Your brain is full of pipes and coins.

I went on a date with a scientist about two years ago. It was like any normal date except we spent the night debating whether or not humans have free will. I have to say it was good first date fodder. I mean, how many fucking times can you really talk about where you’re from?

His logical science mind said that humans most certainly do NOT have free will because we have DNA and that determines things we cannot control. And he had some other arguments too, but my brain could only comprehend one-third of what he was saying. He was smart. Not that I’m not smart, but I just realized the other day that I’ve been saying the word ‘parable’ wrong my whole life. Why didn’t people correct me?

After last week, I feel like I can say for sure that humans DO have free will. Or, they CAN have free will if they choose.

Last week, I spent fifty-six hours in therapy. Not because I’m insane, although maybe.

I signed up on a whim last year to get a Master’s Degree in Spiritual Psychology.
Yes, a whim. Some people go skinny dipping on a whim. I get a Masters– man, I’m a hoot.

When I’m finished with school in 2012, I will be certified not to be a psychologist, but a life coach. I don’t want to be a life coach. I’m sitting on my couch right now wondering what smells so weird, and my insurance keeps threatening to cancel me if I don’t pay on time. I really doubt I’m in the best place to coach other people about life. I am more interested in studying my own mind. I guess that could be considered narcissistic, yet another reason I could never be a life coach (Yes, continue telling me your problems, I’m just going to look in this mirror here.).

I haven’t told too many people about my studies because it’s really hard to explain what is spiritual psychology. I define it as figuring out how we got so fucked up and why. This brings me to my next conclusion: We’re all fucked up.

It’s okay. At least we’re all fucked up together.

Last week was our six-day culmination of our first year. There are three-hundred people in the class, and we break into groups of three to have mini-therapy sessions. This kind of therapy is very cause/effect. I might tell my ‘coach’ that I find myself nervous in social situations. And she has to search my mind and figure out that I’m nervous because I am doubting myself. And then together we figure out the source of the self-doubt. When I’m the ‘client,’ it’s like my brain is a big game of Super Mario Bros, and together we have to find the princess. We go through the pipes and we gather lots of pennies. And when we finally get to the princess, we realize she’s really a dad who was depressed and told me to go away when I was little (not sure why he’s wearing a dress and tiara. My dad was gay but not a transvestite). That dad spits out fireballs of inferiority from his eyes, so you gotta watch out. But if we press A+B +SELECT, we can stop the fireballs. And then we can forgive the dad because he didn’t do anything on purpose.

It might sound confusing and woo-woo, but I really think it’s the way to free will. Otherwise, we don’t have free will. We want to write a book or have a healthy relationship or move across country, but we can’t because we’re held back by fear or we can’t stop smoking pot or we’re lazy. We have to become aware of all those blocks to finally be free.

It’s so easy to feel nervous and have a few drinks to make it go away for a night. It’s much more courageous to figure out where it came from and fix it. Heal it. Make it go away forever. If we are aware of why our brains are doing what they’re doing, then we can choose to follow them or not. It’s a choice. But it’s a really tough choice to make because in order make it, we have to be willing to go to the dark places in our minds, play lots of Super Mario Bros, wear hippie clothes, and deal with the stigma of possibly being a life coach.

I realize you may not have been wondering about your free will at all. That’s okay too. Perhaps if we go on a first date, we can talk all about figs and then I can write a post all about figs two years later. Anything can happen, my friends. Anything.