A recent tumble on my bicycle in the woods landed me a spot on the couch for a couple of weeks. Like most people in that scenario I watched a bit too much TV and scrolled through an unreasonable amount of social media. All the media hype and relentless rhythm of passing judgement online had me convinced that the end is nigh. I almost actually started believing the world we know and love is being burned to a crisp by corporate gangsters in power ties and paramilitary groups thinly veiled as protestors.
Luckily, I’ve long since adhered to the belief that perception is reality and I am the Captain of my ship. So, I looked around and asked myself what was drastically different in my life over the past few weeks. The answers were obvious. The muscle relaxers they prescribed me were interfering with my meditation. I had spent my waking hours absorbing MSNBC terrorist talk while soaking in all the Epstein/pedophelia dribble abroad and allowed myself to succumb to the madness. So, I threw the meds in the garbage and turned off the TV. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to just be.
When I finally did heal enough I took a drive to my parents house needing to escape the confines of my own home seeking solace. My Mother, eternally lacking the tactfulness of dishonesty, instantly said, “you like warmed over doggie doo love.” I collapsed in a chair relieved to be in their presence and began babbling away. As all of the fear I had taken in took flight from lips it became painstakingly apparent just how foolish it all sounded. Just as suddenly as I started I stopped.
I looked over at my Father who just smiled as he waved his fingers through the air as the love fades from the music into the battlefield that makes Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet such captivating piece.
“Music. I haven’t listened to a single shred of music this entire time.”
My Father asked if I ad forgotten my prayers as well. Naturally, my entire routine had become based on physically recovering and yet I had completely neglected my mental and spiritual health in the process. I explained to them that in two weeks I became this little ball of fear and anxiety dancing on the cliffs of insanity totally oblivious to the fact that I am not left handed.
My mother loves the Princess Bride and let out a boisterous laugh as she welcomed me back to reality. I thanked them both and went on my way.
Clearly I drove home feeling much better about life and instantly set out to put myself back on track. I prayed. I thanked God for every bit of good in my life and settled into bed. I texted the misses goodnight and closed my eyes.
I woke up and began writing with ferocity. The words poured through me and I felt as if I made up for lost time, whatever that means. Then I switched to the reader side of WordPress and visited the sites I follow. You good people lift my spirits in a way I cannot describe. You. You are my tribe.
There are so many dreamers out there. So many people who write of their experiences in the most awe inspiring ways possible. Tales of the presence felt in Churches of Olde and playful advice to the up and comers writing in the hopes that their words help others. All of these brilliant minds that I cut myself off of in exchange for Television and Facebook.
Sure, I can laugh about it now but less than 24 hours ago I was convinced zee Brownshirts were coming and it was all downhill from here. I’m not really trying to make a point claiming society needs a serious overhaul in their priorities no matter how aware we all are of it. I genuinely just want to express my gratitude to fellow dreamers in the blogger community. Your words really do impact people in a healthy and positive way.
I thank you all for helping me remember the world isn’t burning. So long as the idea of a brighter future keeps pouring out on the masses I have no doubt that our species will oercome.
Shine on you crazy diamonds.