this is probably gonna hurt

i'm cursed with a brain of science and a heart of romance.  in any given situation i'll mentally break down all the possible scenarios and pick apart all the variables to logically deduce the best plan.  however, the heart wants what the heart wants and all too often i move forward with the most idiotic plans.  the most unfortunate part is that i dont proceed all blissfully ignorant of the cliff up ahead.  no, my brain has made sure to calculate down to the milimeter exactly how much distance and time i have till i meet my doom as my little heart's dream comes crashing down around me when plans fail.  any yet, fully aware, i fly forward and over the cliffs.  i suppose this is why i walked with ice block feet down the aisle and i got married.  twice.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

if there is anything i've done right as a mom it has been that i've quite completely granted Claudia the freedom and confidence to talk to me about absolutely anything and everything.  we don't get solo time often, but when we do she opens her mouth and like an Indian Snake Charmer she circular breathes and does not stop talking until she's exhausted every word she has to say.  

Just the other night her topics included, but were not limited to~ First, how our belly buttons don't match.  it would appear the mine is less 'foldy' than hers and more of an innie.  Second, how my butt is bigger than hers, but hers is bigger than theia's. Third-how slavery was really 'not nice' and she hopes that doesn't ever happen to her. (i made sure to tell her that slavery wasn't only limited to this country or to black people, but that over the ages at different times people made slaves out of just about anyone they could catch or buy) Forth she wanted to know if she really had to get married when she grows up.  she has decided she really doesn't want to be alone, but she doesn't want to fight with someone and end up breaking up.  i told her that most people do fight, but it's how you fix it once you do that makes or breaks a couple.  she then went on to hold up two toys, a barbie and a shark and said "mom, wouldn't it be so weird if they got married?" i laughed and said, "yes hun, but just wait and see, somedays it will feel like that!"

i've always tried to make it clear to her that she can tell me anything, even if what she has to say is that she's mad at me or doesn't like something i've done, as long as she says it respectfully and doesn't just throw a fit at me.  still, it always comes as a surprise when she does.  she'll start out saying, without the slightest hint of irony, "mom, i don't want to hurt your feelings or anything, but you've been crabby" or "i'm not sure if i should say this but i think you have a pimple mom".  it just cracks me up that she's actually learning to be honest but in a way that doesn't totally come across as snotty or bad-attitude.  

she's beautiful inside and out and i'm glad to see in such a short time that at least in one area, the love and effort is paying off, and she's learning how to think independently and truly learning how to be herself.

Tools

one of my sisters called today and her first words were, "i have news!" to which i immediately responded emphatically, "you're pregnant?!"... "yes, how'd you know?!!!" i'm not sure how, but i always know. i'm ecstatic for her and i know that she's going to be the most fantastic mom of SIX ever. yes, this is child numero seis, her oldest will turn 8 in June!

she went on to say she should have called me first since she got mediocre at best replies from everyone else she told so far. not that they're not happy for her but that they all had an air of "don't you know what causes that?" or "uh, where are you going to put them all?" sort of attitudes.

i'm extremely analytical and can process out exactly why i think she's going to do a fantastic job with 6, 8 or 15 kids, where ever they end up, based on what i call the simple principle of 'tool acquisition'. i shared with her a bit and gave her a little of my perspective, for fun, i thought i'd share it with you as well.

parenthood can most easily be described as a job. plain and simple, it is work, constant work, to be a parent. like any job there are tools required. if i walk into my stepdad's wood shop i see all sorts of tools for wood working and carpentry. saws, sanders, screwdrivers, hammers, wrenches and a whole other assortment of tools with really specific purposes for which i don't know the names or meanings since it is not my area of expertise. if you asked my stepdad if he had all those tools from the beginning he'd of course say no. it takes years and years to acquire all the tools he has. he started out tinkering and doing what he could with what he had and as he committed himself to it he acquired more tools so he could do it better, more efficiently and in the end get much more exceptional results from his work. mind you, wood working isn't even his job, but "just a hobby".

