mills

My name is Mills Baker; I write about love, culture, art, religion, mental illness, philosophy, memory, politics and the rather random.

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Posts tagged freud.
You might consider reading Maira Kalman’s “I Lift My Lamp Beside the Golden Door,” an illustrated narrative of life on Earth -from dinosaurs to motorcycles- and the United States, culminating in some reflections on immigration and beauty. I saw it thanks to Ayjay.
Freud makes an appearance, as do the Native Americans, the Europeans, the residents of the primordial soup, and some striking photographs.
If you do read it, I would be interested: what did you think of it? Was it too political? Too personal? Silly? Sweet?

You might consider reading Maira Kalman’s “I Lift My Lamp Beside the Golden Door,” an illustrated narrative of life on Earth -from dinosaurs to motorcycles- and the United States, culminating in some reflections on immigration and beauty. I saw it thanks to Ayjay.

Freud makes an appearance, as do the Native Americans, the Europeans, the residents of the primordial soup, and some striking photographs.

If you do read it, I would be interested: what did you think of it? Was it too political? Too personal? Silly? Sweet?

“Freud made it possible to consider to consider sexual repression a medical complaint, and therefore endowed it with the prestige automatically enjoyed by anything having to do with health in a nation devoted to self-preservation.”

Allan Bloom

As a statement about the American character (to whatever extent such a thing truly exists), this is brilliant: Bloom connects our persistent obsession with, and reverence for, health and medicine with our national, self-preservation-oriented identity.

For the individual striking out on his own, the pioneer, the American archetype, self-preservation is almost the sole imperative; indeed, taking care of one’s interests, and those of one’s family, is the primary drive in our democracy and our capitalist economy (both of which work very well).

That we are neurotically transfixed by health is best seen not in our endless efforts to recover youth and prolong life, but in the aura of sacredness medicine confers on human experience. I know this firsthand as my bipolar disorder is afforded all manner of accommodation by my employer and my friends, whereas no one would give a damn if we described me in extra-medical terms: Mills is an erratic, irrational, emotionally deranged jerk.

As soon as medicine bestows a title on something -pain, despair, obesity, abusiveness- it is instantly removed from the realm of judgment in America, and becomes a sacred experience beyond interrogation, worthy of infinite deference. Hence (1) the competition among the hysterical and the young to legitimize their sorrows and sufferings by getting them ‘named,’ and (2) the increasing incidence of hard-to-test problems, like mental illness.

If it is sacred and rewarded, why not call your slight sadness ‘depression,’ or your cruelty to animals a ‘psychotic break’? Indeed, how often does one encounter the self-diagnosed manic-depressive, or the person who calls their headaches migraines, or the person who calls their indigestion acid reflux, simply to wrap their quotidian problems and reckless behavior in the aura of the medical, to eliminate their culpability and engender sympathy?