I am at that point
I see over the ledge into the end of nothing
The darkness, pure and hateful
Encompasses all beneath me, all that I surround.
I feel but a faint breeze,
A stirring in the silence that enshrouds me
Such silence that makes this breeze remarkable
But a drop of water is an ocean to a thirsty man.
I reach out for you, you respond
You hold me tightly to your breast,
You give me pause to see but a single point of light
You give me hope to be so much more.
Such light, the darkness fades,
Such warmth, the comfort of this moment,
And I step back from the ledge,
There is no need to seek its prescription.
And I feel love, I feel loved
I am love, I give love,
Such things are never to be forgotten,
Such things are never to be lost.
And as you let go, your smile shall never fade
For it is you, it is love,
It has saved me, it has taught me
And I can never let it go.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Hopeless
I sleep but not to rest
I pause but not to think
I eat but not to be nourished
I pray but not to find forgiveness.
I grab a hold but not to hold on
I take a seat but not to rest
I long to be but all to you
I seek those things that cannot be found.
I find victory in all defeat
I find defeat in every win
I drink in all but do not thirst
I see the light as all light fades.
I am hopeless I am hopeful
I am so happy I can cry
I am so lonely I need to be alone
I am so right that I know that I am wrong.
I am hopeless, lost, and have never had more hope or been more found.
I pause but not to think
I eat but not to be nourished
I pray but not to find forgiveness.
I grab a hold but not to hold on
I take a seat but not to rest
I long to be but all to you
I seek those things that cannot be found.
I find victory in all defeat
I find defeat in every win
I drink in all but do not thirst
I see the light as all light fades.
I am hopeless I am hopeful
I am so happy I can cry
I am so lonely I need to be alone
I am so right that I know that I am wrong.
I am hopeless, lost, and have never had more hope or been more found.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Gone forever
You came to me as if in a dream,
And scolded my innocence, disciplined my naivete,
You pushed me into some beckoned call,
And whispered softly words I cannot recall.
That look, that look,
That eager look that haunts me still,
You took what you wanted, you gave nothing more,
You had certainly sung this song before.
In the blink of an eye, in the sound of a gasp,
My world became distorted, such things became a blur,
You came as did I, you went as did I,
Some things will never be the same.
And scolded my innocence, disciplined my naivete,
You pushed me into some beckoned call,
And whispered softly words I cannot recall.
That look, that look,
That eager look that haunts me still,
You took what you wanted, you gave nothing more,
You had certainly sung this song before.
In the blink of an eye, in the sound of a gasp,
My world became distorted, such things became a blur,
You came as did I, you went as did I,
Some things will never be the same.
Friday, January 23, 2009
About Rangel and Reich's comments regarding white workers...
I thought about this...and came to one logical conclusion. First, I don't find it correct in any way, shape or form to segregate people for any reason whatsoever. However, when I hear my white brothers and sisters complain as if they have just had a toenail removed without anesthetic I can only say that I feel not one ounce of sympathy. My response to them simply begins with a question:
How does it feel?
All of the fear, anger and hostility you feel when a government official actually EXCLUDES you from something need not be anything but a lesson. Discrimination is bad. Treating someone as an unequal just because of their skin color is horrible. Earmarking money that is designed to exclude a race is abhorrent. Creating policies around skin tone is ludicrous. Lumping people who will revel in the spoils of power by race is wrong.
Now we get it. Now we simply know how it feels.
Perhaps this feeling we have now will better serve us in the future when we are serving drinks at a banker's convention and there are only a handful of whites in the room. Perhaps this feeling we have now will serve us better when a black man turns us down for a job we know we are qualified for, only to leave the building and not see one white face in the crowd except for the janitor. Maybe we will get it when colleges don't take our applications and the black man wants to eliminate quotas. Maybe now we will question the righteousness of our getting paid less than the black man for the same job. Perhaps we will wonder why there are so many more white men in prison than black men, and yes perhaps we will even blame the black man for our problems.
