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Fantasy Trip

January 17, 2008 1 comment

 

If I were to abandon my current life and travel say around the middle of March it would look like this: I’d drive down to NV to see my Dad, assuming he’s still there, for a couple of weeks. Besides hanging out in Mesquite I’d (we’d) probably do a long camp at the Valley of Fire and perhaps Lake Mead. By April I’d swing up through the Midwest camping and seeing the sights along the way through Chicagoland and a long visit home (SE MI and NW OH). I’d then like to drive out to the DC area, see Jillian, do the DC tourist thing, maybe camp in Shenandoah, and hopefully leave the truck there though I haven’t asked yet because this is a fantasy. I’d then probably take a bus down to North Carolina, hitch the last 60 miles to the Nantahala (spell checks as Not taxable) National Forest and pick up the Appalachian Trail where Amee and I ended our ill-fated trip. This would be in early May, maybe the 2nd week or so and I would hike until some time in early July. Maybe pick up 350 trail miles, lord willing. Then I’d fetch back my truck and drive back to SEMINWOH for my niece’s wedding in July. Then I’d ride out to Yellow Stone with John and the Popster (assuming he’s not just in visiting from driving around escorting big trucks around) and ultimately landing in the Bay Area for a month or so, its getting hazier here. I might then like to hitch up the coast, camping and seeing the sights along the way and visit John and Lisa and Terry and Christin in Eugene and Corvalis, respectively. By this time I would be anticipating getting low on funds and wearing a bit thin on constant travel and might be thinking about getting the truck and getting back to Mesquite, Toledo, Columbia, Berkeley, or Some Place Else and doing that thing for a while.

 

Or I could learn to see the strengths in my current position, my clinical freedom, good pay, and ability to help people in a meaningful way. I could re-invest my off-work time with meaning and purpose and put my capital into some project, a house, storefront, rural property, something else. I could work out, quit smoking, and socialize more. Meet a good woman and settle down. All right probably not in the 6 months I sketched out in the fantasy scenario but close. But if I could do scenario 2 why aren’t I? Fantasies, I’m afraid, must be enacted or discarded.

Categories: travel

A Theory of Cluster Headaches

January 17, 2008 Leave a comment

Classic migraines, like fibromyalgia, irritable bowel syndrome, and other psychosomatic disorders have no known physical etiology. They are all based in an over stimulation of the sympathetic nervous system, the fight, flight, or freeze response to perceived stressors. Cluster headaches are not in this class of disorders even though the symptomology is identical. Cluster headaches are identified by their peculiar pattern of appearing in high frequency over shorter periods of time and then going away for longer periods. Since most of biofeedback involves consciously allowing the sympathetic nervous system to back down through a process of passive volition based upon receiving precise data on the body’s state, cluster headaches are not as amenable to this safe, easy, and effective treatment. In addition the psychosomatic disorders are all amenable to treatment in learning to manage or cope with stressors while cluster headaches, not so much. While individual headaches can sometimes be associated with discrete triggers, like some migraines, the timing of overall clusters has appeared to be less associated with life circumstance. There is an association with the type of person who gets cluster headaches. It is usually men, often driven, with a tendency towards heavy smoking and drinking. Even though I fit this pattern it does not follow that it is caused by the smoking or drinking as for my case the cluster headaches preceded that behavior by many years. I believe cluster headaches are caused by a failure of the parasympathetic nervous system, the part that relaxes us. I believe that because of the drive to accomplish based in our consciousness we operate in more structured and less naturally cyclic manner and our parasympathetic nervous system becomes strained in maintaining homeostasis. Periodically the system becomes tapped out leading to very similar symptoms of sympathetic nervous system disregulation. 

