What you feel is life, what you live is another story.

Tag: realization (Page 5 of 5)

A Trail to Destiny (Creative Writing Exercise #2)

Setting:  at a meeting in a conference room on a dark, rainy day

Subject:  the raindrops on the windows

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ω

I stared out the window as the rain pounded against the glass, making a tapping sound that reminded me of a thousand boots marching out of time during a parade.  My head felt like it had been hit by an avalanche, and the weather certainly wasn’t helping.  That damned numbness-mixed-with-a-dull-ache just wouldn’t go away as I sat my ass down on one of the plump leather chairs surrounding the large oak conference table.  The meeting I had just attended was over, and after the cordialities had been dispensed with I just had to get away from the bullshit being thrown around the office.  Everyone was acting so nice, so fucking nice, and I needed to get away from the act long enough to gather my senses.  The often strong exterior I donned before leaving my apartment was beginning to crack, and I had reached my limit of fake smiles, jokes and laughter for one day.

It’s tough when a person just doesn’t feel like enough.  He can’t imagine being good enough for his partner, strong enough for his family, smart enough for his bosses, or there enough for his friends.  He feels pathetically weak in even the most benign of situations.  In many ways he was just like the raindrops now finding their way to the window in his gaze.  He was helpless, and even though he would give life to whatever he could he went largely ignored unless he was seen as a nuisance.  He would never be noticed unless he was stealing away the sunshine or ruining her hair or creating havoc whether intentionally or not.  No, he…I…we, would never been seen for the beauty we gave to the world and instead would spend this lifetime in certain role in a certain way.

I followed one raindrop as it hit the glass near the top of the window.  It hung on for dear life there, reminding me of my need to hang on.  I chuckled at the irony as I stared at that tiny drop of water just stuck there, unable to let go and unable to follow its natural destiny.  It would fall, eventually, but for now it just stayed in that one holy spot fighting for its own survival.  Or was I?  I was in a job I didn’t like.  I was constantly trying to be “the one” to my woman I wasn’t good enough to be with.  I wanted so desperately to be accepted by my peers, to be noticed among them even as I wondered anonymously between them.  Here I was scratching and clawing to remain stuck to the glass, desperately fighting my destiny.

Much like this raindrop I had no idea what the truth was.  I had no idea who I was or what I was doing here.  I just knew that I had been thrown on this piece of glass and now hung on without ever truly knowing why.  I could not look down for fear of seeing where I was heading.  I could not look up because, well, “up” had rejected me.  All I knew was at this moment I was married to this piece of glass, and if that glass wouldn’t accept me all I could do was try to accept it while hanging on for fear of falling into the abyss.

I could see the raindrop slowly losing its battle.  I realized that the battle it was having was not with the glass, but with some unseen force that was dragging it downward toward its great unknown.  Some may call that force “God” or “fate”, but I like to call it “destiny”.  We are all slaves to destiny it seems, for whatever war we wage to hold on to our piece of glass the truth is that we were never going to outwit or out fight our destiny.  As the raindrop slowly began its way toward destiny, I could only wonder what would happen if I just let go and let the chips, or raindrops, fall where they may.  In truth I had no idea what would happen because I had never done it.  I’d always took the path more traveled and then suffered the consequences.

The raindrop was heading downward now, and I followed it to the known end of its journey.  It was gone, save the little piece of itself it left as a trail down the window.  Like a tear-left stain marking the spot where sadness had reigned, I followed the trail from its beginning to end, and that was it, a metaphor of my life, which had begun inconsequential and would end meaningless and forgotten.

I wanted so desperately to join that raindrop in its end; to dive out of the window and meet my destiny anonymously and without fanfare.  I could feel me falling.  Free.  Done.  Forgotten.  I would hit the ground with a splash and soon would become lost in the enormity of it all.  Yes, destiny certainly could be a cruel Master but at least it never played games or fucked with the minds of its victims. It just was, unintentionally cruel and unforgiving as it doled out truth to each and every one of us.

Just then the door to the conference room opened.  I snapped back to attention, donned my fake smile and forced laugh, and began the role renewed.  The fall and freedom would have to wait for another time and in some other place.  I would happen, though.  After all, it is my destiny.

Ω

The Liberation of Me

 

 

From the glass door I watch.

The lightning crashes and thunder roars all around while I stand protected by this thin piece of fired sand.  I want to step out into the darkness, to feel nature’s fury and take a chance that this life is not yet done with me. I want to leave this place where I feel secure and protected into venture the wild unknown; to get that sense of freedom and knowing that I am alive.

The voice calls and beckons me to step outside.  A bolt sears through the sky illuminating what cannot be seen in the darkness.  I can see the highlights of the trees in front of this door as the thunder asks for my answer.  I raise my hand to the glass and can see the outline of my hand reflected as if a part of me is outside trying to get in.  Is the other me frightened?  It the other me asking for me to protect him?  Or is he asking me to come with him, to venture into the great unknown where the only certainty was uncertainty?

