I looked directly at the solar eclipse for a minute. Everything looks blue now.
A New Perspective
Today, I had my Counseling 17 class, usually a boring, uninteresting class; who knew that today I would see things in a whole new light.
We began class, passed in our work, evaluated our portfolios, and so on. Nothing important really. Then my teacher mentions group work. This always brings up a red flag with me. I just like working on my own. I thought I could just work with one of my friends and be over with it, but no: “Go partner up with someone you’ve never spoken to.” It made sense enough, the assignment being a first-impression assessment sort of thing.
Being an introvert, naturally I didn’t get up right away to find a partner. I was going to wait until everyone chose someone, then I could just get whoever was left. One of my classmates dropped his books on the table next to me. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked to you before,” he said. He was an older student—47, African American, about 6’ 3”, bald, scruffy beard, and so on. Being about the same age as our teacher, I could tell from day one that he knew that he felt indifferent, like he might not be able to relate to the class. He went along with it anyway.
He was never afraid to express himself, always asking questions just to make sure and saying whatever came to his mind. About five class periods ago, I remember the class splitting up into two groups—introverts and extroverts—and he was leading the extroverts, taking the initiative to complete the assignment correctly. All the introverts, including myself, worked silently on their own, though we could opt for group work. Basically, I could see that he was a leader; this leader was assigned as my partner.
We introduced each other and compared our MBTI Assessments:
I was 30/30 in Introversion.
Darren was 29/30 in Extraversion.
Knowing that I was an introvert, he decided that I should probably start first. I mentioned that I was in my first term in college and that I had attended Catholic school since first grade. I described my family life and my relationship with my girlfriend. I felt that I had taken up enough time, so I let him start.
Before starting, he asked me about Catholic school and my role in my family. I elaborated, and he commented. Then, he told me his story.
He was born in a bad neighborhood, surrounded by gangs and drugs; the works. He said that he was always the square among circles in school, getting picked last in sports and made fun of in the hallways. He just wanted to be accepted, so he adapted. In high school, he developed a follower’s mind set. “Just follow along. Do what everyone else is doing, and everything with be all right.” He just did what he could to fit in, leading to alcoholism and drug addiction. He was an alcoholic and drug addict for over 30 years. He had been in prison for 5 years of his life (I’ve never met anyone who has been in prison before). He asked me for my age. “18? Okay, think of everything that has happened since you were 13. Now, imagine not ever knowing any of that happiness, being in a cell.” I thought about it deeply while he continued: “I’ve been through a lot of shit. It’s surprising that I’m here now. I would’ve never expected that I’d be back in school near the midpoint of my life.”
I explained how admirable the idea was: coming from a bad childhood, decades of bad habits, and 5 years in prison—then returning to school to start over. I asked him how he did it; a complete character change. He said that he just knew that what he was doing wasn’t for him. He was meant for bigger and better things. He was rehabilitated and has been sober for 4 years. He decided to return to school 2 years ago and never doubted his path, though education is different now. He felt intimidated by the young, fresh minds of the class, but he couldn’t let that deter him. I can’t follow anymore. I have to lead myself now.
I’ve always lacked leadership skills. I don’t like having to be responsible for decisions that will affect others. I don’t want to disappoint anyone, so I don’t want to choose for them. Same thing with my ideas: I don’t like to express them, because I don’t want to be shot down. Inversely, I don’t want to shoot others’ ideas down, so I let others speak their own ideas while I pick and choose from my options, usually when theirs is similar to my own. Also, I noticed that I’m one of those students that doesn’t like to share thoughts in class or even answer questions. I don’t want to be wrong, even when I’m sure that I’m right. Then, I feel lame when someone says the exact answer that I was thinking, just because I was too self-conscious to do something as easy as speaking my mind. Back to the story:
“How do you do it, Darren? How do you just speak your mind? I’ve always understood the idea—I mean, it’s only logical: if something is on your mind, you should say it. I understand the ideology behind it, but why I can’t I just play it out? I know that ‘what other people think doesn’t matter,’ but how do you rationalize that in your mind so you can actually not care what people think?”
“I believe that there are 3 different kinds of business: there’s ‘my business’, ‘God’s business’, and ‘not my fucking business’. My affairs, my thoughts, my self-perception, my integrity: that’s ‘my business’. My inevitable fate and strokes of apparent luck, that’s ‘God’s business’. Other people’s thoughts of me, their judgements, and everything else: ‘not my fucking business’. You see? I can be aware of the existence of their thoughts, but I don’t have to believe it, because it’s ‘not my fucking business’. It’s not that I don’t acknowledge what other people say, it’s just that I don’t care. Why should I? It’s not ‘my business’!”
