Sometimes we get caught up in the crazy. It’s unavoidable. It’s right in front of us … ALL THE TIME!! We are what we eat and we eat what we see. We are the stories we have created. Nothing wrong with that… usually it’s a pretty ok place to be.
“We are not trapped by our thoughts. What we generally do, however, is create thoughts that trap us.” (p.162)”
We move through these stories rarely realizing that we are just piece actors in parts we have developed in realities we have invented. Stuck in the now or stuck in the new or stuck in the sticky web of our imagination. Often not realizing that we can change the words, the act, the reality just by changing the view.. the viewpoint.. the point of view. I am always eventually bringing myself back to my theme on perspective.
We look back on the past with fond memories of the things we think we ate. Foods, friends, fun, dinners, parks, and whatever made you feel happy and real.
Always forgetting the mad rush from job to job to home to school to the hospital to a friend’s side to a parents death to the birth of a child to the torment of a lost love to the current political crisis to the next election to the (and the list goes on and on and on).
“We all live in a house on fire, no fire department to call; no way out, just the upstairs window to look out of while the fire burns the house down with us trapped, locked in it.”
― Tennessee Williams, The Milk Train Doesn’t Stop Here Anymore
We eat these things every day and drown in their pools of darkness. And yet, when they pass.. and all things pass, we usually recover and go on and on and on. Until the next bit of madness consumes us.
My dad is my biggest current consumption. He turns 80 in October. That’s his goal. He wants to eat 80. 80 is BIG. HUGE. That’s almost a century for you non-math folks. He wants to dance with it, sing with it, and celebrate it. He’s worked hard for it, so why shouldn’t he be able to? Unfortunately, cancer is consuming HIM quickly. He’s handling it like a trooper, a real pro. This is actually more than I can say for myself.
Catch on fire and people will come for miles to see you burn. John Wesley
He has no regrets BUT he has so many stories yet to tell (said in a very whiny, child-like voice). I’m happy I was able to spend last month with him, my sister, my kids, and my grandkids. BUT it really wasn’t enough time (voice even more whiny). It’s not like we never spent time together. We spent time when we could but we were and are still always so busy… but we were and are still always so broke …but we were and are still always so consumed with the chaos that we are surrounded in.. that we surround ourselves in.. But.. but.. but.. now… now… we rush home.. we rush to this catastrophe.. to this sadness.. to this dark night of the soul to this physical burning of a huge part of our lives, of our story.
BUT.. (again the buts) this will also pass. It’s not like it will ever go away completely but it will be reduced to another chaotic meal in my life. I mean.. not everyone makes it to 80 right? Everyone’s story goes away eventually. Even the best stories fade. A landmark in our lives didn’t just fade, it disappeared completely. As if it had never existed.. had never ever even been there. A hill. A hill with a tree. A hill with a tree with windchimes in it. A hill with a tree with windchimes in it and carved out stones laying beside it. A hill that represented other folks that faded… disappeared completely.. as if they had never existed. Not only did the hill fade (disappear).. but a giant metal horse and a baby horse also faded (disappeared). Literally, not figuratively, disappeared.
It was part of a story that we had all created in our lives. A story that we did not think would ever disappear. Which in retrospect is silly. We had trespassed for 50 years onto this property because it was mom’s place. Still is.. even though it is gone. Even though she is gone. Characters in a play is all. Nothing remains when the curtains close.
Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them – that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like. Lao Tzu
So goes the story. So the story goes. The past, the present, and now the future. It really isn’t as bad as it seems. You just have to write it.. and re-write it.. and right it and re- right it. Here’s to my hope for the future.