The Dot Called Beirdo

Hi, this is Houston DeBacle. It's been a while but I have good reasons for my absence. A few weeks ago, Beirdo took a pit stop in Sacramento that resulted in staying almost completely stationary for an extended period of time. More about all of this later, but my communication with him during this time was scattered. Here's an example of an email I received from him while he was apartment sitting, not running and certainly not writing. It's a screen shot of the email, so none of the essence of the message is lost:

The part hi-lighted in green was covered in a black highlight that had to be re-hi-lighted in order to be read. After reading this, I couldn't decide whether to abort the mission with Beirdo or to send help. I could have done both, but I did neither. I just waited. It's a good thing too... a few days ago a got this explanation from the man himself:

Good day Houston,

Did you see my last post?  It was written from my Crazy Place.
You don't know about this yet, but in my late teens I was diagnosed as Manic Depressive.  I'm pretty sure this was still the prevailing term at the time, before that got politically correct-ized into "bipolar disorder."  I preferred the original, since it described both states of the condition rather than highlighting the oppositional nature of these two states.  Also, it seemed odd that two words - "manic" and "depressive" - that fairly honestly and accurately portrayed the extremes of the condition were somehow deemed dated and offensive, whereas a term including the word "disorder" was considered more palatable.
Anyway, I stopped taking medication about six years ago.  At the time, I had a steady job, was sharing an apartment with a woman whom I'd been in a relationship with for several years, and was generally leading a very stable and routine-based life; the kind of life psychologists consider optimal for "sufferers" of my condition.

Although I chose to stop taking medication, it wasn't because I thought I'd transcended the traits of mania or depression.  Rather, as I gained perspective regarding my past, I began to understand the reasons why these traits had manifested themselves, and their usefulness in my development.  I also felt that I'd had enough experiences with both states of mind that I wanted to give myself the opportunity to prove that I could now navigate these waters.  Medicating myself for the sake of avoiding feelings that society is uneasy with no longer seemed reasonable.  

In the years since, as I've learned to look for the lesson which always resides at the core of discord, I've also come to see my mania and depression as gifts rather than as illness or disorder.  Properly harnessed, mania is a method for opening oneself up as a conduit of creative energy.  I believe that this is what human beings are at their essence.  As for depression, the gift at it's core is the conscious realization that certain choices and decisions are preventing one from finding fulfillment.  The challenge is figuring out what changes need to be made, and what action must be taken to effect these changes. 

Mania and depression are merely two examples of methods employed by the psyche to communicate important messages.  They are the teachers that have been deployed for me, but countless conditions and addictions are strategically manifested in order to help the individual grow during times when growth is stalled. 

I find it sad that we live in a society that encourages us to medicate ourselves against thoughts and feelings that are supposedly abnormal.  While psychiatric medication can make life seem more bearable during difficult times, in most cases the comfort and stability offered come at the expense of the insights and confidence earned through facing the difficult challenges that our inner self presents to us. All of which is just a little background to explain where I was the other day, when I was in my Crazy Place. 

As mentioned in the post, I'd accidentally managed to delete many hours worth of work in the form of writings that had gone through several layers of clarification and editing.  My sleep had been very sporadic and a desperation was growing inside me; an impatience with waiting for the inspiration and initiative needed to finish what had to be done before my stalled adventure could continue. 

The sudden loss of my work - and frustration over the technological limitations that contributed to this loss - along with the lack of sleep and creative frustration, led to something of a manic rage.  And, as promised in the post, I fed this manic rage with some whiskey and went on a run looking to either find or create something wild enough to resonate with the wildness I was feeling.
Fortunately, instead of finding fuel for my

Crazy, I found a more stabilizing form of inspiration.  Across from the Capital, a group of tomato-pickers were holding signs and waving flags, trying to promote their cause: the right of tomato-pickers to join the same Union that covers other California farm workers.
Pretending to be a freelance journalist, I used the video camera on my tablet to interview many of these ralliers.  Listening to them made my own frustrations seem so selfish and insignificant.  Here were people, who made a living performing strenuous labor for low wages, making an attempt to convince passing citizens that they deserve the same workplace protections as anyone else.

Unfortunately, my video of fascinating people telling inspiring stories was too long and took up too much memory for my tablet to handle.  I was really hoping to post the video to the blog, but instead I'll just post some info on the cause once I've completed the more pressing project.

Right now, I'm sitting in a cafe that I came to for the purpose of working on that project.  However, a guy at a table next to me starting telling his friend about a conference he'd just attended in Houston, which I took as a signal to contact Mission Control so that Houston wouldn't think that I had a problem.  Or, at least, not one that needs to be fretted over.
Mania and others issues aside, the reason I was able to upload that last post without your assistance was that Barnaby allowed me to use his computer.  Last night was the last I'll be staying at his apartment, however.  I still haven't resolved the issues with my tablet, so until I do I'll continue to email posts to you and give you the opportunity to add any thoughts or musings you might want to contribute.  We'll just keep up with this arrangement as long as it works for you.  Even if I finally resolve my tech-issues, this arrangement of ours is certainly more entertaining for me.  When I send these messages to you, I never know whether you will simply post what I wrote to you or if there might be extra surprises.  When I have trouble feeling engaged as a writer, this helps to keep me engaged as a reader... and also helps me remember the importance of relinquishing control; that there may be more to the story than what I have to tell. 

Thank you as always for your assistance.

Sincerely,

Marcus

Much to my surprise, our friend Beirdo wasn't staying stationary at all,  just because his movements could no longer be tracked on the Mission Control computers and could no longer be measured in distance and speed, he was still as busy as ever. Probably covering more distance in his dreams, but that's okay too. And this email totally explained everything for me. I feel like I understand him so much better now. Perhaps I can stand to be a little more patient. The meat of this experiment and exploration doesn't have to occur over night. The story can slowly unfold at a leisurely pace and all will be revealed when it needs to be. The good news for you, dear readers, is that I've just received word that he's on the road again. The dot called Beirdo on my screen is moving again. More later.