Categories: health

battered woman’s syndrome

January 17, 2008 Leave a comment

I have to write about my latest attempt to be an expert witness on domestic violence. I was called by a Callaway County Public Defender and asked to serve as an expert witness in a tampering with a prescription case. It was his assertion that she was coerced into it by her longtime abusive live-together-partner. I agreed to do so as much as to get a chance to educate a court and jury about domestic violence as for anything else. For those not from Mid-Missouri Callaway is a rural county most known for being the short lived Kingdom of Callaway when they declared their independence during the Civil War. It is now known for being parochial and rumored to be severely in-bred. So I am scheduled to testify around 1:00 pm, I don’t hear anything from the PD so I call him the day before and he tells me he needs me there at 9:00 am to check in. His other expert had a death in the family and couldn’t testify and the judge denied him a continuance since I was on the witness list. I show up and wait 2 hours to talk to the PD. He tells me Judge Oxenhandler (I call this prick out by name) has disallowed a domestic violence defense because the victim was not married to her abuser. He also asks if I will stick around until the afternoon as he wanted to present my testimony to the judge while the jury is out so he can appeal that this info should have been let in. I agree, in for a penny in for a pound. So I wait until close to 3:00 to learn that the judge was disallowing my testimony because I lacked licensure and couldn’t talk about battered women’s syndrome. Now this whole medicalization of a social problem is ridiculous. Victims of domestic violence are not experiencing a syndrome like its some kind of disease they are victims of a crime. If my stereo is stolen I am not experiencing stereo theft syndrome I have been victimized. Being victimized leaves very real consequences but the court’s attempt to medicalize it shifts the focus from accountability for the offender to something being wrong with the victim. It is ridiculous, tragic, and the whole day turned out to be a fiasco. Judges do not want to really examine the real nature and dynamics of domestic violence because it would challenge the cut and dry assumptions of our unconscious patriarchy. Or perhaps conscious as the previous judge i was testifying before stated a domestic violence defense was an “attack at the very fabric of our society”. True no doubt, but an attack long overdue.

Categories: politics

Obligatory Vacation Blog

January 10, 2008 1 comment

One of the nice things about family get-togethers is nostalgic reminiscences. One of the things my brother John and I reminiscenced about was spending summers on the road with Dad and getting to report on what we did on our summer vacation when we were shackled back in our student desks. The trip itself called out for such remembrances tooling around with Dad in his big Ford 250 diesel was a lot like cruising around in the old semi, although I got to sit in the back seat instead of on the dog house (the plastic covering over the engine that rose up between the seats in old cab-overs.

 

I flew out of Kansas City after driving there because my return flight was too late for the shuttle. I got out just after the snow started falling and got to witness my first wing de-icing. Not an inspiring sight as the first wing they cleared was covered over before the second wing was done and we were off. I flew into Las Vegas, which John said was Spanish for Devil’s Anus. I think it harkens back to imperial Rome and makes me more sure of who we are as Americans. History is not going to look on us kindly. Its kind of pretty in its gaudy tawdriness, especially at night, even as it screams its wrongness.

 

But Vegas was just an airport, our real stopover was in my Dad’s chosen hometown of Mesquite, just north of there. Got to see Dad’s little efficiency which seems more like an extended stay hotel but it seems to suit the Popster pretty well. We had one of those buffets and met Dad’s buddy Dora. She was sweet and charming and I’m glad he’s found someone to at least hang out with. We decided too skip the longer trip we had planned through AZ and go to Death Valley instead. John and I had done Christmas there 3 years ago and it was pretty fun and Dad had never been. I had been there 3 times previously, although John doesn’t count my first time because we just drove through because it was so damn hot and we went through a part of the park not in the valley. I count it because it was a long ass drive and we saw a lot of cool stuff.

 

We camped our first night on possibly BLM land outside the park. The dogs loved it there running wild in the wild. John has two dogs these days adding Smokey (aka Doo Doo) a pretty rambunctious Australian cattle dog to the world famous Shadow (try googling “ornery critter” aka Fat Dog). My dad got a puppy who I was glad to finally meet named Myrtle (John nicknamed her turtle which caught on and I got to calling her Princess Mildred down the stretch). Traveling with a pack of dogs takes a little patience and some planning but it can be a hoot. I especially got a kick out of waking up to hearing John yelling and then having him tell me Smokey pissed all over him (glad I decided to bring my own tent). I would have been more sympathetic if it wasn’t so fucking hilarious. Princess Mildred and I were the only ones who heard the coyotes that night, but Smokey was out after the horse rider in the early morning.

