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Little Red Lizard

I told myself, like you told yourself.  This wouldn’t happen again.  Driving away into the night, we muttered the silent promises people do when they’ve reached the end of themselves.  When they have discovered that they really are not just one person.  That we all have to fight a war between the best of ourselves, and the part of us that continues to do us in.

I clicked the radio on, and then quickly turned it off.  I didn’t need another memory to haunt me later.  The last time I had driven away from regret I made the mistake of listening to some jazz station.  Now every time I hear smooth jazz, well, she comes to mind.  And not just her, but the lack of control.  I return to the scene of the crime against myself, in my mind, again.

Thinking you can wash your hands so quickly of memories stain, is one of the biggest lies told.  They don’t live like people do.  They stick to your skin, and smell up your clothes.  And hour-long showers don’t wash them away.
So it’s 3:23am, and although she wanted me to stay the night, I couldn’t sleep there.  I couldn’t awaken to the reality.

So I drive in silence,

to the shower that awaits,

the bed that is mine,

and the sunrise,

that I hope will erase the guilt and ….

Who is she?

Her name is addiction. If you have not met, I hope never to introduce you.  But maybe you already have met.  She is the one that hides behind your predominant self.  The one that allows you to hold its reality at arms length.  To just barely deny its existence, although, like a world wind, it crashes into your life, and whirls you away ever so often.

She is your guilty pleasure.  Your mess of pottage. The last puff of smoke before the lights go out. She is you…doing the thing you said you would never do….again.

She’ll make you trade Life’s love for lust…or passing up real food for a pacifier..casting your eyes from a horizons vision, to the short lived bliss of today.  She is your kindest pimp, and sometimes all you have.  She may even love you.  Smiling, while your heart grows cold, and numb to the seesaw of broken promises, while she whispers into the night that she is doubtful of tomorrows hope.

In other ways, he is the 800 pound gorilla in the room. Territorially invading your space, staring at you with those piercing and dominating eyes. Grunting you into submission.  Denying the option to be ignored, but daring you to confront its undeniable presence.  And when polite company come over, he/she transforms into that little red lizard, and scurries away, deep inside dusty corners of abandoned, cobweb invested attics, or uncleaned verandas.

To the world, you are a self respecting citizen of civility.  In control, and put together.  At church you leave him at home, knowing good and well that here, you do not speak of such things.  Here you sing loudly, smile widely, and keep you mouth shut.

But these are things that must be spoken of.  For they are true.  And a lie lived in secret will kill you.

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The Conspiracy Against Silence

Silence can be like a clean white page, before the blur of words.  Or like the darkness.  It really isn’t a thing, but the absence of something.  For darkness, that thing is light.  For silence, it is noise.  The echoes of sound tightly trapped inside the walls of your mind.  The ones you can’t seem to get away from.

It seems to me that noise is a sort of addiction.  Like I’m driving in the car, and my hand automatically flicks the radio on.  I don’t want to hear anything, what I really want to do is figure out where I’m going….in life.

I want to get the things done on the list.

I want to relax and organize the thoughts swarming inside.

I want to regain control.  But I feel like there’s something on the radio that I’m missing.  Something to help me pass the time.  So I channel surf.  Through the stations of noise.  And if I can’t find what I’m not looking for, there’s the T.V, or the internet, or the mall.  It’s almost like society has agreed that silence is boring, or wrong.  Like staying in on a Saturday night is such a socially dwarfed activity.

If life was so valuable, wouldn’t we want to slow it down?  Where are we going in such a hurry?  Why are we so eager to fill it with the things that seem so meaningless?

So it’s beginning to make sense why it’s so difficult sometimes to just sit down and write.  Or why I find it hard to leave the beach after staring at the horizon for awhile. Trying to take in the unfathomable radiance.

We live in a world with noise.  But without filters, or a means to establish silent zones, we will drive ourselves mad.  Becoming swept away in the momentum of societies assumed rule of perpetual motion.

How do you break away from the noise in your life?  What is your quiet place?

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Stuck in No Man’s Land

No man’s land can be a dangerous place, and exhilarating at the same time.
Especially when this stretch of unclaimed territory separates two waring nations, ideologies and people.  People found traveling from one nation to another, in passing through this neutral zone, can be tempted to set up shop there, and forgo the commitment of moving to their new destination.

I can’t remember a time where I was aware of being in a literal unclaimed territory. Metaphorically speaking, however, I feel like I am in one now.  An exodus of sorts is underway.  The land where assumptions, and deeply rooted, unchallenged religious practices held sway, has become the barren middle earth, as I travel in search of something better.  Each milestone marks questions raised, and answers given.  They have also lunged me further along the path to owning and understanding more clearly what it is I believe.

With greater light often comes greater responsibility, and so at times, the temptation is to turn my attention to the issues at hand.   It’s a state that I’m realizing can be a tempting place to reside, but not a very productive place to remain.

I’ve found myself at times pretty tired of traditional religion, and in my efforts to pursue something more meaningful, I’ve found myself, away from church for periods of time.  Sometimes its easy to get stuck in the rut of seeing only the negative aspects of traditionally practiced Christianity, and not really progressing forward to whatever better ideal one has identified.  And sometime those ideals, remain ideals, and dont find the light of actual practice.  That’s a frustrating place to be.

Be That Change You Desire To See, In A Practical Way

Now I do agree that recognizing the truth about where one is in life is an important aspect to moving forward. I believe its the first step in discovering the truth for yourself, and for many people, just this step is a difficult one.  But remaining in that place of negativity, although seemingly warranted, doesn’t realize or produce a solution.

This takes courage to actually move from the place where you were, journey through that territory of only seeing what was negative in your past, and crossing into a land where you are actively “being the change” you believe is right for this world.

And that’s the truth as I’m currently seeing it…

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