fire heart

by James Gutteridge

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Hierarchy (2026) - 03

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"Things About Hierarchy" is a thematic series of articles, sponsored by Reality Skimming Press. Pieces in the series run from Jul-Dec 2026. coordinator Lisa Van Gool at  info@realityskimming.com. Query us about contributing for $25 CAD a post at https://facebook.com/relskim  or by email at info@realityskimming.com"

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Hi everyone! How’s it going? I’m really excited to start this one, partly because Joe Mahoney

kicked it off with such a lovely and moving life story ( https://www.realityskimming.com/post/the-boss ) in part one of the “Things About Hierarchy” series . My life has been a real clustersh*t. Things are going better lately. And I have no idea how I have gotten here.

I sort of hate hierarchy. I’d like to abolish all of it. To me, it’s just a method by which society

tortures us. Though many people rightly alert me that without hierarchy things would also be

horrible.

My personal view of hierarchy is something like that it is a hamster wheel. Or rather a vast, sprawling array of interlocked hamster wheels. You get to choose one, or so the societal promise goes. And the promise (more squeakily) continues that you will fit into it or enjoy it or even feel comfortable there. To me it’s more like trying to smile while sitting on a chair made of pure iron at right angles, with no curves or padding or heating. Sorry to be incredibly negative here and cast a gloom on the blog. Another metaphor I have for the sprawling meta-nature of hierarchy in societies is to picture society as one vast Body. The whole point is to shuttle all the stem cells (kids) to the correct spots along the Body, where they are needed, so that they develop and specialize into the right, needed things. This shuttling process is mysterious, because it is not directed and micromanaged by anyone in power. People just sort of “find their way” towards their stations in life. It wasn’t like that for me. I was a genetic abomination, a reject. I almost went out the refuse hole rather than ending up anywhere cozy or cushy in the Body. Sorry again to sound so horrible — it’s just I don’t want to lie to you. And there’s a happy message at the end. I was really good at school when I was a kid and teen, but there was just one problem: I loved all my subjects in school too much. I loved the arts just as much as the sciences. Just as much as music. As math. As creative writing. And I was good at all of them. I didn’t see them as separate, they were seamless, one. They were one big gang of buddies. And I never wanted to break them up. So when it came time to go to university, I delayed specialization as long as I could. But I knew it was coming. F#$%. And I just couldn’t get it into my head why it was necessary. So in Quebec, where I am from, they actually have something in

between high school and actual university called CEGEP. It’s just a 2 year program transition

where you try a bunch of things out, getting ready for actual university. Luckily for me, there was

something there called Liberal Arts. I leaped at it — I got to keep taking all the arts and

sciences. And there was something there that I should mention in passing, that was just as

important: being a small program, liberal arts brings that warm, fuzzy community and one on

one relationships. Then fr*g I had to actually go to university and I was really screwed now.

I cast and thrashed about furiously, frothing like a shark, but found something that saved the

day: out of all the schools in the USA there was one called St John’s College in Annapolis and

Santa Fe. There, it promised the utopia: an unending seamlessness for the four years, exactly

as in my vision. Their philosophy was the same as mine: learning and intellectual love was one,

and we surged towards the sky. But it was not to be. I did get accepted, and go there, but it was

one of the most nightmarish experiences of my life. It would take me quite awhile to explain that

so I will skip it. This all goes to say that I found something else while there, something which

saved my life in another, dire way: a therapist I saw on that campus told me to live with my

