On the Surface of the Moon

On the Surface of the Moon

My name is Jay Stober, and I am 65 years old. I live in a town north of Fargo. Yes, we have a lot of winter here.

By trade I am a self therapist. That is, I clock in every morning and, for about eight hours a day, I work at bringing myself into mental well being. I have been doing this now for almost six years. The results are gratifying.

I'm good at my job. To be a good self therapist you may or may not need to be intelligent and knowledgeable, but you will definitely need humility. It has to be the right kind of humility -- humility without contrition. Contrition messes up humility something terrible. Sucks the therapy right out of it. Strive for humility. Forget contrition.

Hey, Jay, this is Anut Kase in Nebraska. Not to compete with North Dakota or anything, but winters aren’t so pleasant in Nebraska either. Great blog may I say! “Humility without contrition” is fantastic.

But can anyone become a self therapist? What's your take on drugs? Are there really neuro-chemical imbalances? How do you handle information glut? Psycho babble. There are so many people out there saying so many things.

Personally, I am at the end of my rope. No time for details, but that’s why I’m writing. What should I do?

The nice thing about being a self therapist is that I don’t have to have answers for other people’s problems. However, I guess I can share experiences. Once, when I was at the end of my rope, I just let it go.

Yeah? Cool! What happened?

This was at the end of the sixties. I went into free fall actually. I was twenty-six at the time. I had been clinging to the end of that rope for more than twenty years. I spun out into a psychotic episode that lasted about five months.

Wow! So? You’re still here. Do you recommend that route? What finally happened?

Well, as the poet writes:

In Beulah some say
the daughters of Albion
weave spaces for men to fall in

Hey, that's pretty! It's Blake isn't it? Sounds like Blake.

It’s Blake. My point is, if you are going to leap into the Void, you might first want to make sure the daughters of Albion are in place to catch you.

I take it you had failed to take that precaution?

The only daughter of Albion I knew back then had memorized all the witch’s speeches from Macbeth. "Double double, toil and trouble."

Oh-oh! Bummer. I think maybe she’s now moved to Nebraska.

It’s true. She’s currently in Lincoln and practicing psychotherapy, if you can imagine. Bald-faced therapy of others too--not the kind I practice. I could give you her address.

Thanks, no.

Anyway, as for what happened, as I say, I went free falling. Finally I landed on the surface of the moon.

Since the surface of the moon and parts of the Dakotas are not all that different, it took me a minute to figure out what had happened. But then I heard a guy from Houston who was radioing me.

"I got good news and bad news,” he said, his voice crackling the way radio voices did in those pre-digital days. “The good news is that you are the seventh man ever to step onto the surface of the moon.”

“What’s your bad news?” I asked.

“The bad news is that they just cut our budget, effective immediately. New administration. The sixties are finished."

I pondered this information.

"Does that mean you can’t tow me home?" I asked.

"It means I am no longer paid to answer your questions," crackled the guy from Houston. "Over and out."

That must have been a bad moment for you, Jay, stranded up there on the moon and no line home. Thanks for sharing.

Hey, wait. There are more prosaic details. Hopitalization, shock therapy, consulting with people... Hello?