We may remember when we had the ability to cause change in such a consciousness. We will remember the opportunities we have squandered to end color as a means of advancement or repression. We may even shed a tear at the understanding we could have ended it all by just not making others have to work for such equality. Perhaps we will then understand that equality is not work unless there is inequality in our hearts. and the only way to truly be equal is to have such blind love in our hearts.
And perhaps there is opportunity in it all. Perhaps our own Dr. Martin Luther King will emerge; someone who rises above his God-given condition to preach peace and love and non-violence as a way to achieve greatness. Perhaps we will feel anger when he is gunned down by a black man with a sniper rifle. Perhaps in our sadness as seeing such waste we will learn hatred above all else.
Perhaps we will now have the opportunity to face down water cannons aimed at us by black firefighters. Perhaps now we get the opportunity to stand up to the black man's German Sheppard as they gouge holes in our legs. Perhaps now we can walk arm in arm with some blacks who seek equality into the Washington Mall to hear a speech that changes our lives.
Perhaps now we will get our chance not to surrender our seat to a black man on a bus, or can look to take a beating from a white cop just for walking down the street at night.
And even perhaps we will want to be reimbursed for the injustice. True, our culture never was enslaved at the whips and chains of others, but bondage takes so many forms it is impossible to tell the difference. Maybe at this moment we could begin to understand what pain our history has inflicted, how our refusal to understand such pain only creates more of it. At how our lack of remorse, lack of caring, and lack of a sense of justice only creates more and more pain in those this history has caused so much pain.
Perhaps we will vote for the political party that seems to want to assist us in our condition, even while those different than us not sharing in our despotism will rail against that assistance as furthering our demise. Perhaps the pains in our stomachs and the cries of our children will makes us a slave to such programs, another form of bondage that transcends the physical and now delves into a desperate sense of spiritual dependence.
But wait, I am full of it. Just another liberal in a long line preaching guilt and earmarks, socialism and falsehood. Such is what your mind MUST tell you, or else this could just all make way too much sense. YOU NEED TO DISAGREE, because you are not there yet, you do not understand the sting of it all. Those of us who have never felt the tinge of pain at the hands of the whip or the coldness of the steel of bondage can never understand things from such a perspective.
So, let's just cry some more about what Reich and Rangel said. Let's whine about it, and be all offended by it. We haven't faced an ounce of the pain and suffering we have caused, so I feel no sympathy at all for my own kind. An old friend once said to me "karma's a bitch", and we can only hope it doesn't pay us nearly what we are owed.
How does it feel?
All of the fear, anger and hostility you feel when a government official actually EXCLUDES you from something need not be anything but a lesson. Discrimination is bad. Treating someone as an unequal just because of their skin color is horrible. Earmarking money that is designed to exclude a race is abhorrent. Creating policies around skin tone is ludicrous. Lumping people who will revel in the spoils of power by race is wrong.
Now we get it. Now we simply know how it feels.
Perhaps this feeling we have now will better serve us in the future when we are serving drinks at a banker's convention and there are only a handful of whites in the room. Perhaps this feeling we have now will serve us better when a black man turns us down for a job we know we are qualified for, only to leave the building and not see one white face in the crowd except for the janitor. Maybe we will get it when colleges don't take our applications and the black man wants to eliminate quotas. Maybe now we will question the righteousness of our getting paid less than the black man for the same job. Perhaps we will wonder why there are so many more white men in prison than black men, and yes perhaps we will even blame the black man for our problems.
We may remember when we had the ability to cause change in such a consciousness. We will remember the opportunities we have squandered to end color as a means of advancement or repression. We may even shed a tear at the understanding we could have ended it all by just not making others have to work for such equality. Perhaps we will then understand that equality is not work unless there is inequality in our hearts. and the only way to truly be equal is to have such blind love in our hearts.
And perhaps there is opportunity in it all. Perhaps our own Dr. Martin Luther King will emerge; someone who rises above his God-given condition to preach peace and love and non-violence as a way to achieve greatness. Perhaps we will feel anger when he is gunned down by a black man with a sniper rifle. Perhaps in our sadness as seeing such waste we will learn hatred above all else.