“heart not my head.” (In retrospect, I wish she had said “heart and head.”) Boom off I went. This

was life-transforming for me. I had previously lived only in my head, but had always had a secret

desire for the life and love and bursting warmth of the heart. Heart became everything to me. It

was then only natural of me to quit St John’s College (though that had nothing to do with the

nightmarish experience which I can’t explain here). Off I went. I cast around again, eventually I

came upon something called Psychology. I decided I wanted to become a therapist, to save

other people as the St John’s therapist had saved me. Over time, my emotional intelligence

became much higher. It is still only middling. But I started from rock bottom: ZERO. I.e., the

same amount of emotional intelligence my parents have = 0. Then I faced new challenges:

surviving my new 4-year Psychology university program. I hated all of my classes except 2 of

them. I didn’t care about rats and brains and all those other perverse experiments and laws the

psychologists jazzed on about. I just wanted to learn about people, people in front of me, to heal

them. To me being a therapist was the heart of hearts. Sadly it did not cross my mind as to

whether I was suited to becoming a therapist, whether I had the needed qualities. Eventually I

survived and got accepted into a psychotherapy grad program at UNBC here in Prince George,

having found a gem of program where I did NOT have to do any research as part of my

program. Hahaha. Great! Or not great? In my second semester, a strong mania hit and I ended

up in the psych ward for the first time and was diagnosed with bipolar in 2018. (I had actually

been bipolar since December 2013 but had not been detected — thank God! I had some

incredible, roaring adventures.) I never climbed my way out again. I never went back to my

psychotherapy program. Instead I started to purely hate myself. Believe it or not — but I was

actually worse off after my diagnosis. I floundered around in a stagnant pool of my own piss and

saliva (not literally!) for 5 years. Unemployed. Having nothing except my soulmate. Not even

having James. I shudder to tell you this, because you may come to hate me too, but I was on

disability welfare during those days, and still am now. Working a job that normal people do is just

not healthy for me. And it did turn out that the grad program at psychotherapy was great. By

knocking me off all attempts at a societal path — I was blown into the career of my dreams, the

one I had always wanted, which I didn’t know I wanted. Being a Dad. I have a 2 year old

daughter now. I am absurdly talented with kids. I want to toot my horn here because the list of

my intense flaws and failings and goofs could fill a 100 books. And — wow — I discovered I had

actually been practicing for this for years. I had spent 20 years (literally) volunteering and

working with kids — all manners of kids, tons of settings, from one on one to many — prior to

having my daughter Rosie. I love kids so much. So here is where I plan to contribute to society.

And I promise you this — I will do the best damn job I can. But I am still a reject — “you’re on

disability welfare,” “you’re not working,” “you’re a full-time dad not a full-time mom.” Shame on

you. I’m sorry society. But this is me. So I made my way through the hierarchy as best as I

could.

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James Gutteridge is a guy who has bumbled his way through life but is in a good place now.

Thank you Bernice and Rosie. I really enjoy creative writing a lot. When I do creative writing I

can feel my heart soar on wings that burst into flames❤️‍🔥. Brent Shelest (my friend) and I have

self-published a book for people who don’t read much: the Chronicles of K’ammek-kraeu

(below). We feel like opening the doors of the literary world to those who struggle to get in.

People with learning disabilities like my wife, people whose most contact with words is through

Facebook scrolling and text messages, young people. The book was lavishly illustrated by

Brent. Enjoy and feel free to reach out to me at karibucaribousjtg@gmail.com if you want a free

sample.

• Chronicles of K’ammek-kraeu on Books & Company store:

https://booksandcompany.ca/item/pGK2qdAAaoEeirP1H3SCdQ

• I’m very boring in person and you do not want to get stuck next to me in the line waiting at the

coffee shop, but I am hellraiser riding a black motorcycle when I write so you may like my

blog. I’m myself when I write: https://3reddeer.wordpress.com/ Thank you everyone

• Also for any reason whatsoever you can email James at: FatherSkyMotherEarth@hotmail.com. He likes chatting with people and community and you guys are everything to him.

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References

• So here it is, the Liberal Arts program of Dawson College, my first pit stop along the highway

of hell: https://www.dawsoncollege.qc.ca/liberal-arts/

• Then we have this really cool school which somehow didn’t work, St John’s College. It is

absolutely one of a kind and there is no other school in the world like it: https://www.sjc.edu/

• Then another scorcher, removing all the rubber from my sole:

https://www.concordia.ca/artsci/psychology.html

• Last but not fatal or least, this is as far as I got:

https://www.unbc.ca/calendar/graduate/counselling-med-program. I did really want to be a

counsellor ❤️