Chris Knight... Musician?

So today I began taking dulcimer lessons.

How it came to be that I'm learning to play dulcimer, is a long story. But I think that I'm going to enjoy this.

And if y'all are good, I might eventually post video of me playing it.

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Dear God:

Are You hearing me?

Do You care at all about us, about any of us?

I think about people who believe in You worldwide, who are even today being persecuted and tortured and killed because of their belief in You. What has it gotten them? Have You heard their cries?

If You aren't listening to them, why should I expect You to listen to me?

Why is it that every time You have blessed me with something, You yank it away like a cruel bully? That's what I'm starting to see You as: a cruel bully like the kind who used to torment me on the playground.

Do my prayers ever move You at all?

How can I believe You to hear my prayers about my needs? Scripture tells us to bring everything to you. I have done what I can to do that in a thankful and believing spirit... so where is Your listening ear?

How can I trust You, period?

Are we just playthings to You?

Are there some people You favor over others? If so then I just happen to be one of those on your %$*@ list. That's what it feels like to me.

How can I know anymore that You are good?

How can I trust You?

How can I know that my faith in You hasn't been wasted?

How can I know You are really there? Because more and more, I'm beginning to doubt and I really don't want to go there. But if You are there, You are giving me precious little to go on so far as Your being good goes.

Why should anyone here on this Earth believe in You when all they get are frustration, broken prayers, and answers from a book which they otherwise have no reason to believe in?

What are we to You?

How are we to know that you hear our prayers for salvation?

Do they matter to You at all?

Please talk to me.  Answer my questions.  Show me how to trust in You again.  Show me how to not to ever question my faith, for as long as I live.

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I finally watched Season 4 of THE WALKING DEAD

From the very beginning of its fourth season this past October, The Walking Dead has been sitting unplayed on my DVR, taking up a sizable amount of real estate.  I've been wondering what to do about it: either finally sit down and go through the season, or delete it altogether.

This past weekend I decided it was time to face some things, and let The Walking Dead stop haunting me (I know that won't make sense to most readers, just trust me).  I suppose I should admit at least a little curiosity at how this season would go, after Season 3 ended with the survivors of Woodbury coming to the prison and the Governor going Lord-knew-where into the Georgia wilderness.

I'm glad that I did choose to watch, because The Walking Dead's fourth season turned out to be some of the most powerful storytelling that I've ever seen from the television medium.

The season unfolded across three arcs, each well-contained without feeling especially episodic.  The sickness brought the first serious trial to face Rick and his community, and also some of the show's most gruesome moments in its entire run.  And then the Governor returned: psychotic as ever.  If there is one thing that could have been better with this season, I would have much enjoyed it if the Governor received an extra episode or two: let him really build up his army and get re-established as the biggest villain of the series so far.  But when at last he launched his assault on the prison, you just know that AMC nearly busted its budget to make that scene happen.  It was stuff you'd expect from a high-dollar Hollywood blockbuster, not network television.

And then came the road to Terminus.  Watching the survivors, now split up, keep going and trying to fight the odds against the dead and the living.  And struggling against their own inner turmoils.

You know what I'm talking about, if you've watched this season.  I posted on Facebook as I let the series unspool and some friends told me that there was worse... much heartbreaking worse... that was still to come after the prison assault.  That I had not seen how bad it gets and that one episode especially was going to bring the tears.

Yeah, you know it all right.  It was the episode titled "The Grove".  I watched it last night.  And I had to stop right there, because nothing I had seen on television ever before left me so numbstruck with horror and shock and disbelief.

It got to "that scene" and all I could think of was, "No, they aren't going there.  AMC is NOT going to do this.  Carol is NOT about to do Of Mice and Men on that little girl."

Was she right?  A friend and I were discussing it today.  He asked me what I would have done in that situation.  I had actually thought about that after watching "The Grove".  And I think... I think... that if it were me, I would have waited until Lizzie was asleep, and then leave with the baby and everyone else.  Let Lizzie wake up the next morning to find everyone gone but be left with a pistol and several rounds of ammo.  Give her at least a chance to live!  And that way she would not be a threat to the group anymore.  I thought that would be the best for everyone.

Except that Scott (my friend) raised a very valid point: that how were we to know that Lizzie wouldn't join up with another group of survivors, and be a threat to them?

I can see that.  And one also must be reminded that Lizzie was very, very far gone.  It went way more than simple denial about the walkers, about how the world had become.  There was going to be no reaching her.  No therapy for her.  No medication.  She was pitiful, she was helpless.  But she was also too weak in all of the wrong ways.  And after she killed her sister (and was poised to murder Judith), her weakness crossed the line into a very dark place in terms of what was right for the group.  Because how could the group possibly trust Lizzie?  How could anyone?

