Extremely thankful for the comments on Authonomy

Dream, Hate, Love, Psychology, Self, Writing

Thank you to people who have given me comments on my book.  I’m appreciative for the feedback and it’s encouraging to me.  I haven’t been writing.  I’ve been watching Olympics and playing Wii golf and making things in C.  I’m not sure what I’m going to keep doing.  I’m feeling pretty reflective tonight.  I’m cultivating a certain mood.  One day aside, this last month has been extremely balanced, which is no accident and does not come easily to me.  I’m going to be an uncle in a few months.  I want to be a good uncle.  I want to be loving and present but only in ways that are desired.  I’m tired of being angry with people.  I think that I’m at a place in my life where I still think that, if people are to be measured, that there is a lot of suckage going on, in me and others.  But I’m tired of measuring it because I don’t like the way it makes me feel.  That doesn’t mean that stuff doesn’t suck when measured, it doesn’t mean that.  All it means is I’m no longer measuring.  Is this the fatality of growing older?  I don’t think it is exactly.  This is a release, and a surrender.  You could call it a sadness except it without the emotion of sadness…it is a loss, an intented loss, a desired loss, a calculated loss.  What I want now—what I want in a day—is balance, simplicity, and, essentially, art.  I want the art of washing dishes, the art of shoveling snow.  I want the art of writing and reading and reflecting and programming and building and creating things, and talking with the people who make sense to me, who are cut from the same fabric as me.  I’m not sincerely interested in impressing other people, I have found, at 32.  Psychologically, that’s not my real need.  In domains where I have made half-steps because I was only in it up to the point where I proved that I could accomplish whatever end, that was about showing myself that my belief in me was well-founded.  I don’t have to do that now…because I have over and over successfully proven to myself that I can do x,y,z…and I have over and over found that proof to be ultimately unassuaging.  It doesn’t mean what I thought it would mean.  I think I am now free to play.  Everything I said was shit, was shit.  I was as right about all that stuff as it’s possible for a person to be right.  But it doesn’t make me feel good.  This doesn’t fix anything.  The world really is in a terrible shape.  Parts of it are in wonderful shape.  A lot of it is in terrible shape.  That is all true.  But I don’t feel like I will try to fix it.  That is not, before anyone suggests it, some attitude that represents maturation or mellowing or growing up.  There is a distinction between pessimism, apathy, defeatism, and yet still between self-care.  I will never give up on the world.  I also won’t delude myself about its state.  What I will do, what I am doing, is—while I’m adding to it in the couple of ways I know how—I am drawing inward, letting a shore buffer me from that crazy world that I love and that, as best I can, I make things for.  I have dreams that dogs I love are biting me.  That imagery fits here.  For some, the advice is not to bite the hand that feeds you.  Right now, for me, it’s to protect your hand from the mouth of the dog you love.

Google’s autocomplete for the word “why”, as of right now

Funny, Research

I don’t know the answer to any of those questions.  And I don’t care to know.  Imagine the neural processes of a person who types “why”, clicks on “is my poop green”, then says “I’m Feeling Lucky”.  Also note that two of the suggested searches involve poop.

See also: the zeitgeist’s thoughts on Mexicans.

Dog Dreams, and Thoughts on Dog Training

Dream, Philosophy, Psychology, Self, Tucson, Arizona

A few nights ago, while staying with a friend in my friend’s bed, I had another dog dream. Like my dog dreams of old, where a person who is an enemy of mine sicks their dog on me to hurt me, and my defense is so strong I kill the dog, ripping its skull in halves by the jaw…but the dream a few nights ago, a person didn’t sick the dogs on me, it was three black dogs, and they wanted to hurt me on their own volition. The other night I just let myself be bitten, the three of them with their jaws locked on my arm. And my mom was there, and some other people (neighbors), and I was asking them to call for help, as my arm was about to be broken, but they didn’t think, or wouldn’t accept, that the situation was that bad, and so they wouldn’t call for greater help.

Last night I had another dog dream. A single black dog, who was as strong and stout as a wild boar, was biting my hand. He wasn’t sent by anyone, he had just showed up from outside the town, from the wilds. At first he was biting my hand, then I discovered I could train him. It was rough going, but I trained him to bite plastic cup lids instead of my hand: I would throw them in the air and he would catch them (sometimes), and when he caught them, when he was nice to me, I dared to rub his muzzle with my hands and kiss him on the face as praise. With some backsteps, he was trainable, and he hardly bit me at all, and he learned to accept my love and praise.

