The Baboon Congress

The Long and (Very) Winding Road

47 Comments

Today’s guest post comes from Clyde, who actually wrote this as a comment on Trail Baboon on Monday, December 16, 2013.  But I thought it deserved more of a spotlight.  

This exquisite puzzle is a piece of twisty writing that really challenges the reader to follow.
If you think you’re up to it, try reading it aloud and see how far you get. Like an Escher print, you may find yourself doubling back on the trail in a way that seems physically impossible, and yet it is happening.

Here’s Clyde:

Escher's_Relativity

I am often confused with myself, which I find confusing. I think I am who I am and then I find out I am someone else. Then next time I think I am someone else but find I’m me. It’s me I like best, but often I would like to be someone else, but not the someone else I am, but want to be a different someone else, someone bold and exotic with hands that work. But the someone else I am am, sometimes, does not have working hands either. The am I am I am sometimes ashamed of. What I do like is that the me who I am when I am the someone else that I am doesn’t look much like the am I am, so if I chose the right day, I can go out as the me who I am and no one knows who I am. But it may be a day when no one recognizes me as the someone else that I am, sometimes people do know me. Sometimes not.
When I was younger, people in all places from Two Harbors to Chicago wanted to call me Chuck. But the Chuck me moved to Oregon and went on to great success, so maybe I should have been Chuck. Then I do not think I would be on the Trail, or maybe I always was on the trail, a deviant synapse of Fearless Leader’s frontal cortex off in the woods somewhere, which, Fearless Leader, does not look at all like a jungle. So are we really who we think we are? Baboons. Or just two-dimensional reflections of the grayer, more insecure part of Dale? Are people really who they seem in radio? Is anything real in public radio? I mean, that “public” part probably makes people very private or perhaps too public. But I digress. I did one day off in the woods in the back left there run into a Holden Caufield, but was it HOLDEN CAUFIELD, or just holden caufield?
Today I am the me who is on the woods. Lost perhaps. Maybe not. Maybe . . .

Where do you go to find yourself?

47 thoughts on “The Long and (Very) Winding Road”

  1. Good morning. Thanks for giving us another look at what Cylde wrote.

    I don’t know where I would go to find myself. In some ways I think I am not able to find myself and, in other ways, I think I am always myself. If I am always myself, is that good? Maybe yes, maybe no. For the most part I think I am always trying to be someone else. Is that who I am? Am I someone who is trying to be someone else? I suppose the place that might be the best place to find myself would be out in the woods. If go into the woods to find myself I wonder if I would run into Holden Caufield or Clyde.

    Like

    Reply

    1. You might. You can recognize Holden Caulfield by his red hunting cap, and Clyde by the green Birchwood cap. Wear a distinctive hat so they’ll recognize you.

      Like

      Reply

      2. What’s a Birchwood cap? Do you have an image? I would want it, of course; in green, of course. I could market it to the Birchwood clan who want me to join up. My b-i-l filled in all kinds of family stuff about our small branch of the Birchwoods, which has made some come knocking at my online door again. My b-i-l finds himself in his ancestry. I know many do.

        Like

        Reply

  2. Rise and Shine Baboons!

    What a wonderful bit of writing Clyde. And Dale, I love the picture–it looks like Hogwarts Castle.

    Clyde, perhaps you find yourself here on the Trail. I know that for years I found pieces of me on the LGMS–reflected in songs or artists or funny sketches by Dale and Jim Ed. While I was going through chemotherapy years ago, Lou kept sending song requests into them at the end of chemo regimen when I could hardly take the treatments anymore. So in the songs I found the courage to “just go back one more time.” And then the course of treatment was complete.

    I know there are energetic places I feel good–around Lake Superior, Sedona Arizona. There are times I feel BAD–mostly in hot humid weather. But where do I feel most myself? In my home I think. Making things like art, or cookies, or books.

    Like

    Reply

    1. I was going to build a collection of my me songs, most of which I first heard or encountered via DC and JEP. Never did. Would have “Everything is Holy Now” on it.

