When thinking is bad for you

I'm reading the first fiction I've read in literally years right now. It's called the Effects of Light, and it's soooo good.

Wayne reads me a lot of classic lit in the evenings, but I'll be honest-- for someone who used to always read three books at a time, lately I just haven't been into fiction. Ever since Jesus happened to me, really. I still read a TON, don't get me wrong, but now my morning and evening reading is always the Bible, and I spend most of my leisure reading time (haha-- ok, when i have some) reading Practical Christian Living books.... Bible studies, etc. So this was something I've been wanting to do, to see if I've outgrown fiction and to see if I could still gain something profound from it.

The story line is about a girl who grew up in intellectual, artsy circles, and who, as a result, had her life documented on film to make a statement. Interestingly, the photos show her and her sister au naturel, if you will, which causes quiet a ruckus amongst critics... namely.... "is it art? is it child porn?" The younger sister dies and the girl tries to move on, only to discover she needs to go back and explore her family and the roots of the pictures in order to move on. It's really well written. I think the author was only 25 at the time of writing it and I admit I'm pretty engrossed. (I'm nearly finished iwith it.)

The book raises some really amazing questions. My first reaction to the pictures was to think of Metart, which you can find on any pornographic search engine. (Not that you should!) It's no secret that many a photographer, "artist" or not, has successfully taken erotic photos of children. Setting aside the question of what constitutes pornography (Is it the nudity? Is it the eroticism? etc) I was particularly fascinated with a different aspect of the story.
Like me, the author (and consequentially the main character, Myla) grew up in a family of intellectuals. And the profound effect this had on her was to light her brain on fire and force her into some sort of thinking hurricane state... one which I'm all too familiar with. Intellectuals have this fascination with the act of thinking that, as a Christian now with a whole different perspective, can frankly drive one to the point of insanity.

I recall last week when I was conversing with my dad about some of the words Annika is now using. He brought up the fact that he had tried to teach her to say "I don't know."
"You see, " he told me, " You guys were only teaching her "yes," and "no." I had to give her the third option... the one that allows her to think."
My dad was really happy about this, but it was weird that I reacted poorly to it. I want my daughter to know YES and NO. I don't want her to have that third option now. It seems too dangerous.

After all, thinking ALWAYS gets me into trouble. I've spent most of my life in a flurry of brain activity... constantly searching for meaning in the things I experience. I'd lay awake at night pondering the existence of thought itself and wondering just how intricately connected different parts of my life may be based solely on associations my MIND could create. As a child, I was writing thesis papers for my parents, presenting ideas about the state of the world and the meaning therein. I remember being in 7th grade and taking 1st place in a State Optimist's Club Speech Contest. My speech topic? Female Circumcision in the Third World and their effect on the Western Feminist Viewpoint. What kind of seventh grader feels the urge to find meaning in THAT??
It was thinking that got me, once I was diagnosed with BPD, into the most trouble. All of a sudden it was like my brain broke and the thinking couldn't stop. It created a propensity towards self pity in me all on it's own.... and delved me deep into craziness.

I remember reading "Girl, Interrupted," (Susanna Kaysen, the author, also suffered from BPD) and finding myself in it at the turn of every page. In one chapter she discusses dwelling on her body parts. The line she reads says "which brings me to the tongue. You've been here before, and it's bad. Why is it so big? What are those bumps on it?" (etc, etc.) I related to that so well because, like her, I'd lay awake sometimes and wonder about things like that....even the tongue! I remember thinking, after reading it, that Susanna Kaysen had only become crazy the day they had forced her to think about wether or not she was crazy. It was the ACT of thinking that drew her into insanity and the act of letting go that brought her back out.

The book seems to do what every intellectual I have ever met does. It praises the use of thought and reason to determine what matters in life and to determine on what we should dwell. And within that lies the inherent danger of creating our own realities and getting lost in the worlds our minds create.
It affects Myla, the main character, because she cannot escape her mind and the effect of her family on it. It affects my father, who like billions of professors the world over, lies in hermitage in his book filled study, pen and paper in hand, pouring over work after work and thought after thought to determine their intrinsic value both as art and to the cause of humanity.

I guess what I'm saying is that being thrown back into the heart of the collegiate universe in which I was raised by reading this book, it has brought only one "thought" to the forefront, and that's gratitude that I escaped the curse of intellectualism that was placed on me. Because I can STOP thinking once I've reached the answer.... I believe that there IS an underlying answer. With God, whose mysteries are infinite and who I can "study" and ponder and meditate on all day long, I'm taken outside myself into the infinite world that holds deeper a meaning that ANY I can glean from my own personal thought processes. That's why I love conversation.... that's why I can't keep away from forums. I love to hear about the larger world and think, and put it into context with the tangible reality of what I KNOW is true. It's the minute I step outside of that into trying to personalize the meaning of the universe and human thought based on what I know and what I experience that it takes me deep into a danger zone...

Art is interesting, relevant, and important. But to place meaning in something that, ultimately, does nothing for humanity but ExPRESS a thought, and to hold it as an idol... that I am so glad to be free from. I am so glad that I can pray with total freedom: Lord, give me YOUR eyes for this situation and YOUR thoughts. Help me to have the mind of Christ for this.

It's soooooo liberating sometimes NOT to think.