LUCIFER WAS CAST OUT OF HEAVEN

I promise an uplifting post in the coming days - I'm really rather content right now...but I've been thinking of this particular topic recently and wanted to share it.

I don't know when this started exactly, but it's been a long time. I have, for lack of a more accurate word, "enjoyed" torturing myself. I wrote a post about this earlier when I referred to myself as an emotional cutter. It's as if at some point in my youth I offended god in the worst way. As if I committed a solitary crime involving all ten commandments.

For the rest of my days I've had this subconscious desire to torment myself as a tool to make amends with the Almighty over this vicious offense of which I'm ignorant of. In doing so, I gain some sort of peace within my affliction. For many years now I've been laying myself on the altar and piercing myself with a butter knife. I say butter knife because none of the wounds have been fatal. They hurt, but they continuously miss the artery. And oddly enough after the initial stab is thrust and the post-burning sensation dims, I'm left with a sort of relief...a deep sigh of the soul. I realize that a majority of these wounds are self inflicted, that my hand alone holds the dagger (er, I mean butter knife), but I'm afraid it has become an addiction. I think I need a patch to stick on my arm that will slowly distribute a pitiful pain into my blood stream until eventually I'm weened off the effects.

I like feeling sorry for myself. I like feeling like the underdog. I like feeling unworthy. I like being my own adversary.

It's crucial that I repair this habit to lead a healthier life so that I don't wake up one morning on the altar and take a look around at the surrounding mountains, trees, and sun only to realize that the warmth from the enormous star above feels better than the burning of a wound.

I know this, yet I find myself clenching the knife all too often. The good news is that it happens far less now than in the past. Baby steps.

I DIDN'T REALIZE PUBLIC MASTURBATION WAS WRONG! GREAT, NOW I FEEL GUILTY.

The other day I was talking to a friend about how guilty I feel sometimes even when I haven't really done anything wrong. Guilt is something I get often and certainly something that keeps me "in check" at times. The person I was speaking with asked, "are you Catholic"?

I've received this response before from people when I have spoken of guilt. So the question I have is - is guilt a natural emotion or an emotion created through social conditioning?

Now, I'm a big fan of social conditioning, I certainly believe it exists. But I also believe there are natural emotions that we have within us regardless of a social structure - for example, love. Maybe an example more pertinent to this conversation would be jealousy. I believe jealousy to be a natural emotion as well, although I've debated this with others on several occasions.

So which one does guilt derive from? You can't have guilt without knowing something is wrong, right? And how do we know something we do is wrong? From our parents and society of course. Are there things that we would naturally feel guilt over if society hadn't "taught" us to? Lets say a child was locked in a closet for twenty years receiving nothing more than food and water. One day this twenty year old is released, given a gun and instructed to shoot the first person that speaks to him/her. After the twenty year old does the deed, is there guilt? For some reason I think their may be. If I had to give an answer to this question I would say that guilt is a natural emotion strengthened through social conditioning.

What do you think?

Here is another topic on the subject. Sometimes I realize I have guilt over something I can't describe. What I mean is, I feel guilty but I'm not sure what for. It's just there. As if I feel guilty over the state of the world - which is a tough guilt for one person to have...I may have done some bad things in my life but I hardly think I should feel responsible for something so large! Or maybe I feel guilty about something in my past that I'm repressing. That's a sad thought. In any case, it's there.

Maybe I should just blame my second grade teacher - she was a Catholic nun. But she was nice. I'd feel incredibly guilty blaming her...

Little, Yellow, Different, Better

Earlier this week I posted the lyrics to "Cure for Pain" by Morphine. What if there was a cure for pain? What if there was a pill you could swallow to stop the pain any time someone had their heart broken or had to deal with the loss of a loved one ?

I'm sure the next time I'm hurting I would wish there was such a pill. But I don't think it would help me grow or experience the mysterious learning opportunity life hides in the shadows from us.

It is in the moments of most intense pain that I have the most productive introspection. When I am happy or content I seldom feel a need to analyze a situation or experience. It is typically when I am upset, angry, disappointed or depressed that I really delve into that which is bringing on the aforementioned emotions. And by doing so I typically learn a valuable lesson. Having said that, I have had my heart broken a dozen times and I fully expect to have it broken a dozen more. And that never gets easier just because it has happened to me before. But, as I spoke earlier about the illogical aspect of emotions, analyzing any previous experience usually helps lend some logic to the situation that is bringing on the heartache. And so although it doesn't lesson the pain, it helps to lesson the helplessness involved.

No, I don't think I want a cure for pain. I think I'll take my chances.

Side note - I just knocked on wood after writing that last sentence.