It happens all over again, you know, every time I retell the story to someone new. Yup, he’s there again with his “Big Dog #1” jersey on the glossy basketball court floors where I can almost make out my own reflection of helplessness and horror. Comes back everytime. It’s as if my masochistic brain never tires of the image. But two and a half years later, it’s a bit faded, that reflection. Years of dust and neglect. Bring it up, though, tell that story again, and it’s like rubbing on a layer of wax, rediscovering that lost person that was me so long ago. And there he goes, falling over each time in slow motion just the same. I don’t know the exact timing of when the soul left the body or when the heaving in his chest was out of bodily reflex rather than his life force, and I will never know, because if I didn’t know then that he was dead upon arrival, how would I ever really understand it now, looking back through that dusty glass pane of memory?
So I wonder. When I reach out to others who are going through similar experiences, do I make it worse, or even just a little bit better? Last year, I was still scanning the crowds in a weird and slightly disturbed way, still scouting peripherally for tall people in the distance. It’s surprising that in the past few years I have yet to meet people my age or around my age who have gone through similar experiences, meet them and talk to them and relate to them and hopefully offer some mutual support. St Barbara is the closest I’ve come to but his loved one died more than a decade ago.
If I were to observe the reflection on the dusty floor of that basketball gym, what would I see today? I've led a great life in the past couple of years, despite the grief and sadness, or maybe even, because of the grief and sadness, which makes you appreciate what you have around you so much more. The pain has subsided, mostly, and my memories of the one I lost, the one who escaped this world, or this sliver of reality, are all mostly happy...kinda like warm embers at the base of my soul. I haven't "moved on" or "let go", it's not like that at all, really, it's more like...I've survived. And hey, in a weird peaceful kinda way, that's really alright with me. What with all the emotional pitfalls and heartrending challenges surrounding you in this minefield of day-to-day life, survival is not to be scoffed at. Okay, so I've survived...what now?
I met someone recently who was talking about this Indian practice called Atma Vikasa (?), evolution of the soul/self. I couldn't help but wonder what that entails, and what one discovers about himself through this inward focus? And I wonder, would I have the courage to face those demons inside of me, all those negative ions lurking, ready to pounce and remind me I am capable of so much good and yet I choose to lead my life not based on how much good I am doing on a daily basis? I mean, I'm in finance for goodness sakes!
Then there is the other side of me that thinks, well, every soul is experiencing who it really is not, in order to embrace who it truly is, right, which means that we are all entitled to the experiences that we are creating for ourselves on this plane, in this particular slice of reality. Haha, yeah, many would laugh at that and call it some major metaphysical rubbish just to make our new age selves feel better. And there’s probably some truth in that as well. In fact, there is truth in so many conflicting, contradicting statements that we are surrounded by in this lifetime, that is it even possible to really pinpoint what the heck truth is, or is it that simple, really, just to turn inwards and be content, enjoy the experiences you create for yourself each day and decide, make conscious choices in the face of those decisions, good or bad, better or worse, responsible or irresponsible? Deep down I know that each experience I have right now will give me another building block to stand upon the day I do become a teacher or a writer or both. But that gut feeling doesn’t stop me from feeling like a sell-out so often. Well, maybe not even so often anymore, as daily life takes over and ambitions get shelved.
Sigh...so I guess we'll see. The job is taking me to a new bright lights big city, and do I really want to go? Not really. I don't feel like leaving friends and family behind. But will I go? Most likely...another jungle to scout out and attain survival in? Why not??
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