Psyched, Somehow

It’s just after 4:30 as I begin writing this. I’ve been up for more than an hour, yet I’m still on my first cup of coffee. Sometimes, I measure my acceptance of the day by the coffee I consume, but I’m not quite sure how; it just seems that I do, occasionally.

We know so little about the challenges that face other people.  In fact, I think we frequently find we don’t know much about the challenges that we, ourselves face. We know we struggle against something, but we don’t know what. We feel we’re swimming against the tide, even when the tide is pulling us like an undertow into treacherous water.

There was a time, when I was younger, that I wanted to be a psychologist. Perhaps that’s not true; maybe I was just interested in knowing more than I knew about psychology, as I still do. But I wasn’t willing to invest the time and intellectual effort to learn. It still fascinates me. The human mind is so interesting.  It is so much a part of us, so close to us every conscious and unconscious second, yet it’s so utterly mysterious, even to those who invested the time and effort to study it. One of the inscrutable aspects of human psychology is the dream, that imaginary voyage into experience that resides exclusively in the brain while the body, and its normal consciousness is asleep.

Unlike many nights, I don’t think I dreamed last night. At least I don’t recall any dreams. Maybe I normally dream later, after 3:30 a.m.; by getting up so early, perhaps I robbed myself of the opportunity to take an imaginary voyage.

This little trip into the mind is going nowhere. I started by acknowledging that we know little about the challenge others face, only to double back and write about myself. That’s something I have to fix; that’s not how I should write.  More coffee? Yes, I will. More writing? We shall see. But not right here, not now. I’ll open Word and see if I can initiate creativity on demand by beginning to write a short story, or perhaps a chapter of the novel that resides somewhere inside this cluttered brain.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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