Brain Freeze

 

I've never experienced, quote-unquote, brain freeze.  I understand from those who have that it can be quite intense and very painful.  On that same note, I've also never had an ear ache, nor been in love.  Although I have never experienced any of these things and, I'm sure, a plethora of other personal experiences, I do believe these things to exist.

For some, seeing is believing.  I've never seen oxygen, but I know it fills my lungs every time I inhale.  I've never witnessed the electricity that runs through my walls, but I know that if I flip a light switch a light will illuminate a room or plug something into a wall, it will operate.  I have no clue how the internet works, but when I click the button in the top right-hand corner of this page, this blog will be posted to the internet for almost no one to read.

This belief, "seeing is believing" is what prompts me to the subject matter of this edition of my Brain Matter.  I was recently reminded of a conversation that I overheard during a lunch break, many many years ago.  It was so asinine that it has permanently burned itself into my inner brain, like a brand that will never fade.

I know not how they, the people at the next table over, arrived at this point of the conversation, but it was from this point on that I was intrigued by the logic involved and by logic, I mean, the lack there of.

Richard was an older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and a thick mustache. He was maybe in his late-fifties, early-sixties, at the time.  I'd just taken a slurp of my soup when I overheard Richard mutter the words, "They say dinosaurs were real, but I've never seen one, so I doubt they ever were."  I nearly did a spit take all over the fella sitting across from me at my table.

With a smart ass smirk smeared across my face and soup dripping down my chin, I turned around to confront that piece of wisdom, but before I could speak, Richard added to his diatribe, "But I believe unicorns were real."

I was in disbelief, not that his beliefs were foolish at best, but that he was being serious.  When I first overheard his contribution to the conversation, I thought he might be talking in jest, tongue-in-cheek, making a feeble attempt to be absurd, but he was dead serious.  I first asked him how he was supposed to see a dinosaur, being that they had been extinct for tens of millions of years prior to human existence.  Richard shrugged and said, "Show me proof."

I paused for a moment and mentioned that there were literally museums all over the world that housed complete skeletons of dinosaurs, ranging in tiny molluscs all the way up to gargantuan Brontosaurus', but Richard informed me that he doesn't like going to museums.  The response made no sense as to why he'd deny the existence of dinosaurs only because of a dislike for viewing history through the museums of the world.  So I broached the logic of the unicorn.

"There's absolutely no proof that unicorns ever existed." I said, "How is it you believe they were real?"

Richard looked at me with a blank stare and spoke these words through his thick mustache, "Because the Irish Rovers* had a song about unicorns."  I stared back at Richard, utterly speechless, experiencing a true WTF moment, completely in disbelief that this was the logic of a man, who for all consideration, was responsible for operating dangerous equipment on the manufacturing floor, where we worked at the time.

"So by that logic," I said, "Because the Irish Rovers also have a song about Grandma being runover by a reindeer, Santa Claus is real?"

Richard looked at me like I was speaking another language, replying, "No.  That's just stupid."

The exchange had concluded and I spun my chair back around and finished my lunch.  It's been nearly a decade since we had that exchange.  I'm sure Richard has long since passed away, but if he hasn't, then I'm almost certain he's wasting his golden years sitting in his living room, listening to old Irish Rover records and believing that same stupid shit.

I was telling my mother about that conversation about a week ago.  She cocked her head to the side, like a German Shepherd when you mention going for a walk.  "What the hell?" she said, total disbelief that there are people in this world who really are that foolish.

The conversation reminded me of another short conversation that I had with Ernie, who sat at the end of the lunch table where I sat.  Ernie was a devout Christian or one of those seriously religious groups.  In all honesty, I don't know the difference between any of them, but over the years, I've managed to keep my beliefs on the matter, to myself, and not confront anyone, unless they start pushing that nonsense on me.

The movie, NOAH, starring Russell Crowe and Jennifer Connelly had just come out.  Knowing that I went to a lot of movies, Ernie asked if I had seen it yet.  I told him 'no', that I had no interest in seeing it, then asked if he had.  Suddenly, Ernie's demeanour changed from the happy-go-lucky man that he usually portrayed himself as, switching to a more serious appearance.

Ernie leaned in close, as if to tell me a secret, then pointing a finger at me, shaking it like he was scolding me for finishing the last piece of cake, he sternly uttered the words, "NO! I refuse to see that movie because it's historically inaccurate."

Okay.  Now I was hooked.  Historically inaccurate?  "How do you mean, historically inaccurate?" I asked, "Based on what?"

Ernie sat back in his chair, almost befuddled by the question, confused that I didn't know what reference he was speaking of.  "Why, the bible, of course."

I shrugged my shoulders in defeat and left it at that.  I usually like to have all the facts if I'm going to argue anything with anyone, but I know very little about the bible.  I only have my own theories that are based on nothing, really, but it's my own gospel, so-to-speak, and no one, or very few, will ever agree with me on that.

Years ago, I attended some counselling for anger issues.  I went through a Christian Counselling Center, only because it was essentially free.  I only had to pay what I could afford, which was usually around $10 to $20.  In the sessions, the counsellor would give me homework assignments that would involve reading passages from the bible and I'll be honest.  They helped.  However, I never put much more credibility into the bible than just that.  Like Aesop's Fables, the stories are merely reflections of experiences, meant to guide its readers down a straight and moral path.  Nothing more.  I don't view Jesus as a spiritual leader, but as a figure head.  Just as I see Ronald McDonald as a figure for a company that slings shitty hamburgers, I see Jesus as the mascot for better living.