There was no clean way out of it.  I think Carol knew it.  And she knew that every day for the rest of her life it was going to haunt her.

I wish now that I had watched this season during its first run, because the discussion of "The Grove" alone was no doubt fascinating reading.  How many other television series leave the viewer questioning his or her sense of morality?  Too few, in this  blogger's opinion.

Looking forward to catching Season 5 when it airs.

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Review of GODZILLA (2014)

The last time I saw a movie called Godzilla on a big screen it was 1998, the evening before its official release date.  Two hours later I asked Chuck Buckley, my fellow columnist at Elon's newspaper The Pendulum, what he thought of it.

"I thought it sucked!", Chuck replied.

I had to concur.  That night sticks out in memory as one of the worst experiences I've had at a movie theater (though incredibly I didn't walk out: Star Trek Nemesis would be the first to get that dubious honor... and the nice ladies at the theater had let me watch that one for free!).  Godzilla 1998 was a travesty of celluloid: bad plot, bad dialogue, bad direction, bad best boying, bad catering...

...and the worst Godzilla ever.  No, nevermind.  That wasn't Godzilla.  I don't know what that was.  It was G.I.N.O: Godzilla In Name Only.  That slithering sacrilege bore no resemblance whatsoever to the classic Toho's Toast of Tokyo.  If only Dean Devlin and Roland Emmerich (who had previously given us Independence Day) had called their creature something other than Godzilla, I would have probably been forgiving and accepted it for what it was: a giant monster movie.  But noooooooo... they promised us Godzilla, and instead we got a Fraud-zilla.

I'm a huge fan of the original Godzilla, the original 1954 movie initially released as Gojira (absent the scenes with Raymond Burr) in Japan.  To me Godzilla was never a giant monster movie.  The original movie was meant to be a dead-serious film about nuclear warfare in the aftermath of the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  Godzilla was the result of man's incapacity to grasp the darker science he had unleashed upon the world.  He was never meant to be "cute" or "cuddly" and he certainly isn't supposed to be an anthropomorphic "father figure" type (yeah I'm looking at you Minilla).  Godzilla, to me, is not a character.  He is a force of nature: the biblical Leviathan, fury personified.  An entity beyond the means and devices of man.  Godzilla, when he is best handled, simply is.  And to date only two movies have given Godzilla the treatment he deserves: 1954's Godzilla and Godzilla 1985 (a film rife with problems but otherwise a fitting proper sequel to the original).  And for as long as I can remember I've wondered if an American studio could produce a Godzilla motion picture that went back to the roots of what Godzilla is, and tap into that and give the King of the Monsters the appreciation and respect he demands.

Well folks, I just came back from seeing Godzilla, the 2014 film and good googely moogely, they did it.  They nailed it.  This is at long last the modern take on Godzilla that I've wanted to behold for way too long.  This is how you do Godzilla, people!  By making him a force of nature as unstoppable as an earthquake or a hurricane.  And the more I think about it, the more I'm growing in the opinion that this Godzilla movie is in many ways better than the very first Gojira (a film that will forever be among my favorites).  It occurred to me that in the original movie Godzilla very nearly destroys Tokyo completely... but we're never given an explanation why he's doing it.

That is not the case with Godzilla 2014.  In this movie Godzilla destroys a lot more real estate, stretching all the way across the Pacific basin.  And there is a very plausible and believable purpose behind his rampaging.  It has to do with the MUTOs (Massive Unidentified Terrestrial Organisms) which have come out of hibernation, and which themselves are some of the gnarliest designs for giant monsters ever put on film.

But you don't want to know about them as much as you do about the star of the show.  This is Godzilla folks, in every conceivable aspect.  But along with much of the rest of the movie, you shouldn't hear it all from me.  Better to go in cold and behold Godzilla with your own eyes and take in what can only be described as the magnificence of this colossal beast.

Effects wise, this could be described as practically a perfect movie.  The effects blend in seamlessly with the characters and the story, without ever being overwhelming.  The battles between Godzilla and the MUTOs are perhaps the biggest and most destructive ever depicted in a motion picture (and you thought that the fight between Superman and Zod in Man of Steel last year was something.  Ooh-bruddah...).  And just wait'll you see the HALO jump into the city.  If you think you could jump from 30,000 feet into the midst of a ruined city being thrashed to pieces by monsters the size of ten city blocks, you are a better person than I.

