Reflections

Reflections

The other day, I was sitting beside the canal.  The water was dark, murky and stagnant.   There were many things in it that didn’t belong there and were ruining it.  But what secrets lay beneath?  Sturdy iron railings and granite blocks stood guard over them.  I didn’t know where it came from or where it was going.  I didn’t even care.  It didn’t matter.  Nothing mattered.  I wasn’t interested in being sensible or practical.  I didn’t even know what that meant anymore.  I was numb and frozen.  I wanted only to feel - something, anything.  I wanted to be what I was supposed to be, but I didn’t know what that was.  Mania, depression and unpleasant memories from the past were having a field day and they were arrogantly wearing their blue ribbons. I wanted out.

I was staring at a blank page in my book while a haunting song played over and over in my head.  The world and its people didn’t make sense anymore.  Nothing made sense anymore.  I didn’t fit in.  Life was a macabre play and I hadn’t even been assigned a part.  Why does there have to be so many people and why must everything be a competition - even mere survival?  Our existence is called a race.  People passed by me but they weren’t really people - just eyes, noses, mouths and ears.   They had no faces.  Bricks were everywhere - where do they all come from?  I could think but I couldn’t feel.  I could feel but I couldn’t think.  How do I do both at the same time?  I knew but I was dumb.  I saw but I was blind.  Why couldn’t I simply just be?  There was no path for me.  There weren’t even any breadcrumbs - the birds had eaten them a long time ago.  There was no cookie, let alone a fortune.  My glass was neither half empty nor half full - there was no glass at all, leaving me parched and dry.  There was no future, no hope, and no peace - only a tortured soul, an AWOL spirit, a wounded will and a fractured frame of mind.  I was exposed.  I was vulnerable and suspect.  I was accused and accosted.  I was like a piñata and each time I was struck my sins poured out onto the ground.  I was stuck in a vice and it was closing in on me.  My back was up against a wall.  I was trapped like a rat.  I was like a railroad spike being sledgehammered into the ground in order to secure the tracks of an ill-concocted system so that yet more and more humanity could tread upon me in the name of progress, advancement and industriousness, however elusive they remain.  Everyone was busy but no one was doing anything.  I was a square peg being crammed into a round hole.  I had lost my humanity.  Conformity is the name of the game.  It’s “go along to get along”, but what if I don’t want to?  What if I can’t?

So I cried out in agony and anguish.  Expletives and curses streamed from my mouth like a conduit for sewage from Hell.  That thing inside of me that makes us care was MIA.  Why me?  I was mired in misery, wired in woe and adrift in affliction.  I was disheartened in distress.  It wasn’t fair.  It didn’t make sense.  I didn’t deserve it.  I didn’t ask for it.  The only things that were incapable of lying to me were nature and music.  They were the only things that had any value.  Everything else was false doctrine.  Not even money had value, let alone my life.  I was with Edvard Munch when he got the inspiration for his work, writing of it, “One evening I was walking along a path, the city was on one side and the cliff below. I felt tired and ill. I stopped and looked out over the cliff - the sun was setting, and the clouds turning blood red. I sensed a scream passing through nature; it seemed to me that I heard the scream. I painted this picture, painted the clouds as actual blood. The color shrieked. This became ‘The Scream’.”

  I was a prisoner of my emotions.  The shackles go on a lot more easily than they come off and the key was nowhere to be found.  So, I pleaded my case like a lawyer with a twisted face and a shaky voice.  But it was a hung jury and I couldn’t sign the contract.  I couldn’t seal the deal.  Tears streamed down my cheeks like acid rain from the sky.  I was a foreigner - an alien in a strange world without a map or a compass - searching for truth, meaning and answers.  I was different from everyone else.  I was racing but there was no road, at least not enough of it.  I was sitting with Job of Biblical fame amongst the ashes.  I was with van Gogh, in his studio, when he painted “The Starry Night”.  I was walking with Thoreau beside Walden Pond when he wrote that, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation”.  I argued to no avail.  I kept at it for a long time but it was futile.  It is what it is.

