I’m going to link the idea of kindred spiritness with the analogy of cupcakes (or is it a metaphor? I get them mixed up.).
It’s like we have an inner self and an outer self, right? So, thinking of ourselves as cupcakes: it’s like we show the world our frosted decoration. We interact in the world in a superficial way, frosting to frosting. And feelings don’t go deeper with most of the people we interact with.
Under the frosting, hidden from public view most of the time, is the cake.
So, the frosting is our ego and the cake is our soul (in a different manner of metaphorical speaking).
Most people don’t see our cake, even though we’re aware of it ourselves. Not only do we keep it well hidden but most aren’t interested in it anyway. They only care what the frosting looks like (with parents being the first to value the quality of our frosting over our cake).
Sometimes, the cake gets all stirred up by life’s events. The inner agitation threatens the structure of the frosting on top. Oh, God forbid it gets so shaky that it crumbles and we behave in – gasp – socially unacceptable ways. Oh what a disaster that is, for one’s frosted garb to become dishevelled. The shame of it!
It’s strange and mysterious when we meet someone who stirs us up on the inside, don’t you think? I mean, how many people do we meet in our lives? It can be a great many. We might live lives that mean meeting new people on a frequent basis. I do.
And yet… we have an emotional reaction to so very few of them. Sometimes good, sometimes bad. Sometimes we take an instant dislike to someone and sometimes we take an instant liking to them. Sometimes we can’t tell the difference between good and bad. Sometimes we just get all whizzed up inside, like a whirlpool or a soup being stirred. It’s like our innards have melted and the goo is barely contained. We’re like baked chocolate puddings with liquid insides.
It’s not necessarily a comfortable feeling, is it? And there’s no choice about it – we don’t get to choose who to react emotionally to. It’s not something we do; it’s something that happens to us, seemingly by accident, like catching a cold. We can’t do it deliberately and we can’t prevent it. And it’s uncontrollable – once set in motion, it can’t be stopped; once the door is open, it can’t be shut. In the moment of it first happening it’s already too late to stop it.
I’m sure you know what I mean.
To quote the beautiful and wise Jim Morrison: “I looked at you, you looked at me, I smiled at you, you smiled at me… and we’re on our way… no, we can’t turn back… ‘cause it’s too late.”
But why? Why them and not others? There’s no rhyme nor reason to it. It’s a mystery. But it’s as if there’s some special connection between you and them, and it defies logic.
With the cupcake analogy, I’m not proposing to solve the mystery, by the way – just to illustrate it with words.
So, I was thinking that this specialness of feeling, which seems as if it denotes a special connection – a kindred spiritness – is akin to being cakes made from the same batter: visually distinct but made of the same stuff. It’s like the cake parts of ourselves recognise each other and in so doing (or, in the happening of it) an even earlier state has been recognised: the runny batter we were before we became baked goods.
And then… the frosting way of being becomes unpalatable. It doesn’t satisfy. It’s like junk food. A hunger that didn’t previously exist is aroused and sugary food of little substance just won’t do, even if we devoured it with salivating relish up until the moment of the first hunger pang.
And, you know… this is why I can no longer stomach the doctrine of monogamy. It requires us to shun our spiritual kin. It makes me sad, thinking about what this tyranny of exclusivity makes us do: shun each other, feel guilty and ashamed about love, starve ourselves in a sort of self-imposed emotional and sexual anorexia (the success of which marks us out as ‘good’ people!).
If I was being generous I might say monogamy is a preposterous idea. But its consequences, in terms of large-scale human misery, are too grave for such affection. Monogamy is a dogma of slavery that causes people to not only behave in an evil manner (eg, punishing transgressors, often viciously) but to feel justified in doing so! What nonsense.
No, monogamy is not good. It’s a sign of mental illness. To me, that’s obvious. I guess the vast majority are just too sick to notice their own illness. I mean, how insecure and desperate does one have to be to insist on the exclusive attention and worship of another? To feel justified in being controlling and possessive and dictating draconian conditions on others? In the name of love? And how insecure, desperate, subservient and lacking in self-respect does one have to be to accept such conditions in return for this so-called ‘love’? To agree to one’s own oppression as a pay-off for being rescued from loneliness? It’s pathetic, no? Yes.
I’d rather be lonely than to be so enslaved.
Of course, people can’t be blamed for their compliance in said draconian nonsense. We’re groomed by our culture not merely to comply, but to delight in these ways of slave-devotee relating – we take it as proof of worthiness of love.
We are also groomed by our culture to believe that we are not worthy of love by default but that we must earn it by our ‘good behaviour’. Part of that good behaviour requires our self-imposed emotional and sexual constipation.
Monogamy is Imodium for the soul. And we’re force-fed it. Meanwhile, our souls are desperate for a shit. But we pretend otherwise. We act all prim and proper, while we scream on the inside.
The Emperor is not only naked, he’s got diarrhoea dribbling down his legs, and tears running down his face.
What a bunch of cowards we are. Makes me sad (and mad). I’m bored with my own cowardice. And everyone else’s.
(pic credit: www.rsvpmagic.com/kindred-spirit-instant-download/)