Posts tagged ‘sam harris’

February 6, 2016

What’s Wrong with My Head?

by lisa st john

“You live too much in your own head,” she said.

I am still trying to understand what that means. Where else do I have to go?

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Ken Robinson explains that university professors, “look upon their body as a form of transport for their heads.” Why is that so bad?

I like the inside of my head—my mind. It’s safe there. I have friends there.

When I had my first kiss at age12 (yuck), I could go and complain to Meg. Any girl who can travel through wrinkles in time would understand.

When I had an abortion at age 16 I could go to Narnia and snuggle deep into Aslan’s fur. I had nowhere else to go.

My mind let’s me remember swimming in Isla Mujeres or walking through Central Park or rocking in my hammock. But spaces are not places and inside spaces are more difficult to navigate than outside spaces. So it’s not about where I am, it’s about where my mind is.

I can walk and walk and be back in Guanajuato when I was twenty-something traveling with the love of my life. And he was/is alive.

But it’s not just about confusion or comfort or memory. Isn’t it just one more place to travel? Not only can I go to the past, I can go to the future. Like AFP’s song, “In My Mind,” I can circle around to the almost-or-will-be places. Why not? I can spend a few hours visiting Future Lisa as she finally writes that novel or goes dogsledding in Alaska or becomes a grandmother or buys a house in Mexico. But after those couple of hours, I cannot tell you whom (who sounds better) Present Lisa was sitting next to on the train. Is that so bad?

I will never truly understand the phrase, “I’m bored.” I have never been bored. I don’t know what that means. Of course, I can define the word bored (lacking interest in a current activity? unoccupied?). But I am too busy wondering:

  • If Lolita came to life and wrote an answer to Nabokov, would it be as an adult looking back or in the voice of her child-self?
  • If we kept cats awake, would anything about them change other than their grumpiness?
  • Who is really the closest to my version of Sherlock Holmes? Benedict Cumberbatch, Johnny Lee Miller or Robert Downey?
  • If I could go into the world of American Gods, would I want to be Shadow or be his mate?

 

All I know right now is that when I Google the phrase, “too much in your own head” I get over 80,000 hits and too many of them are self-help garbage sites. I haven’t yet figured out what’s wrong with living in my head. Maybe I will walk some more and ponder the movement of light. IMG_3958

 

 

 

“Our minds are all we have. They are all we’ve ever had. And they are all we can offer others.” Sam Harris 

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You can visit my author page at Amazon HERE.

You can also buy by book of poetry, Ponderings, from Finishing Line Press.

December 24, 2013

Hearts

by lisa st john

Religious faith . . . erodes compassion. Thoughts like, “this might be all part of God’s plan,” or “there are no accidents in life,” . . . these ideas are not only stupid, they are extraordinarily callous. They are nothing more than a childish refusal to connect with the suffering of other human beings. It is time to grow up and let our hearts break . . . .” –Sam Harris

Write soon and let me know how your heart is,” she wrote on the Christmas card.

 

How is your heart?” someone else asked.

“When I had that panic attack and got sent to the hospital, the E.K.G. I had was –“

No, no. Your HEART,” she said, holding her hand over her breast like she was pledging.

 

 

I don’t know how my heart (anatomical or otherwise) is … or isn’t. ? “BEING: That which exists, or is real (unchanging reality). Gotta love the “or” in this definition.

The problem with living in my head* is that I know my mate is gone. This knowledge, however, does not do much for my heart.

The problem with being a skeptic (sane-ish person) is that I cannot pretend to believe in spirits or ghosts or messages from beyond. Not that my love would send me a message—it was more Kent’s style to write it on a bar napkin and send it in a bottle. And even though I know the Coriolis Effect does not change the direction in which water drains in the northern versus the southern hemisphere, I still feel like I am going the wrong way around the earth—always just missing the spot that tells me where I am.

The problem with technology is that I could hear him again on Around the World Radio and I just don’t have the eggs to do it…yet.

The problem with being alone is that I am not. I am just without.

 

*“There’s something curious about professors . . . they live in their heads.” -Sir Ken Robinson

 

A Short Poem for My Heart”

I will take irony over cruelty,
and I will bear the heartbeat of remembering you always.

But I am old again, and
halos around the moon used to be beauty—not clouds.

I could stir this into something other than a restlessness,
but I am no chef. 

I will make mounds of my sorrow and hide them in plain sight.

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