Counter World Clockwise

“We’re not done, but it’s a start.”

                               Sara Adyms - “One by One.”

Is our life a roadmap to the future?  Is it a photograph to the past?
Is it merely a blip on the roadway of a life that simply leads to another that we cannot comprehend?

I refuse to decend into such madness without a logical faith.

…but then again, since when is faith so logical?

Faith is faith, and you either have it, or you don’t.   Part of faith is the struggle to obtain it, the struggle to keep it.

…and it is so, worth keeping.

“We’ll find a way of forgiving. Somewhere . . .”

                                                   “Somewhere” - West Side Story

When is a dream, just a dream…and when it is something more?  When it is important, will we know the difference?

Whether it is our sub-concious reminding us of something we already know, or a message from someone from above, will we recognize it for what it is?  Is there anything to recoginize? Or is a dream is just a dream.

“You have to decide what kind of person you are. Are you the kind of person who sees signs, miracles? Or are you the kind that thinks its just coincidence.”
                                                                Sixth Sense

I’ve always felt that everything happens for a reason.

The people that we meet, the dreams that we have, the sorrows we suffer and the joy we experience.
The darkness, and the light…I don’t believe that it’s always just random.

…and having said that, I’ve said more than I already should have.

“another moment passes by us, darling.”

                                 
                                Almost Free -  Sara Adyms

The sky is blue, blotted with white clouds that looked as if they were whipped and dropped there.  There are flowers planted neatly in little circles around a triple flag-pole and cement surrounds it.  The sidewalk is even and the various trees are mostly green, although a few have shades of purple in it.

The year is 2008, and it’s just another day we take for granted.

Considering that most people write to express thoughts, sort out thier demons, or to document an episode in our ‘modern’ life, it occurs to me that even less of us stop to write about what we assume people already know about where we are, or how the little piece of earth we occupy looks, how the people act, and what drives everything to be as it was or is.

Some of us are alive, but for how long?  And how many of us have forgotten how to simply just live?  Will any of it matter in 5 years? 10? 50?

I don’t want to forget to live.

“I’m not letting you give up, there’s no way, not now.”

                                                           “Just believe.” - Aria Sharp

Life is a journey.  A beautiful, heartbreaking journey of faith, love, pain and betrayal…destruction, anger and forgiveness.  We are set out on this road, with the intent that we are not alone if we are to look for help.

I did not always have faith.  There are times when I looked to God to answer my own pain and found nothing that had changed, nor did I have the answers that I wanted…
but there were answers to be found; it’s just sometimes, we aren’t listening.

When I was scared of nothing, he taught me fear. When pride taught me to hide my pain, he exposed it for the world to see.  When Anger led me to destroy what I was afraid of, he gave me someone I could not find anger towards, and when lonliness threatened to destroy me, I found those who would love me for who I am, despite the flaws.

we are so beautifully flawed, and most days we embrace this…understanding that to heal others, you must first understand the pain.  There is a gift of empathy of which many carry, some stronger than others…in which you can suffer the emotions of an event, even if you have never experienced it.

…So if you do not understand why our lives are so great, simply close your eyes and know this.

Somewhere, as you read this, as I write this…a mother watches her child suffer, and despairs from not being able to comfort them, for she has no food to give to the hungry child and they do not even have the strength to cry.

Somewhere, as I write this, as you read this…a young child, man or woman is being sexually assulted against their will.  It will not be the first time, or the last, for they do not have the same freedom that many of us do.
They have been sold, stolen and enslaved, and to those who would do this terrible thing, they are nothing more than something to be bought and sold, traded or destroyed.

Somewhere, as you read this, and as I write this…a group of homeless huddle for warmth, sharing the meager offerings begged from the corner of a street, and eating less than what they need to be comforted so that the children won’t feel the hunger quite as badly as they do.

And somewhere, as I write this, an innocent man or woman is being tortured, their fingernails pulled out, their skin burned off slowly and a little child who would call them mother or father, given a chance to end that suffering by being forced to hold a gun and pull the trigger, just to be executed a moment later, with no regard to the soul within.

