Mind that episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, where Buffy and the Scooby gang battles the vampire demon Kakistos? That episode, for some reason, reminded me of a very short (yet impactful) scene from Home Alone in New York. I always wondered why, until I learned the definition of the word kakistocracy.
Knowing Joss Whedon’s writing, the demon’s name is no coincidence. Whether or not my suspicions carry any merit, the definition remains;
“A kakistocracy is a system where the least qualified people hold power”
Chew on that one for a minute. Also, according to the Buffyverse Wiki, Kakistos means ‘the worst’ in Greek. Remind you of any unfit world leaders, perhaps?
This is definitely not going to be the longest post in the world, but that, in and of itself, decreases its chances of being Kakistos. I didn’t sleep at all last night, and seeing as I’m just now ending my workday, I thought I might try to get some kip tonight.
I wonder, though, if the worst doesn’t deserve a post all of its own. What do you think? Or perhaps I should focus my energy on something that would actually benefit society and quite possibly myself as well? It’s in your hands now and, as you know, I am a woman of my word. Perhaps I’ll take you behind the scenes of a recording session that took place this weekend, or maybe I’ll write about why horses seem to like to flap their penises about whilst grazing… Dropping, it’s called.
Good grief, how on earth will I do any research on that without getting myself into trouble?
Nevertheless, I shall leave you with these last words, before the inside of my eyelids catch on fire, and a lovely we video below. See you next Tuesday, muchach-hoes!
The hunt for inspiration to get through the week can seem a fruitless endeavour at the best of times – never mind when you’re approaching the midweek deadlines with completely rudderless navigation, because the week failed to start on the day it normally does. Who even has the time to stop and think about a possible motivational aide?
Regardless of my incessant digressions, there’s no escaping the fact that motivation is key to get shit (ha) done in an orderly fashion, and to an acceptable standard. So, when the promise of monetary rewards at the end of the month no longer cuts it – where does that leave us?
Most online dictionaries have similar definitions of ‘motivation’, but, seeing as I’m interested in it in the more metaphysical sense, I came across the below explanation on Verywellmind.com:
“Motivation is the psychological force that explains why a person does something”
Our driving force.
Now, I don’t want to be a total Kant (ha-ha), so, das ding an sich aside, I think we can all agree that motivation can indeed be defined as a very real force – a need, even – in the process of driving home our goals. So what, then, if and when it slips through our fingers?
It’s not just our friendly Newcastle psychologists that are interested in helping the demotivated masses; Psychology Today have posted their ‘7 tips for when you’ve lost all motivation’. Have a read, if you think it’ll be of interest to you. Personally, I don’t have patience for a two-minute waffle about IVF, so I don’t blame you for feeling too demotivated to read past those first few paragraphs either.
Anyway.
I’m a little sick of all this barely-touching-the-surface-stuff. Meghan Trainor might be all about that bass, but I am all about that nitty gritty.
I am sure there’s micro-levels of motivation in everything we do, down to the most basic of things – a bowel movement sure as hell motivates you to get off the couch and move your pasty pile of flesh and bone to the water closet before you accidentally relieve yourself on your crushed velvet throw pillows. But would be surprised if someone told me that such an event motivated them. In fact, all I ever hear about motivation – outside of true crime docs and Olympic athletes – is more often than not attached to a prefix; de.
I’m guilty of it to – just the other day I caught myself complaining about someone else’s behaviour being demotivating. I mean, I still stand by it, but what purpose does it serve? Perhaps, instead of letting it crush my spirit, I can let their behaviour become my motivation for changing my path to the extent that it no longer crosses theirs? Am I motivated enough to set some clear, attainable goals for myself, or do I just enjoy wallowing in the helplessness?
I used to get my motivation from the impossible; if someone told me I couldn’t or wouldn’t be able to do something, that was what I did. Regrettably, it worked the other way around as well – I’d lose interest in something if someone praised my talents or audibly supported my decision to do something. Weird. Moronic. Sad. But that’s how I worked – at least, when you smashed it when the odds were stacked against you, you somehow felt more alive. The risk of ultimate failure was perhaps the only thing that could make me do anything at all, because then I would have to reach my goal. The alternative was death.
Sounds pretty healthy, right?
I’m thinking that this all-or-nothing thinking isn’t the most sustainable life motto of all time. Perhaps I will need to allow for a few micro-motivations to slip in through the cracks to create the spark that reignites the fire.
The time has come.
