If you are a nighttide peripheral observer like me, you’re going to see things that make you do a double take. This morning I drove by the infamous Bottoms Up at an hour when even the local vampires are getting droopy-eyed. A woman stood between her open car door and the car and a man leaned against her. His work truck was parked on the other side of her car. I’m certain he was examining her tonsils. My initial reaction was “geez.” But my ensuing reaction was “good for them.” When we are young, it’s our opportunity to abandon good sense and let our biological fires not only lead us down the path of temptation, but also take a dubious detour. It is a certainty that we should be rational creatures. Careful attention to our behaviors and patterns clearly demonstrates that we are not. Routine grips us and we build layers of distraction on top of our clandestine wish to feel alive. Maybe I’m an outlier. Perhaps the rest of you don’t struggle with the duality of knowing we’re here to experience the world, but also wonder why we choose or are pushed into obligations and routines that quite simply deaden us at times. Whoever those tongue-locked people were will wake up at some point during the day and regret burning the midnight oil. Maybe you will think I’m crazy for saying I had a similar regret when I pulled in to work. I probably should be driving to Central Arkansas this morning. But I’m not. It is all an accumulation of choices. Some serve us, and some do not. It’s only in retrospect after we’ve made the choices that we tell ourselves we understand why we made them.
For all of you out there who sometimes need a song blasting on the way to work… Find “A Symptom Of Being Human” by Shinedown. I’ve listened to this song multiple times with a critical ear, trying to pinpoint what exactly this song embodies that provokes an emotional reaction in me. The closest I can come Is that it invokes a nostalgic feeling without being tied to a specific time period. It’s a song about mental health and having empathy for every human soul who crosses your path. Even toxic bastards, managers, baseball fans, and registered voters. It’s Thursday which means you’ve made the mistake of delineating your days as if one has more importance than any other.
“Tomorrow is the bastard child of our imagination. It presumes certainty wherein none can be found, even by the most expert and capable amongst us. This is no exhortation to whisper to yourself, ‘Carpe diem.’ All the things that worry you are illusions. The time you have is not even borrowed. It’s yours. If you cannot find it in yourself to detach from the self-imposed blueprint of identity and ambition long enough to comprehend this, there is no question that you’re probably wasting the only resource that matters: time. In the time it took to read this, 105 souls have moved on to whatever awaits them. That nebulous visitor in your thoughts? The one that tickles your discomfort. It is a primeval instinct of awareness and reminder. Distractions only dampen it. Don’t seize the day. Seize the moments that are in front of you. Although you probably won’t practice it until you’re older, don’t let the words ‘later’ or ‘tommorow’ pass casually from your lips. These words are vanity in a nutshell.”
Earlier in the week, someone complained that we don’t actually own anything. Their focus was on taxes. I didn’t say it out loud, but I wanted to point out that ownership is an illusion. I wanted to point out that their frustration couldn’t possibly change how things are. Even the core of identity, our body and brain, is governed by expiration. It’s not the type of comment that most people enjoy during a conversation. Certainly, we hold things for a few decades if we are lucky. There’s no doubt that everything is borrowed while we’re walking around on this planet.
Almost all of us, no matter what we do or strive for, might end up as a footnote on a Wikipedia page. Once the people we affect are gone, all we can hope for is an echo effect; moments, pieces of our love, wit, or presence that infected others for the right reasons. While I am not a religious person, this sort of thinking always makes me think of Ecclesiastes.
We spend our lives chasing security and possession. Strictly speaking, obtaining either is an illusion. Security is momentary and based on temporary variables that we don’t control. If it can be owned, it can also be taken or lost.
I was told to relearn the lesson of all this. Jumping out of a plane helped. Watching people chase things that give them the feeling of control also reminds me that learned detachment is about the only means to let go of all the musts, shoulds, and nonsense we’ve accumulated.
I’ve been practicing more to remind myself that worry and anxiety are largely based on the desire for control or certainty. Both steal your allotted energy to take in what happens for what it is.
Only those who have failed will understand the need to understand how much their patterns and reactions affect their relationships. People carry needless wounds and patterns with them to the next relationship. All your previous attempts failed for a reason. Love, X
A local doctor stole babies from birth mothers, telling them that their children had died. And one case in particular… It took decades for DNA to reveal the story. That happened here in Northwest Arkansas. One of my ideas for a Netflix documentary would be to contact the families of every mother, especially single mothers, who gave birth during a specific time period to perform DNA tests and compare them nationally.
Handsome, charismatic men who portray themselves as humble Christian husbands. Yet engage in a cycle of highly sexual affairs. (A story so common it is literally copy and paste.) Another one with a conservative political career who used his position at his work to take advantage of women. There’s a reason so many sexual harassment complaints arise in the workplace. It has built-in inequality that largely negates people speaking up and setting things right.
More than one doctor who openly had mistresses but yet were considered pillars of the community. Who had children with those mistresses.
People I knew who experienced a wild array of trauma. Everything you can imagine. Even though I had my own mostly unknown traumas, some of these people went through much, much worse than I did.
A dentist who preyed on women. Money can lighten any stain or accusation. Rarely do people choose victims whom they consider their equals.
Cops took advantage of people monetarily or sexually. Some used their positions to ruin their victims instead of admitting what they had done.
Coaches who bullied young kids. Or worse.
