Something is still nagging at me: Why is it so difficult to really be out in the world? When I say, “out in the world,” what I mean is being a recognizable presence and working towards something much larger than myself. There is a certain way that it is most comfortable to me if I simply stay put, stay right where I’m at and not really change anything. That’s not to say that I’ve only stayed put and never changed, but the truth is that all of that seems to be more difficult than it would appear, and more difficult than others who know me might assume. There are those who live a life of wanderlust, there are those who live without homes – traveling the world or living in monasteries. I can fantasize about those things but it feels like there is a strong magnet within me (feels like it’s in my lower back) which draws me back to what I know and that which is familiar.
Here’s a concept perhaps having to do with my mom. I think in a deep way, the security I feel at home is like the security that I received from my mother and that security is a very strong draw for me. I’ve always been drawn to security: always saving my money, choosing a professional path which afforded me more security than say the life of an artist, and lately building a home with lots of concrete and steel – a home which I call the Sea ‘Sanctuary’. Nothing feels safer or warmer or more comfortable that the thought of being an infant and being held by my mother. I think in a somewhat deep mystifying, underlying way, I am addicted to that feeling and it has more control over me than I would like to admit. I feel a little anxious right now even writing about it, as if the truth is going to get out and my security will escape along with it. I had planned on going for a nice long walk a few minutes ago and right now it’s not as enticing (i.e. I’d rather stay at home). Very interesting.
I remember minutes after my mom died making a promise to let her love live on inside of me thereby allowing me to touch other people more deeply. It’s a sweet sentiment, but I realize as I type now that it was simply my way of introjecting her into myself, keeping her close by, so I wouldn’t have to so completely feel her absence. Clever one I can be. Well I’m a big enough boy to not believe in heaven and angels looking over us, so I guess (note a little hesitance) I also need to fully recognize that my mother is not here with me, in me, or looking out for me. In fact 1/3rd of her ashes are in an urn in a paper bag labeled mom on a shelf behind me. I think it’s time for me to get rid of her ashes. You know I held on to her ashes (weird I know but her 3 sons each took 1/3) so that when I finish this house I can scatter them here on the beach. Wow, so obvious how I still want to have her here with me, to lend comfort and security to this new home of mine.
Makes me think of the film “Artificial Intelligence – AI” directed by Steven Spielberg where a young robot boy is taken as a surrogate son in a family when their “real” son is cryogenically frozen when stricken with an incurable disease. When the real son comes back and is healed, the robot boy loses his standing as the son. He desperately longs to be loved by the mother and goes on an incredible journey in an attempt to spend eternity with her. It always touches something very deep for me, and as I write this entry, it becomes more clear that it touches that longing for union (for security) with mom. This is quite fascinating for me.
Oh, as I write I also remember when I was preparing to move from Oakland to Fort Bragg, that the predominant experience for me outside of packing and purging) was one of grief. It was as if I had to separate from everything I had known and loved in that loft over the previous 12 years. What I didn’t see at the time was that my mom is naturally infused in any place that I call home, and thus that grief that I felt was also related to leaving her. I wouldn’t be surprised if the derivation for the word mother actually was related to the work for home.
I just noted that we like to call Earth “Mother Earth.” I think that provides us with some security and comfort being on this planet. I think those religions who pay more heed to “mother earth” are much more comfortable at being nomadic because their ‘mother’ travels with them, than those whose god is in the sky.
So to circle back, it’s hard to get further out into the world when that addiction to comfort and security is so strong. I explore this because I want to get further out into the world, and be comfortable everywhere I go. Seems like mom is wrapped up in it all for me and perhaps for many of us.
One reply on “Security, Artificial Intelligence, and the Everpresent Mom”
I have a lot of thoughts and comments on this post.First, when I was at Rachel’s bedside when she was in the hospital, the nurse was trying to insert a catheter with the assistance of another nurse. She stopped and said, “Shoot, I need a flashlight, let me go get one.” And that would have meant taking off her gloves, stopping the process she had started and going to find a flashlight. And I reached in to my man purse and pulled out a flashlight and said, “Here you go.” And that let her keep on going and get it over with, saving Rachel some additional discomfort.She asked why I had a flashlight on me. I didn’t really answer her question. But I told her that I also had a multi-tool, a knife, a first aid kit, a rescue breathing mask, Advil, aspirin, a couple of granola bars, water, a yo-yo, a book, and my journal. At the time, I thought, well, it’s the Boy Scout motto – be prepared. But this post made me realize it’s more than that. It’s a big scary world out there, and I try to do everything I can to protect myself and the ones I love from all of the awful things that can happen.Of course, Rachel’s accident just goes to show that no matter how careful you are, you can’t always protect the one’s you love from harm.This is also part of why I am late all of the time. I tease you a little about it, too. I think we both suffer from mild to moderate agoraphobia. That’s why when we leave the house we double and triple check that doors are locked, go back to grab a sweater, go make sure the oven is actually off and such. Also, we are not normal. Most people leave the house every day and go to work. Most people spend half of every day away from home. But I can go several days without leaving the house sometimes. And when I venture out, it’s usually not very far. And if it is far, there’s a strong compelling reason to do so – a visit with you, moving day for Lauren and Paul, hospital visits for Rachel and Jake. But with the internet to order books, and with a grocery store just outside the gates, I could literally live my whole life in a 1 mile radius, inside the safety of my house with my dogs and private security to protect me.And I’d still listen to the scanner whenever I heard sirens.The weird thing is that I also love the time I’ve spent traveling- for SSG, for CommTech, and even for Adapt. Except I hated that Trinidad and Tobago trip. I thought it was because it was the farthest I’ve ever been from home, and that’s part of it, I’m sure. But I think it also had to do with being alone there.As for your Mom, I think that in some way, you are sort of carrying her around with you like a talisman of some sort. Something that you imbue with magical power to protect you, even though you don’t go in for all of that nonsense really. And I think that’s pretty normal. Mom was the person who told you first and most frequently that everything was going to be OK. And we want to believe that, so it is really hard to let go of Mom.You know what’s going on with me and my parents, and there were still times during this whole accident ordeal that I “just wanted my Mommy.” But that wasn’t an option. So I sucked it up and dealt with it all on my own. I also reached out to Rachel’s Mom a bit. I find myself finding surrogate parents in my life when I need that sort of guidance. And don’t wig out about the ashes – I understand that my Dad kept his Mom’s ashes for a very long time, and may still have some. I’m told that one Christmas, he took them for a drive to look at luminarios like he used to do when she was alive.I also think she lives on – maybe not as a spiritual presence, although she might. But I can’t look at that drum of yours and not think back to singing with her in your loft, and her smile and her kindness and encouragement. And that memory brings me joy. And that joy can affect my mood and state of mind, you know? And a lot of the best parts of her are ingrained in you. And, of course, some of her is preserved on vinyl. Most people aren’t that lucky.I’m not sure if I have anything like a point in this comment – it’s just a bunch of comments.And I wish I was more adventurous too. I’ve been working at it and I think I’ve been getting better at it. That weekend when we boarded the dogs and came out to the Coast was a step in the right direction for me. And I am confident that when Rachel is up to it, we will get out there again.