Perhaps we will now have the opportunity to face down water cannons aimed at us by black firefighters. Perhaps now we get the opportunity to stand up to the black man's German Sheppard as they gouge holes in our legs. Perhaps now we can walk arm in arm with some blacks who seek equality into the Washington Mall to hear a speech that changes our lives.
Perhaps now we will get our chance not to surrender our seat to a black man on a bus, or can look to take a beating from a white cop just for walking down the street at night.
And even perhaps we will want to be reimbursed for the injustice. True, our culture never was enslaved at the whips and chains of others, but bondage takes so many forms it is impossible to tell the difference. Maybe at this moment we could begin to understand what pain our history has inflicted, how our refusal to understand such pain only creates more of it. At how our lack of remorse, lack of caring, and lack of a sense of justice only creates more and more pain in those this history has caused so much pain.
Perhaps we will vote for the political party that seems to want to assist us in our condition, even while those different than us not sharing in our despotism will rail against that assistance as furthering our demise. Perhaps the pains in our stomachs and the cries of our children will makes us a slave to such programs, another form of bondage that transcends the physical and now delves into a desperate sense of spiritual dependence.
But wait, I am full of it. Just another liberal in a long line preaching guilt and earmarks, socialism and falsehood. Such is what your mind MUST tell you, or else this could just all make way too much sense. YOU NEED TO DISAGREE, because you are not there yet, you do not understand the sting of it all. Those of us who have never felt the tinge of pain at the hands of the whip or the coldness of the steel of bondage can never understand things from such a perspective.
So, let's just cry some more about what Reich and Rangel said. Let's whine about it, and be all offended by it. We haven't faced an ounce of the pain and suffering we have caused, so I feel no sympathy at all for my own kind. An old friend once said to me "karma's a bitch", and we can only hope it doesn't pay us nearly what we are owed.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
The Simple Word: 'Me'
This blade of grass I hold
Or does this blade of grass hold me?
Such divinity in its simplicity,
Such simplicity is its divinity,
To be held by such a thing
Is to see life as it is meant to be lived.
A breeze takes hold of this part of me
This part of me that is free
And whisks it away in such abiding revelry
To go where Being says it must,
To be as time shall make it be,
Without complaint it rides the wave
And seeks to be no other place.
For what is a tree if not part of me?
What is this blade of grass if not me?
What is it that defines that what the wind does hold?
There is not one Being in this place
Who is a sum of the parts that make it seem to be
Who we are is the force that holds these parts as one,
Who makes those parts the simple word: "me".
Or does this blade of grass hold me?
Such divinity in its simplicity,
Such simplicity is its divinity,
To be held by such a thing
Is to see life as it is meant to be lived.
A breeze takes hold of this part of me
This part of me that is free
And whisks it away in such abiding revelry
To go where Being says it must,
To be as time shall make it be,
Without complaint it rides the wave
And seeks to be no other place.
For what is a tree if not part of me?
What is this blade of grass if not me?
What is it that defines that what the wind does hold?
There is not one Being in this place
Who is a sum of the parts that make it seem to be
Who we are is the force that holds these parts as one,
Who makes those parts the simple word: "me".
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
The release of hurt...
I was going to write this last night, but decided not to react but rather let the reaction go and then write. Let's see where this goes.
I am old. I am gray. I am fat. I am not young anymore. I get it. I posted a picture that is one of my favorites, one of me doing what I loved, next to people I loved, exhausted but alive, having just gone through the rush of adrenaline, the knowledge that death could have been right around the corner, under the floor I was standing on, all around me. That picture sums up my passion and experience, and although I look exhausted with bags and dark circles under my eyes, I see life doing what I loved with people I cared about.
But to you, it is a way to attract women...as if. A dirty, tired, haggard looking person always attracts women I guess. Or perhaps you are just understanding why you only post the best pictures of you. You don't put pictures of yourself that show your faults, as you expect me to do, and if a picture like that exists it would be deleted without pause. Yet, pictures of me need to show my age, my weight, my grays, my faults. Seems you are letting your own little voice tell you what others are doing, rather than just seeing it for what it was...a picture of me I love...one of the very few.