But all of this is for naught without a very human tale being told, as we watch all of these people caught up in the wrath of the titan.  Ken Watanabe, always a great actor to watch, has a prominent part as a Japanese scientist named Serizawa (a nice homage to the 1954 original film).  The main story focuses on Ford Brody (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), a U.S. Navy ordnance disposal officer trying to return to his family and see them to safety.  But for me the standout performance belongs to Bryan Cranston as Joe Brody, Ford's father.  In flashback we watch Joe lose his wife in a horrific accident: something which sends him into an obsessive spiral, incapable of moving forward with life.  Cranston pours a heap of passion into the role and it makes a significant contribution to one of Godzilla 2014's biggest strengths: these are people, and we genuinely come to care for them.

As I was entering the theater a man was exiting, talking on his cell phone and I overheard him say "it was the best Godzilla ever and I've been a Godzilla fan all my life".  Leaving Godzilla 2014, I would have to say the very same thing.  It is absolutely the best Godzilla film yet brought to the screen in the entire sixty years of the franchise, and director Gareth Edwards and his crew deserve the highest accolades for giving the big green guy the respect due him.  I'm looking forward to seeing it again with friends this coming week: not just to enjoy it once more but to see the looks of awe, shock and delight on their faces.

Godzilla 2014 gets this blogger's highest recommendation.  It's absolutely worth catching in first run (and I'm looking forward to watching it in IMAX soon).

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Happy Birthday to George Lucas

The Knight Shift wishes George Lucas all the best - and a lot of appreciation - on this, the occasion of his 70th birthday!

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Lithium, Part 3

I need to write more.

Let me restate that.  I need to write more here, on this blog.  Because if I write more here, maybe it will help me as I write more elsewhere.

First, an update on the lithium.  I visited my psychiatrist a few days ago (funny how I can say the word "psychiatrist" in reference to my own situation and not feel ashamed or embarrassed about it, when once upon a time I could not possibly do such a thing) and it was the first time I've been back since going on the lithium carbonate.  We agreed to the lesser dosage that I've been on the past two or so weeks.  The original - taken three times per day - was giving me a seriously funky comprehension of the world around me.  Downright overwhelming, even.  I had to lower it in order to function and be able to concentrate on my writing, both for my book and my work.

But now I'm in another bout with severe depression.  And despite doing my best to work through it, well... yesterday and today have especially been hell.

The lithium makes bearing through it easier.  And I can go up on it if I need to.  If I need to.  But it comes at a cost: lithium, I have found, takes a toll on my creativity.

I can either be stable (more or less) and lose touch with much of my imagination, or I can be operating on all cylinders and tempt the edge of madness.

There is a demonstrable correlation between extreme creativity and mental illness.  This is what that looks like in my own personal case.  I am bipolar and bifurcated.  Regardless of which side the coin lands upon, I am both blessed and cursed.

My depression is compounded with regret.  There were too many yesterday.  Mom has been gone for more than two years and... I'm trying, I'm really trying, to move past not just her passing but also things left unsaid between us.  I have tried avoiding them as best I can these past few years but now they hit hard, harder than ever.

Dear readers, please take away this if you take nothing else from me writing right now: don't leave things unsaid between you and the people you care about.  Leave no stone unturned.  If there is something between you and someone else, go to them and make things right.  Don't let pride come in the way of that.  Pride is the destroyer of relationships.  It works like a cancer to eat away at all love, and joy, and hope.  Pride keeps us from doing that which we know is right.  Pride shuts our hearts and stops our minds from comprehending things we do which we will... we will... come to regret, if not now then certainly years down the road.  And by then it will be too late.

At least once in my life, I have been shut out and away because of pride.  More times than that, I have been the one who has shut others aside because of my own pride.  And every single one of those times, I have come away with hurt that I will carry for the rest of my life.

I've hurt others because of my pride.  And I've also been hurt because of the pride of others.

There is no hurt like there is to have mental illness, and to be ignored and shunned and put aside by people you care about.  It means to be exiled from the community of friends and family you have built around you.  To be made to know in no uncertain terms "you aren't good enough.  You aren't worthy.  You don't belong with us."

It's not all because of mental illness, I know.  Losing the genetic lottery isn't the entire reason.  There are also the behaviors themselves stemming from mental illness.  It's a funny thing though: those behaviors are much the same as those of someone who acts irrationally because of drink or drugs.

I don't drink.  I don't do drugs.  And neither do a lot of people who have mental illness, be it bipolar disorder or whatever.

Maybe having a condition like that makes it easier to not forgive a person than it would if someone didn't have bipolar disorder.  No matter how much sincere regret, how much we beg forgiveness for the pain and grief we cause... the pain and grief that I have caused... by merit of having such a condition we are to be disregarded.

To long for, to cry out even for forgiveness and yet to never know it.

There is a word for that: "Hell".

I have written before that mental illness is Hell.  And that is the worst part of it.  It seriously, truly does feel at times like utter abandonment, with nothing but regret surrounding me.  Being abandoned by everyone, and at times that means sensing the vacuous absence of God Himself.

