I picked this up in a Google search:
Angst - a feeling of deep anxiety or dread, typically an unfocused one about the human condition or the state of the world in general.
A friend and I were wondering about the genetics of fear, angst, depression. Neither of us seemed to be bothered, at least right now, about the human condition or the state of the world in general. I showed him one of my first line tools for dealing with angst: I hold my hand, either one will do, up where I can see it. I deliberately close my hand and I see that my desire to make it close into a fist is followed closely by the hand closing. "Yep, it is still functioning." The exercise is sort of a lowbrow version of Descartes' thinking or doubting being a sign of his existing. I know I may be being manipulated by an evil genius into thought control and pranks but I dismiss the possibility. Maybe it's my genetics, stubbornness or lack of imagination.
I have a feeling of closeness to the Old Testament chapters of Job and of Ecclesiastes. God becomes impatient with Job's questions and veiled accusations and points out that Joby wasn't there when God made the world and Job actually doesn't know beans about it. It is a bit arrogant to feel that I know much about the human condition or the general state of the world. I take shelter in ignorance and the limits of my knowledge. I realize the media is courting attention and playing on my inherited nervous system, which responds to news of calamities and the death of innocent children more emphatically that to recitations of the portions of my favorite planet that did not experience tsunamis today.
Some people feel moderns have had several blows to their optimism and feelings of personal majesty, what with Copernicus, Galileo, Darwin and Freud each contributing a bit of a takedown of our version of our place in the universe. When you add to those blows to our collective ego, better understanding of the immensity of the galaxies, the cleverness of dolphins and crows and the brevity of even a long human lifetime, you can see why it can be difficult to smile and carry on. Do what my mom said, put your attention elsewhere. Mimic the hero of Life is Beautiful, forced to carry heavy metal ingots in the prison camp:"Vincente, when we get out of this place, let's start an ingot factory."
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Bill
Main blog: Fear, Fun and Filoz
Main web site: Kirbyvariety
Main blog: Fear, Fun and Filoz
Main web site: Kirbyvariety
Twitter: @olderkirby