When I go out into the world I bring with me a heart in the form of a torch.
By nature, for whatever reason I feel the need to “play” the role of an illuminator perhaps a people pleaser.
Optimistically, I set up a stand and giveaway pieces of my torch like a food sample representative in a grocery store., some people are not interested, and throw it in the trash. Trapped in this hyper mode, I can often find myself with nothing left, but an ember.
With a dwindling torch I humbly return to those within my circle/my orbit who selflessly breathe the oxygen of love and understanding upon the ember of my soul, with each breath making it glow, once again igniting my hearts flame.
The night is quiet less the shuffled sound of sandal turned desert rocks and labored breathing.
My hands grow increasingly numb with every step, backpack straps from the heavy pack full of all our worldly possessions restrict the blood flow to my arms, but we must keep going.
From the darkness an innocent voice asks, “What is that father?”
Vapor from our warm breath momentarily glows like a cloud, illuminated by the distant bright lights of the Kabul airport.
Without looking down, nor losing a step I respond, that’s hope my son, that’s hope”.
My Doctor recently retired, I was under his care for 20+ years. I appreciated his demeanor and willingness to listen. After he would listen to me, out of mutual respect, it was my turn.
Right on cue, his facial expression turned to that of a muse. He would raise his finger and politely ask, “if I may share something” and then skillfully weave his medical guidance with relatable anecdotes and carefully selected metaphors.
He had seen me through years of anxiety management, from Zoloft, Paxil, therapy and today, happily, anxiety med free.
On the topic of alcohol he called it, “The Great Deceiver”. He mused, “alcohol may momentarily numb emotional pain, but it doesn’t address the source of the emotional distress..” I filed this away in my brain housing unit under the category: “Hmm, I might have to think about that”
Recently I read Malcolm Gladwell’s “Talking to Strangers “in which he presents the theory of Alcohol Myopia (short sidedness). My interpretation in layman’s terms was an alcohol induced “tunnel vision” where depending on YOUR individual state of mind(happy, depressed, angry, adventurous, etc..), as you enter “the tunnel”, will effect your alcohol induced experience.
I grew up around alcoholics and had a front row seat to a wide variety of drunks, kind, angry, racist,loving, deceitful, and the list goes on..I always wondered why alcohol effected people differently and to me, the “tunnel vision” theory makes perfect sense.
Not to limit my position as simply being a spectator, I can speak also from personal experience. I have drank my share of alcohol and can attest to many of the theoretical effects of alcohol myopia.
I look at it as if you are going on a ride at an amusement park. Step right up folks! What’s it going to be tonight?
Enter the Happy, Celebratory Ride: Enter the tunnel happy, excited. Who doesn’t love a good wedding or celebration. Next morning: man what a great time! Memories made for a lifetime.
The Cocky ride: Feeling cocky going into the ride and the beer muscles appear. You feel invincible. I still have a busted up nose as proof.
The Lonely Depressed Ride: Enter sad, lonely, perhaps self loathing.Next morning: Low self esteem is even worse than before. This can become an endless cycle, and the rider simply wants to numb the emotional pain..
The Anger Ride: Enter the ride mad at the world and watch out to whomever is in front of you. I saw this first hand as a kid. It was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
The Racist Ride: I had no idea that the person I was with had racist tendencies until he was drunk, and started shouting racist epitaphs at the middle eastern taxi driver.
The Empty Promises Ride: I experienced this as a kid, yeah yeah we will go fishing, next day, had no clue they even said it.
I am not condoning or discouraging alcohol use and any clinical psychologist’s out there please chime in.. After reading about alcohol myopia and the fact thatalcohol doesn’t change, it makes sense that a key factor of your alcohol experience depends on your state of mind and environment while consuming.
1979: Protest folk music was dying down and Disco had reached its peak.
“Begin the day with a friendly voice, a companion unobtrusive” blasted through the vibrating buzz alarm of the 1960s turquoise clock radio. (Time for school) “Spirit of Radio”by Progressive Rock band Rush Lyrics by Peart Neil Peart that is, aKa The Professor
Photo Source Pinterest
“If you choose not to decide, you still have me a choice” “And the meek shall inherit the earth” “Conform or be cast out” Prophetic words to pubescent outcast teens, proclaiming Peart understood. It’s been a year since Neil’s passing, RIP Professor Sept1952-Jan 2020
100 Words
Photo credit Rolling Stone magazine
Thank you Professor🤘🏼-Goroyboy
This was written for the photo prompt for Rochelle Wiscoff’s Friday Fictioneers 100 word story challenge . Although not a traditional short story. Given the photo prompt of an empty drum set along with the appreciation I have for the artist/poet/lyricist, Neil Peart I found a tribute was in order. additional stories based on the photo prompt can be found here
I often walk or bicycle around our small town’s neighborhoods with my wife. As the upcoming election nears, front yards are adorned with candidates names displayed on yard signs, banners, and even up flag poles at times in place of the American flag.
Perhaps 50+ %of the yards in town are garnished with political collateral and not inconspicuously, 99% of the endorsements represented one party.
