Some Special One

Cinta Vidal Arrested Motion artI was wondering about you.

You seem to never care

About what you’ve got inside

That is truly yours and no one else’s.

You appeared to disregard

How unique people can be

And you’ve built that illusion

Starting with yourself.

 

You probably began thinking that way

Because of her.

How full of herself she was.

How much she believed

That the world revolved around her,

And that everyone owed her,

And that she owned everyone;

That all that she has gained

She somehow has inherited from herself.

 

I think you both went too far.

Everybody is special –

It’s so different how we talk, eat, sleep.

Sickness makes us alike,

We ache in similar ways

Yet our skills are unique

And dreams are so wild

In contrast to everyone else’s.

You deny your special gifts as if it was a curse,

Just as she ignores others.

But our differences are true

And they can unite us

Making us stronger in many ways.

 

You think you need someone special in your life

But you need to know –

You already have one.

You should praise them,

Although with good measure.

This special one needs attention,

Care and support to bloom bigger,

Unleash artistic forces

So you could achieve greater things.

The powers that you so hard try to let go of

Or call insignificant, –

They are nothing of a kind.


the image was copied from https://arrestedmotion.com/2015/05/art-focus-cinta-vidal/

art by Cinta Vidal

thank you.

friendly?

0-I am asked that a lot in the spring/summer time: “Is your dog friendly?” Oftentimes, they are with their own dog and oftentimes their dog is not friendly, while mine is. So, the question is pointless, isn’t it?

But the reason I bring it up is we ask that of people’s dogs. We don’t interact unless dogs are indeed friendly and then we humans start talking. That question is like a foot in the door for people to learn of dogs they meet and possibly of other humans. How come we don’t ask people without dogs (or other pets) if they are friendly? OK, what I’m really trying to say is: why don’t we talk to people we don’t know?

I am not saying I talk to strangers and you don’t, nope, I do not talk to strangers often. So, this is not you vs me. It’s all of us. I know, the rule “don’t talk to strangers” is still being burnt into us since childhood, and it’s probably saved plenty of people’s lives, but at the same time…

At the same time, I go down the streets and I go to the shows, and I tell you what, there are hundreds of people I don’t know. It is kind of intimidating.

There are people, I assume, who throw themselves at others and start making friends. When I drank, that was easier for me to do. Now, although I am very grateful I don’t drink anymore, meeting people became less easy. Somehow it just doesn’t work well. I’d often talk to someone and realize we don’t have connections beyond two or three question/answers. Sometimes I feel like I am trying to pick a person up as if I wanted to date them. That feels weird. And the fact that I don’t hold a beer in my hand surprises people too.

It’s easier at work. Especially if teamed up: common goals, learning tricks, etc. But outside… I must say that most of my friends are from AA. Normal people (whatever the F that is) are just not that fun to talk to. People who I relate to through music are drinkers that I have a hard time standing next to. Fellow writers I know are younger than me and I can’t relate. What am I to do, I wonder?

You’re probably saying at this point, OK, stop whining already and go to a book store or music shop and start talking to people. But the fear… You know, when in the past I was looking for a relationship, I couldn’t pick up women in social settings. I either found them online or I met them face to face by the strange turn of events. Talking to people for the sake of mere communication and spending time is still hard all these years later. I think it is a fear of rejection from the dating times that were not successful. So, although I am not looking for any of that, just trying to find a common ground with people, fear of rejection is still vital. At least that is my experience.


the image was copied from https://www.theactivetimes.com/adventure/most-family-friendly-dog-breeds-own thank you

Neutral Affirmation

I am given a wordblood

And I say my first name

And I call myself an alcoholic

After which I speak some more

About myself.

Whether I am in recovery

Or not,

Maybe still struggling through trenches

Of “human versus disease” war,

It is not a negative word.

It is not (or at least shouldn’t be)

Said with self-loathing,

Or sadness,

Or uttered bitterly to point a finger

At someone else to blame for my faults.

