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Buster Benson

No advice column.

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Staring crazy in the face
We should all at some point in our lives stare crazy in the face.

The best place to find crazy, of course, is in ourselves.  Inside each of our onion layered Chinese doll string cheese personas is a crazy person.  Completely nutso.  One with no logic, rationale, common sense, sense of fairness, right, or wrong; one that doesn't believe in the past or the future.  A tiny crazy person that's made of pure emotional energy that has a desire to be God and has a very strong feeling that everything in the world is theirs.  We wrap this crazy face in so many words about how things really are and how things should be, but crazyface is still there under all the smothering blankets.  Or is it just me?

Staring crazy in the face is the lost soul's version of seeing God.  Because that used to make you go mad, right?  Or the lay physicist's version of understanding quantum mechanics.  Or the non-feline's version of recognizing yourself in the mirror.

Wine connoisseurs  spend a lot of time developing their palate to distinguish petroleum from mineral and plum from black currant and inner shoe versus bottom sole and dry pepper from pepper that's been in the shaker to long.  We should become connoisseurs of the million flavors of emotion that our bodies can radiate.  They radiate them so strongly that we immediately associate stories and intentions to them... but at the very core they're just sensations in our fingers, sides, backs of necks, and arm pits.  It's so difficult to pay attention to how the body feels through the shoulders and back when it needs another cup of coffee. Or when it needs to snap at someone.  Or when it needs to go out for a girl's night.  Or when it needs to exercise.  Or when it needs to focus on work.  Or when it needs to clean the kitchen.  There are a million nuances of emotion and each of the sensations is a dire need.  No more complicated than the look of fear in a kitty's eyes when it thinks the sound of a faucet will result in its immediate death.  We are the servants who attempt to satisfy the emotional needs of our inner cray cray, and we do this by explaining to other people how we ARE and what we WANT.  Our body needs, and we ourselves just want.  This is our compromise with the crazy, because we know its needs are brainless and completely out of control.  And yet, very persuasive.

I know this is all nonsense.  And I probably can't start cataloging this flavors and tastes of emotions with any success given my current state of being totally immersed in every little emotion that floats my way.  I'm no scientist.  But someone should.  Can't web 2.0 do it or something?  Can the iPhone do it?  Harry Potter?

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What you are describing about the crazy person inside reminds me a lot of Freud's concept of the Id.

Yeah, it's the Id exactly.

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