Wyrd's normal

We've all had that sensation of déja vu: a deep-seated recognition of what is apparently unknown. This is simply the recognition of threads inside us, a kind of resonance between different people and places. Quite literally, striking a chord: though sometimes there is less of a harmony than a sense of cacophony...

By considering this viewpoint and accepting the weirdness of life, one can learn to dance with it. Patterns repeat. This is perfectly normal. Time and time again, we find ourselves making the same mistakes. How often, for example, do we find ourselves picking the same kind of job, partner, knackered old bargain car that isn't a bargain at all... and not learning a thing? Round and round we go, and never seem to progress. We feel trapped.

Of course, it's sometimes seemingly more easy to lose ourselves in fatalism - the idea of we can't or won't take responsibility for what we do because it's all "predetermined". However, if we accept the idea that all the threads of wyrd repeat, over and over again, both inside us and outside us, it's less simple to avoid this ability to respond. Even the negative threads are part of our lives; it's up to the individual how to use or change them. The choices do belong to us, even if we choose to ignore them: and that's the difficult part. It's not easy to accept one's bugbears to a point where they shrink to manageable size, or to take responsibility for them and not try to export them with that old classic, blame. The fears never go away. That's why I am still phobic about riding out on busy roads despite being a happy biker - but they do alter if we turn round and face them.

Sitting up, taking notice

By taking notice of what is going on, and becoming sensitive to one's own intuition (the sixth sense which is effectively a wyrd detector) it's possible to make decisions on a hunch, to work out where the choices are. By letting go of what we are used to, by moving away from habit, we suddenly end up achieving more than we ever dreamed of because more choices are suddenly becoming visible and available. Again, we come across this fear barrier - or even, worse still, the Silliness Barrier... that obnoxious sense of embarrassment that always comes with something that we've achieved when not expecting to, the feeling of "I can't... hey, I did just juggle three balls for more than three seconds! Wow!" or "Ohhhh! I can ride this enormous bike round the supermarket carpark without crashing into a trolley!"

Madness of the heart

It's simply because those people are afraid. We all have boundaries; wyrd is a fine way of exploring them but when somebody does something that another finds off-putting, it's because that action sets off the other's wyrd-wires twanging and pinging and that isn't a nice feeling when they're not ready for it. So, those words are a way of keeping others nominally under control... trying to get them feel uncomfortable about how they are.

Part of an exploration of wyrd is the need to become comfortable with one's own choices and the oddball twists that come with them. Another part is the acceptance that the rest of the world isn't necessarily trying to stop you having a fun time with life... it's just that sometimes having fun and feeling the wind in your hair at midnight is seen as odd, and frightening, and eccentric, and weird, and "should" be stopped. Small wonder, then, that it's so difficult for anyone to break away, but the freedom of doing that is quite exquisite. It also takes a lot of courage, and when one takes a look at the roots of courage - coeur rage, a madness of the heart - this makes a little more sense. It is mad, but it's also wonderful.