Oh, before I bid you adieu, I will leave you with a video of Europe performing a song of the very same name below. Enjoy.
Diving deep into the metaphysics of it all this week, upon discovering a term previously flying far too far below my radar (and, incidentally, my navel) to receive any acknowledgement; metacognition. Naturally, this sent me into a frenzied bout of sceptical introspection… Scepto-ception?!
Good grief, if Susie Dent were to stumble upon this post, she’ll no doubt have me decapitated. With good reason!
So, metacognition is really just the ability to understand your own thought process. I suppose you could call it a sort of mindful thinking, where you dissect every morsel to see how it came to be and how it can be reconstructed or directed to develop further. I like to envision it as cognitive metamorphosis, where the thought process takes on a physical form… like a fertilised brain-egg, dividing itself into tiny clusters of what-ifs, pausing here and there to contemplate whether it would like to become a Falkor-type hero or a mini Mengele. And, should it fail its mission and choose the latter, it would cause itself to implode and would have to restart the process. Anyway, don’t take my word for it when you can read all about a few different definitions of metacognition on Science Direct, by clicking anywhere on this sentence.
What brought me here today, though, was my reaction to hypnosis. Which, in turn, brought me to a state of such relaxation that I found myself watching a full reel of this lady going on about metacognition and how it is more likely to occur in individuals who, for one reason or another, have had to teach themselves to anticipate the needs of others ahead of time in order to avoid conflict. I’m paraphrasing, but that was the gist of it.
Now, if this is not your first time here, I suspect you can smell a rant coming. But first, I’d like to once again touch on this hypnosis business. First of all, it was nothing like what popular culture has taught us – I hope you’re picturing a man being hypnotised by a magician on stage, instantly turning into a Clockwork Orange-esque giant baby by the snap of the magician’s fingers – it was quite the opposite. Although, the main principle of becoming relaxed enough to have one’s subconscious manipulated remains, it is a far more active experience that I thought it would be. (Active, in the sense that I was fully conscious for the whole thing – there was no ‘and now you’ll enter a deep sleep’ nonsense). Rather, this was quite similar to my experiences with guided meditation. Apart from the fact that during hypnosis, I was allowed to move if I had to – ultimately removing my urge to do so. And so, for the second time in 42 years, the other time was during a yoga class at the Quartermile PureGym in Edinburgh, I became so relaxed that I became a little emotional.
But, yeah, I relaxed for all of 20 minutes and then I cried. And then, on my way home, I began contemplating my navel. Normally, I’d say nothing good comes from such an activity, but it had me stumble upon a personality trait that I have come to detest in a certain type of so-called neuro-fluencer types; ignorance. The most painful realisation being that I had been guilty of the same on one or more occasions.
‘Me, me, meeeeee!‘ amirite? I jest, I know how to spell. Here comes the rant!
Owning that you’re a little different is great. But being different does not entitle you to be insufferable. Just, you know, come off it. You may have felt something click inside you when you were diagnosed, but that doesn’t mean you get to preach about like you’re possessed every time you’re in a social setting. Did it ever occur to you that your friend(s) might like to talk about something other than you for a change? They are the main character* in their respective lives too. It’s not as if they’ve been sat around, patiently waiting for you to find yourself. And it is certainly not their fault that you’ve felt as if you’ve had to hold your tongue for your entire life and have finally been given permission to speak up.
In fact, it is now you that are doing to them the injustice you thought others were serving you, when in all likelihood they weren’t even thinking about how their actions affected you. But you, the oh, so metacognisant, you are doing it despite your awareness of the potential harm your behaviour might cause. So, come the fuck off it. Talk to your therapist about your experience, discuss it with them, that’s what they are there for – don’t talk their ear off for an hour, and then go talk atyour pal about talking in therapy for an hour afterwards.
Ever heard of active listening, ya feck?
You’d want a friendship to be transactional, don’t you? Well, then you’re going to have to treat them with a little kindness and gratitude (and not serve them a lecture that would put a certain cheeto-looking dictator to shame).
Just enjoy the fact that you found something that works for you, and that your healthcare system can arrange for a professional to listen to you go on about everything and anything, from emotional scars to grief and that one time someone down the pub told you that you looked exactly like Jabba the Hutt… I digress.
You’re different – great! Now, put what you’ve learned to good use and be content with finally accepting who you are. You see, your pals already have. There’s no need for you to convince them of what they already know; that you’re worthy of their friendship. Perhaps your frantic waving of your freak flag was exactly what brought them to you to begin with – who knows? Either way, maybe now is the time for you to show them that the feeling is mutual.