So you decided you should hurt me. You should make me feel horrible. You should make me feel completely unwanted in my gray, old, fat self. Your words hurt me, not because of the words, but because of the one speaking them. You needed to hurt me, you needed to belittle me, you needed to throw the daggers you are attached to. So be it, I take it, and I release the hurt as nothing more than your need to share the pain.
This is all I will speak of it. It is gone, it is history. You can't see any change in me, you can't see me as any different, you can only see the me you are attached to. You will focus on those parts of me that are no different in order to confirm in yourself that I have not changed at all. That is your choice, I can't live for your acceptance. I can learn from you, I can cherish your challenge of me, but I can't live for something that does not exist. I am me Vee, just walking a path and try to learn with each step. If you can't see that, so be it, I can't make you see anything. The sky is blue, but if you choose to focus on the storm clouds somewhere else that is your choice to make.
I love you, always will. You are the love of my life and if you can't see it nothing changes...I still love you and you are the love of my life. You can keep searching for distractions, keep looking for proof that doesn't exist, but nothing changes. My love for you is real, my love for you can't be destroyed by your search, it can only be offered the obstacles of anger and pain. They are only obstacles, they are not the reality of what is left when they are gone...my love for you.
And this, you can take it or leave it. Again, it changes nothing for me. You can either be the master of reality or the slave of it, again, your choice and nothing changes for me.
I love you.
I am old. I am gray. I am fat. I am not young anymore. I get it. I posted a picture that is one of my favorites, one of me doing what I loved, next to people I loved, exhausted but alive, having just gone through the rush of adrenaline, the knowledge that death could have been right around the corner, under the floor I was standing on, all around me. That picture sums up my passion and experience, and although I look exhausted with bags and dark circles under my eyes, I see life doing what I loved with people I cared about.
But to you, it is a way to attract women...as if. A dirty, tired, haggard looking person always attracts women I guess. Or perhaps you are just understanding why you only post the best pictures of you. You don't put pictures of yourself that show your faults, as you expect me to do, and if a picture like that exists it would be deleted without pause. Yet, pictures of me need to show my age, my weight, my grays, my faults. Seems you are letting your own little voice tell you what others are doing, rather than just seeing it for what it was...a picture of me I love...one of the very few.
So you decided you should hurt me. You should make me feel horrible. You should make me feel completely unwanted in my gray, old, fat self. Your words hurt me, not because of the words, but because of the one speaking them. You needed to hurt me, you needed to belittle me, you needed to throw the daggers you are attached to. So be it, I take it, and I release the hurt as nothing more than your need to share the pain.
This is all I will speak of it. It is gone, it is history. You can't see any change in me, you can't see me as any different, you can only see the me you are attached to. You will focus on those parts of me that are no different in order to confirm in yourself that I have not changed at all. That is your choice, I can't live for your acceptance. I can learn from you, I can cherish your challenge of me, but I can't live for something that does not exist. I am me Vee, just walking a path and try to learn with each step. If you can't see that, so be it, I can't make you see anything. The sky is blue, but if you choose to focus on the storm clouds somewhere else that is your choice to make.
I love you, always will. You are the love of my life and if you can't see it nothing changes...I still love you and you are the love of my life. You can keep searching for distractions, keep looking for proof that doesn't exist, but nothing changes. My love for you is real, my love for you can't be destroyed by your search, it can only be offered the obstacles of anger and pain. They are only obstacles, they are not the reality of what is left when they are gone...my love for you.
And this, you can take it or leave it. Again, it changes nothing for me. You can either be the master of reality or the slave of it, again, your choice and nothing changes for me.
I love you.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
A week of inspiration and love.
This week you inspired me, not by orders and dictates, but by example and love. Watching you work hard toward the happiness in others, all the while finding enjoyment in the task in hand showed me something beautiful. You again challenged me to see beyond the voices nagging me to something so much more beautiful. It is a beautiful and so worthwhile lesson.
I thank you for the experience and the challenge.
