To Go Where the Brave Dare Not Go

I think I’m going crazy. Not in the traditional, involuntary, sense where one loses their grip on reality. No, I’m going crazy by choice. The other day, while driving, I noticed an individual who by all indications was homeless and appeared to be talking to himself rather energetically. Assuming this wasn’t yet another blue tooth misconception, then the man appeared to be quite delusional. As usual, my first reaction was of sympathy and pity for someone who has been given a much harder lot in life than my own. However, this time my feelings evolved into something much different. I was almost envious of the poor man. You see he has either never fully comprehended the world around him or he has devolved his psyche to the point of an utter escape from reality. This is an individual who apparently has no idea of his own dependence on society and therefore enjoys sovereignty usually reserved only for royalty.

I don’t mean to lessen the trials of those who are mentally challenged nor demean them for their disabilities. Still I had to ponder, what if a person could consciously abandon their sense of reality and willfully proclaim independence from the world. To be able to go to a place mentally where no outside influence can penetrate without my permission. This brings to mind the story of ‘The Man of La Mancha’. Like Don Quixote, I wish to choose my own adversaries and fight the windmill’s representation, whatever it may be. You know, to dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe, etc. It’s not that I want to be able to predetermine my own future, I’ve been intimately connected with my own mind long enough to know that any imaginary future I might dream up would come as a complete surprise, especially to me. It would be like the ultimate video game experience, my own virtual reality, where anything can and will happen without true consequences of any sort. If I don't like the outcome then I just hit 'reset'.

In fact I sometimes wonder if this is actually the case. Did I, at some point in the past, lose my grip on reality and now I live in a world of my own making, deep in the recesses of my mind? I don’t spend much time pondering this possibility because it brings up uncomfortable questions like why are there still mosquitoes and wars and where did Dennis Rodman come from? Besides, if indeed I am lost in my own subconscious, then I don’t want to upset it because things have gone pretty well up to this point.

Alas, I suppose contrived craziness is not the ultimate answer to all of life’s questions, or any of life’s questions for that matter. Truly the key seems to be in keeping the right perspective. As is most often the case, dreams will give way to reality, and reality will give way to perception. So to a certain extent I can choose my foes and make them as fearsome or as frail as I wish while still maintaining my sanity in its current state. Imagine that!