Just this past week I was again astounded to hear that someone I looked up to utter the phrase, “no one understands me.” The tone and voice inflection resonated a belief that was instilled, yet I had never once picked up on it. It wasn’t the first time I heard this mantra but it rattled me more than usual. Others before seemed down on their luck but this individual was not. It had me questioning if the tipping point of connection in a modern world has found the majority with a feeling of separation.
Logically the data after Covid is supportive in rises in depression and suicide; with social media consuming more time then in-person activities. But if I disregard this as the driving factor what else could be at play? What causes an individual to feel misinterpreted under the surface but put on a happy face? And, if a person feels misunderstood what are they doing to be understood? These are some tough questions that I’ve not thought about enough, so I’ll take the time to do my best here and understand.
For me I’ve often proclaimed, “no one understands me” but really do I understand myself? Knowing thyself is a philosophical maxim which was inscribed upon the Temple of Apollo in the ancient Greek precinct of Delphi but has many interpretations. The first crack at it in 5th century B.C. through the Ion of Chios describes it as knowing your limitations, but Plato associated it with know your soul. Still the Christians took it in a more secular way in knowing the body, while the 19th century saw it as knowing the unconscious mind. Where should one start, I suppose with the easiest, the body.
Over the last couple of years, it’s has slapped me in the face that I really don’t understand all the inner workings of my body. At the age of 43, sure I know what foods, drinks, medicines, and environments impact will have upon me but I’m not familiar with every function that transpires. I don’t know the names of all 206 bones or 11 systems, but I remembered the numbers. I guess the shame in all of it is, why wasn’t I taught this at a young age?
A child is set off to school for indoctrination, I mean growth and they don’t start with what a soul holds; the body. Seems to me if one is seeking understanding why wait for higher learning to teach what everyone should already know? Instead phonics, times tables, and English are taught on a level exceeding oneself. Scientists have marveled at the sophistication of the human body. To think, cuts heal themselves! But this magic is mundane as it requires not the effort of a book report and so the importance of the body is second.
Even though I possess accreditation in health sectors it isn’t close to my mother or sister who are nurses and I think that knowledge is crucial in knowing thyself. Taking the time to get under the hood of the only car I’ll drive for decades seems logical but why haven’t I taken the time to? I suppose I can relate to, “the only thing I know about cars is how to put gas in and drive.” But if we all have the same make and model, we should all know how to change a tire. That way when we see a stranded driver we can emphasize and fix it in a jiff; understandably. I suppose I got some book work to do.
Straight-up I hate limitations. Knowing your limits is a great place to die! No one ever grows doing something in their comfort zone. This lesson was reinforced a couple of paintings ago when I turned on the lights and felt uncomfortable as the playlist ran through a second time. I wanted to get out of there but the message was to understand shit gets uncomfortable. So I stayed in the discomfort only to be brought into acceptance and peace by songs end; ‘Show Me How to Live’ Audioslave.
Really, I can appreciate limitations, it says to me moderation. The balance we seek cannot be won by too much of a good or bad thing but a medium. Personally I have to know when to say, “I can’t play golf” even though my mind wants to. Knowing when to hold them and when to fold them without ego is tricky. I presume more practice is needed.
The subconscious mind has been a fascinating mystery to me. I’ve read many books on the topic but it remains like the oceans; 95% unexplored. Getting an appointment with the boss (subconscious controls 95%) while I’m asleep isn’t sound logic so how can I understand? How can I know myself if I’m not awake?
Understanding this conundrum is difficult but a dream journal can aid in discoveries. I’ve been more aware of the fact dreams, to me, are messages from the subconscious; important i-mail that should not be deleted as spam. When I wake, they are fresh but if the emotion isn’t ingrained enough, they fade away into video-game fog. Journaling them makes something I’ve been told repeatedly are not real, real. And allows dialogue with a part me I don’t speak with regularly and should.
It seems to me the subconscious mind is just one rung down from the soul. The soul is defined as immortal so how can a mortal know of such things? Should they know their place and limitations? Do they live in the body more than spirit? Or do they delve into the dark matter of the mind? Knowing the soul I believe can only be interpreted through feeling, faith, a knowing of certainty.
I can’t explain it in black and white here but it may be found in between the lines. That is if one is seeking it. To be understood, the ego craves the love, recognition, and support it provides as one is swept with euphoria when another says, “I know what that guy was feeling” with clarity. Although the soul has always been in balance most of us feel misunderstood because we don’t understand ourselves, me included.
Grasping the energy enshrined in the consciousness of a human being with acceptance and understanding requires surrender. Not one that has us waving a white flag but appreciating there is no need for a flag. That when I see you, I see myself; same make and model. The rims, tint, and candy coat rattle the thoughts as bass bumps but knowing thyself cuts through the bandwidth revealing what was there all along, understanding.