Anyway, why don’t you have a look at the video below?
See you next Tuesday, for more madness!
*Links to an article on how ‘main character energy’ can pose a problem, onPsychology Today
Now, as a young first-year Philosophy student, I must admit I was never partial to David Hume’s school of thought (although I did find it funny that he supposedly changed his name from Home to Hume, because “no-one in England went by Home”. Pretty far-out behaviour, for someone from Lawnmarket, Edinburgh.
Looks like the drugs are finally out of the system – let’s celebrate the return of my ever-charming personality!
So, why the hell would someone in their right mind all of a sudden start reading Hume, when they already know they won’t like it? Next-level asceticism? The short answer is no, this was not an act of self-harm. In fact, I’ve not been reading at all – he was quoted (if only very briefly) in a podcast episode. I cannot for the life of me recall what podcast this was, and I refuse to go through the log on my streaming app, seeing as I’ve listened to hours and hours of music since. But I know it had something to do with reasoning and causation.
The original (and full) quote is from section 3 of the third part of the second book in Hume’s A Treatise of Human Nature. It is grossly taken out of context – much akin to a headline from The Sun – and reads as follows:
“Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey them.” (1739-40)
The quote is often seen in combination with another part of the text so far down on the same page that you have to assume the latter works as a sort of book-end to the former, after a series of examples of how the ‘self’ defines reasoning driven by passion. The latter does not follow the former without some degree of detailed explanation. You can read the entire thing by clicking anywhere on this sentence.
Now, feel free to call me on my jumping onto the express train to judgement city, but I’ve spent enough time behind semi-dodgy boozer bars to recognise the drunken ramblings of a grown man with certain, shall we say, repressed urges.
Nevertheless, it turns out the 2026 version of me actually quite likes these musings of Hume. And, what resonated was the part about our passions bleeding into our reasoning – and not only in matters of the heart. What are we, without passion? To me, life would have very little meaning without it. The joy you feel when a risky venture pays off. The slack you might cut yourself if it doesn’t, because the passion drove you to act carelessly.
I believe that any human creature capable of emotion can be passionate about a multitude of things. I mean, need I bring up the bog roll conflict?
When shit gets, well, real shitty, my passion-fuelled reasoning is the only thing that can shift my focus. Albeit not always in a good way, but still. Just like a limp handshake, a passion-less existence is not for me. Which might be why antidepressants only make me unwell – I need the passion to feel alive. I thrive on the chaos I’ve created, because I lets me access this superhuman stress-tolerance in the event that real chaos erupts. When you flip the switch, however, just crossing the street might feel overwhelming.
If you ever feel overwhelmed, dear reader – or if you’ve had enough of these seemingly unstructured ramblings – I’d like for you to drop me a message via the contact form. I’ve got loads of ideas, but I’m up for a challenge. Finally! 10 points goes to the first person that manages to stump me.
I am going to love you and leave you for now. I shall see you again next Tuesday!
It’s finally happened. The movers and the shakers, the doers, of this world have all been diagnosed with an array of neurodevelopmental disorders, leading to unavoidable burnout due to the complete exhaustion that comes with being forced to do fuck all but contemplate your own navel, ultimately leaving the world unattended for just about long enough for the meek to think they’ve inherited the earth.
The result? Well, take a second to look around you. You’ll either see a sea of zombies with their heads bent at an awkward angle, trying to make sense of millions of pixels forming ridiculous – artificially generated and based on the cookies they’ve let crumble all over their digital existence – shapes on a magnetic screen lit by sickly blue to keep them from ever having a restful night’s sleep ever again… Or worse, you’ll accidentally subject yourself to the news.
Right, that’s enough of the doomsday pish. But, sadly, I don’t think I’m too far off. We’ve become oh so self-absorbed. People seem to think it’s morally acceptable to apply for a job whilst filled to the brim with a self-inflicted parasite, fully intending on going on maternity leave within three months of being offered the position – a position that ideally should have been awarded someone with a work ethic, had the recruiting party had even one iota of business acumen. They’re eliminating any chance of progress – it’s the opposite of a sustainable solution.
Or you could study the collective works of philosophers Marx, Hegel and Kant. Or perhaps the works of this philosopher will be more to your liking?
I’d argue that the lack of empathy, the minimal importance your work has in your life and the general beigeness of society that the new omni-Deus/lord panic has invoked is alienating us further and further from anything other than apocalyptic apathy with every insincere ‘we’ uttered.
