The Diconnected Idealist

Anger

The Disconnected Idealist

I sometimes think I’m the only sane person in the world … and maybe the smartest. But then at other times I think that I must be insane … and an idiot. Either way, I have come to recognise that I’m different to the majority of the people around me. And that’s been a struggle, a struggle to accept who I am. But I’m slowly coming to understand it all. I am an idealist.

So much of what I see in the world of “reality” is totally foreign to me – I just don’t understand it. I think each day of the possibilities, of the words of John Lennon’s “Imagine”. Kate tells me that my whole life is a song, unreal. And I do often feel that I’m sleep-walking through life. But I believe in the power of dreams, and the words of people like JFK – “Some men see things as they are and say why; I dream things that never were and say why not”.

There is sunshine, peace and happiness in the world I dream. People there understand the value of co-operation over the futility of personal competition. There is no enemy, there are no guns and no corruption. There are no wars. There are no borders, no religions, because those things divide people rather than recognise the truth of our oneness. There are no possessions because everything is shared in a world of egalitarianism. There are no rich, no poor. Money is something that is traded, but not an end unto itself. In my world the big picture is always so much more important than the trivialities of reality. Compassion and empathy are revered. The need for power and control are recognised as dysfunctional, and subsequently scorned.

Talk about a dog’s life – if only. Dogs have no religion, no valuable possessions, and epitomise the ethics of unconditional love and acceptance. They should be our inspiration.

I battle daily to accept that it’s OK to be me.  I just don’t feel I belong, I feel disconnected. Disappointment and frustration are my constant companions. I have spent the majority of my life trying to avoid reality. Of course this has meant that I neglected my real-world responsibilities. It made a bad husband and a deficient father. For that I apologise.

It has been a challenge. It remains a challenge. So often I wish I were someone else. But I know that self-acceptance is the destination of this incredible journey. Some days it’s easy, others it’s almost impossible. I know love is the answer, in both worlds. And self-love is the key. I’m doing my best.

Geoff Mooney