I haven't written in some time. These past few months have been-- tenuous. Tumultuous. I very nearly almost made what many would have considered a very rash decision on my part. In typical p. fashion, I almost left New York completely. Needless to say, I am not ready to pack up and escape just yet. I elected with much deliberation to confront those challenges and obstacles plaguing me: my job, for one, a constant fatigue, another, a dwindling self-worth, a third, and perhaps, paramount to all, the passing of my best friend. And like any facing any challenge, hermit or omnipresent Facebookian, Mr. Popularity or invalid... life and time, those metaphysical, transcendentally concrete things, were constantly there, being friends and oftentimes, foes.
In short: issues. A barrage of them. Always present. Always lingering, guiding, directing, malevolently motivating... How does one deal?
This so-called Cancerian crab crawled in and out of his shell many o' times. Somehow, I still managed to smile sincerely. Somehow, I was still "hard, not too, too hard" [Des'ree. "You Gotta Be"]. I faced a choice. Crawl inside, and away, or survive. Those hard shells are good for something, I suppose.
I chose survive. I went into a sort of survival mode. Sure, I dated. Sure, I found moments of laughter amid the sadness, which I accepted, confronted, breathed, lived (I will return to this also momentarily, bear with me). What is survival mode? It means different things for different people. You see, as a teacher, I live and accept a very regulated and relegated life. Many people in other industries similarly come to terms with this. And conversely, I know many teachers who somehow find ways to do their jobs, to do their jobs well, and not live in such a fashion (more power to em'!). I, for one, found it very difficult to deal with tragedy and still work. In fact, I chose to go into work the very next day after finding out about my friend's passing. And, as it so happened, I was at work when I found out. A part of me through myself into work to forget, to distract, to consume; another part of me wanted to crawl into myself, sleep, close the shades and lower the blinds and order take-out. I worked. I forced myself to (somehow, miraculously, not that it actually matters -- and I won't delve into the subject here and now -- my kids' [students'] scores improved this year). Because I chose to do that, because I chose to work, I never gave myself time to deal, to feel, and to heal. Grief and coming to terms with the passing of a loved one manifests in many ways; time is both a companion and a mocking, sardonic pest. Hence, I went into survival mode. This meant, for me, survive until you have time. For teachers, you get time when the kids do: summer.
As the months passed, my writing dwindled, I found myself conflicted, even nerve-racked: Do I move there to that new place? I could do it. This is my last year in NY. Let me run away to a tropical island. Let me scream, 'fuck it all!' and forget everyone and everything I care for. Let me run away from the struggles, the torments, the pains, the reminders, the everything. Somehow, in all of this, whether as a result of certain friends, family, the beautiful kids I taught, or any combination of many elements, I was tricked by life into living. I dealt with challenges. I dealt with obstacles. I worked. I laughed. I grew. I loved (not as often as I would've liked, but ya can't have it all). I lived. I lived hard. Fast. I made what I consider to have been some good choices. And many a bad one. And I concluded: I needed a new scene. I needed peace within my home.
Home is very important to many. For me, a cancer, an Italian, a gay, a teacher, a ... keep adding on to the list those labels to which I self-identify and those to which you assign without my permission (or my care), home is of paramount importance. It's my sanctuary. My place of peace. My place of rest. My place of play. My home-base of operations. It's where I keep my shit. And I like it to be beautiful within my own defined parameters of beauty. Living in Harlem was amazing. Harlem was and is alive. Vibrant. Words that spring to mind when I think of it are real, raw, movement, transference, uplift, downtrodden, struggle, beautiful, musical, magical. But - it was time to close the chapter. Instead of leaving New York City altogether, instead of leaving my job at the close of the academic year and irresponsibly running away, instead of etc. etc. etc., I would move elsewhere nearby.
The energy in my apartment in Harlem was confused. Draining. Negative. Perplexed. I needed something more... convex. Whole. Pure. Fresh. Quiet. The apartment was noisy. It has seen a lot happen in the past two years. It witnessed many manifestations of myself; some incarnations I'd say are still me, and some, I am not proud of (who the fuck was I?). I moved to a more sublimely peaceful apartment, all to myself, painted it over time (and still now) what I wanted to. Heard birds in the morning. Crickets or nothing at night. I slept. I dreamt. I had and faced my nightmares. All that. And all before the finale of the academic year. Somehow I managed.
And then summer. And an approaching wedding. And an approaching milestone birthday. And an amazing forthcoming trip. And I could breathe. And I could process. And I could be healthy. And I was. And I am. And I am still living, proudly, boldly, humbly. And I am exercising, and eating right, and motivated, and sleeping, and being, and organizing, and unpacking boxes from having moved several months ago, and enjoying! It was cathartic. And although it's not perfect, it's what I needed.
And today. Today is the Fourth of July in the year Two Thousand and Twelve. Wow.
I began today with a great smoothie, a beautiful run, a decent work out, a dynamite bbq, a fun shopping excursion for an amazing wedding in which I am honored to be the best man... what more can one ask. From my new home and time with the family in the suburbs, I found myself performing a best man duty, and made a trip to Brooklyn.
