I am not my mind

*happy sigh* Right now I’m sipping a cup of tea (how british!) in my room with the sun streaming in. I’ve been awake since 7:45, (it’s now 9:12) reading books, looking out the window, drinking through pints of water in pennance for last night and much wine drinking.

I love the peace of mornings like this. Not just the physical peace, but the mental quiessence that comes with it – that feeling that I have the whole day ahead of me still, and while I’ve got much to do, right now there’s no hurry and I can just enjoy being me.

I had a mental wibble the other day; thursday night in fact. One of those times (of which I’ve had approximately 3 in my life) that I feel right on the edge of complete insanity; where that link that ties me to reality is stretched taught and about ready to snap. I’ve found it happens when the final-straw is placed; and usually I don’t even see it coming. Every time this happens, (and the last time was at least a year ago..) it’s like I’m getting slightly closer. I’m genuinally concerned when that happens; although I think it’s more indicative of the fact I need a break than anything serious. (?)

But yes. There’s something interesting that happens when you walk the knife-edge between the two worlds of sanity and..well..wibbliness. I’m trying to describe something difficult here (but that’s not stopped me before) The thing is, it’s not like things stop making sense, but more that a completely different set of things make sense…in this case stuff SO OBVIOUS I couldn’t believe no one had realised, let alone me. One coherant statement I can cling to now:
I am NOT my mind.
It was sparked by Zak pointing out that I kept referring to my mind in third person – but why, because you *are* your mind.. Something struck me as being very, intrinsically wrong. And in my current state (of mind!) everything had been stretched out like a piece of balloon-type material.. dots or markings on the balloon that were close together get pulled apart, allowing you to see that they are actually seperate entities. I could see my body as some sort of vessel, slightly detached from me; I could also however feel my mind slightly removed – and the point is that there was something ELSE there, which is me. Not my mind. That’s an integral part, as much as my body, but it’s not intrinsically me.

Of course, when you’re a gibbering wreck on the floor, thoughts like that are bound to happen. But I can not help but think there is some element of truth, or interest there. Elaboration? What -is- your mind then, and where is the boundry line?

Your mind, as far as psychology can pin down, is where language, logic (of kinds,) feelings, learning, memory, attention, sensory analysis and all those other things you can put in little boxes happen. The mind is affected by subliminal advertising, optical illusion, alcohol, by the experiences and academic training it’s put through. You get the idea. My mind now is not what it was yesterday, let alone 7 years ago when I was at the beginnings of secondary school, or 7 years before as a tiny child.

But : part of me IS still the same. As it is with everyone. You can remember yourself as a child, and the memories seem strange and hard to connect with the mind you are now – but you still know it’s you. I may be stating obvious facts here, although I often feel it’s the obvious facts which need more consideration.

Right, I’m now right out on a tightrope coming across new trains of thought as I go along. The easy answers would be to suggest some sort of soul; or spirit; or essence. But mentioning them will cause generally open-minded science-types to stop listening.
Is there simply a base part of your mind which retains some sense of identity? Or is there something with a different quality which brings together your body and mind and connects it into one ‘being’?

I’ve still not got round to explaining what I feel about the wolf in my head; I have plausible if complex theories just waiting to be put onto paper. But like a last line of defense, or some quality of guardian, she kept me from going over the edge the other night, and saved me again.

The line ‘his madness kept him sane’ seems appropriate.

I..have problems considering the wolf purely because it sounds so much like ‘new-agey-hippy-crap’, and like mentioning spirit or soul it causes most people to stop listening, or considering any element of truth. But she(he?) feels more a part of who I am, intrinsically, than my mind does. A question: is the wolf a construct my mind uses to get access to a lower level of my mind, or something in itself?

The disclaimer to all this is simply: I am, almost certainly, a little bit mad. I never realised how fun but yet intensely frustrating being a little bit mad is! 🙂