The Necessities and Benefits of Past, Present, and Future

Most would be quick to argue that author Floyd Skloot is by no means in an advantageous position—at least in regards to his mental and physical functional capacities, as well as his placement in the eye of public opinion and social hierarchy. Indeed, the author himself states that “in this social dimension…I remain a grave cripple and, apparently, a figure of contempt” (Skloot 199). What may not be as apparent, however, is how valuable such a seemingly unfavorable state is/has been for him. Though Skloot admits, “I have lost trust in my body” (46), and underlines his tenuous grasp on both his external and internal environments [“…the least pattern of noises distracts me and shatters concentration” (13); “I sometimes experience myself as disintegrating” (50); “[t]he means I use to compensate for my lack of integration separate me futher from the ‘natural man’” (53)], he emphasizes the many benefits he has reaped from the confines imposed upon him by his brain damage.
Ironic as it may sound, Skloot points time and again to instances wherein the limits established by his neurological degradation have allowed him to discover (and utilize) previously inaccessible depths of his own person. He emphasizes not only a consequential “new freedom to express…emotions” which allowed him to deepen his relationship with his older brother and daughter, but also a liberation in being “forced our of the mind, forced away from my customary cerebral mode of encounter… and into body, into heart…rewoven” (22). Skloot, unlike the majority of neurotypically functioning individuals who do not “have to think about how they work, or concentrate on most their functions” (48), must maintain a deliberate and intentional awareness. Rigorous and exhausting as it is, such awareness of self (even if that self is not entirely trustworthy in its stability) is immediately calls to mind the mechanisms of meditation—designed specifically to call one back to his/her self, to draw the mind away from the constant barrage of complex and incessant thought, to embrace simplicity. Ask anyone who has ever tried and they’ll probably tell you that meditation is not the easiest thing in the world to do. Jumping off to a thought about the future, the past, an idea, a feeling, a distraction is so difficult to avoid that being present is usually not achieved for longer than a few moments in a day. Of course, if one does not have the type of brain damage that Skloot has, he/she can get away with a constant circumvention of the present moment, an avoidance of being aware of oneself and one’s actions, an evasion of self-monitoring procedures. For Skloot, however, for his very physical (and, arguably, psychological) survival, he must be in a constant state of this self-monitoring so rarely entered (and freely overlooked) by others. As he describes, “for me to maintain balance, I must summon consciousness back to the fore in the process of movement” (50), “my balance disorder tends to show itself when I am caught off guard or most relaxed…” (52).
Of course this is still a challenge—as much as it would be for anyone, given the general difficulty of staying in the present or being self-aware; as Skloot is quick to point out, “the vigilance required to manage it is more debilitating than the symptom itself” (52). Yet to see his state only as a hindrance would be to vastly overlook the gift it continuously provides him. Skloot himself points to the “Zen of illness” (198) he has found in the midst of such disorder, a wonderful illustration of Frankl’s concept of spiritual elasticity [as Skloot later quotes: “man must cultivate flexibility to swing over to another value group if…[it] alone offers the possibility of actualizing values…temper[ing] his efforts to the chances that are offered” (198)]. Inherent in Skloot’s development of coping mechanisms is an embrace of simplicity, mandated by his brain-damage and manifested by a focus on the “eternal presence” (239), that would arguably not have been possible for him prior to his viral infection. In his words, “the sense of misalignment also leads to a letting go of many things that were important before. Symbolically, you have to free your hands for other purposes, such as catching yourself when you fall” (51). Thus there are many more advantages to his illness than are probably apparent at first glance.
It is important to remember, though, that either extreme is unfavorable: just as never being able to be present has far reaching advantages and consequences, Skloot’s mother’s absolute mental deterioration, wherein she becomes nothing but the present moment and cannot formulate a past or a future or any form of consistency, is by no means a positive experience for anyone involved—though Skloot does emphasize the softening of her character that had never before been possible. Yet again, then, we have the example of an attempt at striking a critical balance—in this case, between different points in time (past, present, future), all of which contribute a unique vantage point to an individual who accesses them. Yet again, also, there is the echo of Sacks in the notion that no individual parts account for a whole person, but rather the integration of parts lead to the realization of self. Thus it is not a single moment, or a single category of time, that gives a person their temporal awareness/identity; rather, it is the agglomeration of moments (those that have happened, those that are happening, those that will happen) that comprise this chronological perception.