And although today you are challenging me is a much different way, the lesson of the past week is helping me see past it. The anger is no longer strong, although it is there. You are pushing my buttons, working to get a reaction, but I am not seeing those works as much as I am seeing the love I have in you. This is not you talking.
The lesson I learned last week was simple in nature but complex in understanding. The awareness of the situation shone such light on the cause of things, the anger I felt in the situation, the feeling of separation, the shaking of a new foundation that had so caused pain in my life. I realized that I was making others stand to a standard not created by the present, but by the past. The haunts of this past were like voices in my head, and driving me to the insanity that has plagued my life. It had to end, and it took the unassuming guidance of my soul mate, my wife, my lover and my friend to guide me.
You did this without beating my head with my faults, without hitting my soul with anger and stabbing my heart with words. You just where, you just did, you just loved. You just showed the way with passion and commitment. That is all it takes.
Thank you for this lesson, thank you for the answer to the voices in my head, thank you for the challenge you pose. You are the soil that challenges this seedling while nourishing it all the same. You are the most beautiful thing in this world to me, you are the love of my life.
I thank you for the experience and the challenge.
And although today you are challenging me is a much different way, the lesson of the past week is helping me see past it. The anger is no longer strong, although it is there. You are pushing my buttons, working to get a reaction, but I am not seeing those works as much as I am seeing the love I have in you. This is not you talking.
The lesson I learned last week was simple in nature but complex in understanding. The awareness of the situation shone such light on the cause of things, the anger I felt in the situation, the feeling of separation, the shaking of a new foundation that had so caused pain in my life. I realized that I was making others stand to a standard not created by the present, but by the past. The haunts of this past were like voices in my head, and driving me to the insanity that has plagued my life. It had to end, and it took the unassuming guidance of my soul mate, my wife, my lover and my friend to guide me.
You did this without beating my head with my faults, without hitting my soul with anger and stabbing my heart with words. You just where, you just did, you just loved. You just showed the way with passion and commitment. That is all it takes.
Thank you for this lesson, thank you for the answer to the voices in my head, thank you for the challenge you pose. You are the soil that challenges this seedling while nourishing it all the same. You are the most beautiful thing in this world to me, you are the love of my life.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
The renewed presence of nothingness
I was just laying there, arms outstretched, relaxing silently under a light sheet while enjoying the soft breeze of the ceiling fan above. My mind was empty, just being in the moment, searching for nothing and getting everything in return. This moment could last forever.
I feel her reach for me, softly caressing my shoulder and the arm, followed by tender kisses to trace where her fingertips had been. Her lips were soft, perfect, loving and tender as they stirred me from my trance. They moved slowly down...down...down.
I was awakened before the moment of contact I so anticipated. I looked around the darkened room, lit only by the pending dawn and the warning of sunlight to come. As my eyes hastened to clear from the dream I had just endured I searched for her, my love, my life, my despair. Hidden beneath the layers of blankets she was, sound asleep and ready for nothing remotely close to what my body yearned for. My head hit the pillow with a thump and my mind slowed to receive that which it was dreading with every part of its being...
..the renewed presence of nothingness.
It is the sort of thing one gets used to but never really enjoys. No warm touches, no unrequested kisses, no show of desire save the random "you want to go in the bedroom?" or the casual wearing of sexy attire. Something's missing, and I can't put my finger on it yet (or perhaps my finger is afraid of what it will feel when it finds it) but I know it's there. It's kind of like a cold draft on a winter's day and you just can't find the source, or a drip on your head in the darkness. Damn annoying thing...
Such dreams are common for me. Perhaps it is the cold reality that brings me to such warm things in my sleep. I often wonder if this is how a sun worshiper feels while on vacation in Seattle, or how a bird feels when its broken wing keeps it from taking flight. Such is the loss of something you love, the very part of you that makes you whole, the part of you that cannot be found in any other place or part, yet the part of you that is needed most. It is empty, it is cold, it is...
...the renewed presence of nothingness.
So we drone on, like zombies in some B horror movie with subtitles to blurry to read. We live our roles, fight to hold on to the vestiges of arrogance that ensure the draft remains regardless of how distant that draft's source may be. We must remain rigid to our goal, to beat one another into submission, to win the battle. We must pay not only for our sins but be beaten with them. We must chill the air around us for whatever reason we create. Such is the state we are in.