 

A word about Smokey. John is one of the most conscientious and attentive dog owners I have known but Smokey is a handful. John tried hard on the reward system that made Shadow such a great dog to be around but it didn’t take with the Smokester. After failing to find someone more likely to make a good dog out of her John sent her to reform school for a couple of weeks and they largely shaped her up. The technique is mostly built around a choke collar and swift punishment for not listening. It also involves bopping her for misbehavior which is kind of fun. I can see why she needs the tough treatment when I bopped her one for beating up Princess Mildred and she was ready to throw down. Smokey and I ended up becoming pretty good friends although she chewed up my glasses on our last night together.

 

With dogs in tow, a little piss soaked but still optimistic we drove into the park saw some sights and camped off a jeep trail near Hole in the Wall (most parks in the West have got one). It was a nice sight except for when the Santa Anna winds kicked up and our tents blew away. Mine ended up about 100 yards down the canyon and John’s went a good ½ mile and he and Dad had to go driving to find it. Fortunately we weren’t in it in the time and they were both sort of structurally intact (John’s has some holes and my zipper is fucked possibly terminally). It at least got out the smell of piss John reported. My Dad had called it too so he got a big kick out of that.

 

After a couple of days of seeing the sights we drove into Beaty NV for a hotel and more casino cooking. We stopped off in Rhyolite an old ghost town from the turn of the century that is pretty cool being mostly structurally intact. We also stopped by the cemetery in Bullfrog, which was new to all of us and pretty neat. We later drove through this really cool cemetery with mausoleums carved into the rocky hillsides, speaking of cemeteries.

 

We then drove back into the park and camped right in the valley. It was backed by a hillock which was a nice windbreak and had a 270 view of the colorful mountains that surround the valley. I can’t describe how beautiful it is there, even being largely devoid of life. Moths were our best critter siting and their aren’t even cactus there, just some mesquite looking things and a lot of this bunch grass (its all the salts in the soil, in better times Death Valley is a lake bed). Its got volcanic action going on and sedimentary stuff and the rocks are just so colorful in so many different ways. Anyways, its one of the 5 prettiest campsites I’ve had and I’ve had some amazing ones.

 

From there we drove out to an abandoned mine and climbed back inside. It was a very Scooby Doo moment walking down the shaft over the little train tracks with 100-year-old wooden bracings sharing a flashlight with 3 people and a pack of dogs. “Don’t fall in a hole” John told them and none of us did.

 

After a return trip to Beaty we motored back to Mesquite to lounge for a couple days at the casino hotel. It was nice to have some good time to relax before leaping back into the salt mines. That was delayed when I broke my key off in my truck door at the KC airport at 2:00 am. It was 9 degrees my coat was in the truck and it took me till 6:00 am to get a tow truck out. I ended up getting home, changing clothes and going to work. Thank God my 10:00 cancelled and I got to run home and sleep for an hour.

 

All in all it was a fun trip. If you ever get a chance to ride around with my dad and brother through Death Valley I would definitely recommend that you take it. They were both excellent hosts for the West for this Midwesterner.

 

Categories: travel

fairly new poem

Sorry I haven’t posted. I am still planning to write about my vacation to Death Valley relatively soon but thought i better throw something new up here, so here is a poem i wrote and forgot about in my planner. It may be called “spinach or chard” but that could be part of a shopping list.

The question is ambivilance

The heart can host a storm

Immersed in infinity

I don’t remember being born

I look forward to hello

But don’t begrudge goodbye

My life may be a hurricane

But I live in the eye

The I, the aye, the eye.

For I am an observer

I know I know I know

I see what I might see

I see where I might go

My mind’s eye is even greater

It sees what is not there

And climbs the highest mountains

Can be every one and every where.

