I am blessed, walking into the fire, crawling on broken glass, and comfortably sinking into the quicksand of my delusional pain. It’s not so much the chasing of dreams; they were always pure in conception, just miserably executed thanks to questionable intentions. With every self-sabotaged ideal, the bar lowered until it sat upon my throat. I loaded the weight with a weakened heart never a consideration, sans spotter life sort of blacks out into blurred segments pieced together, one flicker of a memory that a stranger volunteers, much needed context to even jog a second of recall.
A brain full of anesthesia and a mouth full of Novocain never got me as far as I pretended it did, as far above the rest of you I convinced myself I was, I hit 5’11 ½” the wrong direction, buried alive daily, just wanting to suffocate in the vacuum of emotion. Never works the way it’s not meant to, no matter the depraved skew of selfish prayers offered up to whatever name God wanted to go by in a given abortion of self-willed tragedy. There were some ridiculously dark days not too long ago, moments I will never forget as long as I live, because I lived.
Pain is pain, Gibran and many others all the way to Buddha realize we choose it, we create it. It is a reaction to negative stimulus sometimes, i.e. a broken heart, and for whatever reason cling to that detached attachment like a starving baby to a breast. Nothing Freudian in that slip, but the will to extinguish life is fucking terrifying, the purity of that moment of sheer, utter desperation and hopelessness is life changing one way or the other.
Me, I am not lucky, I am an act of grace. Religious people believe hell is where we go when we die if we don’t follow a dogma, spiritual people have been through hell and emerged battered but not broken. God is the purity inside us all, the conceptualization of love and compassion for this world and everything and everyone in it. Spiritual people are battle tested, far stronger for having survived the delusions of the mind. Life is simple and I complicated everything to the point I was used completely up, crying I was all alone when I drove monumental wedges between bonds, broke promised eternal trusts, you name it, and I did it.
What killed me a few times never made me stronger. All the bullshit pain and self-pity, shame, and resultant twisted perspectives kept me cut off from anything meaningful. What made me powerful enough to give up was the ultimate coincidence, which are nothing more than God’s way of staying anonymous. A moment in reality where an angel laid lightning at my feet, and everything from that moment in time has fallen into place.
I know a lot of the blogs I write are funny, often crass and bitingly sarcastic, but that’s just using a God-given gift to give a smile to someone out there. If I didn’t use my ability as a writer to convey the absolute peace inside me, and how I that came about, how a tormented mind quieted, and my heart opened up once again to get in touch with the integrity that allows me another day clean, another opportunity to help a human being out, with no reciprocation or moments of recognition even considered, that’s the shit. That’s truth- the kind that sets a mind free, and opens up a path where incredible things just happen.
Position of neutrality? Yes, please. Oh wait, I never had to ask for that, it really does come, without any thought or effort, it just happens. Amen. I told someone a day or two ago I am in recovery, and that I was proud to be, to be walking in faith, to be free of selfishness, to live not to gain what society and marketing tell me I need to be happy, but to pay attention for a chance to help someone out. How I would have killed to have someone talk to me when I had nowhere to go, so I take that opportunity, compassion and kindness goes much further than pretending not to notice the sadness on someone’s face and walk on by. Or worse, judge that person. For me, it’s not about buying the next person in line’s fucking artery clogging Big Mac meal, that’s actually doing a disservice really, but it’s being there when a cigarette and a few minutes of conversation gives someone the slightest hint that the world isn’t completely wrecked. I know that because someone stopped and talked to me a while back, so I try to give that back. I have so much to give back.
A mind focused on others will never tire itself on worries, fears and doubts. Problems no longer mentally paralyze, instead, they roll into this place where I know everything is going to be alright, that everything is going to work out the way it is meant to be. No question.
Faith is beautiful, action is powerful when altruistic. That combination is life altering. And no one but God understands the magnitude of my gratitude to be here, right now, typing this and sending it out into the ether of cyberspace.