainly I was so dazed that I was not aware of anyone around me.  When I turned to go to the restroom, I blundered through a wedding party apparently there for a scenic backdrop for their pictures.  I remember hearing some gasps but I thought it was because they thought I was being a jerk.  It was not until I got to the restroom mirror that I discovered how I appeared.

From head to toe, I was covered in shale dust which gave my hair and my skin a gray tint.  At my elbows and knees, streaks of blood contrasted brilliantly against my gray skin.  I began laughing so hard that I coughed up a bunch of black phlegm and I shook a cloud of dust out of my hair.

What is there to learn?  Well, aside from "don't climb the Niagara Gorge," I know that survival can be won by keeping a clear head, making sacrifices, and being resourceful.  Hmm... did I really have to climb the gorge to learn that?  Okay, not really.  Then perhaps the best lesson here is that, if you survive, you really should try to laugh about it.  It might help knock off some of the darkness and help clean out some of the crap that got inside.