This is not about our imperfections, but the constant reliving of them. We are imperfect, no doubt, but imagine reopening the or a wound not weekly, not daily, not even hourly but nearly every minute of every day and then expecting it to heal or not even be bothersome. We are imperfect, in fact we are only perfect in being imperfect. So to be so utterly destroyed in those things that just are for as long as we are seems insane at best.
Yet here we are, and I prepared to drift off to another nights visit to heaven, to feel that which makes me feel alive, that which feeds me thoughts of paradise and of that entanglement between love and lust that somehow creates such joy in that which does not exist. I will dance in the rain while basking in the glow of the sun. And yet when the dawn comes we shall still have all the ability to see dreams turn to life, lust turn to love, love turn to lust and all that could be become what is. All that could be wasted on the inevitable and unbearable weight of being in...
...the renewed presence of nothingness.
I feel her reach for me, softly caressing my shoulder and the arm, followed by tender kisses to trace where her fingertips had been. Her lips were soft, perfect, loving and tender as they stirred me from my trance. They moved slowly down...down...down.
I was awakened before the moment of contact I so anticipated. I looked around the darkened room, lit only by the pending dawn and the warning of sunlight to come. As my eyes hastened to clear from the dream I had just endured I searched for her, my love, my life, my despair. Hidden beneath the layers of blankets she was, sound asleep and ready for nothing remotely close to what my body yearned for. My head hit the pillow with a thump and my mind slowed to receive that which it was dreading with every part of its being...
..the renewed presence of nothingness.
It is the sort of thing one gets used to but never really enjoys. No warm touches, no unrequested kisses, no show of desire save the random "you want to go in the bedroom?" or the casual wearing of sexy attire. Something's missing, and I can't put my finger on it yet (or perhaps my finger is afraid of what it will feel when it finds it) but I know it's there. It's kind of like a cold draft on a winter's day and you just can't find the source, or a drip on your head in the darkness. Damn annoying thing...
Such dreams are common for me. Perhaps it is the cold reality that brings me to such warm things in my sleep. I often wonder if this is how a sun worshiper feels while on vacation in Seattle, or how a bird feels when its broken wing keeps it from taking flight. Such is the loss of something you love, the very part of you that makes you whole, the part of you that cannot be found in any other place or part, yet the part of you that is needed most. It is empty, it is cold, it is...
...the renewed presence of nothingness.
So we drone on, like zombies in some B horror movie with subtitles to blurry to read. We live our roles, fight to hold on to the vestiges of arrogance that ensure the draft remains regardless of how distant that draft's source may be. We must remain rigid to our goal, to beat one another into submission, to win the battle. We must pay not only for our sins but be beaten with them. We must chill the air around us for whatever reason we create. Such is the state we are in.
This is not about our imperfections, but the constant reliving of them. We are imperfect, no doubt, but imagine reopening the or a wound not weekly, not daily, not even hourly but nearly every minute of every day and then expecting it to heal or not even be bothersome. We are imperfect, in fact we are only perfect in being imperfect. So to be so utterly destroyed in those things that just are for as long as we are seems insane at best.
Yet here we are, and I prepared to drift off to another nights visit to heaven, to feel that which makes me feel alive, that which feeds me thoughts of paradise and of that entanglement between love and lust that somehow creates such joy in that which does not exist. I will dance in the rain while basking in the glow of the sun. And yet when the dawn comes we shall still have all the ability to see dreams turn to life, lust turn to love, love turn to lust and all that could be become what is. All that could be wasted on the inevitable and unbearable weight of being in...
...the renewed presence of nothingness.
Friday, January 2, 2009
The Stranger
Yesterday we had a great trip to Longwood Gardens. I loved seeing the kids play, walking with the sort of nature that can't be seen among the confines of New Jersey in winter (or at any other time as the case may be). At some point in the day, I realized that I am but a stranger among family, that I am in this group but an outsider accepted as one with an insider. It is unusual for me to feel this way (I think), but that is because mostly I have no desire to be a part of something collective. Yet I realized in that very instance that I had fallen for the idea of being part of something that I am not truly part of.
