Mosh Pit
Every person’s brain does millions of processes every second and we’re not even aware of it. These processes control body functions, or emotions, or logic, or intellect, all kinds of things. The brain is the most misunderstood organ in our body. The mind is the most complex universe inside our brain.
For me, my mind is in a constant state of awareness that it is processing information. I’m constantly wondering, ”Did I do this right?” “Did I remember to do this?” Or importantly, “Did I remember to look into their eyes?” Millions of different processes go on in my mind about every situation, large or small, that I encounter throughout the day.
The best way to illustrate this is a punk rock concert in a crowded venue. The stage, the band, the blaring lights, and the blasting music is the sensory information invading my mind. This chaotic mess of loud sounds, overly bright lights and darkness is a complex lexicon for me to decode. Every day, during any tasks, information overloads my mind, like that punk rock band on the stage in a crowded venue.
My mind’s processing is the mosh pit in front of the stage. Hundreds of people pushing onto the stage and onto each other. People slam dancing in a small, crowded space encircled by others pushing and pulling. People screaming at the top of their lungs trying to be heard over the crushing music. My mind processes this outside sensory information and inner thoughts in the same jumbled messy method.
This mutinous mosh pit of processes is present during any activity, simple or complex. Driving, reading, creating, writing, whatever I’m doing, it’s there. Sometimes it’s muffled, but mostly overwhelmingly loud. I can’t even think or open my eyes. I can’t slow down my brain. My brain is pushing against my skull like an out-of-control speeding car collision into a tree. The impact is deadly.
Every day I live this endless punk rock show, from the time I get up to bedtime. It’s hard to settle at night to sleep. It’s hard to be still to pray. One of the most soothing things for me is to take a bath and submerge my ears underwater. As a child, I loved being underwater, and still do. The world is muffled. The world is far away. The pain is muffled. The mosh pit is drowned out by the sound of soothing water. I can think. I can talk to God without all that overwhelming noise.
The rear of the venue is eerily silent. One side wants to unplug from the whole situation. And then there is the side that wants to write a note about unplugging. This side thinks it is important that this note is composed, because it will be the last note for the people that are left behind: my loved ones and the people that care about me. This note will be my last remaining thoughts before unplugging. This note may answer questions. This note may give them solace. This note may give them contentment. This note may be cherished. This note would be the end.
Every day I fight the mosh pit. I fight the thoughts to compose a note; I fight the thoughts to unplug. Every day, it’s a constant struggle, whether I’m joyful or in despair. The mosh pit and silent background constantly provoke me, whispering lies to me that I’m a burden, that I’m worthless, that I’m not loved, that I’m alone. Every day I pray to God to take this thorn out of my mind. Like Paul prayed and wrestled with the thorn in his side, I tussle with these suicidal ideations. And every day I praise God that I’m here to do his calling.
“So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”