When I looked up dream symbols for dogs biting, the other night in my friend’s bed, the consensus was they represent a friend who will betray you. Of course I’m always trying to figure out what these dogs mean in my dreams, as they are one of the most constant symbols in my dreams in at least the last five years, perhaps more. I think they mean various things, actually. I think they represent others who would do me harm, others who are close to me. I think they represent my addiction. I think they represent a part of me I can’t control, the part of me that isn’t “my” consciousness, the higher self, the other self. Like the ancient word for god: *that*, they represent the that: which can be a friend (who in drama are characterized by toggles from ally to adversary, and back—like the random turning of a pet from a loving thing into a biting thing, into a loving thing), that: which can be the uncontrollable part of self which plays into addiction, that: which can be, broadly {the other part of self} {anything which is me and yet not me, connected and yet not connected completely}.

I suspect my dream last night was heavily influenced by having watched The Accidental Tourist sometime in the evening. While watching the movie last night I decided that for dramatists, an excellent question to consider is: What does Macon’s dog represent? At the time, I didn’t make the connection I made this morning, while reviewing the fact that I’m, again, attempting to interpret dog symbols from my dreams: my question might be good for dramatists in general, but it has been an ongoing one for me: what do Zha’s dogs represent? While watching the movie last night the best terminology I could assemble for Macon’s dog is that it represents his anger. Anger being one’s *fight*, the fight in the dog. His dog goes through phases in the movie: at first it bites others, then it bites him, then it gets trained, then it protects and loves Macon’s girlfriend’s son. The dog in the movie, best I can say, represents Macon’s *fight*. It lashes out at others, then in depression is anger turned on himself (the dog biting him), then his fight is put under control (with help from a dog trainer / lover / love from outside), then his fight is used to provide love where love is lacking (as a father to Macon’s girlfriend’s son—he releases the dog to protect/love the son in the alleyway where the son is being teased by bullies, but, less symbolically, Macon provides father-love where father-love is lacking in the child’s life).

Last night I did something I haven’t done before in my dog dreams: I trained my dog with love. Before, I have decimated them with force, with force held them stilly at bay, and given in to their attack waiting on the verge of my own destruction. Now I have trained him with love.

I have been talking with god again, lacking the name to use, I used to use “universe”, yesterday I used “sky”. Maybe I should use “dream”: my dreams are part of my that, part of the somewhat-but-not-quite-completely other, the me that is me but not every part of me, something that is larger than the conscious me, the unconscious me.

As an additional note, I’m considering the idea of training another being via praise, in light of my idea that the essential motivation of beings is *to go*: to see themselves *go* in the world, to act such that their concept of the world includes the concept of the being throughout greater and greater parts of the world, and in greater and greater ways. Who is in charge when training with praise? Generally we think it is the trainer; by controlling rewards, praise, love, we control the beast. And in controlling the beast, we see ourselves *go* in the world; our will is present in a greater locus of the world, the beast now internalizing our will. But certainly to the beast it seems the same: the beast sees itself as controlling us, as controlling our praise, our love, our response to its action. By catching the plastic cup lid in its mouth, my dream dog controls my love: I think I’m making him catch the cup lid by loving him afterward, he thinks he’s making me love him by catching the cup lid. Both are true, and in this type of exchange we see beings *going* in the world: beings seeing themselves inhabit the world *in* other beings, their concepts of themselves planted in other beings, and so, their concept of themselves becoming greater, better traveled.

On the training tip: consider this: what sense does it make to think that I’m making him catch the cup lid by praising him with love *after* he catches the cup lid? How could the love be the *cause* there, since it happens *after* the catching of the the cup lid? Of course what we say to ourselves is that the praise, the love, is the cause, because the dog is thinking ahead to multiple choices of what we might do depending on what he does. But the facts are these: sometimes when we throw the cup lid, he catches it; sometimes when we throw the cup lid, he doesn’t; but *every* time he catches the cup lid, we praise him, and every time he doesn’t catch it, we don’t (if we’re training him). So what’s the real cause here, and what’s the real effect? I think it’s fair to include that our throwing the cup lid into the air, is a cause, and that him catching it is a possible outcome. But the only certain relationship of implication in the facts above is: if he catches the cup lid, we praise him (and if he doesn’t, we don’t). The cause is him catching the cup lid (or not), the effect is us praising him (or not). We’re not making him catch the cup lid nearly as much as he is making us love him.