Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Emotional Intelligence Lost

Before each blog posting there is a wealth of behind the scenes stuff you do not see - well how could you unless you jumped into my brain?

What starts as an emotional dialog within me, is slowly filtered through that logical filter which I have been trained for, sifting through the vast ocean of feeling in a futile attempt to make some sense of it all. That paste-like mush of thought and sense, is then further refined into a commonality with which to communicate my intent to you. In our case, since none of us are actually telepathic, the choice of words becomes crucial.

Ready, I begin. "I am fine."

Whew. So much for that ocean of emotional intelligence which really governs our lives, silently behind the scenes, dominating feelings and dreams alike, yet ignored by intellect that has been conditioned. Yes, conditioned. If you stop and think about it, humans are no different than apes, less hair, more neurons and a suit. Yes, apes do not care about a suit.

A tie? What is a tie? It is a portable napkin and that is all. We have been conditioned to accept a tie as a status of business. A businessman wears a tie.

Off duty, I wear no tie. Jeans and tee shirt. No less a businessman except like a Batman without the outfit, the trappings reveal an ape!

It is amusing to look at the childhood photos of fat and bloated mid-life business people. Not surprisingly all these photos are of nice looking cherub-faced children, innocent and filled with emotional intelligence that they will sacrifice in order to fit into the logical world.

In our growth we lose purity and the ability to fully tap into that emotional intelligence, and really, if you think about it, that emotional ocean holds far more information than any thought we may rationally create. It is a pool of compassion, of empathy, raw and unfettered respect and fear, caution, marvel and all the awe that gets lost when we grow up and become jaded by the system in which we live, created by man and endorsed by politicians. Sure, God is on the money but is the money on God?

If you doubt me then ask yourself how music could so profoundly affect you, how dreams can leave real life residue when you awaken, and why you suspect; but cannot put your finger on, things that are beyond logic? You have no answer.

As we get older and recognize more our mortality, we cling to those emotional relics that we once held dear. This could be an artifact of some point in our life, back when things were easier, simpler, calmer, purer, less filled with conditional legalities that stifle every urge until we are left as a blob in front of the television or the computer pouring our heart out in short 140 character tweets and convincing ourselves that we are connected.

We cling to those fragments of our youth because back then we were free, more than just the lack of financial responsibility; youth represented a time of safety and hope, before reality came along to smack you on the back of the head, before you realized that you would have to put aside "foolish" things in order to grow up because that was what everyone expected of you.

As I lie in bed, a mere moment before things go black; there is a place where you slip back through the symphony of emotional intelligence, feel it tug at you and tell yourself it needs to be something you put on your to-do list. Somewhere in there, amidst the refrains that tug at your memories, the answer lies waiting to be grasped, rolled, kneaded, tasted and coveted like the prized possession it really is.

Somewhere in there you can still find hope; the promise of one day discovering that you still have that emotional intelligence, that it was there all along, smart enough to not get lost despite your bad habits and frenetic pace of life.

One can only hope.