And I am just a spark

Of this eternal raging fire

For I have felt its burning

Though you dare to call me liar

There is no God, God does not exist

Its just a mystic’s dream

A fairy story for scared kids at night

For some that’s how it seems

But I have tasted of the fruit

And dared to take the time

To delve into my deepest self

From horror to sublime

And I have seen divinity

Looked it square in the eye

Everything collapses into probability

Without the observer’s I.

And I know I know not everything

But I know I know I can

And I suspect I’m not unique in this

But just a simple man

And I have seen the many others

And felt they’re just the same

Where ever eyes create the world

Surely God has came.

Categories: poetry

sense of self

December 21, 2007 1 comment

Once again I am going to try to attempt to explain my most basic philosophies. I am heartened of the body of work on this blog because it will hopefully allow me to assume you may know largely where I’m coming from. I believe it is important to know what we are fundamentally, deeply and honestly, with diligent effort, and act on that knowledge to fulfill our life purpose. I believe the fundamentals of the universe are ideas; so-called physical realities are really only probabilities without an observer. Consciousness is important as it is fundamental to who we are. Consciousness is a framework of ideas built over a will built out of necessity. Self-consciousness is created through interaction with other consciousnesses in a milieu of culture, its fundamental building block is meaning. Self-conscious individuals create their own meaning both singly and in interaction with culture(s) and physical reality. Because ideas are shared and passed on and exist out of necessity (ex. “Food” is such a good idea it is eaten everywhere) they have the potential for immortality our physical selves lack. That is why we are fundamentally story. The question becomes what do we want our story to be? This is who we are; we are built out of the truth. Knowing who we are we can choose to be unaroused by any apparently negative circumstance through our control of meaning. We can give meaning to anyone or anything without limit but meaning is mediated through the truth, which thankfully is infinite. Meaning is built out of ideas and organizations of ideas, memes if you will. The more memic material you have to self-organize in an emergent process the greater your personal memic universe. Memic universes can be shared through communication, consciously and unconsciously as well as exist in culture. Memic universes are not bound by time or space but access is subject to decay and apparently termination. The deeper understanding of your own memetic existence allows you to understand others and larger patterns on interactions. By exercising our self narrative function we can enlarge and enhance our storyline within a culture, our place in the shared memic universe. We cannot force our entry onto the universal stage of known ideas without risk of unintended negative consequences obscuring the purity of the story we would have told of who we are. We need volition, but passive volition, to the greater story arc to be in balance with who-what-where-when-how we are. We allow ourselves to be part of a greater story and participate in its unfolding as it is meant to be. Knowing ourselves to be many and self-contradictory we should try to look to our highest self for direction and self-identity (internal narration). Knowing our existence to be a story we do not just look back to who we were what we were a part of but who we will be at the end of the story and what do we have to learn from that character who has finally figured it all out. What is it going to be what do I decide to do today to see this story means something.

Categories: philosophy

A Holiday Letter for Prisoners

December 21, 2007 1 comment

 