      Like

      Reply

    2. I certainly think you find some of yourself in those lovely books you and your mom (do I have that right?) make, Jacque.

      Like

      Reply

      1. Yes. Those are so much fun to do. Just finished another. I put the link up last week. This year’s offering is called “Such Little Things”

        Like

        Reply

  3. thanks dale for bringing clydes braintwister to our frontal lobes once again. and hey why isnt the jungle on the trail more jungley looking? when i find myself i will let you know. wher a i looking ? usually in the bathtub. my reflection time is often served in the neck deep in water not warn enough to kill germs but good enough to loosen me up a bit. i had an extended run with a shrink i gained some good insight from. my x was contemplating divorce and went to a shrink who listened to her talking about me as the problem. i was invited in which screwed up her pattern so she quit and i continued for about the next 15 years. that was nice to have a place to reflect an hour a month. i used to get as much reflection done on the way to and from the session as i got at the session itself. i got pretty good at figuring out what was needing the most attention right now and a way to get it dealt with. today my bath takes the place of my shrink but classic movies and internet searches can get in the way. i wonder why jd salinger didnt want to talk about it. maybe holden is where he went to think about it. he tried a few more times but ended up just hunkering down and being jd the quiet and dont want to talk about it guy. my problem is when i get close to finding myself i have no one but myself to blame. on both counts

    Like

    Reply

    1. Well, do we really want to find ourselves if we have to be responsible for being who we are? Maybe we shouldn’t completely find ourselves so that we don’t have to be responsible for everything we do.

      Like

      Reply

  4. I go somewhere to find myself, but unfortunately, when I arrive at somewhere I find that I’m actually here. Since no one else is here except me, I can’t be sure that myself is still there or if myself has moved on.
    I guess all that boils down to saying I just keep moving because a moving target is harder to hit, and I’ve never been fond of gathering moss either.

    Chris in Owatonna

    Like

    Reply

  5. Life involves a long, confusing and yet ultimately crucial process of discovery. We are not one person, so we cannot find ourselves in a simple way. Each of us is many people, and we change with different settings. We all have ideas about who we are, but we are almost always wrong to one degree or another. Others often know things about us we cannot see on our own, and yet others can be deceived. This search for one’s self strikes me as a holy and life-affirming challenge.

    I’ve just been through a fascinating process of leading a young woman through the frightening woods of confusion about who and what she was. She was quite unhappy with herself. For seven or eight years I tried to show her that the person she didn’t like was just the person she became in response to her troubled husband. What was true about her was not that she was defensive and weak, as she thought, but a bold, exciting, artistic and loving person. My message to her was, “You could fly. You could fly!”

    Today she flies. She lost all those false identities and found the true one. She found herself.

    Like

    Reply

    1. I used to confound the students because I was a different me for teaching ninth grade, teaching tenth grade, and then teaching 11th and 12th grade.

      Like

      Reply

      1. Interesting fact, Clyde. I find that more sensible than trying to be exactly the same person in all of one’s various roles. The people I respect most tend to have complicated personas (is that the right word?). It is surely easier to be the same regardless of setting, but that’s not what I enjoy most in companions.

        Like

        Reply

  6. I find, rediscover and then lose myself again. Losing myself is often frustrating. When I find myself and feel the most me, I am often doing something that either uses my hands and engages my creativity (making something for the theater or baking), or I am doing some heavy brain-lifting (like chasing down the source and meaning of a data value – very nerdy, but makes me oddly happy). I lost myself briefly before a big college reunion where I spent several weeks feeling like I wasn’t living up to the standards of my alma mater – what had I done that was so fabulous or that was saving the world after all? (This was when Kofi Annan was heading the UN – when a fellow alum of your college is off doing something like that it makes what your doing seem paltry…) Took some time but I realized I was not going to save the world, nor even give it a good go like Kofi Annan, but I could make my immediate community a bit better and let that ripple out. I will probably never have a fancy title for my job nor a big salary that allows me to afford great luxuries (heck, if i had that, I’d probably just squander the extra on things like donations to the library). I’m still not sure I know who I am or what I want to be when I grow up, and on the days I am most confused I try to go back to a me I know – maybe 7 year old me, or me who likes a particular book or poem, or me who can sit and be content with her face in the sunshine and that helps me go back to being me.