Mental illness has taught me a lot about pride.  It has taught me how pride has led me to hurt, and it has taught me how pride has led to being hurt by others.

I wish there had been no pride, on either Mom's part or my own.  And now that's all gone.  There is no hope for clearing away everything between us on this side of Heaven.

Did she have mental illness?  In retrospect... I think so.  She did some very horrible things.  Things that no loving mother should ever put her children through.  And I struggle with forgiving her for them.  I struggle because if she had mental illness, I need to forgive her just as I long for forgiveness.  From people who I have known and loved, and many of them are no longer in my life.

I long for forgiveness from others, though I wrestle to forgive one of the closest people in my life.

You can call me a hypocrite.  I know that's what I am.

Don't let the sun go down on your anger.  Don't let pride destroy the most precious thing we have in this world:

Love for one another.

So, I'm wrestling with deep depression, and still trying to achieve balance between the black dog (as Winston Churchill called his) of bipolar and the roaring engine of creativity.  Work on my book stalled out during the past several days because of the depression: it is a horrible thing to want to engage one's mind when it refuses to be interested in anything whatsoever.  However I am praying that passion will persist, and that perseverance will prevail and perceptively percolate as some profound product.

Incidentally, I have begun to take up painting.  And I am soon to start taking dulcimer lessons.  Maybe the lithium is having a more beneficial impact on my mind than I had anticipated.

Even so, I need to write more.  For my personal reflection and sharing what it is like to go through an especially rough period of bipolar depression (and a tad bit of mania) and also to keep my skills sharp.  If I can write here and elsewhere, then perhaps that will lend itself to writing my book.  Which has 14 chapters planned out so far, including one that will raise everybody's eyebrows.

(It's the chapter on sex.  Consider yourself warned.)

Two books which I have read recently which I must highly recommend to those with bipolar and/or depression, and to those people such as these in their lives: An Unquiet Mind by Kay Redfield Jamison (who is herself a person with manic-depression disorder, aka bipolar) and Depression: Looking Up from the Stubborn Darkness by Edward T. Welch.  The latter was recommended to me by a dear friend, who I cannot thank enough for pointing me to this resource. Welch writes from a Christian perspective and his book has become a tremendous encouragement in regard to depression.

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Lithium, Part 2

Am now at the start of my third week on lithium carbonate, better known in the common vernacular as plain old "lithium".

Lithium has been a funny drug for me.  On one hand it has worked wonders with the depression: something which I've had to endure a particularly excruciating bout with during the past month.  The thoughts of wanting to be dead - really the thoughts of not wanting to "be here" anymore as opposed to seriously wanting to be dead - are no longer actively present.  Not "gone", but not impacting my daily life right now.  I don't want those thoughts to ever be truly gone.  If they were, I wouldn't remember what that depth of depression is like.  If I don't remember, there is nothing of the pain from which to learn and to grow from.

On the other hand lithium has accelerated my awareness of the world around me, and in some ways to almost as debilitating a degree as I was without it.  I'm unclear as to whether it's because I'm still getting used to the medication or because it's been longer than I can remember since I had this clear a perception of the world absent either the mania or the depression.  (AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Do NOT go off lithium cold-turkey if you have the same experience with this drug.  Talk to your doctor before making any changes to your drug schedule.)

I want to believe that one of the reasons God has made me have bipolar and especially the depression part of it is so I can help those who are also suffering from this.  Perhaps that's not really for me to ascribe purpose to, but it's one of the things which I cling to.  I have to believe that there is some meaning behind this.  That God doesn't let things happen for no reason, and this especially.

Anyway, I'm now well into my regimen of lithium.  I'm due for bloodwork soon, because lithium is something which needs consistent monitoring: making sure that it's being absorbed in the proper amount, both for its effects and also so that its more deleterious effects are avoided (namely with the liver).  As for how it's been working...

Like I said, the suicidal thoughts are being readily suppressed.  The depression isn't gone completely but neither am I curled up on the sofa with numbed thoughts racing through my head and making me unable to work... and I do need my work.  But to work I have to overcome the paralyzing thoughts of nullility (I made that word up).  Some might think it's ridiculous to hear that one is unable to compel his own mind to think.  For me it's not ridiculous, it's only too real.  I'm regaining an ability to think and to write.

It's time which I'm putting to good use, because I am writing a book about my life with bipolar disorder.  Lord only knows if it will ever be published.  If nothing else I'll be able to honestly say that I've written a book.  It's going to be about everything pertaining to being bipolar: the manic phases and what they drove me to do, the depression, the costs of bipolar in terms of friendships and marriage and career opportunities, the drugs, and also some surprisingly positive aspects of bipolar.  Along with a few other... well, things not normally associated with mental illness.  I think it will all make sense though.  It will also be as brutally honest as anything posted on this blog.  More so, even.