We, the people, are unequivocally fucked. Unless we wake the fuck up.
That’s it for today. Bleak, I know. If the world is still turning a week from now, I shall see you next Tuesday. Meanwhile, you should listen to this absolute gem from one of my favourite bands of all time; Flotsam and Jetsam.
Ever feel as if you’re going 200 miles per minute without moving an inch? Completely untethered, yet somehow confined by some invisible force that makes any type of forward movement impossible? You’re desperate to move, but void of course – any attempt at starting something new seems to fizzle out almost before you’ve even begun… Turns out there’s a word for that; Kenodromia1.
The Greek term [Kenodromia] is used in astrology, as a name for the period “when the moon is passing through a ‘void’ region in the zodiac” (as defined by Porphyry of Tyre in Introduction to the Apotelesmatika of Ptolemy), meaning, in a sense, that any activities, planning or manifestations executed within the specific time period that falls on this region will be futile. There’s more on the meaning of a ‘void of course moon’ on Jupiter’s Realm, if this is your cup of tea.
Now, regardless of your views on astrology, I think just about anybody would be able to relate to the feeling of utter hopelessness that labouring with futility beckons. And hopelessness is certainly something most of us would like to avoid feeling. Hope is what gets us through when everything has turned to shit and there’s no guarantee things will get better. What is the meaning of anything, if we don’t have hope for the future?
Last Friday saw the marking of World Mental Health Day, a day with an objective to raise awareness of mental health issues around the world. A tremendously important day for too many reasons to mention, made even more significant for me this year, as this was the day that Jess from The Next Chapter chose to share her review of my book. I love how The Next Chapter keep their content fresh and unique – they’re a go-to for anyone looking to find new authors, books with interesting hooks, or even the locations of the most magical little bookshops. You can check out what they had to say about my book on Instagram by clicking anywhere on this sentence.
For those of you who have read Journey to the Centre of the Mind…, you will know that the the story’s protagonist is faced with the choice between giving up completely or accepting and dealing with the detrimental effects of untreated mental illness. Needless to say, I am all about raising awareness and spreading the word. I am truly honoured that they posted about my book on such a special day. What’s more, it gave me hope. Hope that the story can keep finding readers who need it. The hope that others will find hope for themselves or their loved ones by reading the story. The hope that we will one day be able to remove any stigma or misconceptions. The hope that governments will start allocating the funding required for the medical treatment and ongoing research of mental health issues and illnesses. And that’s why I thought I’d look at the significance of hope today. After all, hope is the reason we’re all here.
The meaning of hope, according to Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary, is “to cherish a desire with anticipation”. Many renowned philosophers, such as Descartes, Hobbes, Leibniz and Spinoza, distinguish hope from wishful thinking in that hope can be likened to confidence – something that can function as a catalyst once you realise that something is you desire is attainable. The theoretical likelihood of failure can be equal to that of success, but being able to see what needs to be put in place gives you motivation enough to convince yourself that the positive outcome is achievable. Hope’s opposite is fear, which we all know can function as a sort of assurance of negativity. One breeds optimism while the latter breeds negativity (guess which one is easier to succumb to).
Brian Lawlor, Founding Director at GBHI at Trinity College Dublin, wrote in the post pandemic article What is Hope and Why Do We Need it? that hope is “a feeling and a mindset that you have to work at in order to achieve your goals, despite trying and extenuating circumstances”. It seems to me that hope is indeed something that we need, for both sustenance and growth – collectively and individually.
Unsurprisingly, it seems as if hope can beneficial to healing as well. In a 2019 article on Psychology Today, Polly Campbell writes that “research indicates that hope can help us manage stress and anxiety and cope with adversity”.
Hope isn’t just a feeling or ‘wishful thinking’. Rather, it is the ability to see beyond the horizon. It’s not about trying to be optimistic where we should be realistic, it is about knowing success is possible and taking an active role in achieving it by figuring out the steps. It is about keeping your calm and trusting the process, even on those days where it feels as if we’re completely stuck and nothing works the way that it should. It’s like realising you will have to abandon pole position in a race to refuel when your car is running on fumes if you want any real chance at making it through the last few laps at all – when there’s gas in the tank, there’s still hope.
Maybe this feeling of running in the void is the universe telling us we need to take a break. Who knows? All I know is that hope is powerful.
See you next Tuesday, no doubt for some more blatant self-promotion.
Gonzo With the Wind 