    Like

    Reply

    1. theres a reason on .01 of 1% make the difference in the world. if it was more than that we’d all throw up.kofi is no fun to have coffee with . he gets distracted by other topics he has on his mind. enjoy todays sunshine.

      Like

      Reply

    2. I’ve been pondering for a very long time what I’d be or like to be when I grow up. I’ve recently settled on “retired.”

      Like

      Reply

      2. And I figured when I “retired” it would become clear(er) to me who I am, because I would start doing exactly what I WANT to do all the time. Nope.

        Like

        Reply

    4. Anna, I think many, many of us get caught up in living up to what we think others expect of us. We often don’t give much credence to that little voice inside of us valiantly protesting the choices we make. Bill Watterson, the creator of Calvin and Hobbes had this to say about that:

      “Creating a life that reflects your values and satisfies your soul is a rare achievement. In a culture that relentlessly promotes avarice and excess as the good life, a person happy doing his own work is usually considered an eccentric, if not a subversive. Ambition is only understood if it’s to rise to the top of some imaginary ladder of success. Someone who takes an undemanding job because it affords him the time to pursue other interests and activities is considered a flake. A person who abandons a career in order to stay home and raise children is considered not to be living up to his potential — as if a job title and salary are the sole measure of human worth.

      You’ll be told in a hundred ways, some subtle and some not, to keep climbing, and never be satisfied with where you are, who you are, and what you’re doing. There are a million ways to sell yourself out, and I guarantee you’ll hear about them.

      To invent your own life’s meaning is not easy, but it’s still allowed, and I think you’ll be happier for the trouble.”

      Like

      Reply

      1. My bestest pal pointed out to me many moons ago during one of my “I haven’t saved the world yet” crises, that while it was true that I hadn’t solved world hunger and I didn’t have a job with a fancy title, I was content. As long as she had known me I had been content – not always happy, but content. And that, she pointed out, was a rare thing. She is wise, and of course right. I may not always be happy, I may not save the world, but I am content. And that is more than a lot of folks with a lot more money, a bigger house, or more name recognition will ever have. If that makes me a subversive (thank you Bill Watterson), than I am content to be one. 🙂

        Like

        Reply

  7. This is an interestingly timely piece; thanks, Clyde! I’ve been worrying recently that I’ve lost touch with Creative Me, because Work Me has kind of taken over, what with the drama of the last job and struggling to get used to the new job. Creative Me doesn’t feel like she has time to breathe and expand the way she used to. One way of finding her used to work well: going to a coffeehouse like the May Day and just hanging out for a few hours, with my laptop ready to go if inspiration hit. I need to find the time and energy to do that again and see if she’ll peek out. OTOH, Spiritual Me is having a little renaissance, which is reassuring after a few dry years. I’ve been chosen by a Matron–what actually happened was, I finally figured out who had been appearing in my life for some time now–and I’ve been researching Her as best I can; prayers traditional and contemporary, rituals, symbols, elements for a shrine (which I hope to build next month), and so on.

    Like

    Reply

    2. I do not find myself in creating. I lose myself. It’s more losing myself that I am after, connecting to something larger and more universal, more human, less temporal. So as my hands take away my creating powers, I also lose a part of my spirituality. Obviously a place I go to lose myself is the North Shore or Superior Forest. A few special places that Sandy and I found over the years, were the best, but not necessary. I find myself in the poems of Robert Frost. I lose myself in the poems of John Donne.
      There is a me who can write stream-of-conscious convoluted riffs like what Dale put up again today. One pops up every 3-4 months. When I was at the U of Chi they happened about once a week. I would send them off to my friends, who would communicate with each other over whether or nor I was having a breakdown.
      My hands are a bit better lately. Enough to type. Dragon (voice-driven typing) has a free app for Ipad, which I have downloaded and will try out soon.
      Dale told me late last night he was putting this up today because he had a long day. So maybe we should be getting him some guest posts.