Teachers who are inappropriate with their students.
Church leaders behaving inappropriately.
A multitude of lawyer stories. Except they are armed and knowledgeable regarding the process of eluding accountability. Mostly. I’ve told the story many times, but one of them went to prison for fixing cases. My parents were among those who benefited from the arrangement.
Last year I had a bad feeling about someone who owned a plumbing company. I used my skills and uncovered a trail of female victims. One leading me across the country.
I had a similar feeling about a neighbor. He turned out to be a previously convicted sexual predator, along with a nice jacket full of criminal offenses.
All of these things have shadows around them.
Most people are good people.
But one thing you have to understand is that your experience with a particular person does not mean they didn’t have a dark side.
Especially upon their passing, if you lionize them, you have to be willing to listen to anyone who has a contrary opinion or experience with them.
It is in darkness and secrecy that people can be duplicitous and lead secret lives out of sight from observers. At least observers who will speak up.
The above examples are stories I know from here in Northwest Arkansas.
When I got involved in learning about the doctor who was stealing babies, I was expecting a reasonable explanation. Instead, I had to sit in the knowledge that someone was capable of ruining a mother’s life in that way. There was no doubt that he had done it to multiple women.
It’s human nature to avoid accountability, just as it’s also our nature to get mad when someone tries to tarnish a family member or someone we admire. Even a cursory look at Mother Theresa and her charity reveals many detestable secrets.
People have different faces for each aspect of their life.
I don’t have a nice bow with which to tie this post up.
There are certainly false accusers.
But there are also victims or people who know the truth about someone.
Each of these people has the right to tell their truth and story.
History and familiarity with people have repeatedly and demonstrably proven that truth is stranger than fiction.
I have several examples from my life in which the truth didn’t come to light for decades. In one, I found the gift of a beautiful and intelligent sister concealed from me. In another, I found proof of the final crime that sent my dad to prison in Indiana in the 60s.
I l-o-v-e hearing words mispronounced. It is usually a sign that someone has learned a word from reading it. I devised this couplet to remind people to encourage language and vocabulary instead of mocking it. English “rules” are arbitrary and devised with no rhyme or reason. We owe it to the stupidity of our language to mess with every aspect of it. Think about the magic of language. We translate little squiggles into ideas in our heads. And then we argue how the imaginary and arbitrary symbols are supposed to look or sound. As I age, my tolerance for supercilious and snarky attitudes has plummeted. Say it wrong. Spell it wrong. This language belongs to all of us. All the rules we claim will one day be meaningless. Since I speak and read more than one language, I am comfortable and fearless in navigating all the errors I make when communicating. Most people are nervous when speaking or writing. There’s no reason to be. No matter how careful you are, you’ll sound or seem a bit ignorant to someone, somewhere. You have permission to break the language. If you run into someone who is a bit of a wet blanket about your right to do so, look them in the eye and say, “I’d like an eXpresso.” And prance away.
Take all the time you need. It’s infinite, after all, isn’t it? I’ll not take offense at how you apportion it. For in the apportioning, we gauge our importance. The pie is of equal radius for each of us. How we slice it is for us to determine. And for others to wonder why they go hungry in the apportioning. My words sometimes lean towards cynicism. For that lesser emotion, I can only ask for forgiveness. Cynicism is at its heart both frustration and anger. We imagine how things should be or how we wish they would be. Sometimes founded with experience and sometimes amplified by a dark filter we hold in front of our eyes. We judge others for how they slice and apportion their pie. Even as we fail to measure our own. If you are not deliberately apportioning your pie and life and giving your time to the things that matter to you, you’ve lost. You’re supposed to listen to me about some of these things. Because I sit and contemplate my hypocrisy when I write things like this.
You wouldn’t enthusiastically take advantage of another opportunity to return to your youth. Invariably, when discussion of such a fantasy arises, the older giveaway their intentions by framing it in terms of money. Money gives options. But there are few among us who truly shine in the application of appreciating that time and experiences are what makes life worthwhile. Stop telling the younger generation to take advantage. With your wrinkled brow, we see you. Failing to balance the opportunity of the day or the years ahead of you. No one knows when the shadow might darken their door. Your age and experience should push you to squeeze out both simple pleasures and large. The decades behind you paved an infinite path of choices. Just as the young people in front of you might if they’re lucky. It’s hard to expect yolo or carpe diem from the younger generation because we have the disparate expectations of responsibility and stability. For similar reasons, the older among us can’t let go of the stability tethers that we need. Both groups are in the same boat. Regardless, living by example is the best sermon you can give anyone. Words are easy and change is hard. Most of us can’t even gleefully listen to another genre of music without being dismissive. Much less trying new foods, new words, or mindsets that might serve us better. We reach the point where we decide we’re done. Routine and stability bring comfort. But they also suffocate the opportunity to become renewed.
“You are right. But so is 100. You earned each of your years by the minute, the day, the month, the year. You can walk a hundred extra steps. You can eat 100 less calories. And you can do 100 push-ups. You don’t have to do it all at once. Make or take a minute for small choices. You can choose a smile instead of a complaint. You can give a hug to remember what humanity is all about. Age is just a number. And it relentlessly piles up behind you, an infinite number of increments. Just like you’re choosing to read this instead of scrolling past. Don’t scroll your life or it will be gone forever.”
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 