Buttress: (n) a source of defense or support.
I suppose if it stopped there it might be fine. Certain safeguards are necessary in a violent world.
But once I physically construct a buttress, I begin to believe it’s necessary to build a mental buttress for my brain.
What is that?
Only certain information is allowed. This data must be in harmony with my present philosophy and level of understanding.
Once I’m fully protected from the possibility of errant or alien ideas attacking my mind, it becomes necessary to build a buttress for my spirit–the soul.
And how shall I construct such a protection? By developing an unwavering conviction on who God is and who the Creator is not, never allowing foreign doctrines to permeate my walls.
Even if I am granted a vision sent from the heavens, I must defend the traditions–or risk losing the certainty I have over established belief.
So now I’m protected from physical assault, mental aggression and spiritual infiltration.
I certainly must complete the isolation by erecting a buttress to guard my feelings.
The emotions need to shrink, only including certain members of my family, color, styles and predilections. I find myself getting cold but adjust to the chill by warming myself with a cloak of self-righteousness.
Now I am fully encased, each buttress in place to secure body, mind, soul and heart.
But why am I awakening in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, screaming?
What has come in?
What is troubling me?
What has breached my fortification and now disrupts my rest?
I am undefended from me.