This year it looks like 6 people I know are going to be locked up for the holidays; four in jail, two in Prison, and one on a psych unit. Respectively they didn’t complete their sex offender class, operated a meth lab, hit their ex-wife and step-daughter and fled the police, didn’t follow up with drug court, didn’t follow through with mental health court, tried to kill their ex-husband, and punched their mom. They’re all great people in difficult circumstances and I like five of them a lot. About half of them unfortunately needs to be locked up for a minute. One that doesn’t got sentenced to 10 years last week and won’t be eligible for parole for 8 ½. It happened and it sucks. I testified for the defense and felt I was effective in extremely difficult circumstances. The judge was a piece of work, wouldn’t let any witness say much, did most of the questioning himself, called his own witness, dismissed witnesses before the defense was finished, it was a piece of work. The sentencing report based on a standardized formula of priors and life circumstances recommended probation, but the judge scolded them for not giving him any useful information. The judge said the normal sentence for that crime was 5-15 years, the prosecution asked for 15 and the defense asked for 120 days shock and parole. Their was a lot of media attention on the case and the judge might have been pressured to look tough in the face of his recent drunk driving arrest. Maybe he was always that way. A court official said we had done well, that he was leaning toward 15 and was never much one for listening. He said it would break down the very fabric of our society if wives were allowed to try to kill their husbands. Maybe he is right, but I’ve seen enough cases of guys walking for trying to kill their wives and society isn’t crumbling around our heads except as much as it is. Nonetheless it was a sad fucking affair. There was one short questioning by the prosecution that I wish I would have handled better or at least gone back too during rebuttal and made the full point, but I felt on a very short leash of what I would be allowed to say and didn’t think I would get to volunteer anything. So with all these folks locked up for the holidays I at least visited a few of them this week and wrote one of them as well. Julie’s blog had a random act of kindness day for bloggers and that is as close as this tired social worker is going to get. In 2 hours vacation. I hope to post from NV and AZ with lots of fresh and interesting travel stories. Happy Holidays.

Categories: politics

lost cell phone & motivation

December 17, 2007 3 comments

Sorry i haven’t had an entry for a minute. I have 2 pieces at home plus a new poem to post but with the winter weather i haven’t been motivated to get out. I also lost my cell phone so if you think i have your number i probably don’t and you should call me. Mike

Categories: Uncategorized

Breaking Glass

December 12, 2007 Leave a comment

I am sorry I haven’t posted and will put up something substantial this weekend, I promise. Just now I was having a smoke break and the kids from the bootcamp/GED/job training program in our building were hauling out the trash. Amongst the trash were some fluorescent light bulbs which they put in the dumpster by smashing each one. It took me back to childhood and the sure glee of noisy destruction. Nostalgia is a pure joy and one of the best benefits of getting older. It feels a little like love, but doesn’t cost as much.

Categories: feelings

Ephesians 5:22

November 29, 2007 2 comments

This is something i wrote for my batterers group after one of the guys brought up that whole wives should be subject to their husbands thing.

 

Ephesians 5:22 “wives should be subject to their husbands” in context

 
Ephesians 5:21-33 (emphasis added)

 
Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ. Wives should be subject to their husbands as to the Lord, since as Christ is head of the Church and saves the whole body, so is a husband the head of his wife; and as the Church is subject to Christ, so should wives be to their husbands, in everything. Husbands should love their wives, just as Christ loved the Church and sacrificed himself for her to make her holy by washing her in cleansing water with a form of words, so that when he took the Church to himself she would be glorious, with no speck or wrinkle or anything like that, but holy and faultless. In the same way, husbands must love their wives as they love their own bodies; for a man to love his wife is for him to love himself. A man never hates his own body, but he feeds it and looks after it; and that is the way Christ treats the Church, because we are parts of his Body. This is why a man leaves his father and mother and becomes attached to his wife, and the two become one flesh. This mystery has great significance, but I am applying it to Christ and the Church. To sum up: you also, each one of you, must love his wife as he loves himself; and let every wife respect her husband.

NJV

 

Some commentary:

 There is a saying, “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing” or too put it more bluntly “Drink deep from the well of knowledge or don’t drink at all”. Wives should be subject to their husbands is the most quoted thing out of the Bible I have ever heard but it is obvious from the context that is not at all what it means. Did you know in the Bible it says “there is no God”? Of course the whole context of the text is “The fool says in his heart that there is no God”. Taking that one verse out of context is the exact same thing. Paul clearly states he is talking about Christ and the Church using the traditional view of marriage as an analogy. He is explaining a religious mystery that I am not going to go into and is not talking about marriage at all. When he sums up he restates the commandment telling men to love their wives as themselves and merely telling women to respect (not obey, not subject themselves) to their husbands. This verse is so popular because it appears to say what we want it to say, what leads to our own benefit. In fact its meaning is just the opposite.

Categories: religeon