A Blessing Of Tears

Tonight I cried about it.

It’s taken me this long, but it hit me full force and from out of the blue. The realization that in a couple of weeks you may very well be told that you are dying or very ill and need an operation is not exactly a picnic. It really took me by surprise because I was holding back everything so well, so sooner or later, I guess the damn had to burst. I wasn’t expecting the raw emotion that came out of me, this absolute profound sense of sadness that made be think of everyone I knew who passed away, flashed by in a moment. Ironically on a day where love is celebrated, my loving aunt passed away 11 years ago. Somehow I think she was here with me; I could feel another presence. I usually know who they are too…sometimes, it sucks being gifted that way and other times it’s a blessing. And now I can almost understand the title of this post better as it’s the title of an album from one of my favorite musicians’ (Robert Fripp) pieces of his extensive body of work. I always thought the title was beautiful for some reason, and now it just made sense.

Sometimes we need our tears to give us the relief and release of the unedited emotion that’s been in check inside of us for so long. I’m more emotional than most guys; I always have been. I’m usually the guy who’s yelling at a ballgame or when I get a good laugh going, I’ll crack up a room just from that. There are other things I keep buried deep down, and it’s these things that sometimes come out as extreme anger. That’s the nature of being bi-polar as well as a recovering alcoholic. And for a guy with PTSD, I’m handling all of this remarkably well. Not to pat myself on the back or anything, but I think I am. I always thought that had this happened to me, I’d handle it exactly the way I did tonight…with pure unmitigated sorrow. I wasn’t angry. I had no bitterness. I was almost bargaining with the Universe that if there is a chance for a second half of my life…a second chance to do something, I swear I’m going to make it count. I was put on this Earth to do something meaningful. I was not put here to die at a very young age (although my kids consider me “old” at 50. Bushitt…50 ain’t old, and I have no intention of going anywhere. Except to Paris. I’ve never been there, or Moscow in June. I’d even love to spend New Years Eve there, because that is the highlight of the Russian Holiday Season. I’d love to go on a vacation to Disney (either one, although my best friend lives in San Diego and my wife has family there and in LA) with the kids…before they get to be beyond being kids. I’m not going anywhere except to both my daughters’ graduations and weddings, and I plan on being there when my first grandchild is born.

Things suddenly were put into focus: don’t procrastinate. Get this done with. Find out what the hell is wrong. Subconsciously, I must be delaying things because I’m not making time for blood work (I’m only a day or two behind schedule there; a needed test set me back a day) for this last of three tests that is the scariest and the most risky. There’s a shot my lung could collapse when they take a sample they need, but I’m going to will my body into making sure that does not happen. I’m scared…who the hell wouldn’t be with a potential cancer diagnosis? What’s more I’m even angrier at myself because try as I might I still can’t quit these damned cigarettes, e-cigarettes are not helping as I’m falling back on the real thing that got me in trouble in the first place. That and 9/11 (and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise; 50 year old men despite having smoked for 35 years do not die of lung cancer at a relatively young age of 50. I won’t go into my rage about that one, because that would produce the opposite of why I started writing this in the first place).

It was a cleansing of the soul. I needed that cry alone, and yet I felt a spiritual arm around me hugging me. What the worst part about all of this is has become my thoughts on my children. What becomes of them. Of course they’ll have their mother and other family to take care of them. God only knows how much I love those two girls. I see home videos when they were younger and there were my two little girls, the ones you always keep in the back of your mind as a favorite picture; one that you always carry no matter how old they get. I often wondered why my Dad had a picture of me from 5th grade in his office as I lumbered in there with long hair, beard, and ripped jeans back in my college days. I asked him once why he never took that down and updated it. He told me something along the lines of “I always liked that picture of you, and you weren’t such a fool back then. Besides, you’ll understand when you have kids”. Well Dad, I do. It took 30 years, but I do.

And tonight my soul was cleansed by a blessing of tears.

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The Necessity Of Self Transformation

Last night after all the hoopla died down from the Giants game, and I tried so desperately to watch all the sports shows on the Super Bowl results as I could (but couldn’t because I was just too damned exhausted rooting for my beloved NY Giants) I fell asleep on my couch.  When I awoke, the TV was on, the plays were still running from the game, and I realized that I had to get up in 3 hours and take my girls to school.  Just before I went upstairs though, I cheked my Facebook Page and someone had posted this on it:

And in the moment that I read this, I understood what has been happening to me for the past few weeks with the cancer scare.  Why my whole life has been a series of events that unfolded in a manner that on one level can be seen to be extremely tragic.  But on another level it becomes something else…it becomes a gateway for the next phase of my life.  The realization that as much as I want to change the world I cannot, at least not yet because I am not yet ready.  I must first change myself; my inner core; the light of my own soul that I have just in this very moment realized that I saw with another person, and she shared her soul with me.  It was back in college, we were 19 and we were exploring the possibility of getting involved (and believe me…I am SO not going into details about this beloved friendship because it is WAY too complex for even the Universe to understand, LOL).  We had see light and warmth projected on the wall of her dorm room…and that was our souls moving outside of our body.  The light, the core creature that we are inside this shell was allowed for just a few moments to exit, or a part of it was anyway.  But in that instant I saw something I have never seen again since: myself.  It went back into its shell and never came out again except on special occasions…like when my children were conceived.  I knew they were just because I could sense something was different.

And now I am faced with a situation that has taken me years to understand: I must eliminate the dark negative places of my own self and then suffering in the world can end.  I must awaken the sleeper that has lain dormant for almost 51 years and then I can begin to change the world.  It doesn’t have to be on one big earth-shattering moment of change…just a small part of  the overall picture…MY part of the overall picture.  I need to start with myself; the journey can only begin if I go within and release the potential and that which is inside of me.  The reason why no change happens is a lack of self awareness of a nature that is more profound than can be explained.  Like that light on the wall.  I may yet be very ill.  I do not know, but I have just realized that it is important to empty myself of the darkness and transform within so that I can be a beacon for others to follow.

I honestly don’t know what’s going to happen in the next few months.  I really don’t.  There’s going to be days where my writing is a bit off, and you’ll have to excuse that because I might be a bit medicated.  Buy my sincerity and belief in what needs to happen will always be honest and forthright.  Time to begin again…

“If I take a lamp and shine toward the wall, a bright spot will appear on the wall. The lamp is our search for truth, for understanding. Too often we assume the light on the wall is God, but the light is not the goal of the search, it is the result of the search. The more intense the search, the brighter the light on the wall. The brighter the light on the wall, the greater the revelation upon seeing it. Similarly, someone who does not search, who does not bring a lantern with him, sees nothing. What we perceive as God is the by-product of our search for God. It may simply be an appreciation of the light, pure and unblemished, not understanding that it comes from us. Sometimes, we stand in front of the light and assume we are the center of the universe — God looks astonishingly like we do! — or we turn to look at our shadow and assume all is darkness. If we allow ourselves to get in the way, we defeat the purpose — which is use the light of our search to illuminate the wall in all its beauty and all it flaws, and in so doing, better understand the world around us.” – J. Michael Straczinski