Nice note. Not that I necessarily agree with everything you say. First, I don't think I have said that I suffered from mental illness. That I have been mentally ill, I will confess. But to be blessed with the gift of laughter and sense that the world was mad was a price of being my father's son. He was mentally ill much as I was, and spent far too much time in mental hospitals. But he was, next to Einstein, the most brilliant man I have ever known (in a different line of work). Even though I knew that madness was hereditary in my family, and that it was likely that my children would suffer from it, I decided that it was worth the price. If I would choose to be who I was despite my madness, who was I to deprive my children of the opportunity of life. Besides, I dedicated myself to discovering a cure.
One thing I am grateful for is that when in paroxysms of pain and humiliation, I have never winced nor cried aloud. My head has frequently been bloody, but it has never bowed. I learned the most important lesson in my life from Epictetus (you might read Admiral Stockdale's article "The World of Epictetus). I learned that outside events must be permitted to cause suffering. So far, I have never permitted myself to suffer. I am sure it could happen. But I've been through humiliating public denunciations, threats on my life and family, shipwreck, car wrecks, broken limbs, surgery, heart attack, kidney stones and worst of all cluster headaches, and still been able to grit my teeth and defy the universe.
You are very lucky to be in mental equilibrium. I don't think I have ever recommended mental therapy for you. I don't think you need it. It's your intellectual equipment and your defective courtesy that need looking to IMO. You have a habit of making dogmatic statements about subjects of which you appear to be totally ignorant. That's mental deficiency (i.e. imbecility) rather than mental illness. I suspect you have an okay conventional mathematical mind. A good accountant or maybe even an engineer. An IQ of as much as 130, perhaps, but weak in language skills. You don't seem to have read much. You don't seem to refer to the literature much. True, you have a few idols, but you never show that you have read and understand them. I think I have always urged you to study and read and try to understand. I think you are still young. I think with work you could turn into a good, conventional intellectual. A worthy objective, to my mind, and I wish you well in your endeavors. I may be wrong about you, and underestimate your abilities. I hope I do. But I have had thousands of students and over a thousand students have earned MBA and Ph.D.'s under my direction. I have had students who became ambassadors, cabinet secretaries, CEO's, prize winning scholars (no Nobels yet) and have written hundreds of books and thousands of scholarly articles. I have raised, spent, and managed over $40 million in research funds in my life, and have (in part) distributed over $100 million in grants. I think I know a thing or two about intelligence and excellence. So far, you have showed me nothing in this line.
Not that you asked, but you volunteered. So I told you what I think. You're right about some things. I do love arguing with you and you frustrate me very much. When I was a Marine non-com and we had to take a 50 mile walk, I was dreadfully afraid of falling out and being shamed. So I would post myself behind the most skraggly feather merchant in the platoon and ride him all they way back home. (You can only march 50 miles if you're heading home). "You lazy little piece of shit, you drop out and I march right up your ass and grind you into the dust. Are you a coward? Close it up! Lean forward, dig in. ... etc. for fifty miles. Of course, everyone was pulling for the weakest link. (I later learned to hypnotize the terminal feather merchant and make him succeed that way). Saved my vocal chords. The others knew if they dropped out before the FM did, that they were degraded. Me too. After handing out that shit there was no way I was going to drop out. So everybody in my platoon marched home successfully -- always (even the stinking West Point lieutenant until he broke his leg). Cruel to be kind.
So Michael, you are my feather merchant here. Close it up. Push harder. Learn something. Study harder. Think! For God's sake man think!
Hut twoo tree, four to your let two, three four to your let. Tree four to your let. |
