Grand Delusions

The world abounds in problems, many of our own making. Natural disasters and acts of God aside, there are those humans who have made it their life's work to be sure that the smallest of molehills is worried and fretted over until it becomes a mountain rivaling Mt. Everest. I tend to be one of them.

And there are those with oddly self-appointed-theist delusions who are willing--nay, eager--to assume responsibility for problems over which they in fact have absolutely not the remotest influence or control. I tend to be one of them, too. Putting the two together makes for an interesting combination, each part feeding on and reinforcing the other. Fretting, in fact, stems from the illusion that the fretter is, indeed, able to do something about the issue being fretted over. That it is utterly counterproductive is beside the point. A little delusional theism is good for the soul...and the ego.

Toddlers and very young children naturally assume they are the center of the universe, since for the first few years of their lives, they don't really have any reason to think otherwise. All that really matters is themselves and what they want. Reality soon intrudes on these delusions to harshly dissuade the vast majority of them, but some few manage to cling to them and survive. Again, I am one, and the jury is still out as to whether this is a curse or a blessing.

As one of those for whom large areas of emotional development never got much beyond the five-year-old level, I have always sincerely felt, down somewhere in the core of my being, that I am indeed the center of the universe. But with grand delusions comes grand responsibilities. Therefore, when something--anything--goes wrong, I can't escape the feeling that I am somehow responsible for it. And as I became more and more aware of the world around me, this assumption has extended far beyond what directly effects my daily life. My theistic delusions have expanded to encompass just about everything that happens, anywhere, any time.

I've frequently addressed, in these blogs, the universal--and exponentially increasing--frustration caused by the individual's lack of control over his/her own life and destiny. That control has been usurped by the very technology and bureaucracy we created to serve us and make our lives easier. Unfortunately, as our creations expanded, we became more and more dependent on them, and they have become, in effect, stellar black holes sucking all living matter into it. We designed them to embrace us, but their grip became tighter and tighter to the point where we cannot breath, and we cannot escape.

Oddly, I do not feel responsible for either technology or bureaucracy, but only for their effects, over which I, like everyone else, am maddeningly powerless. Surely someone who is the center of the universe should be able to do something.

Conversely and perversely, while I'm happy to feel responsible for all that's wrong in the world, I for some strange reason do not take credit for all that goes well...for all the acts of love and kindness and self sacrifice and nobility that do take place every day. And why is that, you may ask--as I have? Simple. Because (and again here we have strong echoes of arrested emotional development) love and kindness and self sacrifice and nobility are the way the world should be. Always. That it is not, when I so want and expect it to be, must somehow be my fault.

I guess it all boils down to this: considering all the trouble and unhappiness and problems there are in the world--and not counting those which we create for ourselves--surely someone must be responsible. As center of the universe, why not me?

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