To write that we've had to adjust my medication slightly, including the lithium, because it's worked well.  It's worked too well!  My awareness has been drastically heightened.  So much so that even going outside to walk Tammy (my miniature dachshund) became overwhelming in terms of sight and sound.  The "easy" choices are to either be manic and have my creativity run rampant, or to be in depression and then my thoughts be empty, vacuous, numb to all stimuli.  It hearkens back to the hell curve which I wrote about a few years ago.

Other effects of my personal usage of lithium have included a change in taste perception and a lessened appetite.  My taste buds seem to have adjusted in recent days: at least the pizza from Papa John's seemed perfectly normal.  In regard to appetite, I've lost a number of pounds already.  Maybe that's compensation for the craziness I went through with Seroquel.  Friends and family have told me in the past few weeks that I'm already looking the best I have in a number of years.  Maybe it'll keep up... but not too much!

So, lithium has me closer to that mark of perfect equilibrium.  I doubt I will ever hit the mark right on target, and if I do I know it won't be long staying there.  And it will always be a struggle to some degree to hover around that sweet spot between mania and depression.  But for now, I'm enjoying a measure of peace.  Like an island in the eye of a hurricane.

That's all for now.  Back to writing this book.

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Forget not in the light what has been learned in the darkness.

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Lithium

Started lithium yesterday.

Have never been on lithium before. Had I been on it 15 years ago my life would have turned out completely different, no doubt. But there's no good to come speculating on what might have been. I could have accomplished some things, but missed doing a lot of other good ones.

I'm feeling rather intoxicated at the moment. I could write anything. But it's not "drunk" per se. My mind hasn't been this free from struggling against itself in at least ten years. The core of my being isn't used to this.

It probably won't last forever. I'm not counting on it. As with everything else with having bipolar there are good days where everything clicks and there are bad days when nothing works. But for the time being I am immensely thankful for this little season of rest.

Should I write about how tempted I was to take my own life last week? I guess I just did. That's okay. It's common. People with mental illness who have suicidal ideations aren't "bad" at all. You have to have this to understand the kind of pain that it is. And it's a deep, DEEP pain. Pain that is extremely difficult to endure. Suicide is a horrible tragedy, but it's not a flaw in a person's character. I've been there. I hope nobody will judge me for harboring that kind of pain and thoughts about wanting it to stop.

Lithium is documented to severely reduce the risk of suicide. I'm beginning to understand why. The depression has been unbelievably absent during the past several days. But I can't credit medication for that. I've had a LOT of wonderful friends and family who have held me up in their prayers and I can't doubt that God has been with me during this time. All the thanks must go to Him and to them.

And I'm working on a project about being bipolar that might be... I dunno, "interesting"? It's something that I'm not holding back on anything. What it's like to have bipolar, the hurt I've felt, the hurt I've inflicted on others (especially family and friends), the drugs I've taken. But also some other things not directly related to mental illness. We'll see how it goes.

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Well, so it begins

I still don't know what I'm supposed to be writing lately.

But I feel like I need to post something more than the running train of my current consciousness.  All that's missing are exotic pharmaceuticals like what Hunter S. Thompson used with his own.

So for what it's worth, here is what might be the very first "spy" photo from the filming of Star Wars Episode VII, somewhere in the desert of Abu Dhabi...

Speculation is that it's anything from part of a moisture farm, to the foot of an AT-AT walker.  Maybe the Jawas scavenged Imperial hardware in the decades following the Empire's defeat?

The new Star Wars movie begins primary filming next month.

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Years ago, as a student at Elon, I became... well, I still don't know the best word for it. "Active", "associated", "affiliated with", "hung around"...

Well like I said, I still don't know.

It was InterVarsity Christian Fellowship that I became a part of, in whatever insignificant capacity. Truth be known, that was a strange period in my life and there are times when I'm not exactly sure what was going on. Maybe I shouldn't look too hard for answers there?

I do know that it was my friends in IV who were the ones who helped me most to break free from years of guilt, shame and regret and to at last come into a real relationship with God. It was something that looking back, I realize that I had always wanted it but for one reason or another felt inadequate and unworthy. God used them and worked through them to show me a peace and a joy that I had never known before, or even knew could be.

The years since have in too many ways, not been kind. I'm sure some would say all of this could have been better, that I could have gained more, if I had not tried so much to serve God since then. And I will be the very first to admit: I have fallen and failed many more times than I have succeeded.

