Posts Tagged life paths

She made the mistake of reading the list of Top Ten News Headlines. Reminded, yet again, of the insanity that surrounds us; the human beasts we are forced to co-exist with. A truth that at times, is almost too much to bear.

Lab worker held in Yale student’s slaying – Mom finds slain bodies of 2 kids, ex-husband – Case casts spotlight on sex offenders – Hofstra student recants rape story – Millionaire gets 8 years for sex with orphans – Teen could be charged in smaller L.A. fire – Bone found at Calif. kidnap suspects’ home – Notre Dame sues ex-worker over $29,000 tip – Woman arrested for spanking stranger’s child – Prison log: Execution trouble due to drug use

She finished the list, turned off the computer and gently shut the lid. Walked to her bedroom, closed the curtains, climbed into bed, pulled the covers over her head; and wept.

Some people laugh and call it cute.
Some people label her anti-social.

Some think she’s naïve, lost in her own world.
Some call her a self-centered bitch.

Some say she’s an overprotective mother.
Some advise she should cut the apron strings.

Some get it.
Some never will.

She didn’t ask to be here. Wasn’t an errant soul who mistakenly happened into this world; sent here as punishment for behaving badly, or waiting for that next big reincarnation, in search of a real adventure.
But she is.
Here.

That doesn’t mean she has to like it. Doesn’t mean that by being “one with the universe,” she must accept that being part of the “whole,” means we are “all one.” She’s not certain if she will ever accept that as truth. Perhaps that’s why she’s here now. Perhaps that’s the one thing that keeps bringing her back; over and over again.

She has a very clear vision of the duality of good and evil that lives within each and every human being. Possesses an uncanny ability to penetrate the façade, see behind the veil, and into the soul where good and evil resides. A gift? A curse? Call it what you will, but its something she has lived with her entire life. Defining and honing in her adulthood. Used as a tool to reason and rationalize paths taken in her youth. Researching and recording events predicted, premonitions seen, déjà vu witnessed.

Her path is a winding one. Her journey is of a spiritual nature. Not in search of God, for she knows where He dwells, but rather to obtain a better understanding of the why’s and how’s of this material world, as well as the afterworld and those who dwell in between the two.

Knowing for certain that when we reach the highest realm of being, we will be shown the ultimate reality; when everything else leading to it, is nothing but illusion; an illusion that all too often is filled with real life monsters, who take lives and destroy souls.

There is a very real battle of good and evil, existing in all corners of the world, every single minute of every single day. Well aware of the ever-present threat, she does not wear blinders because she’s too weak or uncaring to handle the truth of the world. She does it out of necessity; for her own personal survival.

She is unable to return the gift she was given; to lift the curse and see only what she chooses; incapable of numbing herself to the truth within the illusion, by allowing herself to be spoon fed images that television executives and the media think we need to see and hear, by simply tuning in and zoning out. It doesn’t work that way for her.

But, oh, how she sometimes wishes it did…

I see you suffering, and I wish there was something I could do for you.

I witness your pain, and my own heart aches.

I see you spiraling, faster each day; downward motion to nowhere land.

I wonder who’ll be waiting when you reach the end.

Unsure what led you to this path; you no longer walk, but run these days.

The shift came sudden and without any warning.

Your sanity slipped and crazed madness set in.

You pushed aside all that was real; lost sight of your self completely.

Chasing that ever illusive sensation; known simply as euphoria.

You haven’t a positive word to say; allowing negativity to swallow you whole.

I say these things, because I know this place; having visited a time or two.

Your beauty and intelligence still shines in your eyes; though clouded by your tears.

With love and understanding, I offer this prayer; that someday soon, you’ll find your way home.

Within her circle of stones
She drifts back to that place
Casting out shadows
Demons handsome face

Once lost in his darkness
A labyrinth of despair
Longing for an illusion
Twin flames sweet embrace

That lone wandering drifter
Disguised as a sage
Stealing souls
Trying to make it pay

She felt he was coming
Hyena slowly circling
Hell fires burning
Raging like lightening

Call down the thunder
Glance back courageously
Lifetimes spent stalking
Doors opening and closing

Atonement is sought
Peace offered up
Discounting her wrath
Holding nothing from the past

I came upon him in the woods; sitting on a bench nestled among a patch of wild ferns growing along the trail; dapples of sunlight playing on his face. I could tell, even behind sunglasses that his eyes were closed in quiet contemplation. Perhaps it was the tilt of his head or the relaxed posture of his shoulders; regardless, though I was surprised and delighted to find him there, I didn’t want to intrude.

I stood for a moment in silence, watching him; still trying to grasp the fact that he was actually there, when he patted the empty spot on the bench next to him and said, “Why don’t you come sit.” Only then, when I took a step toward him, did he look in my direction and smile.