So while we suffer, and while we hold a great pain.  Abusive fathers, neglectful mothers, perverted uncles and vindictive aunts…Cruel classmates, the betrayal of a best friend, or the dirty clothes that were someone else’s before they were yours.   The next-door neighbor who is prettier than you, smarter than you, has better class than you.  For those who have money, but are ignored by those who should love them, for every child who has been hit, instead of given hugs, and for every person who was ever hurt by another’s careless words.

I’m going to say what you should already have the humility of knowing.

That we are not alone, that we are not unknown…and our pain is not as great as the person that we could find if we but opened our eyes and looked.

So stop feeling sorry for yourself…because you’re not the only one who has something to cry about, but if you can do one thing, even one thing to help someone else who is hurting, you’ve already done something to heal yourself.

And that’s something real.

And I won’t punish myself, for what you think”

                                        Aria Sharp - Imprint

And then one day,
without truly understanding what it is that draws us to this place…
we will stand beneath the stars and gaze up at a face that we cannot see,
listening to a voice that we cannot hear,
and find solace in a thing that was the hardest of all to finally do…
To set ourselves free, and forgive.
To be full of awe, there can be no anger,
There is only room for one,
And that is a freedom that has been given,
but is not ours until we choose.

One man walks up to another man, and the two begin to fight.

Do you walk away?
Do you take sides?
Do you tell them to stop?
Do you take on both of them?
Do you put yourself in the middle so that they must hit you to hit the other?

…Someone fights you.

Do you run?
Do you stand your ground?
Do you cop an attitude?
Do you beg?
Do you throw the first punch?
Do you you fight back?
Do you stand there and let them hit you, making no attempt to defend yourself?

Are you angry?  Will you be?  Were you?

The complex anatomy of human emotions is enough to give pause for thought…
Pride, Defiance…Dignity…Right and Wrong…

The moral value would insist that the last of each is the most graceful of the others…
And there have been mortals in the past who have been strong enough to do just that…
but most of us aren’t that strong, or that brave….and that’s why we’re human.

But isn’t there that piece of you that wishes you were?  …And I suppose that’s why there is grace.
To forgive our silly arses for what we are unable to let go of, even if we want to.

“in a dark room, in a dark room; the stains on my hands, comfort your silence.”

                                                                      Sara Adyms - In a Dark room

The most valuable thing that we ever have, is our innocence.  The world itself will take it away from us soon enough, and I have a great contempt for anyone cruel enough to tear it from someone else intentionally.  Who has the right to destroy something so beautiful?  Who has the right, to destroy someone’s joy or trust?

There is a bitter darkness in the world that goes unseen in the light, despite eyes that watch it happen, or know of its existance.  With every breath we take, should this abuse be ceased, even if it means our own comfort be diminuished.

Could you truly look someone else in the eye and tell them that you let them be hurt because you couldn’t burden yourself with complicating your own life? 

The most perverse of these crimes is of that which an adult abuses a child’s innocence sexually.   A child…a child who has not even finished growing emotionally, or socially, and someone would be sick enough to steal that of which should never even be stolen in the first place.   The damage done is irreversible, and can never be truly healed.

That child will be scarred forever, and there is no apology great enough to account for what they have suffered.  The fear of even innocent affection, for the trepidation of what the person’s motives might be…No one should have to fear a hug…No one should ever have to fear a hand upon thier shoulder that only seeks to bring them comfort in a time of need…and that innocence and comfort is only a piece of what becomes stolen.

Sadder still, is how many of those children never overcome that loss of innocence, or become the monster that they themselves were once subject to.  Suicide, Aggression, Depression, Degredation, Prostitution, Immorality, Perversion, Anxiety, Isolation…

What would have been is denied the chance to be known, and only with love and strength can it be recovered, at least, in part. 

Doing nothing is not good enough.
Doing something is a start.

Open your eyes to the darkness around you and fight back…
Or you are just as horrible as ‘they’ are.

“There isn’t always one more second chance.”

                                        Aria Sharp - “

Like a fog, it drifts over our eyes and obscures our vision; making it hard to tell one thing from another.  A fog that drifts in and out, coming and going without warning or foresight; although hindsight is with an uncertainty of what was or could have been.

