It's been a year now since I happened across the mangled body of my dog on the road in front of my former abode. A year since blood stained snow proved to me that despite our best efforts, we cannot protect those we love the most. A year since one of my greatest fears had been realized. A year since most of everything that I knew and had grown familiar with changed irrevocably. A year since I promised myself that I'd be better and stronger and more resolute than the greatest of challenges.
It's funny how I thought this year would be better than the last. How I believed so wholeheartedly that come 2009, everything would be a whole lot better.
The potential was there, in so many ways-friendships and opportunities, a burgeoning grassroots community coming to be around kids and rockstars and moments, the seemingly endless days of togetherness, the looking into the hope, the possibility of knowing and being known, the realization of a space in which the marginalized of the community could find a home, the belief that dreams could come true.
But I am seeing blood and snow again, I am driving upon a death scene similar to that of one year ago, where all the things I tried to nuture and develop and keep safe are lying in a mangled heap of steaming guts and blood. Split apart by the inevitable reality of that which I could not control, that which I could not be there for, that which I could not do. That which I could not be.
I know that at some time or another we all go through these times where crimson red splashes against bright white and horrfies us. I know we all have to pick up a mess sometime or another. I know that sometimes we all have the lifeblood of of our love streaming down through our fingers.
Sometimes, though I just wish it were different, that those experiences wouldn't have to be...
This afternoon, I stopped by the river, to think, to believe, to collect myself.
I know I am not giving up on my hope that this year could be better than the next, I can't ever give up on that.
But right now, I can't shake that image of blood on snow, and the look on her face when I said "I can't", or the look on her face when she said "I can't"
I see the red on the white, and I am praying for the melt.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
And so it is
As sometimes happens throughout the course of my living, I awoke today to the realization that I am presently mired in quite a shitty situation. Compounding the issue, of course, is the subsequent realization that the only person responsible for making a spate of progressivley bad decisions is, well, me. For as much as it would be nice to point fingers and place blame, the reality of the situation is that I am the only one accountable. In matters of life, love, and pet ownership, I have made choices that have significantly lessened the quality of my life at the moment. And, perhaps, the quality of life for others.
Typically following one of these realizations, I work quickly to change the circumstances. This work could involve anything from a diversionary temper tantrum to an extended road trip somewhere without cell phone service. Its not that I deal with the problem itself, and I certainly don't address the circumstances leading up to it, but rather, I find a way to rid myself of it.
Sometimes this ridding is a good thing. Some things just need to go, be over and done with. But other times, it seems that it would be prudent to take stock of how things came to be, in the interest of developing preventative measures. In the interest of becoming a more responsible and authentic person.
And so it is that I have undertaken the process of thinking about my thinking, and pondering the where's and whyfore's of the decisions I make. Ending up at the same place all the time gets a little tiresome, as do all the apologies to myself and others. It seems its time to try and figure some things out...or perhaps more rightly, admit some things.
There are in particular three aspects of the way in which I think and make decisions that appear to be inappropriate basis for sound, decisive, and right action in most matters.
One of my biggest challenges is that I tend to operate in the moment, and pay little consideration to consquence. If something feels good, looks good, sounds good, then I'm all about having it as soon as I can have it. Doing it as soon as I can do it. The moment becomes all that matters. And while I may give some deference to the next day, more often than not I decide to deal with whatever later. Its kind of like living on credit. Get it now, figure out a way to pay for it next month.
Of course, this inevitably leads to an indebtedness that becomes burdensome. As the multitude of moments grows, so does the impact of the consequence. At some point it becomes clear that there is no way in hell you are going to get out from under the debt without some painful sacrifices, those sacrifices being the moments you had grown accustomed to living in.
Similarly, I also find that despite my ability to recognize that I may live in a moment which will ultimately extract from me more than I have to give, I always think that this time it will be different. This time, things will be different. This time I can trust a little more. This time I will be vindicated. I will believe wholeheartedly, and with great passion, that this time it will be different. This time I will not be vexed in the end. This time, I will be happy. This time I know a little more than I did before. This time...all will be well.
