Three big questions

If you work enough, you’ll never have to live with yourself – or with anybody else, for that matter. It is my simple solution to a complicated, existential problem that is best summarized by three questions: what IS worth it? What do I deserve? Is there loving, loyal and lasting love?

The first question is typically – and almost boringly – philosophical. I say that with all respect for philosophy (the one lasting love of my life). The question has become a tired one at this stage in my life. 31 years of living has seen at least a decade of serious contemplation over this question. It’s a cop out question. It’s a trojan horse stuffed with every important question, basically. Nonetheless, I will summarize it in short order. I’m not sure what is worth focusing my energy on. I don’t know that I won’t have a big epiphany later in life, which will force me to reconsider how I spent so much of my time. I feel like focusing more on the pursuit of knowledge, writing, philosophy and conversations with those I care about are three can’t-go-wrong activities until I figure the rest out.

The second question is morally weighty and somewhat ambiguous. I am a big proponent of individual responsibility (hello Sartre, I miss you!). Basically, if you do bad (or good) acts, you need to own up to them and take responsibility. Modesty is good, so I believe in taking more credit for the bad things than the good ones. Yes, that’s called being hard on yourself. I have done some terrible things to people I have really cared about. I feel a certain guilt for them, but it is no longer crippling remorse. Progress! I have found a mix of meditation, writing and having good, honest conversations with people, when I make a mistake that hurts them, is a great way to face my moral failures head on. I have managed to make amends with the mistakes I made in the past. I have strove to live a more genuine, good and helpful life since I went off the deep end morally and mentally last year. So far, so good (pun intended)!

The third question is messy, borderline disastrous and downright divisive. People of a conservative, romantic or stoic disposition will lean towards the ‘yes’ side of the argument. Radical, cynical or free-spirited lovers will side with ‘no,’ or ‘probably not.’ I’m boringly undecided. I have felt my share of love – that blessed, soul-rocking and life-changing  passion. I have also seen my share of loss, betrayal and that hollow vacancy where love once was. I’ve given, and I’ve gotten, to be honest. The question of love plagues me more as I move forward in my career. The intermittent stops – or layovers (pun intended) – in different cities will slow down drastically soon. And then what? Stay single, lonely and awesome? Find love and either live a passionate, playful life with someone, or settle in and raise a family? I’m not sure what I want. There are days where I crave security and miss having a ‘home.’ There are also days where I crave beautiful new souls to connect with and explore life with.

Life happens, even as we try to dodge it by doing anything else. It’s all life. The issue is whether I will continue to blur through it like an amateur on Photoshop blending their blemishes, or if I’ll admit my own blemishes and life the authentic life I carve.

Uncageable birds in visible chains

The uncageable bird no longer flies free,

chains of ‘real life’ crossing  across her

broad tail-feathers and beautiful wings.

 

The world heard her roar,

or enough people to make it a shared

beautiful

and otherworldly case of loving and losing,

but never thinking about the losing for long.

 

I still don’t know what love means –

the thoughts dance on my sweating, red face –

and I’m not sure I ever will.

 

Time flies –

a bird freed and straight and endless –

whether you’re having fun

or not.

Puppies and masters and maniacs

My heart leaks on the cold, lonely nights,

and neither my blood or my tears can fill the well.

 

I grab my skull through my scalp and press hard,

but no sound or solution or soul worth saving is found,

and I just sit like that in the middle of my too-big bed

laughing like a maniac or an asshole and tilting my head

like a brand new puppy looking at its master

who must be a statue or dead or lost or mentally delayed

because they never laugh back,

but the laughing never stops.

Smoke in mirrors

The mirror betrays my false confidence as

the chiseled statue is now out of focus –

the panes of glass turned to waves of sand –

my eye catches more than normal as

the smoke has filled whatever it could not

kill,

and left my mind more and my being infinitely

less.

Cowardly ant people

People will try to make you feel small,

and you can let ’em,

as long as you will be a little lion –

ferocious, hungry and insane –

on your comeback trail.

 

Disregard all care for your mind

and toss aside all small barriers to

success and love and living true

and roar and burst out into the jungle,

for the jungle is yours to command

and yours alone,

and you can watch all the little cowards –

the ant people –

pat your back and smile at you as your teeth grow.

IDFC

I hurt all the people I want to love. I reach out to touch them and cut them instead of holding them. Edward Scissorhands. When the only tools you have are hammers, everything is a nail. It’s hard to hold someone with tender care when the scars of abandonment, abuse and alienation are fresh and multiplying.

I know they promised you the world, and the hurt of false promises carve deep holes into your heart and mind and soul.

I know I’m broken in all the tender areas I want to love with, and all of my busted seams can’t be welded back together again. Sometimes I reach out, and up, and outwards, only to feel the cold, razor winds of indifference against my infantile skin. I retreat back into my warm, comfortable persona and push everyone – off of balconies and ledges –  away from me. Sometimes I feel the savage cuts of knives when I reach out, the mockery, betrayal and failure coming home to roost. Sometimes I feel nothing.