I've never experienced brain freeze.  I've never seen oxygen or been in love.  These are all things that I cannot see, but believe in and yes.  The irony of that is not lost on me.  Just because I can't see an invisible man who lives in the sky, doesn't mean he doesn't exist, but.... Come on!  I've never seen it, so it can't be true. 😄

Blind Faith

 

It's no secret that I've been lost as of late.  It's getting the point where I barely know who I am, let alone what my purpose in life is anymore.  These days, I live in perpetual sorrow.  Distressed about where I am, who I am, and what is to become of me. I am, for lack of a better term, lost.

Last Sunday our family gathered at my mom's to have an Easter weekend feast.  My mom made a delicious spread, complete with a roast, mashed potatoes and veggies.  It was an amazing meal.  Afterward, as the grown ups were seated around the table, my sister began reading from an app on her phone, regarding numbers and their numerological meanings.

Overzealous as always, my youngest nephew was spouting off numbers faster than my sister could read out their meanings.  Finally, I had a chance to inquire about the number sequence that I continually see, to this day.

The number I always see, is 1129.  I'll see it in books.  On the digital clock at my bedside.  Out in the world.  Randomly, at different times, I'll glance over at something and I'll see the number 1129.  I was born on November 29th, 11-29, which makes the number stand out even more.

I've always held the day in the highest regard, celebrating it's existence more so than Christmas, even.  It's rarely a celebration of my birth, but to commemorate the day.  I've never worked on the day, not even attending school as a kid.  It's just something I've never done.  Well.., actually.  I did, in fact, work on my birthday once, but it was SO disastrous and unlucky, that I've never done it again, to this day.

So when asked, my sister began to tell me that 1129 is an Angel Number.  That angels work in mysterious ways and while they won't come right out and show themselves to us, they will hide hidden meanings in numbers.  She began telling me that I needed to be more charitable.  That I should be donating time and money to deserving causes.  She also said that I needed to get in touch with my spirituality.  That it was necessary for me to get right with God and that God would show me the path that I was destined to be on and that then I would feel happy and fulfilled.

My sister is not a religious person.  I don't know what, exactly, her position is on God and church and all that stuff.  I know my stance on the whole religious situation and it's not good.  My sister, though, has always had a foot into the, I don't what to call it, the New Age thing.  She's always had an interest in reading Tarot cards and mystical shit like that.  I remember one time, she had divining rods, which she claimed could answer simple yes and no questions.  One time, when I was visiting her at work, she had me try these divining rods. Relaxing the rods in my closed fists, as she'd instructed, I began to ask general questions and to my surprise, the rods would move.  Crossing each other for 'yes' and further apart for 'no'.  The reason this memory sticks out, is I inquired as to whether or not I'd rekindle a friendship with someone who'd had a falling out with me, through a misunderstanding.  The rods crossed, indicating 'yes' and to my surprise, a short while later, that friend did, in fact, reach out to me and our friendship resumed.  Though in recent years, we've drifted apart, somewhat, but still keep in touch.

Another time, my sister was reading her Tarot cards for a friend and learned that her friend's husband was being unfaithful.  I believed this assumption to be dangerous, as I have some doubts in the legitimacy of this practice, but low and behold, the man was stepping out on his wife, and subsequently, the two divorced.  While still a dangerous assumption, it did pan out.  A result that I, undeniably, had to acknowledge.  That is why when my sister begins explaining to me the meaning behind why I keep seeing that sequence of numbers, I have to believe her to some degree.  Especially considering that I have been curious about religion, recently.

I see on TV and in movies and with people all around me, this blind faith in a higher power.  An invisible force that guides people through the labyrinth of their lives.  I see that and admittedly, I want that.  I can't help but think that if I put my trust in a higher power, that maybe my life will have some purpose.  A reason for my existence.  I recall, during a particularly dark moment, thinking to myself, "I wish I could believe."  I envy those who can dedicate their lives to following the gospel.

I can't believe in an invisible man who lives in the clouds.  Especially, one who simply calls himself "God", as it seems egocentric.  I can't put my faith in something I cannot see with my own eyes.  That being said, I do believe in oxygen.  It is what helps us breath and it's something I cannot see.  I believe in gravity.  I can't see it, but I've fallen down enough times to know that it exists.  I can't see the electricity that runs through my house, but I know that when I flip a switch or plug something into the wall, a light will come on or the device will operate.  So using that logic, I can't help but wonder...?  Just because I can't see something, does it mean it doesn't actually exist?

I've put my faith in people before and have been burned.  So perhaps I'm jaded.  Or perhaps, because human beings are fallible and prone to contamination, that I'm putting my trust in the wrong things or people.

Years ago, I attended a Christian Counselling Group, to combat anger issues.  I chose that space, not because of any faith in a higher power, but because I could pay them whatever I could afford, rather than the inflated prices that similar counselling would cost.  Through reading passages from the bible, I was able to come to certain conclusions and manage my anger more proficiently.  I've long since forgotten what those principles are, but my anger issues have not come back to the violent levels they once were.  So remembering that aspect of the experience, I can't help but wonder if I were to return to such counselling, if my issues with depression and anxiety would be remedied..?

I have not seen my 1129 in awhile.  Not since before this funk settled in on my life, which makes me wonder.  Did the angels give up on me?  Very much in the way I feel everything has given up on me?  These thoughts just reminded me of that passage: Footprints.  Where the person accuses God of deserting him at his most troublesome times, and God responds by saying that He had lifted him up and carried him through those troubled times.  It really gives a sceptic, like me, something to think about. 🤔