an even clearer example would be a mechanic. walk into any auto-mechanic's shop and you'll see a million job specific tools hanging and laying everywhere. i can speak from experience when i say hardly any of those are necessary to change oil in a car, or a tire, or a head light. but if you want to do anything beyond the 'idiot's guide' you're going to have to man up and get some real tools, and educate yourself on how to use them. you can't learn any of it in a day, and in general you can't possibly afford to buy every tool for the first day of class.

as a parent you take on a new job. let's just say everyone starts out with a hammer, most basic of all tools. we all start out loving our kids and if love is a hammer, it's extremely useful and can be used for quite a few do-it-yourself projects when it comes to kids. beyond that you'll need a screwdriver (after all every parent has moments where they feel like they have a few loose screws!) the screwdriver is your logic. between Love and Logic, your Hammer and Screwdriver, you're equipped with the 2 most basic parenting tools, although they are basic they are also completely essential. if you're going to tackle the harder problems, deal with tantrums, illness, attitudes and injuries, you're going to need more than just a hammer and a screwdriver though. after all, you're not just building a bird house, you're trying to raise an individual which will reach adulthood with a firm set of their own tools which will hopefully be honesty, intelligence, compassion, integrity, honor and perseverance to name a few. essentially a tool box with at least a hammer, screwdriver (philips and flat head) few wrenches of their own, maybe some allen wrenches and depending on their experience and interest some awls or carving tools.

so as you continue to parent these kids, finding harder challenges and more complicated tasks, like my stepdad in his acquisition of wood working tools, you're going to have to find better and more specific tools for the job. you cant just pound love into your kids with your hammer everyday and hope to teach them every thing. at a certain point you're going to want to do the work more easily, efficiently and of course, with much better results. depending on whatever metaphor works for you, you're going to end up with a whole tool shed full of the specific tools it requires to raise your particular kids. you may even have a few different sorts. after all, i have one ultra defiant child, and one more emotionally needy and compliant one. they are absolutely not the same job!

if you'd asked me when i was 20 if i was equipped to do the job i have now, of course i'd have wished i was but would have had to admit that i wasn't even close. i had to go through difficult relationships, working through childhood wound-issues, finding out about infertility, dealing with a struggle deciding to adopt, then working toward becoming a foster parent. if you'd asked back then if i'd be able to sit through a visit with a bio-parent who's lost their child due to extremely poor choices and look at them without judgement, of course i'd have said no.(although even then i'd have known to keep my mouth shut at least). going through some of the hardest parts of life was what it took for me to acquire the tools to deal with my emotions, my losses and my miraculous gains. i'm not sure i ever could have imagined that it would turn out this way, that my particular parenting job would be like this. for me it's as if i set out to be a mechanic and ended up building rocket ships. this is far beyond what i could have hoped for myself and to all those who say "it takes a special person to do what you do" i say no, no one starts out with everything they need for the job, sometimes you have to go out and find it.

to fall on love or concrete

falling really isn't so bad, well, at least not the first time. usually that first time, it catches you off guard, you're not expecting it and you're down before you even know what happened. it's really not that the fall is bad at all, it's the landing that leaves the marks. the first time you fall you normally don't even notice right away, it comes later with the bruises, aches and pains that remind you that you even fell and didn't just have some happy ride which ended on the ground.

fall number two, now that's a whole other story. your reflexes are a little more engaged this time and you might actually try to catch yourself. this isn't second nature yet though so undoubtedly you still end up down, but certainly more aware of what just happened.

after numbers three, four and five you definitely begin to develop those reflexes and refine them, catching yourself nearly all the time. rarely do you end up down, except occasionally when it might happen just a bit differently and you can't quite pull it out in time. but for the most point, you've learned your lesson and it's certainly no surprise what's happening, and it begins to occur in slow motion.

as you approach the tenth fall, things begin to change. you start to realize what circumstances surround these trips and begin to safe guard yourself against them, avoiding the precarious and in general being more cautious. situations that would have lead to falling begin to fade since you're now avoiding getting to close to the ledge and are far more calculating.