Who are we, so that we never quite feel whole?  A love of life and a weariness of lonliness lead a brilliant ray of light down a darker lit moon.   The sun shines upon the moon and with it, the moon is illuminated and warmed for but a time.  Stars from afar, twinkle thier greeting, attempting to bridge the vast space of which darkness firmly holds together a brilliant territory to which we mortals know of no end to.

But even the sun grows weary, and the time will come when the light that gives us life ebbs away…and for a few moments longer, as other stars are given life; our own will be remembered by no one.

It is not who we are, but how we live.
It is not what we were, but what we do,
and it is not where we end up, but how we go.

but whether of a ebbing, or a bang…that is not nearly as important as whether or not you even tried to shine.

“On, the edge, one too many times; this isn’t me.”

                                           Sara Adyms - “This Isn’t Me”

-in dedication to Owen Wilson, and the countless others before him-

It gets worse by the season, or by the light of the full moon.   It grows an edge during times of stress or conflict and steals a voice through a moment of vulnerability…Something that kidnaps your joy and drains your desire.  It is given power by fear, lonliness, heartache or scorn.  It is strengthened by perceptions of failure or alienation, even if unfounded.

And we are told to drug ourselves, because only a drug can abolish the disease that kills us from the inside before it convinces us to do the same to our outer shell.  They say it balances chemicals in our brain that make these thoughts come to us; and for some people, this is very true.

 But not for everyone.

In some cases, the pills remove our ability to feel.   Without our acute level of empathy and logic; dulled by the medicine promised to take away our weakness, we stop fighting the entropy that calls our name and simply give in.  Suddenly, we lack the ability to care anymore, and the part of our brain that would have normally stopped us from listening doesn’t care either; because it’s been supressed.

Intelligence can lead to depresssion, but sometimes, it is intelligence that can keep us from plunging over into it completely.  The small grain of logic that keeps us from doing anything stupid; even though we teeter dangerously on the line, day after day.   …but that’s one of the reasons why depression is so dangerous…this is why depression can kill.

This isn’t always the case; and I envy those who can take a pill and just feel better about themselves.  For those who no longer feel the crushing blow of the weight that drags the rest of us down into a darkness that refuses to release us.  It is easy to lose yourself, and it’s even harder when you feel as though you must suffer through it alone.

The only thing worse than the disease, is being judged for it.  Being judged on the basis on this little part of you that doesn’t represent the person we are beneath it.  Being scorned or looked down on because there are times when we can’t just smile and make everything okay.  Being mocked in our misery, from those who would believe it just for attention or from an addiction and that we have the power to change our attitude if we wanted.

…Those sort of people will never understand.

But we do.

Some of us defend ourselves with laughter, some of us with lonely smiles that hide our pain.   Some react in anger, lashing out at others for fear that their pain will be toppled by betrayal, letting fear chase away the very thing, and only thing that has any chance of saving us from ourselves.

Friends.

It’s hard to reach out when you are hurting, but for the lucky ones, you don’t have to; because your friends won’t let you just give up, or give in.  Friends won’t let you run away from life or be content to let you believe that death is the only escape from this mental, physical and emotional rollercoaster that puts a chilling eclipse in our lives. 

 Because there is hope, for as long as we can take this life one day at a time; and one moment more than before.  It may seem silly, but there is truth to putting our selfish desire to end it all on hold for just five more minutes…ten…or until tomorrow.

Imaginary in the minds of the ignorant, our pain is dangerously real, and there is no magic pill that can take away our struggle against our greatest demons, or the despair they cause us to feel.

Shame on those who exploit this vulnerability.  There is a deep disgust within myself saved just for those sort of people, who would rather mock than give unconditional kindness; you are part of this disease…you just don’t really care as long as you get what you want out of life. The pain is all too real, and while we know death is not the solution; understand that there are times when it just seems so damn tempting, that we just can’t help but convince ourselves that it is.

And so those are the times, when I encourage you to go to your room, close your eyes, and go to sleep.   Without Drugs, without Drink, and without thought of for tomorrow.

Because no matter how bad things are; there is always tomorrow…and you never know what that’s going to bring.

 Life is so short; and death for so long…don’t forget to live.

