Escaping bullshit

From politics and bullshit to embodiment and meaning.

You learned a strange trick when you were young.

You may not remember, but there was a time before you knew it. Let me tell you about the moment I learned it — see if it sounds familiar to you.

I’m nine years old in a law firm with drop ceilings and fluorescent lighting. I’m somewhere in Baton Rouge. I’ve been placed in an empty room. It smells like fresh paper out of printers (is that smell ozone?) and faintly of carpet glue. My parents are a couple of rooms over with one of their lawyers, arguing over the terms of their divorce.

It’s quiet in that horrible way nondescript office buildings are. Occasionally, I hear murmured words, a stapler, or the swish of pants. A few feet away from me, the refrigerator’s fan clicks to life and then settles into a regular hum. I have the sense that I need to escape the cascade of negative emotions in my body. I’m “stressed out,” as an adult would say.

That’s when I discover the trick. By focusing on the regular hum of the fan, my consciousness pops out of my body and into my head. Instead of feeling my feelings, I’m “thinking” (with words) about how the fan works, what paper is made of, and how much money a lawyer makes. A psychologist would say I am “disassociated” as a way of…