It is a neutral affirmation of reality.

Some folks are born with pale skin, not dark

Some others are born female, not male.

I was born pale skinned male,

With birth-attached ill disease

Streaming through my blood,

A condition that plagued me for years

Until its essence was explained to me

And I saw it for what it was,

Not an illusion that I kept alive all that time.

Alcoholic is not a derogatory word that shames.

Neither it is a happy word.

It is a diagnosis that doesn’t discriminate.

It is part of my nature,

That I know now,

And with that I know who I am,

And things I can and no longer can do

If I want to live freely in mind and spirit.


the image was copied from https://www.newscientist.com/article/2191282-weve-discovered-a-new-type-of-blood-vessel-in-our-bones/ thank you

Saved by the Wall

wall2Thanks to Brian for the wall inspiration.

In the grey mist nothing was to be seen, or so it appeared. I ran fast, making jumps here and there. I yelled loudly, they were curses and shouts of joy. Growls were loud to the point that as they left my mouth, my throat hurt. Yet still I did it, because I wanted to express all of my anguish and joy of liberation which I thought I was experiencing. And when I was just about to make it out of the woods, I ran into something. I should’ve known, of course, what it was – I ran into it so many times before. Still somehow, I managed to forget each time. So much good time, so much forgotten in the midst of it. I hated the pain that pierced my head, I hated forgetting, but oh how I hated remembering! It would always appear just when I started to have a real good time. I looked at the wall that mounted above me, and I recalled more and more of the past instances. Resentments, pain, need for the cure, instantaneous relief, blinding intoxication, freedom at the tip of my tongue and all over my brain, and then – hitting the wall and all the self-loathing that came along with it…

No, that is not the wall to symbolize the isolation as in the great Pink Floyd album/movie, although in me past of self-destruction that certainly would come over for a visit and stay for a long time if I’d allow it… and I did.

Each time my mind wanted to party, even if it was a celebration of the day just for me, myself, and I, my body would perform all the necessary rituals, no matter how tired it may have been minutes prior. I’d run to the store to get booze so fast I’d beat an Olympic champion. And then the chug-chug-chug must-do and I was back in business of fun. Colors came back, and the reality would retreat. And since I could never stop if I started, I’d let party keep going. More beating Olympic champions would follow, and oh dear, how bad my stomach was ravaged, while my mind danced not realizing it was kept being raped!

And then would come that time when my spirit would be running in the grey mist of not seeing too clearly anymore and then BAM! I’d hit the wall. I’d be lying there wonder what the hell happened. Most of the time that would happen in the morning after. What a crash! Getting on with the day in “the morning after” was like a world war! And I could never learn from that lesson of which I had thousands.

Lessons! Oh, how well I tried to ignore those! I kept trying to bash my head through the wall. Just kept doing the same thing. Then I decided it would be smart to try and walk around the wall. My mind was looking for the loopholes in the Creation that would allow me out-smart my body. Mostly those attempts were based on the advises from other drinkers. Listening to those, I was rejoiced. The illusion that the grass is greener somewhere out there where we aren’t at yet didn’t want to die. I believed I could still find the way to be happy on my own terms, doing what I wanted, being reckless if they just let me, or dream all day long if life allowed it.

And yet I kept hitting the wall, only these times instead of being blinded by pain and growling helplessly, I’d be wondering aloud “Hey, I ate this time!” or “I was drinking water too!” or “Well, I wasn’t mixing anything!” And no, those attempts to calm down hangovers didn’t work for me. My body simply didn’t want to have anything to do with alcoholic intoxication beyond certain point. Problem was, I couldn’t stop drinking at any point except for brain shut down, or I’d be out of money, or the liquor store was closed.

The wall was a testimony to my being unteachable and lost in denial. Yet at the same time, all these times I failed to see that the wall was also the extremely useful limitation created for the sake of my self-preservation, my body trying to teach me a vital lesson. It was to signify my boundary I believed I wanted to and could cross, but my body and mind won’t allow me to. It worked just as the blackout was not a curse, but just my body shutting down on me so I wouldn’t kill myself with all the truly lethal massive dosage of ethyl spirits.

