The Human Condition

Alone

in my head

how did this happen again?

Afraid of myself

more than anyone else

afraid of my mind’s tricks

like the devil

part of me runs,

part of me nourishes.

 

External realities

versus internal dimensionality

my vulnerability

got me everything good

and everything bad

trust my mind–

it is strong,

then flies out the window.

 

All I can do now

is observe the mess I am in:

feel the anxiety,

the past pain,

the current waves of doubt

and listen to the monster truck

of thoughts roll through my head

as if it was the last track in the world.

 

Perhaps this is the most natural thing:

to let up, to let it win and lose

and nothing and everything

to let the stories be

to let the suicide be

to let my knowledge free

to let my wisdom bring

me the greatest joy I’ve ever known:

the expanse of life

growing in and out

nothing the same at any moment

love blossoming in my bones

while fear eats my mind–

it’s just one iteration

of the human condition,

is it not?

 

So eat away,

my friend fear…

I’m not sure what role the pills will play

but life can’t get away

simply because experience and temperament

created a shift in my thinking

understand that this is still

my gift of a body

and I respect its reaction–

mind, body, and soul connected–

to the darkest corners of life…

sweet loneliness turned sour

and still with age, abandonment

of reason with one phone call,

one bad dream…

and still the pure light of tomorrow…

the pureness of now.

 

April 1, 2016

 

More than anything, this is a release of thoughts and feelings surrounding mental health and my own struggles/my family’s struggles and experiences (the mention of suicide, a phone call and pills allude to a tragic family event) with the topic.  

You are never alone, no matter what unfolds in your life.  It can be difficult to find meaning out of suffering and loss, but it is, indefinitely, part of the human condition…and through the cracks, love and art can find their way out. 

About You

The day

I write

a poem

about you–

then

I’ll start

considering

love.

 

Until

then,

leave it

on my front step,

off with the paper

and my morning coffee;

let me read about it

in books,

watch movies

that make me cry.

 

I don’t know why

this song

keeps on singing,

over and over

in my head–

now remind me again

of that thing called love.

 

“A watched pot never boils,”

and well– a docked ship

never sinks

but land never did make

for a skilled sailor.

 

I will flip through these pages

and keep dipping my ink,

deeper and deeper

into my mind

until one day,

perhaps,

my heart

finds

its way

out.

 

February 24, 2016

The Fight

I once thought of life as a screen.

Shakespeare had his stage. Silverstein, some blue skin.

Entirely hidden.   A teardrop in a lake.

We all have our moments.  The daunting school hallway at ten. The basement party at twenty.  The busy conference room at thirty.

But I don’t want to hide.

I don’t have anything to hide.

Somewhere down the line of evolution, we established that our lives are meant to be competitive. We are meant to thrash and wrangle and bite. We are meant to be afraid of each other. I’d like to think we know better now. There are greater things that motivate us.

Then why don’t we act like it?

Life can be pretty scary. When all you hear on the news are gunshots and all you read about is a blonde Republican’s hair, why wouldn’t there be some fear?

I’d like to think we know better.

Competition separates us. We have isolated each other.  Our money. Our land. Our relationships. Our minds. Our hearts.

We all come from the same thing– we should know that now. We still don’t agree upon it.  Isolation still pulls through. When religion is supposed to bring love and it instead hides fear– it continues to isolate us. When education is supposed to open minds and it instead hammers the same ideas into us over and over, we remain locked in the past.

I’d like to think we know better. I’d like to think we can think better, act better.

I’d like to think that we are all just humans– not the money we decided to print, documents we decided to write, governments we decided to form.

We are all just people.

Yet I still feel the need to remind myself of that sometimes.

A friend of mine recently told me that being vulnerable, not wearing the mask, laying it all out on the table– it’s more than the fear we perceive. It means you don’t need to wear any armor. It means there is no one left to fight.

I’m ready to stop fighting.