quite a substantial amount of time can go by with zero falls, and almost no indications that they were even possible. life gets really comfortable, you might even realize you carry no bruises if you thought to look. old scars even begin to fade, receding white or pink lines that bear hardly any resemblance to the monstrous events that earned them. it becomes so easy to forget the safeguards, to ignore the instincts that taught us to brace ourselves, or avoid danger.

then out of no where, bang! after such a long hiatus, we take a wrong turn, lose our footing and in the nanoseconds we watch as the ground comes crashing back up to meet us. and this time, slow motion or not, it hurts like hell.

yes, our brain kicks in the minute we start to go down, but it's too late. with no safeguards, no precautions, we're left with nothing but the hope that our previous experience with learning to fall will kick in some old instinct and maybe we'll hit bottom in such a way as to do as little bodily damage as possible. remembering not to put our hands out so we avoid a broken arm, we sacrifice the knee and roll into it. this fall, more than any others, is definitely going to leave marks. scrapes, bruised bones and the general wounded ego-that we could have allowed ourselves be taken down so easily. no one wants to be caught down on the ground, picking up the pieces of themselves, having to brush off and some how manage to laugh it off and say 'well, i didn't see that one coming...'. we all know that in general, there is nothing worse than taking an epic fall, long and hard, plummeting like an idiot face first into concrete with all the world watching. all of us prefer to take our falls in private, where we can keep that shame to ourselves.

all of this considered, it is entirely and uniquely fitting to me that we call it 'falling' in love. although i'd have to say, if i had to choose the scars i'd rather live with, i might choose concrete over love.

Abyss to Precipice.

it isn't often we get a glimpse of what could have been. those parallel universes, lingering like shadows in light of our reality, revealing in their mystery the potential 'could have beens'. typically when one door closes and the next opens, the former door remains closed. usually that is the hard part, but often it is for the best. for who wants to move through these doors, making these choices, and then looking over their shoulder see a crack in the door, seeing what lies behind, that reminding them of what they had to leave behind to move forward?

the bigger problem is that for many of us, we will never have a great degree of certainty that our decisions made were right or wrong. living with the consequences, good or otherwise, is something we all must do. we cannot go back, there are no handles on this side of the door, and even those which have been left with a crack cannot be reopened, we could more easily rip open the universe than move back through one of those doors. and of course there can be no guarantee that the alternatives which were once there even remain.

i wish i believed that somehow life and these choices were some how linear, that each door opened in front of another, that there were some sort of reason, order, pattern, or distinguishable cycle to it all. that there could be any potential for anticipation, that it might be possible to foresee the outcome. so many people seem to have a plan, choice A, choice B, outcome C, then choice D and so on, and eventually the fruition of their plans, hopes and dreams brings them to a place, similar or better than for what they'd been shooting.

so often i've found that this cosmic sense of order and structure will have no practical application in my own life. i do not have two doors from which to choose, when choosing one and going through it i do not in turn find two more. instead, i am lost in an m.c. escher maze, with doors that open to nothing, stairs i have to climb only to reach the base, walk ways that i will eternally walk up and end no where. and each door that does not lead me to to the false beginning, or to nothing, leads me to a precipice.

what hope is there for one such as i when i stand at that precipice then? what am i to do? when life has given me these, i've jumped. jumped head long into the abyss below, falling into a beautiful disaster. most often, yes, left in broken pieces on the ground, but once put back together i bear scars as badges, reminders that at least i jumped. at least i didn't just cling to the rocks and stay there, not experiencing life for fear of being dashed upon the rocks below.

and for those who wonder whether or not it's been worth it, worth the pain, the scars and endless stairs i've had to climb to reach the next cliff, i say 'yes'. for with each climb i reach new heights, and the light of this reality scatters the shadows of mystery and brings me closer to where i know eventually i'll find myself supposed to be. better and beyond what i'd hoped for. i say 'yes', all the falls and the beautiful disasters are worth it, because as long as i keep jumping there is still a chance that one day, instead of a fall, i'll grow wings and fly.