Whichever, I stand alone looking at myself in the glass unsure of the steps I am about to take.  I am here, now…not there, then.  The reflection of the self I see disappears with each flash of light as the Self I wish to be beckons, knowing that whether I am here or there I am seeking that call of the wild I have heard since the day I was born.

I look around in my box, this place I have built for myself that somehow feels safe.

As the storm rages out there I see the beginnings of truth.

This box is painful.  Each piece of timber laid, each window set, each nail driven a testament to pain.  In pain I sought relief; I sought security and I built this place to give me a sense of that.  Yet, in a storm such as this we begin to see that each piece of timber, each nail, and each shard of broken glass is a weapon against us in the winds of time.  Each link of the chain we wrap around ourselves becomes a testament to a lie, and we begin to strangle the very thing we want to be.  We weigh ourselves down with a false sense of everything, never knowing what we are because of the boxes and chains we have forced ourselves into.

I cannot play in the rain if I am chained to this place.  I cannot see the stars with this roof blocking my view.  I cannot see the world from the summit of a mountain if I keep myself locked behind these doors.

Somehow the wind, rain, lightning and thunder don’t seem as dangerous as this place that is giving me the illusion of peace and safety.  Dying free is better than living under the burden of these things.  I want to be free and enjoy this lightness of being.  I want to dance in her arms with the rain drenching us.  I want to hear her song in the wind, feel her power in the natural state we are in.  I need to break free if I am ever going to get those things I want the most; those things I see when my mind is still and my heart is open.  I need to shatter the glass door so the storm can envelop all of this so that I can never return here.

I pick up the hammer I have used so many times before in building this place.  It brings back memories I don’t wish to have.  I stare at it, wondering where I ever found such a tool, and can’t remember when I ever picked it up.  I don’t want it anymore.  It needs to be lost in the storm.  I look around and smile.  I can’t wait to be free of this place and walking into the unknown.  I walk up to the door.  I feel a sense of trepidation and relief mixed together in this moment.  Soon I will be without shelter.  Or will it be the sky is my roof?  I chuckle at the thought, somehow knowing…

I believe I will have to dodge the wreckage of my illusions, the debris of my mind as it is consumed by out there.

I look up, seeing the other me slowly raise the hammer with a look of fear in his eyes and determination in his grip.  He hurls the hammer both toward me and away from me at the same time.  I hear the sounds of glass shattering along with the rush of wind and crack of thunder.  One of us ceases to be in that moment of great liberation.  I am free as the orange tinted clouds betray the dawning of a new day on the horizon.  I cry, I laugh, and I dance…

I am born.

 

There is No Rainbow Without the Rain

The winds subside.  The lightning and thunder move on.  The clouds part revealing an intense sunlight as you step into its embrace.

Through the destruction left behind you see the Love that remains.  Trees stand proudly in their survival as remnants of those left fractured and splintered by the storm lose their grip.  You are faced with a choice.  Do you focus on the wounded or on the whole?  Your choice is yours to make freely.  Neither is wrong, and both are expressions of a deep and abiding compassion.

You move freely in the open air.  With arms outstretched you embrace the sun.  The invigorating smell of air cleansed by nature fills your lungs as you survey the departing clouds in the distance.  You see your family and neighbors actively moving about.  Some are cleaning up, some are helping others, some are simply staring in disbelief.  You begin to walk over to do your part, whatever “your part” means.

You see the grass around you.  It seems to look a bit greener than it did yesterday, but perhaps you are just seeing it a bit clearer today.  Still, nature all around looks more alive to you.  The birds are singing more clearly, the trees look more alive, and the breeze seems to caress your face more gently than it had before.  Is this your own perception or is it a reality?

You smile in the realization that there is no difference.

The sky seems bluer today.  As you stare into what is not truly blue, it dawns on you that “this too shall pass”.  This wonderfully blue, not-truly-blue sky will again became enraged by the clouds it nurses to life.  The winds will blow and the rains shall pour.  Lightning will strike and thunder will roll.  Yet, you sit still observing this storm as you had the blue skies that gave it life.  “This too shall pass.”

A wave of peace flows over your Entirety.  You are content in the mud that now adorns your feet, and in the sweat that now hugs your brow.  You wish you could share this with the others who are busily scurrying around in one dramatic form or another.  “STOP!”, you want to say with authority.  “Appreciate the moment and rejoice in it!”

You blink and awaken to the moment.  You  don’t cater to the voice that wishes to shout.  You go about your business as you cater to the wave that has given you sight.  You smile in peace and with joy in the realization of this moment.  A friend looks at you and shouts, “what are you smiling about?  There’s nothing to smile about here!”

“See that?” you say as you point to a fully-formed rainbow in the distance.  “I love rainbows, and without the rain there would be no rainbows.”

Peace.

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