Commander Cream #6

We all have blind spots- mental barriers that refuse to budge when we try to see another perspective. They are pretty easy to find. Rather more concerning are the mists and shadows that remain on the edges of the mind. These are much harder to find. But if you fail to see them, you wind up with something a bit like this photo: it's lovely, it's artistic, but in terms of reality, you're not sure what's there. I love it in the photo: I hate it in my mind.

I am the fourth of five children. When I first saw Disney’s The Jungle Book, I understood Mowgli’s plight in terms of my own: Mowgli was a boy raised among wolves. I was the ordinary raised among the extraordinary. Sometime in my childhood, the very first shadows were cast when I compared myself to my brilliant siblings. It’s hard when you are the least intelligent and the least gifted- the knowledge always colors your thoughts.

Let me give an example: my oldest sister received a full academic scholarship for college. She then walked onto the soccer team at a Big Ten university. In the past year she had had two major hip surgeries, including a surgery where her femur was sliced in half and rotated inside of her leg. Naturally, her soccer skills were somewhat diminished. She was still a starting midfielder on the team. My other sister toured Europe playing soccer, winning the Dana Cup and the Gothia Cup on her way. Right now she’s studying at the London School of Economics. She throws away art pieces that are better than my best efforts.

I could continue, but there’s not much point. All four of my siblings are equally impressive. My best friend used to tease me about my supposed inferiority complex- my response was always “it’s not a complex if it’s the truth.” A plant living in the shadows dies. A person has a few more options besides photosynthesis. So I took a different route. I tried everything that my siblings didn’t. This has led to me falling off a cliff, going on a road trip with a Dutch historical fiction writer, enduring a bout with walking-pneumonia and accidentally inhaling a face full of chlorine gas. My actions were guided by an unconscious rebellion: if I couldn’t be as smart as my siblings, then I would revel in my own stupidity. The other option was to work hard and achieve less than what my siblings achieved effortlessly.

In some ways I’ve grown out of that phase. But all of my (very) minor triumphs are still shadowed by my leviathan siblings. My world is slightly out of focus. But unlike the photo, my mind would probably benefit from more clarity. I had a conversation with one of my sisters yesterday. She mentioned in passing that she was always convinced that she was the Cream family idiot. She’s wrong. But maybe I’m wrong too. I am not the most intelligent, the most attractive, or the most athletic Cream, but I have had the random, casual encounters with life that my siblings missed in the pursuit of excellence. Maybe everyone in my family casts shadows and blurs perceptions. But if there is artistry in it, I can't see it.