As life would have it, I happen to NOT support the highly visible party on popular display.
So…I ordered my yard sign.. when we returned home today, there it was in the front yard.
As I pushed the sign’s wire supports deeper into the dry clay soil, I swear I heard it say something, “What am I doing here?” “Are you sure this is the correct address?”
“ I heard your last sign got stolen”
As the day faded toward dusk, I was on the my front porch with my back to the street, painting my front door.
“I like your sign a voice called out”, I turned to see a lady walking her two dogs stopped on the sidewalk in front of my yard. “Thank you. Kinda stands out from all the others in town, doesn’t it? “ I replied.
“Yes it does” she chuckled nervously..
I responded, “ there is probably more opposition support in our town than people want to let on to.”
“I totally agree, I was actually afraid to put out a sign” she nervously shared.
“If you are afraid to put out a sign in your own front yard, perhaps that says allot doesn’t it? “ I said.
“Yes it does, but I feel better now after talking to you. Thank you.” she said as she lead her two fluffy companions onward..
“I feel better as well, Thank You, have a good evening”
I returned to my painting but not before looking at my yard sign, Which seemed to stand up just a little straighter.
-Goroyboy
A sign can also be a “symptom” which conveys meaning. Vote!
Seeing those that have passed, my heart fills with love.
Gone is the weight of daily drama,
Which one is better, Trump, Biden or Obama?
Photo Credit: Denise Fullner Kittleson
I will rise,here souls have no gender, doctrine , origin, or race,
no conflict, hatred, color of face.
Time as we know it, does not exist, social media likes, or media twists.
I will rise, becoming stardust, from whence I came, free of life’s burdens, only love, no shame.
I will rise….
Revamped from an earlier version which I felt was timely. The peaceful pictures generously shared by friends reminded me that we will return to the stardust from whence we came.
Sitting quietly grinning, taking a well earned rest
The Elder watches the little ones, putting their youth to the test.
Not so long ago, she wore buckskin and tended pastoral sheep,
Cared for her babies, singing them softly off to sleep,
Off to war in a far off land protecting freedom, she never dreamed that she would find,
A barrel chested Austrian, handsome, brave, and kind.
They raised their kids Viktor, Linda and Cherry,
around the world and in Sydney BC where they often took the ferry.
Laughing was a common sound whenever her family was nearby,
Our Elder leaves a legacy and her passing brings a sigh.
Thank you Aunt Nellie, for your devotion, patience, love and carrying forward an example of a life well lived. Amen.
I was around 11 or so when I went to stay 2 weeks with Aunt Nellie, Uncle Vik and Cherry on Vancouver Island. The bellowing laugh of Uncle Vik, the kind sweet spirit of Aunt Nellie and Cherry’s welcoming smile, is forever embossed in my heart. ❤️
I cannot speak for others but, I admit it, I want to be liked, and accepted.
I can feel anxious thinking of unresolved personal conflict with others when the relationship emotional bank account with that person is overdrawn, depleted.
What about reconciliation?
That takes commitment from both parties.
Admittedly, I have fooled myself into thinking otherwise, sometimes you CANNOT reconcile.
Unfortunately our polarized society would suggest a short sighted mindset that someone always has to lose.
What is left?
Breathe deeply and slow down for a moment…..
What is the alternative?
Harmony…. If there is power in kindness, harmony is the fuel that feeds it.
In my humble opinion, Living in harmony is quite simple:
Step 1. Recognize the others humanity
Step 2. Commit to living a harmonious life with or without them.
Step 3. Accept the possibility that you may never reconcile with that person.
Step 4. Accept the fact that others(even those you despise) have the same right to the pursuit of happiness as you.
“It is difficult to free fools from the chains they revere“- Voltaire
Who among us doesn’t at least for a moment think the fool Voltaire speaks of, is someone other than ourselves?
We all have chains don’t we?
Chains come in many forms, pride, hatred, greed, spite, envy, These seem obvious as they exude evil.
But what are the “revered” chains Voltaire spoke of?
May I propose they are the shackles of codependency, and physical and/or emotional abuse? Why don’t victims break free of these bindings?
Unfortunately, victims can be so beaten down that sadly this abuse provides a warped sense of security. Knowing that they (the chains) are if nothing else, always there.
Be safe and take care of yourself first so, you can care for others.
Standing alone, I wonder why. No one is there to hear when I laugh, breathe, or sigh.
What have I done? Have I been cast aside? Is this my Ego’s fault, heavy laden with ugly pride?
I have a choice of self pity or self-reflect. A challenge to my psyche, knowing not what to expect.
Self Pity is an easy-out, casting blame with expectations never realized. On those that would dare disagree with me, whilst I judged and unfairly criticized.
Self-reflection leads to most precious of gifts, wisdom, balance, and peace of mind. Received through humility, love, and the courage of being kind.
Peace.
The image above was taken not far from my home on the day of our first frost. Seeing this tree reminded me of times in my life I have had to deal with being alone. I hope you enjoyed the poem. Peace.
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