33. That's it. Then, it is all downhill. Previous to it, it is all uphill. So, I guess The Christ checked out at His happiest moment.
Brrrrrr.
Well, maybe Palm Sunday, the Passover dinner prep with friends, all that cheering...but still...33?
I don't remember 33, per se. I do remember lots of dates, a job, three thousand miles between me and my blood family, a semi-legal and usually driveable car, a community with need for my "talents" surrounding me, and holy land to live on...my own studio...publishing gigs, reading gigs and sobriety at its beginning...so, yeah, some parts of 33 were stable and hopeful and at the very least, quite sunny. However, I remember a lot of heart-aches, too. I remember AIDS becoming AIDS. I remember semi-closeted lives and bad drugs and bad hair and rich people with too much and poor people with nothing and a sense of swimming through jello--with just enough light to see that there was "something" on the other side...but not what. Not even sure I could get to the other side.
Now I am at 55. Experts say that I have a good chance of making it to a hundred. But, if 33, with all of its pitfalls, challenges and problems was the happiest I will ever be, who the hell wants to make it to 100?
I know, I know, perhaps "happiness" isn't the point. (It would be nice, however, to stop for a moment in this circus and just feel, just for a second, that "I am happy." To know it; own it, and then move on).
I am not alone. Most of the people in my close and extended life are going through idiotically huge challenges and tough times. Others cling to this "I am happy and positive and all is right in the world we only have to grasp at this..." I have never been able to grasp this. The Dark Side has always been walking next to me and knocking me in the head any time I turn around to sneak a peek.
I was so happy to hear the philosophy of owning our "Dark Self" and embracing and learning from it. Now I would like to get back in balance. While I don't want to have to attend Up with People parades and "I Am Fine and You are Okay" lectures, I am ready for The Lighter Side. I am ready to stop the interior sobs and rejection and stalled life and to move on, out of the cold.
Looking around for what I should be writing about, I only see that struggle that everyone is attempting to weather. I only see the neon colors which others try to coat the horror with and pretend that it is 'no big deal'. I wish I honestly felt that we had several "33" high points in our lives--if only as rest stops. Places where, if we have to take on the next big challenges, we at least could pause and refresh and take in the coolness we've acquired.
For my friends who have "made it" and are, indeed, truly joyful, fun-filled, successful, employed, engaged, held dearly in the arms of a beloved--be it child or lover, who have found their bliss and are rewarded by a Universe congratulating them upon the discovery, though I sound like Scrooge, I am, honestly glad. I congratulate and applaud their rewarded efforts.
Really.
However, it doesn't make me feel better about my life. This ain't ever how I thought it would turn out to be. Not even close. I know it could be a helluva lot worse. I could be in a war zone; a cholera epidemic; an AIDS village in Africa. I could be dying in a gutter in an Indian city, with nobody around who gives a damn or knows my name. I could be a homeless teen in America. I am none of these. And I am aware.
I could and should remember the Zen ideal of righteous action and doing things not for their outcome, but for the sake of doing them well. Perfectly. Focused. One thing at a time. Sometimes I am also aware of this and internalize this and accomplish this. Sometimes I just sit. (Still, it ain't how I thought it would be) Not at 33.
So, once again, another Easter and Passover passing by. I hear, on one side, the terrible lamentations of some and the rising hurrahs of the others. Where do I fit? What am I suppose to analyze, write about, think about, care about? What would Jesus Christ say, about turning 33? Was it His happiest year on Earth ? I'd love to sit down and ask...
Brrrrrr.
Well, maybe Palm Sunday, the Passover dinner prep with friends, all that cheering...but still...33?
I don't remember 33, per se. I do remember lots of dates, a job, three thousand miles between me and my blood family, a semi-legal and usually driveable car, a community with need for my "talents" surrounding me, and holy land to live on...my own studio...publishing gigs, reading gigs and sobriety at its beginning...so, yeah, some parts of 33 were stable and hopeful and at the very least, quite sunny. However, I remember a lot of heart-aches, too. I remember AIDS becoming AIDS. I remember semi-closeted lives and bad drugs and bad hair and rich people with too much and poor people with nothing and a sense of swimming through jello--with just enough light to see that there was "something" on the other side...but not what. Not even sure I could get to the other side.
Now I am at 55. Experts say that I have a good chance of making it to a hundred. But, if 33, with all of its pitfalls, challenges and problems was the happiest I will ever be, who the hell wants to make it to 100?
I know, I know, perhaps "happiness" isn't the point. (It would be nice, however, to stop for a moment in this circus and just feel, just for a second, that "I am happy." To know it; own it, and then move on).
I am not alone. Most of the people in my close and extended life are going through idiotically huge challenges and tough times. Others cling to this "I am happy and positive and all is right in the world we only have to grasp at this..." I have never been able to grasp this. The Dark Side has always been walking next to me and knocking me in the head any time I turn around to sneak a peek.
I was so happy to hear the philosophy of owning our "Dark Self" and embracing and learning from it. Now I would like to get back in balance. While I don't want to have to attend Up with People parades and "I Am Fine and You are Okay" lectures, I am ready for The Lighter Side. I am ready to stop the interior sobs and rejection and stalled life and to move on, out of the cold.
Looking around for what I should be writing about, I only see that struggle that everyone is attempting to weather. I only see the neon colors which others try to coat the horror with and pretend that it is 'no big deal'. I wish I honestly felt that we had several "33" high points in our lives--if only as rest stops. Places where, if we have to take on the next big challenges, we at least could pause and refresh and take in the coolness we've acquired.
For my friends who have "made it" and are, indeed, truly joyful, fun-filled, successful, employed, engaged, held dearly in the arms of a beloved--be it child or lover, who have found their bliss and are rewarded by a Universe congratulating them upon the discovery, though I sound like Scrooge, I am, honestly glad. I congratulate and applaud their rewarded efforts.
Really.
However, it doesn't make me feel better about my life. This ain't ever how I thought it would turn out to be. Not even close. I know it could be a helluva lot worse. I could be in a war zone; a cholera epidemic; an AIDS village in Africa. I could be dying in a gutter in an Indian city, with nobody around who gives a damn or knows my name. I could be a homeless teen in America. I am none of these. And I am aware.
I could and should remember the Zen ideal of righteous action and doing things not for their outcome, but for the sake of doing them well. Perfectly. Focused. One thing at a time. Sometimes I am also aware of this and internalize this and accomplish this. Sometimes I just sit. (Still, it ain't how I thought it would be) Not at 33.
So, once again, another Easter and Passover passing by. I hear, on one side, the terrible lamentations of some and the rising hurrahs of the others. Where do I fit? What am I suppose to analyze, write about, think about, care about? What would Jesus Christ say, about turning 33? Was it His happiest year on Earth ? I'd love to sit down and ask...
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