It is easier to see now that I was spending crazy amounts of money and time to pretty much kill myself each time over the last several years of my drinking “career”, while I was thinking I was having a good time, diving headlong into the illusion of running away from reality for a little while. The wall of my body and mind reactions saved me, and yet I felt I was weak and needed to strengthen it by building a seasoned drinker’s attitude and gut. Silly, but sad.

And that just how my mind and body reacted in the real time. The way my mind was screwed by my own hands during those years is sometimes hard to look back at, so crazy those thoughts and ideations were. I still say in the AA meetings that this recovery fellowship literally was the best thing that ever happened to me. No lie about that. I’ve learned about my limits. I’ve learned how not to run away from life, and I’m still better at it these days then in the past. I became better with living in my skin and accepting responsibilities. And I no longer go too crazy to kill myself and deny it.

Thank you for fourteen years of sobriety!


the image was copied from https://www.reddit.com/r/starcitizen/comments/b3xhua/found_it_the_wall/ thanks.

Famous in Death

Bob_01“His name was Robert Paulson.”

“I’m sorry sir, but there are no names in Fight Club.”

“Oh, I get it. In death we get our names back!”

“His name was Robert Paulson!”

“His name was Robert Paulson!” © Chuck Palaniuk

 

I have no idea why this memory about Fight Club movie came to me one day as some sort of a revelation. I wrote it down in the notebook, but months later when I’ve read it, it made no significance at all. Yet I pondered it some more, and I remembered a poem I wrote over ten years ago.

It was about famous people that I’ve learned about in school. We were taught of them because they were inventors and geniuses. They were responsible for all the great things we had in life and we were learning of them. I secretly hated them all because I didn’t care for school. Those folks created or explored something and now I had to grind my brain into dust to learn what it was about. Frankly, some things I’ve learned in school are just plain useless, like geometry or organic chemistry. Maybe not to you, dear reader, but to me for sure.

Years later I started thinking that these famous people were not just inventors. They were people who lived lives, had families, had fun outside the lab (hopefully) and maybe never even expected their inventions to put their names into the gold fund of human culture and made them practically immortalized. So that poem was some sort of an apology to the bunch.

Having that brought to memory, the Fight Club paragraph I freely quoted out of memory makes sense. Robert Paulson (in the movie played by Meat Loaf) gets killed during putting Project Mayhem into life. In the past he was a famous wrestler, but after experimenting with steroids becomes extremely obese, as the result of which his children turned away from him. After going to self-help groups for people with near fatal health issues (I think Robert had testicle cancer), he joins Fight Club. FC mission gets him killed, but it appears he had the most fun in his later life by serving Project Mayhem.

What does this matter?

I will make here a brave assumption that we all want to be Robert Paulsons. If we are nobodies, that is. Nobodies that tried to accomplish something special, but got either fucked by life or by our own actions (too much, too soon, not enough, etc.) We want to carry something out in life that people may even benefit from (Project Mayhem was originally designed to liberate the masses, in a crude way though), and then hailed as heroes, even if fallen in the line of duty. But it’s not to be greatly famous. It’s to be happy with what we are doing and feeling validated for our efforts. Having our names included into the gold fund of human culture and becoming immortalized probably isn’t the goal. We just want our efforts to count. Well, at least I know I do.

Cliff Burton, the second of official four Metallica bass players, and the most famous of them, said that if you wanted to succeed in something, you need to marry yourself to it. I liked that expression that was attributed to him the first time I read it, over 20 years ago. At that time, I was trying to learn playing guitar, but I haven’t put a lot of effort into it and I haven’t got far, naturally. I saw however that my writing was getting better and there were certainly more people appreciating my efforts in putting stories together. So, I’ve stuck with writing. I can’t say I got much success. Quite the opposite. Trying to break through, I submit my stories to competitions of all kinds, but deep inside I know I need to be writing query letters to get longer stories in. And what do I do about that? Procrastinate by keeping writing longer stories and keeping submitting shorter ones to magazine competitions.

