"Let the night teach us what we are, and the day what we should be"
-Thomas Tryon, 1691
This was last night. I went outside because I heard the blaring of sirens everywhere. If I could imagine a plane crash and the response it would get, that would have been it, I'm sure. Turns out it was a north-east time of year structure fire. Most likely a caked chimney, usually always the case.
The last few days for me have been surreal. We aren't even at the Full Moon yet (that would be tomorrow) and strange feelings, thoughts, and tears have taken hold of me. On the outside all is well. On the inside I am a screaming raging mess. I have papers due, and laundry, the house is a mess, and there's laundry, bills to be paid, still laundry, health insurance to aquire, did I mention the frigen laundry? My mother died around now (the body remembers) My dad needs surgery (Fuck is really all I can muster for that at present time) and it's all starting to swirl.
I left a company that brought me safety, and ultimately bad energy. I was being forced to sit suicide patients. Those that know me know I spent most of my child and young adult hood dealing with this suicide business and it is my one Achilles heel. It was the proverbial razor blade that broke the artery of compliance. No more. I believe in Socrates; He taught the simple concept 'Know Thyself.' And I have come to know myself, I have laughed at myself, been angry with myself, been terrified of myself, but always certain of myself in ways that count (insert thank you for fearless warrior genes here). I said good-bye. It's always the people we will miss. When you spend hours upon hours side by side with other souls your energy begins to dance with them. That energy was good, it was the dance floor that went tragically wrong.
I loaded up my locker and like the poet Thomas Gray; 'took one last lingering look behind.' But only one. I left early, made a getaway amid tears and friendship-Thankfully I've always known when to exit a party. I felt as though, if I didn't make it down the elevator, I would surely suffocate. I took the stairs. I did so with the understanding that next time I showed my mug here (if I ever did) I would be but a guest. No longer privy to 'secret passages', employee elevators, donuts in the break-room, or staff toilets and never ending twisted jokes about the humanity that holds us all at gunpoint.
The front lobby doors opened. The whoosh of outside air was a drink of water after a desert hike. I crossed the road and the pavement welcomed me. It wasn't until I saw my little car, my somewhat borrowed car, that the tears started.
I was leaving a place that had granted me stability, taught me work ethic, taught me that I could live through 16 hour days and wake up and do it again and again. None of this was lost on me. I walked away from all of that. I strapped my huge bag on my back and walked again like a hobo a bit further down this road called life. The bag is always huge because I find comfort in books. My Advanced Directive reads: Die in a Library.
With the river to my back, I looked at the sky. It was brilliant. Like a paintbrush slashed pink and orange all over a growing inkyness. I sucked my breath in and realized...actually said out loud "all of my big moments I go alone." It is the hand I've been dealt. God won't give you things you can't handle, but I've wondered many times if his assessment of my abilities is a hell of a lot higher than it should be.
That moment left me with an emotional hangover that lasted a good two days. I find myself with much compassion for people that retire. The story of my great grandfather took on new meaning "He retired on a Friday, and by Monday he dropped dead." Yeah, got it now. You cannot help but feel loss. But with great loss most times comes a greater gain. A bad day for the ego is usually a great day for the soul. Sucks but True.
Friday, Saturday, Sunday off. No holidays, no weekends. Out in time to make dinner. A place of wellness set in teeming meadows 15 minutes from my home. Good people untouched by corporate bullshit.
Two young men that still need their mother and hopefully always will have been waiting 5 years for this.
Last night the sirens screamed terror in our town. Last night my 16 year old wanted to go out at 10:30pm in a car packed with teenagers, into a black night on twisting turning roads. My gut quietly said no, so my mouth followed. I told him it was one night - not the rest of his life. I also told him had he had his license I may have said yes because he is responsible and I know this. But I wasn't placing his life in someone else's hands. Not last night. The gut is always right. He accepted this answer because it was the raw truth.
So sirens blared, my son was pissed but getting over it, my little one wanted to shoot the shit because I haven't seen him. We talked of video games, typhoons, report cards, and his thoughts. And the moon kept watch over all of it.
Nothing out of the ordinary really, except it was Friday...and I was home, where I needed to be.
I've lost, I've mourned, it's done. I'm moving on. I am hopeful once again.
Namaste