            Suddenly, out of nowhere, a strong gust of wind came on the scene and changed everything.  It rippled the surface of the water - as if God himself had reached down and dipped his hand in and agitated it or breathed on it - crafting hundreds of tiny, little waves.  They were like the ripples blown into the sand by a desert wind.  At first, they behaved as a legion of soldiers marching in formation.  They were strong, well-defined, orderly, disciplined and determined.  As it was a bright, sunny day they each reflected the sunlight.  They glistened and shimmered like shards of broken glass; like prisms of earth’s soul; like the electric sparkles from a magic wand and the water and vegetation at an oasis.  They gleamed like sunlight on fresh snow; like the moon kissing a frozen pond on a clear, frosty, winter’s night.  But the wind was too much and eventually it whipped them into a frenzied mob.  They broke ranks and formed new random patterns.  They took on an ancillary life of their own.  They became like parts of a song that touch you deeply inside, where no one talks about - a song that you can’t stop singing or humming - a song that you can’t stop tapping your foot to, no matter how hard you try.  They were like little children running and jumping in a school playground; like ballerinas twirling to life’s ballet and a swarm of fireflies dancing on the water.  As they lit up, they giggled and said, “Look at what we can do”.

            Things aren’t always as they seem.  They change.  They don’t always stay aligned in harmony.  We all wear masks.  The trick is to peek behind theirs and to let them peek behind ours.  Why is destiny so distant?  Why is fate so final?  Oftentimes it’s simply a matter of perspective and resiliency.  I know what it is to have everything and yet have nothing and I know what it is to have nothing and yet have everything.  I prefer the latter.  So why does the darkness have to win?  Where are the broken people supposed to go?  Why must we live like soldiers?  Why can’t we be like little children, ballerinas and fireflies riding a gust of wind?  Why can’t we be more like songs and ripples on water?  And who knows, we might even share a few giggles along the way.  I’m not giving up.  It’s not going to win.  I’ll see you all tomorrow.  We’ll talk again soon.  I’ll tell you mine and you’ll tell me yours.    We’ll exchange truth and love because that’s all we have to give each other and it has to be enough.  It must be enough.  Don’t let anything else get in the way, because underneath we’re all the same, aren’t we?  Our lives are intertwined like the threads of a sweater and each day the master knits a new one.  So put it on and wear it proudly.  We can’t stop it.  No one can stop it.  Like laundromats we try to wash the stains from our souls so that we can continue to “fight the good fight”.  We scrub, plunge and tumble and see what comes out.  What doesn’t come out, we must accept and wear anyway.

On the way home, I was soaring on a cloud where no person had ever gone before.  Angels proclaimed victory by sounding repeated trumpet blasts.  Violins were being played in an elaborate, elated, triumphant symphony and pure light and joy spewed forth as the bows were drawn across the strings.  They even made it intensely powerful and personal by also plucking the strings with their fingers for me.  I was in the spotlight on the stage at a rock concert and everyone was screaming out for me.  I was doing an Irish step-dance while the passing traffic kept the beat.  I was storming the beach at Normandy and nothing could stop me.  I was the runner in the movie, ‘Chariots of Fire’ crossing the finish line while the theme song played.  I wanted to stop and hug everyone that I passed by and find out how they were.  I wanted to throw a block party and celebrate nothing - just being.

I passed by an abandoned lot overgrown with weeds.  Among the weeds was one bearing some beautiful, little, yellow flowers. It didn’t belong there but it surely wasn’t ruining the landscape.  The flowers each looked like the speaker on an old-fashioned phonograph.  Their songs served as reminders that good could still be found " even when surrounded by ugliness.  They had a God-given right to exist where they would, despite being uniquely out of place.  There is always hope.  We have to be willing to forgive and forget, adapt and overcome, rewire and reprogram.  When we do this, we will be able to see the good and the beauty that was always there, that was supposed to be there.  Then the healing can begin in earnest.  Life can be a bittersweet paradox.  Thoreau wrote that, “There is no value in life except what you choose to place upon it and no happiness in any place except what you bring to it yourself.”  I prevailed this day because as he also pointed out, “… it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.”