This is an incredibly dangerous way of thinking, to be sure, and even more so because it so clearly requires a healthy level of complete denial in order to maintain functions. Even though the pattern of behavior has been firmly established, and even though a rational part of me can acknowledge that there is no difference to be had, I will still choose to act in ways that lead to disappointment and frustration, believing quite foolishly, "not this time"
And I do this, I think, because I have misunderstood hope, mistaken need for truth. I do this because I need something, whether its a sense of comfort or whether its to feel loved, or whether its to make myself believe that everything to this point has not been a failure. Maybe its to convince myself that I can participate in my life meaningfully, rather than just have it happen to me. Maybe its because I don't really ever believe in myself enough to not do it.
Whatever the case may be, I altruize my decisions and actions. I believe that what I am doing reflects a greater purpose, a hopefulness, secures a happiness. But the fact of the matter is that I am trying to make wrongs right, I am trying to convert falsehoods into truths so that I don't have to feel hopeless, so that I don't have to wonder what the hell I am going to do. So I don't have to deal with the debt of consequence.
The irony of course is that I more frequently than not DO end up wondering what the hell I am going to do, I DO end up disappointed and frustrated, I DO end up hoping a little less, believing a little less. I DO end up burdened by the consequence. I DO end up missing out on the thing I was looking for.
And so it is that now, in this state of realization, I am compelled to contemplate another decision-to decide when enough will be enough. To decide when, exactly, I'll give myself a little more deference than what I have been. To decide when, exactly, I will grow the hell up and do the right thing.
Typically following one of these realizations, I work quickly to change the circumstances. This work could involve anything from a diversionary temper tantrum to an extended road trip somewhere without cell phone service. Its not that I deal with the problem itself, and I certainly don't address the circumstances leading up to it, but rather, I find a way to rid myself of it.
Sometimes this ridding is a good thing. Some things just need to go, be over and done with. But other times, it seems that it would be prudent to take stock of how things came to be, in the interest of developing preventative measures. In the interest of becoming a more responsible and authentic person.
And so it is that I have undertaken the process of thinking about my thinking, and pondering the where's and whyfore's of the decisions I make. Ending up at the same place all the time gets a little tiresome, as do all the apologies to myself and others. It seems its time to try and figure some things out...or perhaps more rightly, admit some things.
There are in particular three aspects of the way in which I think and make decisions that appear to be inappropriate basis for sound, decisive, and right action in most matters.
One of my biggest challenges is that I tend to operate in the moment, and pay little consideration to consquence. If something feels good, looks good, sounds good, then I'm all about having it as soon as I can have it. Doing it as soon as I can do it. The moment becomes all that matters. And while I may give some deference to the next day, more often than not I decide to deal with whatever later. Its kind of like living on credit. Get it now, figure out a way to pay for it next month.
Of course, this inevitably leads to an indebtedness that becomes burdensome. As the multitude of moments grows, so does the impact of the consequence. At some point it becomes clear that there is no way in hell you are going to get out from under the debt without some painful sacrifices, those sacrifices being the moments you had grown accustomed to living in.
Similarly, I also find that despite my ability to recognize that I may live in a moment which will ultimately extract from me more than I have to give, I always think that this time it will be different. This time, things will be different. This time I can trust a little more. This time I will be vindicated. I will believe wholeheartedly, and with great passion, that this time it will be different. This time I will not be vexed in the end. This time, I will be happy. This time I know a little more than I did before. This time...all will be well.
This is an incredibly dangerous way of thinking, to be sure, and even more so because it so clearly requires a healthy level of complete denial in order to maintain functions. Even though the pattern of behavior has been firmly established, and even though a rational part of me can acknowledge that there is no difference to be had, I will still choose to act in ways that lead to disappointment and frustration, believing quite foolishly, "not this time"
And I do this, I think, because I have misunderstood hope, mistaken need for truth. I do this because I need something, whether its a sense of comfort or whether its to feel loved, or whether its to make myself believe that everything to this point has not been a failure. Maybe its to convince myself that I can participate in my life meaningfully, rather than just have it happen to me. Maybe its because I don't really ever believe in myself enough to not do it.