paper weight

i'm the sort of person who loves words. not just because i like to talk and they're necessary either. i'm a person who's been misunderstood and had my words twisted and misconstrued to the nth degree on so many occasions, that i've made it sort of a personal semantic mission to understand words, what they mean, what they do not mean, the best way to use them, and when it would be better to use another. personally, i believe that if i know exactly what a word means and what it does not, it will, at least in my own mind, eliminate confusion when i'm able to use the word which applies to that, and only that, which i truly mean. i'd be plagiarizing to go on with my point further were i not to quote C.S. Lewis' excerpt from his novel "Till We Have Faces" since it most accurately describes my personal feelings on the subject of words.

"lightly men talk of saying what they mean. often when he was teaching me to write in Greek, the fox would say "child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that's the whole art and joy of words."... when the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the center of our soul for years, which you have, all that time, idiot-like, been saying over and over, you'll not talk about the joy of words. i saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer. till that word can be dug out of us, why should they hear the babble that we think we mean? how can they meet us face to face till we have faces?"

for me, there is a power in words, that no matter how much a picture argues, will never-and could never-be equaled.

i personally am in awe when i think of creation, when i think of that moment when God in His omnipotence made a choice about which tool to use in creating the universe. He didn't choose to rain down lightning, he didn't smash his fists together like flint sending an explosion of sparks to become stars and shards the worlds. with all power available, in the end, he chose not to shake the fabric of time and space with his fist, but with a word.

his word calling out, so full of itself, so powerful that it demanded the creation of space to hold it, demanded the creation of time to sustain the echo. to all those who argue that a picture is worth a thousand words, i ask, what single picture could ever hold a candle to a word, just a solitary word, that so complete in meaning is capable of creating the universe?

all of that said. there are some words that have significant meaning to me, or rather, their meanings are extraordinarily significant to me. all too often, although they may be the most complete definition of what i truly mean, i still refrain from using them because i know that the meaning would be lost on the one i use the word with. sure they would probably understand part of what i meant, they might even know the general idea behind the word, but in the end, the full weight of the word's glory would be lost on them. so instead, i grudgingly use more and smaller words, ones with less potential for personal connotation that might lead them to think i'm saying something altogether other than what i mean. it's actually quite disheartening to have to use empty words to fill in the void left by a word better suited, but unfortunately better saved.

of particular importance to me is the word intimacy. for me it takes every definition Webster could come up with, takes investigation into the Latin and its origins, to fully encompass the word. only then, when i've reconciled the true meaning to the idea i truly mean, do i use it. there are quite a few meanings that really don't fully sum up the word. such as its usage when talking about 'intimate apparel', of course technically when talking about clothing worn next to the skin you could call it intimate. living room style coffee shops are also often referred to as intimate. in this same vein, even references to sexual intimacy can be just as misleading, when often the word is used but really all that is really meant is the fact that it's an event that is private and personal. so for me, to use that word in these ways is, in my estimation, the equivalent of using a Stradavarious violin as a paper weight.

i actually love the words intimate and intimacy when talking about its meaning that pertains to things which exist within the inmost parts of the mind, the character or intrinsic value of one's essential nature; it resonates within me when it's talking about actual union on this deep and elemental level, and the part of the definition regarding two people having the intimacy that arises from close personal connection or familiar experience. in this regard, an intimate friend may very well be that. someone with whom you share your innermost thoughts, and reveal your true nature, and go beyond the corporeal and be who you really are, stripped of pretense, completely without deception. to me, it is during these unveiled manifestations of our pure selves, and only during these, that sharing an experience, whether it be having sex or climbing a mountain, can truly and fully be called intimate. and it is at these times when the word intimacy, like the violin, ceases to be a paper weight and becomes the instrument of music that takes your breath away.