I am part of this group because of the bond I have with my wife, an insider. That bond is like the nail in the frame of a house. The frame is sturdy and strong as long as the nail holds, but should that nail fail the frame will as well. Therefore, I am only as good as that bond, only accepted as that bond is accepted, and only one with the group as long as the nail holds.
This wedding is a great example of this. It appears the only parts of the group not included are those who only share a nail. I understand it to be as it is, and perhaps this wedding is what shed light on this for me, for I am nothing but the mechanism that helps pay for our share of the fun. Yet it is proof to me that I will sit with my daughter, the other strip of wood endeared to the group by this nail. We will sit alone and watch the members of the clan participate while us outsiders in DNA learn our place. I will watch my son and other daughter participate while they too learn the place their father and sister reside.
I know, this is all reactionary. Perhaps in a normal world my sister would have everyone but you involved in a life changing experience. Perhaps in that circumstance you would feel happy to not have a place in it all, not separated for cause from the frame, not part of pictures, of memories, of just the inclusion in such joy. No, you only got the bill, and you would be fine with it.
Or perhaps you would take joy in being the only one left in the waiting room while the rest of the group was present at birth. The best part was the only thing you got out of it was a bill and the constant discussions of how great it was.
Ordinarily, in my own little world, I would not care. I think what is bothering me the most is that I do care. At some point in my life something changed and it is causing in me a sadness I would never have expected from within me. I feel like a little boy who is the only one not invited to a party all those he love are having fun with. I can't seem to find the rage to defeat this sadness. I have tried the insult angle, yet there was not enough anger to support it. It is pure sadness, and I have to defeat it. I just haven't figured out how yet.
And no, I have no desire to be involved at all out of charity. I need nothing from no one, and would rather starve than take food handed to me out of sorrow in my condition. I will sit proudly with my daughter and hopefully, at that point, feel fine that I need not be a part of this hopefully without having to say bluntly, albeit to myself, "fuck it all".
I am part of this group because of the bond I have with my wife, an insider. That bond is like the nail in the frame of a house. The frame is sturdy and strong as long as the nail holds, but should that nail fail the frame will as well. Therefore, I am only as good as that bond, only accepted as that bond is accepted, and only one with the group as long as the nail holds.
This wedding is a great example of this. It appears the only parts of the group not included are those who only share a nail. I understand it to be as it is, and perhaps this wedding is what shed light on this for me, for I am nothing but the mechanism that helps pay for our share of the fun. Yet it is proof to me that I will sit with my daughter, the other strip of wood endeared to the group by this nail. We will sit alone and watch the members of the clan participate while us outsiders in DNA learn our place. I will watch my son and other daughter participate while they too learn the place their father and sister reside.
I know, this is all reactionary. Perhaps in a normal world my sister would have everyone but you involved in a life changing experience. Perhaps in that circumstance you would feel happy to not have a place in it all, not separated for cause from the frame, not part of pictures, of memories, of just the inclusion in such joy. No, you only got the bill, and you would be fine with it.
Or perhaps you would take joy in being the only one left in the waiting room while the rest of the group was present at birth. The best part was the only thing you got out of it was a bill and the constant discussions of how great it was.
Ordinarily, in my own little world, I would not care. I think what is bothering me the most is that I do care. At some point in my life something changed and it is causing in me a sadness I would never have expected from within me. I feel like a little boy who is the only one not invited to a party all those he love are having fun with. I can't seem to find the rage to defeat this sadness. I have tried the insult angle, yet there was not enough anger to support it. It is pure sadness, and I have to defeat it. I just haven't figured out how yet.
And no, I have no desire to be involved at all out of charity. I need nothing from no one, and would rather starve than take food handed to me out of sorrow in my condition. I will sit proudly with my daughter and hopefully, at that point, feel fine that I need not be a part of this hopefully without having to say bluntly, albeit to myself, "fuck it all".
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