Yin Yang

Yin Yang:    The concept,  which is often referred to in the West as "yin and yang", literally meaning "dark and light", is used to describe how polar opposites or seemingly contrary forces are interconnected and interdependent in the natural world, and how they give rise to each other in turn.


Here's an interpretation of the ying and the yang, from deep inside the rotted brain of a recovered alcoholic. 


Where's the good?  Where's the bad?  I see no reason to waste my time pondering the positive when I can spend so much time concentrating on what's wrong or the possibility of what could go wrong, in the future, in the near future.


Why should I attribute a good motive to someone when the fact of the matter is that some poor motive might be lurking right below the surface, ready to spring and devour me?  That would be a great use of my emotional energy.  I call it The Ying and The Worrying That I May Get Screwed Yang.  It's from a less well know Far Eastern philosophy called "What the Fuck Are You Looking At?"  It's not as prevalent as Buddhism or Confucianism but more popular among those who drink too much Lotus Wine, made by fermenting lotus leaves in sugar water.  I've heard it can be a pretty good buzz unless you mix it with a fine Bordeaux from the late 60's at which point the hangover is beyond belief, not that I'm going to find out.


Should I not be able to locate the poor motive at first cursory glance I find that if I dig and dig and dig I can usually ferret something out.  Should the impossible occur and I'm not able to locate the poorness, the poorosity, then I can create something out of thin air, like Kreskin.  I can bend a good motive into a piece of evil, whole wheat spaghetti through sheer force of will.  I never underestimate the ability of my fevered brain to turn anything into some real crap.


Surely something can go wrong today.  Is it any wonder that I've had trouble with anxiety and depression in my life?  Honestly, when my eyes open in the morning the anxiety machine is on, fully energized, operating under full power and at maximum efficiency.  It's only through repeated practice, a habit formed by working through The Twelve Steps, have I managed to even locate the reset button.  It's still not a given, though; sometimes the button is stuck, all gummed up with organic peanut butter, or it's broken and doesn't respond to repeated pushings, even if I hit it repeatedly with my sledgehammer, the only tool in my toolbox if you don't consider machine guns and dynamite (to shoot things and blow things up) as tools.  Often I can't even be bothered to hit the Reset button, preferring anxiety and fear over relaxed happiness.


Reset, reset, give me your answer, do.