Odium lady, brother jonathan, supplied.

                                                              Aria Sharp - Epitaph

“Those who cannot love themselves, hate each other instead. Jealousy is fueled by insecurity; and false power over others. You are not the treatment, you are the disease and I cannot cure you.”

                                                                             Self -1999

If a child says that they hope someone dies; a moral person would scold them…

Does this indeed mean that we are a nation without morals?

Adults encouraging the hatred makes me kindle my own rage at such ignorance, blind as they are to what they create with the blasphamy that they spew as a righteous religion, or the dangerous concepts that they praise.

 The Hardblogger recently wrote on Anne Coulter’s confrontation with Elizabeth Edwards during a Hardball interview of the former and can’t help but find myself remembering certain phrasings of S.O.A.D.’s Hypnotize.

“Why don’t you ask the kids at Tiananmen square?
Was Fashion the reason why they were there?

They disguise it, Hypnotize it
Television made you buy it

Mezmerize the simple minded
Propaganda leaves us blinded”

———————————-

But it goes beyond words, and it goes beyond implications.  

We, as a nation, have no right to critisize another country for doing something that we encourage in our own nation.  Do muslims raise children to be hateful of others, kill anyone who deviates and tell those children that they are justified because God says it’s okay?

…Some do; but does every other nation.

America has an enemy that lurks among us like a poison, seeping into the mind of those too lazy to look any further than what they want to hear being spouted from the lips of whoever can spew it the loudest.

America has an ememy that firmly believes that murder is justified for as long as it in dedication to their cause.

America has a disease that is stealing the shreds of compassion that were just beginning to grow and steeping them firmly in the ignorance of blind hatred, because it is easier than facing the harder truths.

In the name of God, do nations hate…In the name of frustration, the athiests contempt, and in the name of ignorance, everyone else picks a side that best reflects their own convience.

“What is popular is not always right and what is right is not always popular.”

…But shouldn’t it be?

Since when do the hateful, spiteful, bullies that should have been taught as a child that their actions were not okay, become the platforms of which we give praise and respect to?  …The thought makes me ill.

In School, when the bully didn’t get in trouble, it was because mom and dad didn’t think their child was doing anything wrong; and it was the other child’s fault…giving that bully immunity to do it again, less the parents of the spoiled brat throw a tantrum of their own.

Then those children grow up to be Anne Coulter, Rush Limbaugh and Dick Cheney; the 30 percent of our nation acting as those parents, too proud of their children, who are so successful.  Spiteful little children who understand just how much better they are than everyone else, and who aren’t afraid to stand up for what they believe in, boast of how dissenters of their “Truth” should just die, because they are ruining their piece of the country.  The parent who justify hate with righteousness, ignoring anything that questions that right, or offers light that it is horribly mistaken.

…Hateful people are the disease; and we cannot cure them, because it has already steeped too long, enforced too gleefully and gone too long without the vaccanine that is empathy.

A world without a cure…and so many people infected;

And that’s why we should never stop trying to save them; one mirror at a time.

That’s why I’m going to be fine; even as I’m slowly dying, and running out of time.”

                               Aria Sharp - One More Day.

We all only get a lifetime, that’s what we’re always told.  Quoted in different ways by different people and hailed as words to live by, if not because we only live for so long, and in theory, only get this one shot to get it right.

In the song, “Live like you were dying.” A man talks about being diagnosed as terminal with a friend, who tells him how it took that moment to realize how much he hadn’t been living at all.  He suddenly started doing all of the things he knew he could have done earlier, but hadn’t made the time or had taken them for granted.  In One more Day, it is the story of the struggle between fear and acceptance; from denial to embracing the inevetiable and the transendence that occurs when that moment of realization takes place.

Why does it take that sort of moment for us to start living in a way that makes us question how much time we really have, and how much we still have left to do?  Why does it take that sort of circumstance for us to wonder of our own potential or regret what might never be?

It shouldn’t have to.

We all get one chance in this world, to be the person we want to be.  So live that that knowledge, and don’t deny yourself faith just because someone, somewhere has said something you don’t like.  We have nothing to prove to anyone, just ourselves.

And live.