To serve Him is a choice that once made, I truly could never, ever turn my back on. Despite all the loss I've suffered, regardless of the situations I've gone through, no matter the hell of mental illness that I have had to endure... though all of that and so much more, I can not and would not want to go back to the person I was before at last finding Christ.

Why am I writing all of this?

There was a song that the praise team at IV used to play, one of many that we all sang to. Most of those songs wound up recorded on tape and several years ago I used my copy to make MP3s of them. I now have the entire collection of tracks on my iPad and iPod. Even after all this time, Elon IV's praise and worship songs are something I turn to when I need encouragement.

This song, from the time I first remember hearing it I thought it was the most beautiful, hope-filled, most inspiring of the entire set of songs that they used.

And in recent days and weeks, months even, it has become a song that I have especially clung to. When I was in a behavioral health center in December for extreme depression, I would sing this to myself late at night, asking God to please grant a peaceful rest.

It is a song that has come to mean more to me than I can possibly convey with words. The best I can muster is that it is a precious link to happier times, a comfort today, and a beautiful hint at things still to come.

I don't know who wrote this song. Maybe someone out there does and will tell me. I would love to know.

Lately I've used my iPad to play the "album" very softly as I go to sleep. It helps to quiet my mind, turn it over to God and let Him grant that rest. And this is the one I love listening to the most.

Maybe there is someone out there who, even if it's just the lyrics, they can find a measure of peace and assurance too...

We Will Fly

I want to sing something beautiful
To Jesus, Lord of my life
To give an offering of my heart
In a song that he’s never before

And then we will fly,
The Lord Jesus and I
And all my fears will fade into the night
And my praise will ring
As up to the heavens I sing
Of the love of God through Jesus Christ
　
Oh that the love that dwells in my heart
Would emerge from me undefiled
To go forth in purity, touching those I see
With the sweetness of the presence of Christ

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Dear readers of this blog,

Two nights ago I very nearly made the greatest mistake of my life.

Had it succeeded, another mistake, which I take full responsibility for, would have been the second greatest mistake of my life instead.

I don't know what I'm doing. I thought I did.

There are things which I cannot possibly be forgiven for and I wonder if my capacity as a writer and especially as a Christian writer is now irredeemably destroyed.

I would do anything to take back what I have done. More than I would do anything to change having, well, this.

My heart groans to be free of this world. My spirit longs to at last be unshackled and to fly away home.

I have lost loved ones and I don't know how to ever gain them again.

There are people who are going to laugh and gloat that I am saying these things. I couldn't care less. My heart lied one time too many to one friend. It will not lie here.

I don't know what I'm doing. And God is so very distant now, I cannot hear Him. Could I have heard Him at all? The times I thought I heard God, was that nothing but my disease playing with my thoughts?

I don't know.

I know nothing.

I wanted to be a father. I would have been a good father.

I wanted to be known as a good man. I wanted to be a good man, through and through.

I create nothing. I destroy everything.

I am become Death, shatterer of worlds. My own has not been spared.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

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Why are people so cruel and spiteful to each other?

Why do people who have better minds than mine choose to be like that?

The love of most has grown cold.

The world is going to hell.

There is no more rule of law.  None at all.

We deserve everything that is coming toward us.

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Putin's prize: The Second Rome

Vladimir Putin may have come from the KGB.  But there arguably exists aspirations which are far away and removed from anything the Soviet Union set out to achieve.

Allow me to paint a picture...

Very soon, Russia's invasion of Ukraine will commence.  Complete control of Ukraine is not Putin's objective, but neither will it stop there.

There are even now reports of the Russian army stationed in Moldava beginning maneuvers.  It is altogether possible that Ukraine could be faced with invasion along two fronts.

Or not.

Ukraine is needed not to solidify Russia's annexation of Crimea, but to establish an uncontested highway for troops and materiel to be transported to the south and west.  Poland?  Likely it has barely figured into Putin's strategy.  Poland will not be a factor.  Putin is aiming for something far more than re-establishing the borders of Soviet domination during the Cold War.

The Russian army now has free and clear dominion across the north and northwest of the Black Sea.  Next on the agenda: Romania.  Which may or may not acquiesce to Russia's military movements.  When Putin's goals are made clear (perhaps by diplomatic channels) Romania will gladly afford the Russian army to pass through what could be called the "Carpathian Corridor".

And so too might Bulgaria, and then Greece, quickly rally to give passage to the Russian armed forces.  Political boundaries will yield to common cultural ties.  The entire region along the western Aegean Sea is now firmly under Russian control.

It will not be very long before entire divisions of soldiers, tanks, supply lines and reserves are sitting along the border of Thrace.

Ukraine?  Putin is aiming far higher than that.  Ukraine just happens to be in the way.

Because Russia has now positioned itself to take the true prize.  The prize that has been the ultimate goal of Russia - and Orthodoxy in general - for nearly half a millennium:

Istanbul.

