I Broke My Brain

Is it possible to overdo? I think it is. As a textbook obsessive-compulsive, I sometimes lose sight of the idea of "moderation." In fact, I literally don't know the meaning of the word. I just tried to write down the definition and couldn't do it. The part of my brain where the definition would normally be stored apparently kicked the entire concept out as rubbish. It wouldn't have it. My brain evicted it. I'm surprised the very word "moderation" is tolerated in my OCD brain. I suppose as long as my brain doesn't know what the word means it's safe--unrecognized, like the name Shostakovitch is to Rap music fans.

I've used terms like OCD and obsessive-compulsive without really believing in them. These convenient psychological titles don't really mean anything except some people are more driven than others. And some people overdo things. I'm not sure I buy into the notion of mental "illness" any more. I've lived both with and without the idea and it doesn't seem to mean anything except as a therapeutic tool. Centuries ago, a club to the head was considered a therapeutic tool too. I'm not sure, spiritually speaking, these psychiatric titles are much better.

I used to overtax myself when I was thirty. Now I'm fifty, and the mind is still pretty sharp, but the engine which powers it sometimes sputters. I just finished a new book for the specialized performing market in which I work. I released a similar book last month. This should be enough for anyone, but I also performed a number of shows this week and I'm trying to perfect the couple of pieces of music I already committed to memory and learn this new one. Yesterday I felt like I was trying to crawl out of my skin. Everything I tried to play I tore to pieces. I took a break and visited with family; engaged in "guy talk" with my father-in-law and a couple of other chaps. I got away from the pressures of work and my own person demands. I got a good night's sleep and today I feel as bright as a ten-dollar hooker.

I know what's happening. Every autumn I take stock of my life to see what I've accomplished. And it always seems to me very little, and each year my shadow grows longer. I feel I'm running out of time and I don't know what to do about it.

Fifty is a number which seems graven in stone. I see people in deep denial about middle age, saying inane things like "Fifty is the new thirty" and other slogans advertising people came up with in order to sell us vacation packages, but when you actually look at it, and realize you have another fifty years or more to go before you punch the clock (and I know full full I could drop dead of an aneurysm or drunk driver, or my wife could smother me with a pillow tonight)--it's a big thing.

My fiftieth birthday was a pleasant affair and I marked it with my family and a few close friends. I didn't have the mid-life crash-and-burn associated with it. By nature, I tend to be a happy fellow overall. Yet I felt there should have been something spectacular about turning fifty; that some Magickal Being should have appeared to me in a vision saying, "Now that you're an adult, I've come to reveal to you your Life's Purpose." But the only Magickal Being I know is me, and as far as Omniscience goes, I have far more questions than answers.

Back to the original question: Can you overdo it? Yes, probably, but in most cases you get over it. I had a reaction yesterday to trying to learn too much too soon, in my thirst to make up for all those years I missed, but I slept it off and today here I am writing obsessively about obsession. I freed up more of my time by dropping off of some of my Internet Forums. I reluctantly bade goodbye to my Buddhist Forum because, believe it or not, many of the people there were too hostile and cynical. Can you dig that? It was popular to start long threads ridiculing other people's religious and spiritual beliefs and promote scientific rationality as though this were a belief system in itself. It seemed to me that many people follow Carl Sagan and Richard Dawkins more than Buddha.

This turned out to be a good thing for me because it increased both my peace of mind and the amount of available time. It's been my observation if you practice Buddhism you may be better advised to keep your practice between yourself and your teacher and not try to be part of a Buddhist "community," unless you have a lot of time to squabble and scratch your head wondering what's wrong with people.

Some people don't get over overdoing it I suppose. Morbidly obese people who try to play touch-football during the Thanksgiving Day family get-together, and who drop stone-cold dead from a massive heart attack, come to mind as a prime example. Nor do those idiots who think they can drink five bottles of vodka at a party with impunity. But to my recollection no-one ever died from too much piano-playing, though I did once get a callous, so lemme alone, dammit.