Crazy, Man

For some time now, I've been sitting here, looking out of the window, watching this guy in the park across the street. I infer from his state of disarray that he's homeless, and from his actions that he's totally mad. Yes, he's talking to himself, but that in and of itself doesn't seem so strange anymore; so many cell phone users have headsets and look as if they're talking to themselves. For that matter, I talk to myself all the time. I just don't do it within earshot of anyone else.

What distinguishes this guy as being a bit "out there" is his performance ...almost as if before an audience. He began with what looked like an exercise in tai chi. If he'd stopped there, nothing would've seemed out of the ordinary, but then, he started a little dance routine with an unseen partner, sort of like the "hustle" (familiar to those of you who remember the 70s). Then, he segued to a sort of "Don Quixote" thing, having a violent altercation with an unseen foe. He even paused for a moment [between the second and third acts] to change his clothes. Yes, he took off what he had on, sat there [on the park bench] totally naked while he rifled though his sack to retrieve a new outfit, which he donned as if in the privacy of a dressing room.

All the other people in the park, although giving him a wide berth, simply pass by with no acknowledgement that his behavior is anything but normal.

What state must his mind be in? What's his reality really like. Does he even know that he's outside the realm of normal. Which, of course, brings up the question, "What is normal?" ...especially here in San Francisco where normal takes on a whole 'nother meaning. I suspect the only real difference is that this guy doesn't know and/or care that his behavior is perceived as "strange".

Watching him, I feel a bit uneasy as I ponder, "There, but for the grace...." Some of my own quirks and behaviors, especially when no one else is around, give me pause to question my own sanity -- I've always kinda questioned my sanity. But it is said, "A very good sign that you are crazy is the inability to ask yourself, 'Am I crazy?'" So, on that basis, I'm totally sane. An excerpt from John Stuart Mill's extensive essay on the nature of happiness reads, "Ask yourself whether you are happy and you cease to be so." So, by that same token, you could say, "Ask yourself if you're crazy and you cease to be so."

But, what is sanity really, other than the ability to discriminate ...to distinguish what of yourself you let others see. If everything about each person were made available for scrutiny, who among us could actually pass a test of sanity? Better still, who among us is qualified to determine what the parameters of such a test should be? And there's always changing social morays. In another time and place, my own [sexual] proclivities would have me labeled "deranged" ...a perception to which some choose to cling, still.

That which used to be bizarre is now often considered a quirk. That which was deemed perverted is now favorably referred to as "kinky" ...using the label of "pervert" almost as an endearment. There are even clothiers that sells straight jackets as fashion wear. So who's to say who or what is crazy?

Mind you, I don't mean to make light of mental illness, which among other things can be caused by actual physical abnormalities or chemical imbalances of the brain. All I'm saying is that in the deep recesses of every psyche, everyone is a little bit nuts.

Quote of the Week: "Don't try to be perfect; be crazy, be weird; go out and screw up. Have fun!"