Reviews

[alanwgraham]

This work is an incredible deluge of images and feelings taking us from despair to hope. Absolutely incredible. One thing that interests me is - do you believe in fate or have you used it as a widely used term to make sense of the world?
Well done!
Alan

[Pete]

Belief in fate is something I wrestle with and would involve a lengthy discussion. The short answer is that I am not sure. This piece touches on that uncertainty. Do you believe in fate?

[alanwgraham]

I wish I hadn't asked! My immediate answer is a definite no but then doubts creep in - what definition of fate are we using. As a scientist I know that no law of science is the final answer - it's only correct until it is disproved. Our understanding of the behaviour of matter on the small scale in terms of uncertainty leads to the conclusion that 'fate' is impossible. I don't believe in 'God' (and I once was a regular church goer!) so I can't accept that there is some 'overriding and supernatural force' that preordains our future. I'm not sure if that makes any sense and i will think twice about asking awkward questions in future!
Cheers,
Alan

[Pete]

What about genetics - couldn't that be considered a determinant of fate? In the Bible Jeremiah 1:5 says, "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations." or Luke 12:7, "Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Do genetics or belief in God offer any answer?

[Pete]

fate - a power that is believed to control what happens in the future the things that will happen to a person or thing. As a scientist you know that there are no accidents in the universe - everything happens for a reason and has a purpose. So what do you think that says about us?

[alanwgraham]

Thanks for your very interesting and thoughtful reply. As a physicist I believe that on the smallest level uncertainty pervades everything. It follows that there is no certainty on the larger scale i.e. our everyday world. Since fate depends on certainty it follows that the popular concept of fate is impossible. The idea of evolution proceeds by the random effect for radiation or the environment on the genetic material. Faith in a God is a belief in things unseen and is hard to argue against. I don't believe that everything in the universe happens for a reason or has a purpose _ this would lead to so many unanswerable questions.
I think that many people think of science as the antithesis of religion but my own idea is that it is just a way of testing at how things work (including God!)
Regards,
Alan

[Pete]

There is no way to scientifically verify prove/disprove that every time a tree falls in the forest it makes a sound, even if there is no one there to hear it. So, according to your response, does that mean that you don't believe that either? You say, yourself as a scientist, that uncertainty pervades everything and that fate depends on certainty therefore it is impossible. So if there is no way to prove or disprove something, does that necessarily mean that it is not true? I apologize for the lengthy discussion but since you brought it up, I am curious.

[alanwgraham]

This is turning into an interesting discussion! I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I accept only what can be shown by experiment to be correct, but only until another experiment disproves it. Then I accept the new view of reality - for example, we were all happy with Newtons laws until Einstein showed their limitations. In the same way I know of no experiment or test to prove that the world works by fate - in fact our universal acceptance of the idea of 'uncertainty' would contradict the idea of fate. Surely testing things out is the only way we can find out what the hell is going on out there! We test the ice before we step onto it. I don't think that fate is even part of religious belief because we have the choice between right and wrong and how can that be reconciled with fate. When most people speak of fate they really use it as a way of reconciling events such as accidents or deaths with the actions of some divine ruler rather than accepting that it was just what happened. Thanks, Pete, for giving me the chance to get my own ideas sorted out - and there's propably lots of holes in them!
Cheers, Alan

[Pete]

Do we really have a choice between right and wrong or are we 'predisposed' to it (i.e. enter fate). And what is right to one person may be wrong to another, so does that invalidate fate? Science cannot prove what is good or bad so does that mean there is no good or bad or God or that falling trees make no sound when no one is there to hear it, etc.?