“What are you doing here,” I asked. “What took you so long,” he replied.

I sat beside him; and after a moments hesitation I humbly answered, “I thought he was a sage, sent to help me find my way; turns out he was insane, and I, nothing but a pawn in one of his wicked games.” He shook his head slowly, as if he understood completely. “What exactly was it you were hoping to find?” I shrugged my shoulders, but he wasn’t buying it; still, I didn’t know what to say.

We sat for several minutes, basking in the natural wonders surrounding us; each lost in separate thought, both thinking the same thing.

“It’s easy to see that you’re on the right path; you just need to have a little more faith is all; but I can tell that faith doesn’t come easy for you, does it?” I shook my head, but said nothing. He took my hand and held it in his, “While I can’t guide you in matters of faith, I’ll be happy to help you in mastering your craft.”

“And how will you do that,” I finally asked. “By encouraging when you stumble, flounder and flail, and watching as you flourish, spread your wings and sail. I’ve been here all along, I’m not going anywhere; and if you allow me, I’ll be your confidant and friend…”

I moved a little closer, leaned my head on his shoulder; took a deep breath and let out a slow sigh of relief. “Thank you, Walter,” I whispered in my sleep.

I missed her birthday; first time in thirty-seven years. I wonder if she can forgive me. I wonder if she would understand if I were to tell her that while I thought of her, I simply hadn’t the will to get out of bed, go out into the world, into the store and read through a plethora of cards, when I had no sentiment in me; blinded by my own darkness, searching for the light; lost in an abyss of loneliness and angst, trying to wrap my head around truth, for all the lies.

An endless stream of bittersweet lies…

I can see clearly now, for the fog has lifted; and while I still feel bad for not reaching out on her day, I cannot help but wonder why we do it. Nine years since we’ve seen each other and probably twenty since I knew what was in her head, in her heart.

Inseparable once upon a time, drifted apart on the current of life, landing on opposite shores. I wonder what trials and tribulations she’s faced in hers, if they in any way match my own. Somehow I doubt it, though I’m probably wrong. We were similar creatures growing up; living on opposite sides of the tracks, but on the same street nonetheless. But we lost something along the way and though we’ve talked over the years, it seems meaningless, forced and incredibly contrived; stuck in the past, when we are no longer those girls, but women who have yet to be properly introduced.

He was a nasty slob; my immediate thought, superiority complex; drinking coffee from a Styrofoam cup; too cheap to shell out six bucks at Bucks, so he drank gas station rot gut, bought on the fly. Cell phone to his ear, held by fat stubby fingers; obviously berating someone by his facial expressions and the vein on the side of his head that looked as if were about to explode; probably his 19 year old stripper wife.

And there he sat; faded yellow Polo, fat ass squeezed into a super sweet tricked-out Porsche Carrera GT; 440 G’s out the door; mother fuck! What’s up with ugly guys and bitchin cars?!

He came flying up on my ass and then jetted around and passed, slowing down long enough to take a good long look in my window (as if I should be impressed…as fucking if!) before attempting a Batman move, zig zagging his way through rush hour traffic on San Jose…not happening dude…no matter what kind of ride you drive!

It wasn’t 30 seconds after he passed, I saw it coming and put my foot on the brake; a little blue buzz bomb flying across three lanes from the right, as the Porsche was gunning it on the left, both trying to beat the light that was about to turn red. And then…WHAM! The two came together and enmeshed; skidding in a frenzied, out-of-control dance; bringing four other cars into the mix; blocking all three lanes for the next hour and a half; all because they were driving with their heads up their ass.

And so I sat there in my little van; nothing glamorous, but she’s all mine and gets me where I want to go; watching those involved pacing back and forth, each one on the phone making call after endless call. I put her in park and lit up a smoke, my quad shot white mocha still extra hot; and I watched as I waited; my routine put on indefinite hold.

And I couldn’t help but think; how something so beautiful could be completely destroyed in a matter of seconds. Thinking about the Porsche of course; which suddenly became a high dollar metaphor for life. In the blink of an eye things come and go; turn the corner and just be gone; everyone in such a fucking rush. Where the hell they all going so fast? What greatness lay in wait at their desired destination that they haphazardly jeopardize so many lives?

What fools these mortals be…

And then I thought of Rocky; Rocky Durosso; his being the first waterfront mansion I visited upon my move to Florida. Rocky was a business owner; Italian, handsome to the bone, wealthy and generous; a wonderful host who opened his home and welcomed me in with open arms; a Benz, Alfa Romeo and Bugatti in the drive, with a house full of rednecks and strippers trashing the place from bottom to top, while he obliviously grilled lobster and marinated scallops on the lawn; making sure everyone’s drink remained full, happy with himself for providing such a great time. After all, it was only money; nothing that couldn’t be repaired or replaced. Just stuff, meaningless really.