Whatever the case may be, I altruize my decisions and actions. I believe that what I am doing reflects a greater purpose, a hopefulness, secures a happiness. But the fact of the matter is that I am trying to make wrongs right, I am trying to convert falsehoods into truths so that I don't have to feel hopeless, so that I don't have to wonder what the hell I am going to do. So I don't have to deal with the debt of consequence.
The irony of course is that I more frequently than not DO end up wondering what the hell I am going to do, I DO end up disappointed and frustrated, I DO end up hoping a little less, believing a little less. I DO end up burdened by the consequence. I DO end up missing out on the thing I was looking for.
And so it is that now, in this state of realization, I am compelled to contemplate another decision-to decide when enough will be enough. To decide when, exactly, I'll give myself a little more deference than what I have been. To decide when, exactly, I will grow the hell up and do the right thing.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
For Linda
Having successfully cajoled our friend Linda into keeping a regular blog (http://lindaunderground.blogspot.com/) it is incumbent upon me to respond in like fashion to her request for a blog about the inauguration of Barack Obama, where I know she would have rather been...maybe...probably...
I will forego the intricate details of travel, and crowds, and long ass coffee lines and attempt to get to the heart of the matter-that matter being the very clear possibility that perhaps we do all share a common hope, a common vision, for what we can be as a society and as free people. And that maybe, possibly, there is the strength in us to demand what is right and good and honest, rather than just acquiescing to the lie that has become comfortable.
Standing amidst the millions, there was an undeniable energy, a palpable sense of promise for who we can be as a people and for who we can be as people. There was a renewed joy in participating in the civic life of our society. There was the very real sense that many who have been marginalized now have not only a voice, but a reason to believe that their voice is powerful.
I recalled on Tuesday, a brief conversation I had a few days before with a friend who wondered if everyone had the same opportunities in life. At the time, my answer was no, not everyone has the same opportunities, whether by blood, or chance, or geography, not everyone has the same opportunity. And I tried to imagine what it would be like, to know that my opportunities were limited, that all I could ever want would be dependent upon the will and power of someone else.
Then, standing there, in the National Mall, watching as Obama took his botched oath, it occurred to me that now, everyone does have an opportunity, that the power hierachry has shifted significantly...and those who have felt to be at the whim and last thought of another are now able to see their power and their privilege.
Though some may doubt, I believe that great and good change is imminent, that government as usual, life as usual, will not be the same. That spirit of hope, that belief in the possibilities and the opportunities, coursed through the moments and persons on the Mall-it was felt collectively and individually-that change was afoot, and no matter how difficult, now matter how hard the process, no matter the cost, this change will be for the better.
In this, we can trust.
I will forego the intricate details of travel, and crowds, and long ass coffee lines and attempt to get to the heart of the matter-that matter being the very clear possibility that perhaps we do all share a common hope, a common vision, for what we can be as a society and as free people. And that maybe, possibly, there is the strength in us to demand what is right and good and honest, rather than just acquiescing to the lie that has become comfortable.
Standing amidst the millions, there was an undeniable energy, a palpable sense of promise for who we can be as a people and for who we can be as people. There was a renewed joy in participating in the civic life of our society. There was the very real sense that many who have been marginalized now have not only a voice, but a reason to believe that their voice is powerful.
I recalled on Tuesday, a brief conversation I had a few days before with a friend who wondered if everyone had the same opportunities in life. At the time, my answer was no, not everyone has the same opportunities, whether by blood, or chance, or geography, not everyone has the same opportunity. And I tried to imagine what it would be like, to know that my opportunities were limited, that all I could ever want would be dependent upon the will and power of someone else.
Then, standing there, in the National Mall, watching as Obama took his botched oath, it occurred to me that now, everyone does have an opportunity, that the power hierachry has shifted significantly...and those who have felt to be at the whim and last thought of another are now able to see their power and their privilege.
Though some may doubt, I believe that great and good change is imminent, that government as usual, life as usual, will not be the same. That spirit of hope, that belief in the possibilities and the opportunities, coursed through the moments and persons on the Mall-it was felt collectively and individually-that change was afoot, and no matter how difficult, now matter how hard the process, no matter the cost, this change will be for the better.
In this, we can trust.
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