Divergence – Dreamyoga

Over the last few days or so I have been getting some vivid dreams. They refer to things not at all concerned with or relating to, our current life, our physical plane reality. There is not a lot I can do with these dreams.

On the horizon at some stage as yet unspecified is a bi-lateral hip replacement operation. This may / may not offer something of a new lease of life in terms of mobility and relative absence of pain. The diffuse idiopathic skeletal hyperostosis suggests that osteophytes will grow subsequent to surgery reducing the useful life of implants. My thoracic spine will get ever more fused and perhaps extend cervical. I will become a proper stiff.

It is increasingly obvious that due to handicap and low physical capability the garden here is too big. Short of winning the lottery we need to move. The current idea is to move house before any operation because I will still be able to lift heavy stuff for the move. As things stand, and unless I get ill, I do not need to see the GP doctor until September for asthma medication which means that the French side of the orthopaedic line of inquiry is on-hold. I have a follow up for colorectal cancer next week which may require industrial grade laxative and a colonoscopy. Yippee, what fun! My ten year anniversary present.

There is no reliable physical plane evidence to deter from the disabled-enabled nanna-flat trajectory. There is nothing on this plane to suggest any use for me. There is nothing holding us here. We could legally move to UK or Ireland. We have become accustomed to Breton rain so Ireland is less of a push than it once was.

It is pretty clear to me that my lack of social viability means we need to find somewhere out of the hurly burly to some extent. Every time I interact something seems to go wrong. Something grates, people get edgy and uncomfortable.

At the moment I am getting a bit bored with the matinal pain.

The decision funnel towards proper down-sizing and retirement pinches, gets tighter. No other options are available / making an appearance. The blog and patent renewal choices must be made soon. And we have had an income tax form, strangely the tax people in France are hyper organized and mega efficient…

With the price of propane increasing and my lumberjack skills failing, the cost of running the house gets ever more prohibitive.

The end-game looks quiet. The idea of a supported retirement flat is more attractive.

I am due an appointment with a UK consultant rheumatologist soon and a short visit to Jersey will help us understand if we can hack being surrounded by anglophones and just how important Waitrose, Café Nero and Pizza Express are. I will have a better idea if there is any immuno-rheumatic cause at play in my bone–skeletal problems.

The dreams are currently significantly diverging from real physical plane life. I know on one hand that I have an unusual and eclectic set of knowledge given my orthodox science background in my earlier London incarnation. It remains an anomaly and not much more than that.

We probably need to stick the house on the market soon…

I will have to explain to the estate agents that I don’t think like other people and that I have zero desire to discuss prices until hell freezes over. I will not negotiate nor make any counter-offer, sorry. I am not sure that I will be able to get that across.

I see a glitch coming. People just don’t / won’t get it.

Anyway, it is sunny outside. The stray cats Felix and Gandalf have been fed. Felix is not looking well and we are not sure how long he will be with us. This once totally stray cat lets me pick him up on my foot! He lets me handle him and I can feel his ribs.

Madame Canard was on the pond this morning with half a dozen ducklings. Each year she raises two broods over the fence in the “swamp”. Monsieur Canard has been pacing up and down smoking, metaphorically.

The trajectory looks pretty set…life and dreams diverge.

I have recently had a several months stint on LinkedIn. Because I am an “old fart” I went to university way back when it was much less common in the UK. My class size was of the order of 30. It was hard to get in. There was an in-department tea / snack room which served buttered toast. After a 9 AM chemistry lecture you could get coffee and toast and marmalade. We knew each other quite well and there was a lot of fraternisation between staff and students. Back then there was a lot of booze. It would be frowned upon today, Jurassic behaviours.

It is safe to conclude that when taking the integral of life time earnings of most of my university peer group, based on their LinkedIn profiles, I am at the bottom of the earnings table and I am not going to earn any more. I was the baby of the class being born end of August, but somehow also a social lynch pin. 4 out of 30 came from my school. Most of my peers have been successful whereas my “career” ended in 2007. I did some small “A” level science tutoring for a number of years. I retired around five years ago. Often it is the years 40-65 when people earn the most. I did not.

It could be said that I am a failure and that I failed.

I worked for over a decade as an academic at a top London university. Many of that peer group and people whom I once taught have had and are having way more success than me. There are big cheeses.

There are a number of possible explanations for why I quit at the age of 42. They include burn out, the so-called INFJ door slam, some mental health problems, or the renunciation of a way of life. I was very unhappy that my colleagues were talking about getting rid of people to improve the REF rating. Nice! I figured I could handle going better than others. The decision was quick and nobody anticipated it. I don’t recall having any discussions. I did not have a leaving party because I hate that kind of thing. I handed over my responsibilities and just left. Not many, very few, said goodbye. I thought at the time that it was handled poorly. British people can be awkward and scientists are not renowned for their interpersonal skills. I don’t believe anyone from there addressed the subject with me, certainly not meaningfully.

I was not anticipating what was to unfold in terms of meditations and chanting. My life certainly diverged from where it had been heading. There were consequences which I had not anticipated in terms of my employability.

If you meditate at least once daily for two decades you are likely to differ markedly in terms of psyche and mind from those who do not. If you don’t see someone for over a decade they may try to shoehorn their perception of you into their old version. They may be unable to conceive of what you are like now. They will not know “the point before mind”.

I have no ambition, no drive, no goals, no targets. I am not overly fussed about what happens to me. I am not interested in kudos. There is no driver for me to invent. I doubt that anything I might write is sellable, certainly not profitable. So, there is no point in me trying to publish for money. In one sense I am waiting until my time is up. The likelihood is that my time will be used gardening, doing DIY, strolling and a bit of blogging here and there. I will be a carer from time to time.

I am out of touch with the modern way of life. I have not made a social ‘phone call in near a decade. I have near zero social email use. Just as I am out of touch with modern life, the outer world is out of touch with me. Only a few people know any of my email addresses and only one person has my ‘phone number. The hospital has it too.

Life is uncomplicated by connectivity.

When you watch the news, it is often a loner who is not popular who turns out to be the perpetrator of some killing or other. People are prejudiced about people like me. They may even pity me and feel sad. That is getting the wrong end of the stick by a country mile. People transfer their obsession with social contact onto me. I am quite happy not to have any. I can go days without speaking to anyone.

I certainly did not add a great deal to UK plc. I once co-founded a company which put dinner on the table for about fifty households. In principle I could have done more. But I did not.

It could be said that I was perhaps fated to do a “Reggie Perrin” only I never came back to work.

I do not know what fate has in store for me, if anything. It is very unlikely to have a wider impact or significance. This could be argued to be a waste. Or simply it is what it is.

Being a four cancer couple already sets us apart statistically. Colon cancer and basal cell carcinomas for me, myeloma and breast for her. She start posts operative radiotherapy next week. I get a “chimney sweep” colonoscopy next year. I am on prostate cancer watch because of slightly elevated PSA. No signs of any lesions in the MRI.

It is pretty clear what the next month is about. The important bit, that is.

I speculate that were I to meet any of the people from my peer groupings it would take quite a while for the penny to drop concerning just how far my life and beingness has diverged from theirs. And they would almost certainly get entirely the wrong end of the stick in any attempt at communication beyond the basic CV style “life fact” exchange. I’ll wager I could understand their lives better than they could understand mine. I came from “there”. I do not think that they could get it nor do I believe that I could convey. They would have to experience over a fair time interval to even begin.

I could be wrong…

I am divergent…

Tag: Divergence

Life Divergences and the Wrong End of the Stick