The city once known as Constantinople.  The shining jewel of Orthodoxy, until it was conquered by Ottoman Turks led by Sultan Mehmed II in 1453.

Putin knows that he must act soon.  Even now it is being actively discussed in Ankara that Haggia Sophia be turned once again into a Muslim mosque.  Haggia Sophia, which until the fall of Constantinople was the crowning architectural achievement of Orthodoxy as well as it's spiritual focal point in the earthly realm

Haggia Sophia is now a museum.  But to make it a mosque anew?

The Russian - and Greek - Orthodox will NEVER tolerate it.

And then Putin makes the final play of his long game: the re-taking of Constantinople. Russian Orthodoxy's long-dreamt re-conquest of Constantinople from the heirs of the hated Ottomans. The restoration of Haggia Sophia as a church.

It has long been said in Russia that Rome was the first, Constantinople is the second Rome. Moscow is the third. "A fourth there shall not be."

The Third Rome, after more than four and a half centuries, is readying itself to retake the Second. 

Vladimir Putin could very well deem himself the man who is destined to achieve Russia's longest, most lusted-after goal.

It is almost certainly a thought that Putin has seriously contemplated during the past several months and years.  For sure, it has been at least a lingering thought these past few weeks.

Think that western Europe will try to intervene?  In the two and a half decades since the fall of communism, Russia has come to control more than 1/3rd of natural gas and petroleum products throughout the European Union.  Putin merely has to threaten to shut down the pipelines and most of Europe will not be in a position to negotiate with him.

Meanwhile, the troops and tanks are set to roll across the border of westernmost Turkey.

And then they do.

The Second Siege of Constantinople has begun.

It has now gone from clear provocation to full-scale war between Russia and Turkey.

In addition to Istanbul itself, Russia and Turkey especially fight for control of the Bosporus and Dardanelles straits.  The Dardanelles will likely be the secondary objective after entering Thrace.  If Russia succeeds in taking Istanbul - and it most certainly will - Putin will have effective control over the entire Black Sea region apart from northern Turkey.

All to reclaim Constantinople.  To at long last punish the Turks for the desecration of Haggia Sophia.

It could be the single largest open conflict between Christendom and Islam in hundreds of years.

This is the scenario that I have seen could possibly unfold.

Time will tell.

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Bipolar Disorder: Research proves that... it wasn't a choice

Note:  This blog hasn't been the same lately.  I don't know if I should keep going or not.  What do you think?

The night before...

The recent state of this blog is reflecting my personal life, and it has nothing to do with just turning 40.

40 is the biblical number of completion.  Moses was 40 when he fled Egypt and it was 40 years later when he returned to lead his people to freedom.  It was 40 years after that when the children of Israel arose to take the land promised them.

Jesus was in the wilderness for 40 days, fasting and being tempted by Satan.  Only after that did He begin His ministry.  Noah and his family endured rain for 40 days and 40 nights.  No doubt there are other examples.

(I haven't seen the Noah movie.  I don't plan to either.  When I heard there were Ents in it, and Noah tries to kill his granddaughter, I knew it wouldn't get my hard-earned money.)

Many people would turn 40 with dread.  It didn't even register with me.  I guess one of the reasons is that I'm just happy to have survived my 30s: a decade that very nearly killed me.  I'm not kidding.  It certainly did see my life almost destroyed in too many other ways.

For the past few months things have gone very horrible in my personal life and I'm struggling to understand the whys and the hows of it.  I'm no closer to understanding.  God isn't providing any wisdom, but I guess He doesn't have to to begin with, does He?

Last week though, He did provide something that, well... it has come as both a great relief and a saddening understanding.

It was a friend with a far more brilliant mind than most who passed along the news to me.  I'm glad she did.  In the week since I've studied everything I can about these findings and more than I can express in words, I have felt a tremendous burden lifted from my heart and soul.

Last week new research was published by a team at the University of Michigan, having to do with bipolar disorder.  Which has been the biggest bane of my existence, for far longer than I initially realized.  My bipolar intensified severely beginning more than ten years ago and if it hadn't been for counseling and coming across the right combination of medication, I would probably be dead.

The researchers at University of Michigan took skin samples from volunteers who did not have bipolar, and an equal number from those who are afflicted with bipolar.  Those skin cells were induced to become stem cells and with further coaxing, made to develop into neural tissue (something that never ceases to amaze me).  For the first time, the behavior and function of bipolar disorder neural cells could be examined at length.