      Like

      Reply

  8. Thanks for re-posting this one, Dale. And you are right… reading it outloud made a big difference. Thanks Clyde! I often feel that I am a different me but then I go out and nobody realizes I’m that different me.

    I often go to my crafts to relax and find myself. In fact, I often take bits of projects with me on my trips, since trips, while wonderful, are also stressful. You all would probably have laughed to see me on my bed in South Africa last week, with scraps of paper scattered all around me while I assembled some thank you cards!

    Like

    Reply

  9. Thanks Clyde, that made absolute sense to me (which is disturbing in and of itself).

    there is also a part of me that would love to see some of those sentences diagrammed-also disturbing.

    I suspect I am stashed in my knitting bag, someplace, or in a box of partially finished quilting, but I have not seen either of those in ages.

    Like

    Reply

    1. How did the late, great Twixie become anonymous? WordPress is calling me madislandgirl, but not telling you guys.

      good to know even WordPress loses track of which me it is dealing with from time to time.

      Like

      Reply

  10. We should all still be the me’s we were when we were small children, or maybe not. My son was out with his 4-month-old JackJack and had this encounter:
    First little girl, looking at JackJack: “He’s sooo cute!” Me: “Thanks! You’re cute, too.” Second little girl: “He’s not that cute.” Adult lady: “Lily! Be nice!” Second little girl (Lily): “He’s not!” First little girl: “Yes he is, I say so!”

    Like

    Reply

  11. I pretty much “found myself” through many years of therapy between 40 and 50. The parts I didn’t find have been unearthed gradually ever since and at this point, I’d be surprised to discover something brand new. Every once in a while, I get the comfort of checking in with the finest therapist in the state (IMO), but these occasional sessions tend to reaffirm that I’m already found. I am perhaps overly aware of what’s going on inside me which includes knowing when I’m in such a child ego state that my adult has temporarily taken a hiatus! This only happens when anxiety gets beyond a reasonable point.

    For example, last week I bought what’s called a “sound bar” to hook to my TV so I’d get much better
    sound. The Best Buy guy told me a first-grader could hook it up. I brought it home, read the instructions, and managed to get all the wires so tangled and plugged into the wrong receptacles that I spent four hours on the phone to my electronic-savvy friend, Panasonic (TV), the internet service tech, and a Best Buy tech. I got so upset that I made myself literally sick and swore more in this one evening than in the whole last year. Crouching behind the TV caused me to lose my balance and fall into the closet, cutting my arm. It turns out that my new sound bar was defective (this would only happen to someone who’s electronically-challenged, of course). I suffered a two-day blackout before I suddenly realized that my oldest grandchild had a 2-year electronics degree. He came out and within two minutes got everything working. Prior to awakening to this solution, I’d lined up a $200 and hour in-home TV repair guy. This is but one example of my anxiety overwhelming me, but there certainly are others.

    Like

    Reply

  12. Uffda meg. I am nodding in agreement with some portion of each post I read, and now I’m just really confused. I think I feel most myself when I am creating – especially designing something like a placemat, or cobbling several recipes into my own version. Or fixing something that wasotherwise going to be thrown away…Sometimes creating means organizing or de-cluttering, because it creates some kind of space. My first inclination was to say out in nature somewhere, be it the woods or beach or mountains, but maybe that’s the feeling of losing myself (a la Clyde’s reply to CG above).

    Like

    Reply

  15. Just saw Part II of The Hobbit. Maybe someday someone will go back and do the book and not some other weird incarnation of the story. All the wit, charm and play is gone. Dark dark. Violent.

    Like

    Reply

Leave a comment