Writing is fun, and stories are good, but lately only one other person reads them. Maybe one day I will learn to do the right thing… before Project Mayhem of my own kind gets me checked out for good.


the image was copied from https://fightclub.fandom.com/wiki/Robert_Paulson

thank you, Fight Club fan page

overcoming

s-l1000I hate it!

I didn’t sign up for this shit!

I really don’t need it, do I?

(let go)

Why do people do this to themselves?

(let go of ego)

What kind of life is this if you always have to do what’s prescribed in the paper?

(let go of wanting what’s right for you in the moment)

And this is not even in the paper!

(go inside yourself for a moment and listen to you heart beat)

I’m so mad right now and I can’t even express it, because this is workplace!

(just breathing can save you plenty of peace of mind)

 

Long deep breath in

Exhale to the point there is no air left and you feel you cannot do it for long without

Inhale it all.

Try a couple more times.

Keep thinking “I’m Ok. It’s OK. It will pass.”

 

Brushing away current personal dissatisfaction now

(what the fuck!!!)

Going with the flow of reality

(really?!)

You know you are feeling much better now.

(yeah, right)

And now, look, things start falling into place, aren’t they?

(i don’t know, man)

Yes, you do.

Enjoy.

Try not to think so much.

(how the hell do you do that?!)

When it doesn’t work,

Remember to breathe.

All the way out, all the way in.

Don’t just remember –

Act on it.


the image was copied from https://www.google.ca/search?q=caution+hot+sign&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjTlr3OuJLiAhWJi1QKHd3qCi8Q_AUIDigB&biw=1366&bih=625#imgrc=EaGeKj1m4YFSbM: thanks

Axioms

maxresdefaultThere are things you can’t argue about or with. Like arguing with a drunk person, it’s pointless. For an attempt of more practical argument, think school. At school we are taught about axioms, statements about positions of the geometrical figures or related objects that cannot be questioned. Like there is exactly one line incident with any two distinct points, no matter where in space they are positioned. Or, two distinct lines intersect in exactly one point. Proving it otherwise will get you failing. (www.Web.Mnstate.edu)

Now here’s another axiom that I’ve found on the wall at a chiro/massage centre: “Every decision you make moves you either toward wellness or towards disease.”

It’s not easy to come up with words…after you lift your jaw, dropped on the subject of astounding sense of that statement…and comment on it, is it? But I will try.

Pondering this to me means looking at your life as some sort of weird lineage, tracking down every behavior and every action you’ve expressed and taken. Which would be very mind-breaking and possibly even senseless, certainly not too good for the mind balance. Maybe you’d try to dissect the memory and look at some pivotal events, but not all of them! And those that would matter most – hey, put them on the Step Four list. They belong there.

After your resentments and defects of character list is complete and is spoken of aloud in the presence of another person, under the watchful eye of the Higher Power of your own understanding, you get on with doing the Steps and get on with your life, right? And that’s when you keep looking forward and you think that you got to live better and healthier. But it’s hard. Life is rarely a smooth ride of a boat down the lake on a cloudless day. Things you want to do mess with things you need to do, and the things that are good for you may start looking like annoying ditches on the road you go through that you feel you are compelled to drive around.

If you consider yourself the captain of your fate, no one can tell you how to sail your ship, but deep inside you know. If you were paying attention during studying your Steps, you now know that in the mind everything is interconnected, just like in the body. Bad choices and no choices, they all matter and one day shit will catch up with you, just like right choices will bear fruits that will nourish you. And every decision you make will move you toward either negativity or the positive life in all of its systems and revelations, just as toward disease or wellness.


the image was copied from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJVKaGqiKoE thanks.