[alanwgraham]

I think you've got me! I feel that we've got round to agreeing that misunderstanding over the definition is often the stumbling point in reaching understanding.
Thanks for you well argued falling trees!
Alan

[Hebe]

You really plunge into your soul and paint an incredible picture of someone who will not accept the normal route.... our worst enemy is our own mind.... thoughts are just thoughts they are not reality.... but the question is, who is in control?

[Pete]

Not accepting the "normal route" has cost me much in my life but as I wrote, "I know what it is to have everything and yet have nothing and I know what it is to have nothing and yet have everything. I prefer the latter." The worst enemy is the mind, agreed.

[S. von Glaubitz]

First of all, this is a very beautiful and very brave piece to write and share. I truly enjoyed it. I've certainly been there: sitting in nature and feeling the weight of life, pouring out my soul in words. Sharing these thoughts with the world, as you have done, reminds others who feel the same way, whether or not they have yet had the reveltion to live on, that they're not alone. That turn, from despair to hope, was very touching to read.

I love all the references to other artists. I also particularly love the question "Why is destiny so distant?"

From a constructive critism side: As a train-of-thought, journal-entry type piece it works. If you're aiming for something more polished, I would recommend a little reorganization: putting similar thoughts together, breaking up the larger paragraphs, and even cutting a few lines. As a whole, the "hope" half ran a little more smoothly than the "despair" half. Writing something so deep and meaningful from the heart often results in a need to just get everything out. You absolutely should get it all out. Then, when you're ready, gently go back through and turn it into something potentially even more profound.

[Pete]

Thanks for the kind words & the constructive ideas. I appreciate it.

[Im His Daughter]

Tears started to fall as I lay here reading this ... Quote... I passed by an abandoned lot overgrown with weeds. Among the weeds was one bearing some beautiful, little, yellow flowers. It didn’t belong there but it surely wasn’t ruining the landscape. The flowers each looked like the speaker on an old-fashioned phonograph. Their songs served as reminders that good could still be found " even when surrounded by ugliness. They had a God-given right to exist where they would, despite being uniquely out of place. There is always hope. End Quote...
As we go though life, he wants us here even if we don't feel we belong. He put us here for a reason known to only him. We will find out in the end what that reason was for. I am taking a lot from this write. It is beautifully & painfully written. I feel your heart & soul.

[Pete]

Not sure what to say - so thank you. Your faith is inspiring and your heart is beautiful.

[...]

Hello Pete, it's been a while and I have been missing out. I thoroughly enjoyed your message and the artistry at which you delivered it. Some really great lines in here and it flowed smoothly, but most of all, I got a peak at your heart, and I like what I saw :) Awesome read, dear writer!

[Pete]

Wow! Thank you Lynn. You are very kind, indeed. I appreciate your feedback. I'm glad you enjoyed it. You are correct in that this reflects what is in my heart. I suspect that your heart is similar.

[Junction]

Hi, I read it and really like it. I will read it again. I think there are layers to this story. You are definitely walking toward the "light" Your observation of your surroundings is very acute. You will be just fine. You have a beautiful mind that sees things others may not. I will read it again though. I can get a better perspective on it. Great Write!

[Pete]

Thanks. You are very perceptive. You're right about the layers. I write only what I feel and think.

[Junction]

The best kind of writing.

[Salem Gray]

Very nice story! Beautiful moments here that really convey the character and his inner thoughts quite effectively.

[Pete]

Thank you, I appreciate that. That's certainly what I was going for.

[Cecile Wonder]

This is very good and explains life in many ways. I love your details and how i can see the images perfectly. great job!

[Pete]

Thanks. I wrote this from an actual experience I had.

[Cecile Wonder]

That's amazing... and sad at the same time. All of my writings are personal experiences which is the only way i can talk about them.

[Pete]

Same here. Everything I write I have either lived or firmly believe in every fiber of my being.

[Cecile Wonder]

exactly, it's the only way to write in my opinion