heartstrings come undone

it never ceases to amaze me how life can change in a moment. i'm not even talking about huge life-altering events, like car accidents or a terminal diagnosis. there are those smaller moments, when we learn something, which may even seem quite trivial at first, is finally brought to light. only after closer examination do we realize that it's not just a blue piece of the sky, but the hinge on which the whole universe will now swing. swinging like a door revealing for once its other side. as if we're looking at a weaving, never understanding what each thread is for, never able to grasp the pattern, but realizing after the swing that the whole time we'd been looking at the underside. and now, for the first time, seeing the upper side, we see it and the universe in all it's glory, not as lightning bugs drowning in a black pool, but for the beautiful celestial expanse it really is.

i think when i sat down today to write this, i thought i'd be doing some piece on marriage. anyone who knows me very well knows that i love research. i'd never want to write a research paper again, but the searching and study part is like a good massage for my brain. so out of curiousity i spent some time looking up what philosophers and poets have had to say about marriage. knowing all the while that whatever it is i have to say, they've probably already said it, and even more likely, said it better than i could. you could fill libraries with the amount of books and words that have been written and said on marriage alone, and i'm sure somewhere there is a small bookstore that might just specialize on the topic.

of course i have my own thoughts on the subject, but first, some of the quotes i found were hysterically funny, yet so poignant. here's a few so they can speak for themselves:

When two people are under the influence of the most violent, most insane, most delusive, and most transient of passions, they are required to swear that they will remain in that excited, abnormal, and exhausting condition continuously until death do them part. ~G.B. Shaw, Getting Married, 1908

For two people in a marriage to live together day after day is unquestionably the one miracle the Vatican has overlooked. ~Bill Cosby, Love and Marriage

The marriage state, with or without the affection suitable to it, is the completest image of Heaven and Hell we are capable of receiving in this life. ~Richard Steele, The Spectator

In the early years, you fight because you don't understand each other. In the later years, you fight because you do. ~Joan Didion

Marriage is a wonderful invention: then again, so is a bicycle repair kit. ~Billy Connolly


alright, so that being said, my own thoughts:

beginning with a relationship, it can quite easily be compared to a dance. one in which both partners come together, and between them hold the ends of a rope. as the music plays, continuing throughout the relationship like a soundtrack with highs and lows, they dance. sometimes it's slow and controlled, other times wild and passionate. there will be times when it's much to fast, the steps too complicated, and one partner will have to warn the other that they might lose their grip. in consideration for the other, the one will work to make it manageable, to slow things down, to help the partner; they would, after all, rather accommodate, rather than send the partner flying off wildly, thus ending the dance. in a good relationship, this is the choice that is made, to take the dance in steps that keep it enjoyable, and allow them to hold on easily. because both of you dance knowing the other could choose to let go there is such a feeling of love, in this choice. knowing that each day your partner is making a choice for you, a choice to hold on, a choice to accommodate you because they want to keep dancing, and to keep dancing with you.

it's usually during this light cadence that the choice to get married is made. all this dancing, the spinning, twirling and loving, who wouldn't want to continue this forever? especially with this person who's held on, supporting you when you couldn't hold on, who made the choice to hold on tighter for you, who yielded when necessary, lead when called for, and knew all the while that you were choosing to hold on to and, therefore, never took your presence in the dance for granted. who wouldn't want this? to boldly claim this partner for life?

so together the choice is made, you'll marry.

and of course the chorus sings, and the music reaches beautiful heights, and on the wedding day the whole world stops. the dance is in slow motion, it's so easy that day. and you stand there together, in the location of your choosing and whether to a judge, pastor or priest, you hand over your rope temporarily. you say all of the beautiful things, make all the pretty promises and commit to dancing together forever. but before you're done, you get the rope back, but this time you will not be holding it, it will be tied to your arm. 'no matter' these new lovers say as they go off dancing. in the post nuptial bliss they're dancing so close they don't even notice the rope. their hand now free from holding it is this wonderful new experience.

the music commences and the dancing resumes. this couple, now tied together has a new element between them, same rope, same love, whole new dynamic.