I’ve always had thoughts similar to this, but being told about it straight-forward from someone else—from someone I didn’t even know—it made all the difference.
“I think you have an addiction: an addiction to caring about others’ opinions. I using the word ‘addiction’ like this: my definition to an ‘addiction,’ in this sense, is anything that you can not stop doing, sort of like a pattern of a vice. When I was an alcoholic, I wasn’t able to think correctly. That’s what matters. If you could think correctly when you were drunk, it wouldn’t really be a problem, would it? If I’m intoxicated, stopped at a 4-way stop sign intersection, and someone takes my turn, I’ll probably try to rush through out of rage. That’s the problem. I reacted, because I was drunk. Even if I wasn’t drunk, I can either go, ‘what the hell is this bullshit?’ and be angry for an hour, or I can just say, ‘Oh, well. He took my turn, but I can’t do anything about it now. No use in getting angry.’ The problem is my reaction; how I decide to approach the situation. If you express your thoughts, but someone disagrees, then what can you do? Get angry? No, just let it be. I’ve wasted 5 years of my life in prison and 30 years by addiction. I don’t have time to be angry about their thoughts, and I have no reason to be; they don’t concern me. You think your thoughts, and they can think theirs. It’s ‘not your fucking business,’ so just move on.”
It’s all very interesting to me really. Who knew that on a regular, boring Friday that my mind would be influenced by someone that is so different from me on so many different levels—we’re practically opposites. It’s almost as if I was meant to be told this. “God’s business” actively working in my life.
To end it, he gave me a book that helped him get over his addictions, titled Alcoholics Anonymous. He said that even though it seems like it’s strictly about alcohol, it could apply to any “addiction”. I’m not really one to read much, but I will actually give this one a try.
It was quite the experience to see things from the opposite side—to see things with a new perspective.
Binaural Beats
I tried listening to some binaural beats to experience whatever it might be; specifically, Brainwave- Dream Tunnel - Theta Meditation - Binaural Beats from YouTube. I was always skeptical of these things, but curiosity led my to try it anyway. I laid down comfortably and closed my eyes:
- 1 minute in: I start to feel like I’m floating; something like floating in water—a very pleasant feeling. My body seems to get lighter and lighter until I don’t notice the feeling of my bed.
- 2 minutes: I can feel the water moving, like I’m swaying with gentle waves. I’m compelled to “blink” or tighten my eyes, even though they’re already closed, as if the water was starting to cover my face.
- About 3 minutes: I lose the feeling of all the joints in my legs. I can only feel the bottom of my feet. I didn’t feel numb, I just felt like the bottom of my feet were the only things that were really there. I was slowly sinking into the water, but it was still very peaceful.
- 5 minutes: Time seemed to slow down. I could feel my heart pumping in my chest. I felt that I could follow the feeling of my blood pumping from my heart to my shoulders—to my arms—to my hands. I felt every current splitting into each of my fingers individually, but all at the same time. My hands felt warm, and I could feel the blood coursing through to my fingertips, then returning through my veins. This seemed to go on for a long time though it only lasted a minute or so.
- Roughly 6 minutes: I feel uncomfortable, and I want to wake up. My eyelids feel too heavy to open, but I’m aware that I’m just listening to a sound in my room. I visually imagine myself lying as I was, but I can’t manage to wake myself up. I feel like something is wrong, but I don’t know what. I sense other people. They’re screaming in the distance. They want to wake up too.
- Last couple of seconds: My body feels like an empty shell. I had that feeling—when you’re calm, and you know that you should be worried about something, but you don’t know what it is that you should be worried about. Then, as if I had abruptly returned to the surface, I felt shrouded in darkness. I didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t know what to do. I don’t even know what the darkness represents now. All I know is that when I was in this state, even though I was lying calmly in the dark, I felt like I wanted to die. These weren’t suicidal thoughts—just thoughts of wanting to reach the end of it. A calm thought. To be over with it all. Nothing to worry about. I don’t know how else to explain this right now.
The music stops.
I slowly open my eyes and sit up.
I’m staring blankly at the floor, disgusted and confused.
I have no idea what that last feeling was, but I did not like it one bit.
I don’t understand why I would feel like that; I don’t have any troubling thoughts right now. I haven’t had any for a while. So why would I think that?
Now I think I do believe the stories of people going crazy after falling asleep and listening to these for hours.
Honestly, I felt scared. I don’t want to feel like that again.
No more binaural beats for me.
