Beer is always good. In the kitchen...in the bedroom...in the study with Colonel Mustard.
I've been thinking a lot about Viktor Frankl's ideas on the therapeutic use of storytelling to create meaning out the painful incidents in our lives. The trick for me is recognizing the line between being ennobled and being delusional.
Also been thinking about "Turn of the Screw." On one level, it's a story about a governess trying to protect her wards from a ghost only she can see. The ambiguous ending is genius from Henry James: perhaps the ghost exists only in the governess's mind and--steeped in hysteria--she ends up killing her ward.
When W left me, her amygdala was on steroids. Her list of grievances ran the gamut from me not laughing enough at her jokes to being impatient with my nephews 20 years ago. When the amygdala hijacks us, it's tempting to tell ourselves stories about seeing menacing ghosts everywhere.