they go dancing off into the sunset or some such nonsense and before you know it the music is playing it's highs and lows again. although this time much less consideration has to be given to each other, since after all, you're now tied together, and the threat of letting go is gone. at first this new security is amazing. does something wonderful for you and you can rest knowing that your partner will never leave you. however, when things begin to spin out of control, and the steps get too complicated, there is much less motivation to yield, to accommodate each other. after all, it's not like they might let go.

in really good marriages, and in the beginning of most others, there is still a small amount of control that is regained, some slowing and help given to each other since it is generally the habit you've established since the beginning. there can be times though, when one or the other doesn't view the dance as going as badly the other does, and might take advantage. again, falling on the fact that this rope is now tied, and the other can't just leave. they're not actually working to hinder the other person, there just isn't the fear anymore that it might be over if it doesn't settle down. usually there is a point there the knot is getting tight enough to cause discomfort, and decent people will recognise this and finally work to appease it. some people are natural moderators and continue to dance as if they're still just holding on.

now i'm speaking only out of my own experiences, for i know there are some amazing marriages out there where the dance remains beautiful and the weight of that rope is never felt and it's knot is never tightened.

for me, i've found that all too often i am the only one to yield. i'm the one who accommodates when things get out of control. however far it is from where i want to be, i'll move in to loosen the stranglehold of the knots. this rope which once was a symbol of love and the connection between us has now become a tourniquet. slowly, but with such force behind it, it's tightening the knot like a noose, and about to amputate my hand. i will not say that i've never been the one to give the rope a hard jerk, hoping to finally knock the other person over so i can finally get their attention. sure, several times. there is only so much one little arm can take before even i, the yielder, take action. the pain from these knots is bitter.

not that i want to lead while dancing, heck no, but i have to want to go in the direction the dance is going. and for me, i've realized, or admitted to myself much too late, that not only do i hate the dance i'm stuck in, but that the reason it's so bad is because generally we're not hearing the same music. there is no harmony, and dischord is reigning supreme.

i have always held out hope, beyond wild hope, that somehow the dance would slow, we could nurse our wounded arms and learn to dance again, but sadly, for me, i've had to cut the rope to save my arm. if i've learned anything in my experiences, it's been how wrong i can be and have been about the dance.

in light of this:
'love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. love never fails.'

i've come to realize that love is not the rope, love is the dance. the rope is only the commitment, you either choose to hold on, or you don't. no amount of knots, however far up your arm, can make you stay. tying the rope to your arm should only ever be symbolic and your hand should always be holding on. that way you'll know, and remember from experience, if you're about to lose your grip, it must be fixed, and never fall back on the knot as a saftey net. the knot will only make you lose your arm. the only knots that should ever be relied on are the heartstrings that get tied every time you choose to hold on.

Nosce Te Ipsum

It's amazing how with very little effort, we can lose ourselves to the person we become when we're not looking. It's not true, you know, that practice makes perfect. No, no. Practice makes habit, only self assessment followed by correction and discipline makes perfect. Imperfect practice only makes for bad habits. And as for life, as we go about our days, giving a little here, a little there, small sacrifice of this for that, or of this for nothing more than the path of least resistance, we slowly become someone we don't want to be; even though we don't want to do so.

Ask anyone who's gained more weight than they'd like over a few years (more or less). Of course, they'll tell you that they don't want to be over weight. They "don't know how it happened" they'll say. Sure they do. They were not disciplined in their eating and/or exercise and therefore they gained weight. (with the obvious exception of persons with genetic/hormonal conditions). Not very many people set out to gain weight and become unhealthy. So in the process, it's not that they're necessarily making bad choices on purpose, but the path of least resistance does not usually include discipline and structure. We run out of time, resources, or energy and just do as little as possible to get by.

Whether it's weight, finances, lost contact with friends, unhappy employment, we lose a little of the person we want to be everyday if we do not battle the rut to keep it; to keep ourselves intact.