I’d like to think I got it, but I’m not really sure if I did. I just couldn’t understand why he surrounded himself with such lowlife dregs, when he seemed to have so much on the ball. He reminded me of Elvis, the way he threw his money around senselessly, in an attempt to buy lovers and friends; keeping people close and happy, but to what end.

The stripper he was fucking got pregnant and then bailed after the kid was born and he refused to marry her. He raised that little girl all by himself. I’d often see them out at dinner, the little princess and her dad. I’d heard the mother died of an overdose, everyone said it was just as well. He seemed to have gotten his shit together and although I didn’t know him well, for some reason it made me glad.

Then a few years later, at the age of 56, they found him dead at the Waterfront Omni Hotel; the five star that sits along the banks of the St. Johns in downtown Jacksonville. No drugs, no sign of foul play, just checked into the hotel alone, went to bed and never woke up.

Strange how that works, isn’t it?

The rains came; and with it, a cool breeze wafted through her window; so strong as to blow the hair from her face; bringing a moments relief from the nights oppressive heat; which sadly matched her mood.

She closed her eyes, leaned her head back and sat in perfect stillness; losing herself in the winds caress; the sound of the gentle soft rain; as if the world were whispering hush, instructing her to go deeper; inside her mind, past the pain, to embrace those lingering thoughts.

The harder it fell, the deeper she went; until the walls threatened to close in and consume her. Fleeing captivity she threw open the door, running through the courtyard, a woman lost; half mad; possessed. The cool stones slippery under her feet; her body drenched; her spirit free.

No more what if’s and why’s of it all; no more lies and self deceit; only the truth of what she knows; who she is, what she feels. There are no deals to be made with the devil, for she tried that pact long ago; life is short, the road is narrow and second chances are few; you can grab it by the balls, or take it by the hand; but in the end, if you let it, regret will surely kill you.

Her hands are on the wheel
Moonlight on her skin
Weight of the world drifting
Taking in all in

She see’s the light shining
Just around the bend
She rushes full speed
There’s no looking back

She’s taken the wheel
She’s taking control…

It started as a day like any other, but by mid-morning she was so agitated with the people and the world around her that she left work at lunch and didn’t go back. Instead she drove home, packed a bag, grabbed her laptop, left a note, said good bye to her dog and hit the road; driving mile after endless mile, not sure where she was going, just following the coast, north on A1A. Thoughts spinning in time with the odometer; none of them complete; snippets of shit weighing on her mind; building for weeks on end; leading her to this place of desolation from which she feared there was no turning back; despair and fury driving her forward to nowhere.

Psychotherapy to fix her troubled mind – thank god it wasn’t the 1950’s, lest she already be committed; hooked up with high voltage coursing through her brain. A shift in personality, responsibilities askew – fix her, fix her, make her brand new. “It’s not my personality,” she screams; “It’s my total perception; why can’t you understand?!” Furious at having to defend her self and try to make them understand something that she didn’t yet understand herself. A spiritual awakening she claimed and they scoff; wondering if they should contact pastor or priest.

Message on cell phone at ten minutes till five – office closed by the time she calls back – 24 hour wait in which she thought she’d lose her mind. Mammogram results; nodular density compression retest – right breast; what does that mean – can’t be sure yet. There must be some mistake; he was with her that day; even made her pray. Your body is perfect – just the way God made it; I promise you’re alright; i am the light…I Am the Light…I AM THE LIGHT.

And what of this light which others so freely speak?

A beacon of light others can see by; reminding her that when she sits silently along the rocky shore of life, she is guiding others. Her ship having already come in and now being the time for her to help others navigate along their path. Reminding her that in her solitude, her creative spirit gives comfort and relief to others; a gift to be shared with those she cares about and people she will never meet.

What happens when the light fades and darkness is all that remains? Who will be there to guide and help her navigate along the path? What happens when her spirit loses its creativity and not even she finds comfort and relief in what once brought solace and offered a means of escape? What then…

Perhaps somewhere between the distance of miles the answer will reveal itself. The road beckons and for the first time in her life, she’s following the call.

You walked alongside the path enough to recognize it – you jumped on with no hesitation. Why you ask; to be told – taught – shown. You do not walk alone. The key you held unlocking the gate – holding it all along – we each hold the key – you said yourself – words guiding – unable to see their meaning; spirit lays in wait – coaxing through the gate – slamming shut as you turn back. There is no turning back – it’s already happened – your fear useless. You gather tools – not knowing why; the need to unload – simplify – rid your self of material possessions that are of no use. Teach the child – hold him close – as you walk the path he clings in spirit – already sensing the parallel.