Neurons of Bipolar Disorder individual
(photo credit: Univesity of Michigan)

The findings were extraordinary.  The neurons of those with bipolar disorder were found to function radically different from those of "normal" people.  For one thing, they communicate with each other drastically different from mainstream neurons: at times uncontrollably.  Signals can often spin out of control.  There are more genes which express themselves into receptors for calcium ions, needed by cells to send signals to each other.  There are far more synapses and dentrites present than those of non-bipolar individuals.  It is now believed that bipolar neurons are already activated at the embryonic stage and continue to affect brain development throughout an individual's life, manifesting especially in the early years and young adult phase.  Additionally, the researchers discovered how lithium "calms" the neural activity down, though its effectiveness can differ from individual to individual.

Another group of researchers a few weeks earlier announced that 3 genes have been found which are associated with bipolar disorder.  Between that and the study of bipolar neurons, it is truly an exciting time for bipolar disorder research.

It's stuff like this that makes me thankful for modern medical research.  And this is only the beginning.  At last, science is starting to have an understanding of bipolar disorder and how it may be treated.  In the future, treatment may be possible for those with bipolar on an individual basis, instead of trying one drug cocktail after another attempting to control it.

But even so... I have a mixed reaction to all of this.

Because now I know that there wasn't a choice. There was never a choice.  None at all.

I was going to have bipolar disorder.  I was going to have bipolar disorder.

For those in the future, there may well be effective treatment for bipolar disorder.  But for me, it is too late.

From before I was ever born, the chromosomes were poisoning the well.  The neurons were working their mischief.  Subtly altering how my brain was developing.  Making seemingly inconsequential shifts in my brain's structure.  Setting up a time bomb set to explode years down the road.

It was going to happen no matter what.  We know without any doubt now.

My grandmother, we are now certain, had bipolar disorder.  Her father before her suffered mental illness and we also now believe it was bipolar.  My grandmother had two children and each of those have two children.  Neither my father or aunt have bipolar.  Nor do my sister or my two cousins have bipolar.  Instead the genetic roulette wheel landed on your friend and humble narrator, Robert Christopher Knight.

I guess if it had to be someone, I should be glad that it was on me.  Bipolar disorder is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.  If somebody had to lose the dice roll, I would volunteer myself rather than see anyone else suffer.

I have bipolar disorder and from the earliest possible point, it was something I was doomed to be hit with.  There is a sense of relief and vindication (as one commenter on this blog put it) in knowing at last that this wasn't a "character flaw".  One of the things that being bipolar has taught me is that the mind and soul are two VERY separate things.  There is the flesh, there is the mind, and there is the soul.

My heart and soul are untouchable by bipolar.  But this fallen world can - and has - done plenty of damage to my body and mind.

It was a disability that was poised to strike without my having a say in the matter.  Another thing that bipolar disorder has taught me is to have a much deeper humility and appreciation for those things that I do have, because there are many people who are worse off than I will probably ever be.  You can't understand a disability until you yourself have one... and I pray that nobody else would have to suffer a disability.  Especially this one.

I am relieved.  I am thankful for the new research.  And at the same time I have a sense of grief.

Bipolar disorder, I see now, has always been there and making me "different" from others.  Bipolar disorder has destroyed opportunities which I regret were missed.  It has cost me friendships.  It cost me my marriage.  And lately it has come very close to completely derailing my freelance writing career.

And apart from a regimen of medication (which sometimes is not completely effective) and regular counseling, I never stood a chance to not lose all of those things.  Things that were very precious and dear to me.  And still are.

But again, if a person, especially a person in my family, had to be hit with bipolar and suffer the consequences of everything associated with it, I would rather it have been me and not them.

And yet, I can't bring myself to rail against God for any of that.

Have I cried out to Him before because of this?  Absolutely.  But this is something that I just can't find a reason to charge Him with anything.

Because if He knows that I have this and was always going to have bipolar disorder, then I have to trust that He understands completely, and even better than I possibly could.

I have to trust that God didn't allow this to happen without some purpose.  What that purpose is, I have no idea.  I may never have any understanding of it.

I trust that God knows all of this, and that in His own time He brings healing.  He brings restoration.  He brings wisdom.

And He brings hope.

I have a hope now that those yet to come will never have to go through what I have because of bipolar disorder.  If I can play any part in that, however small, then I will consider that to be the greatest honor that one can have in this life.  I may have had no choice in being hit with bipolar disorder, but I can and do choose to do what I can to help others who have this devastating mental illness.

Actually, come to think of it... that isn't really a choice at all, either.

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If we can't pray to God for wisdom and strength when we think times are going well, don't expect Him to grant wisdom and strength when we pray to Him when times are woefully desperate!

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To have happiness at the expense of that of someone I love is something I could not live with.

There are times when you have to step back and love a person from afar.

Just something God taught me last night and then again this morning.

I may or may not write more about it later.

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