I say all of this not in judgment, but after my own self examination. For I have gained weight, lost interest in my old hobbies, have let friends slip away, and become someone I find quite boring and drab. There are so many things I 'wish' I could be. Things I want to do, to have, to be, to experience, to give. I do none of these things, not because I'm a jerk or selfish, but because I don't discipline myself to do so, and possibly because I'm a procrastinator.

I want to lose weight, why don't I? I want to ride my bike 3-4 times a week, why don't I? I want to run 5k's several times a year and possibly a half marathon, why don't I? (on that one I can say that the reason I don't do so today is because of knee injuries and I'm just so dang heavy, bringing me back to wanting/needing to lose weight). I want to paint more, read more, walk more, play more, smile more, care less, worry less, fear less and experience more of life than I do.

The only thing that keeps me from living the life I want is me. I have learned that nothing will do itself, I must do it. The main obstacle I face is Time, having too little or too much, it doesn't matter if you can't manage it. I find that most of the things I want to do, I could accomplish if I would just go to bed and get up earlier. Tiredness is a lame excuse but the oldest one in the book for a reason, it plagues us all and has been around forever. However, All of the things I dream will only ever be dreams if I refuse to get out of bed. My kids will always need me, my husband will always need something, my back will always hurt, the dishes will always need done, the laundry, the lizard, the groceries, the rugs, none of this is going to magically disappear. I can do anything and live the life I want; and I can do it now, but it will only ever come at the cost of sleep and will always be inconvenient.

to dwell eternally

anyone who knows me well knows that there is a part of me that dwells eternally in the realm of silliness and the absurdly irrational.

i suppose my philosophy has always been to arm myself with the ridiculous rather than to suffer the slings and arrows of the mundane and, all too often, grievous. 

i suppose people such as i have to live this way.  there are too many evils lying in wait around every corner, thieves of joy and demons of chaos wrecking havoc in our lives and there are always dark shadows of pain cast over the paths we must walk.  if one doesn't carry their own light with them on this journey, they'll surely be lost.  lost in the darkness of unforgiving misery, loneliness and despair.  if i must carry a torch of frivolity-maybe foolishness- i'll at least laugh all the way through my life that's been riddled with sorrows from beginning to end.  but i will not rely on the limited resources of the world to illuminate my life.

before you say it seems that i am despondent, pessimistic or jaded, let me say this; i do not say these things because my life has been nothing but tragic, far from it.  there have been a thousand days bursting with light, exploding as supernovae across my life.  however, just as a supernova is the harbinger of death for the star, so do these flashes of light evanesce, slowly vanishing, leaving nothing but a lonely black hole behind.  a void so bereft of life in contrast to the fullness of the blaze that bore it.

  it is true, life is beautiful.  but true beauty can only be measured by the disparity between it, and the beast.  just as weight, height or length would mean nothing without a zero to start from, so does beauty intensify as it's "distance" from hideous increases.  for those whose lives have seen very little of the hideousness this world can host, they are severely limited in their ability to perceive the magnitude of the beauty it may also hold.  after all, we would never see the stellar brilliance of the supernova were the star not about to die.

   i, in my experiences of this life, have seen beauty beyond comprehension.  God's own hand has painted brilliant strokes of grace, hope, joy and love, these strokes so bold and in colors so true i felt i'd before only ever seen the world as monochromatic blasè landscape.  i've known love that's reached such great heights and stretched my heart to bursting, blissful ecstasy that's left me speechless, hope and peace that have saved my mind from horrors untold.  however, i would never have seen these things for what they truly are had i not first seen utter anguish and hopelessness.  pain and sorrow have bared their teeth, and with open claws dug in and torn hearts and lives to shreds.  for every nefarious crime committed against my life, there has been an equally stunning and wondrous blessing to arise and take its place.

as long as i sojourn here, i will carry this torch.  blazing, let it shine on these demons, blind their eyes, while i laugh and say "do your best to destroy me", for i've seen their kind, i know their devious tricks, and for all my scars they've got nothing on me.