I am one to believe in signs... metaphors written in the fabric of our lives. I choose to see connections, whether real or imagined, because, why the fuck not? Life would be rather dull and bland if one didn't indulge one's own spirituality, deeper critical thinking, imagination, our human core... I made a stop at a local coffee spot. I haven't drank coffee in over a week. I didn't really need one but for some reason, something told me to stop. I did. When I stood there, on line, a mother and her daughter were in front of me. The daughter, who had to be four or five, picked up a glass bottle of an iced coffee drink, and brought it to her mother, excitedly exclaiming, "I want this! I want this!" The mother calmly told her to put it back... It wasn't so much a premonition, or even a wish, as it was a certainty: this will happen... now! Splat! Coffee and glass everywhere. The little girl's face was priceless. Almost as priceless as the barista who would have to clean it up. My inner p. scolded the child, though more-so the mother, with a wagging finger. All I could do was smile and wipe the glass from off my bare sandaled feet. The barista gritted her teeth and politely said as I approached the counter (mom was whisking little girl to the bathroom to clean her up), "I'll just be a moment." Mop in hand, she hopped up and down in a ballet of frustrated rage over the puddle. Finally, she exclaimed, "Order your drink, it's totally on us today!" I smiled, thanked her, ordered my free drink, and left.
So why tell this anecdote? Out of chaos, even painful chaos, can and does result order... the pleasant surprise... the necessary unexpected. Chaos is as much a friend as order is. We need both. I choose to live in one more than the other, though, but I recognize the value in the spontaneous... the anarchy. Too much "order" ain't fun anyway. What would a roller coaster be like if you knew every single twist, turn, and loop?
This year has been chaotic, to say the least. I am thankful for this. I am thankful for the time I was given with my best friend. I want him physically back with me every single moment of every single day and I do not expect that to change. But I know that he would want me to be happy in this life. He would want me to celebrate. Although I didn't celebrate my birthday as I would've were he here, I still lived it.
I drove to Brooklyn and found myself on a barb-wired rooftop with new friends and loved ones, surrounded three hundred and sixty degrees by fireworks, buildings with clapping onlookers on roofs, lightening, floating lanterns, and a foreboding blood orange moon.
There was something both magical, and somehow sad about the entire thing. As I said, I believe in signs. I've lived long enough, read enough, seen enough, experienced enough to know that coincidences can be and are more than that. Several thousand years ago, the Mayans made predictions about astronomical phenomena without the aid of known modern technological instruments. They predicted that in 2012, a new era within their calendar would happen with a momentous celestial occurrence. They did not call it an apocalypse in the Biblical sense of the word, as the popular media continue to portray it. It's more of a... change in seasons. Winter becomes Spring.
Everything seems like it has been leading up to (like it was meant to!) some shift. Mayans, like many cultures, even ours until recently (I won't delve into the wayward effects of materialism and the like here and now in changing our connections, interconnectivity, our ability to really see...) saw the connections between things that many in their own ignorance choose not to see, invalidate, see as disparate, allow ignorance to overtake them, remain either by choice, by victimization, or by larger circumstance to be uneducated... miseducated. All of the chaos within the past several decades... hell, within the past several millennia, for as long as history has been recorded, seems in some grand scheme, in some grand designer, to have led to this moment, to this here and now, purposefully. And that's the key - there is a purpose. Without the process... without the experience of chaos... the resulting peace, pace, change, transformation, all of it, will not be accepted, indulged, manifested accordingly. Simply, the broken bottle will yield the free drink.
As I stood there, surrounded by all of these images, taking it all in... celebrating life, being reminded of war, recognizing centuries of continued and perpetuated oppression and hypocrisy, and then viewing a firey moon that almost plainly predicted, this could very likely be the last 4th of July in celebration of the United States, as we know it, I wondered, like my own experience in life, would the process, would the chaos, whatever that looks like, be so bad? Would it be painful? Would it be worth it? Will it even happen? Is it happening now? And what will the aftermath... the result... the change look like? Will I... be... to see and experience it? Will I survive it?
Acclaimed author Toni Morrison said recently when asked in an interview what she would change about the American Dream that she would first, change the notion that it is a "dream," and secondly, and more intriguing to me, that she would change this ingrained notion that we as Americans have the right to "Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness" to "Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of [something like] Integrity." I thought this was very interesting, and for me, more preferable. Still, integrity, like happiness, has variable and subjective definitions. But more than that was this notion that she seemed to ensconce, this idea that, Americans used to be citizens (American citizens), and now we are much more primarily considered as consumers (the American consumer[ism]).
We are afraid of the unknown in America. Of change. As a society, as a culture, the statistics support this idea (and no, I'm not going to include an MLA Works Cited page to prove this; it's only a blog and not a dissertation). Rather than feel sadness, confront it, this idea of the Pursuit of Happiness has been twisted and warped into some right to be happy... that we have to and must feel happiness all of the time. We must not fill the void (or vessel perhaps is a better word) of our selves with anything remotely perceived as contrary to positivity and radiant happiness. Sadness must be avoided, never confronted. We can easily pop a pill now to assure that right to pursue happiness in accordance with the American Dream, as though it were an opiate to the masses (and I use this phrase purposefully). And what is this dream, now? According to the facts, it is wholly consumerism. It's buying things. More and more things. Filling our lives with stuff. Convincing ourselves that we need certain belongings in order to be happy, in order to validate our worth, our success, and hell, even our own very existence. We are told we need property of some sort, like a nice new car or a big fancy house (and I beg to make the argument that property, as it was defined in the original authorship of Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Property, which was both land ownership as well as slave ownership, is not all too dissimilar from many Americans' contemporary, vexing notions of relationships, education, and even sex [see 50 Shades of Grey]). Or is it not seeing or dealing with the beggar at your car window on the GW onramp. Avoiding that which makes our lives the slightest bit uncomfortable. In short: avoiding any ounce of chaos in preference of comfort.
Maybe whoever we are, wherever we are, whatever we are experiencing... whether it's a breakup, a catastrophe, a tragedy... even the end of a country or the world as we know it as prophesized by an ancient society... maybe we need to remember that no matter what, we still have ourselves... our right to live however we choose... and our right to exist. And so long as we are mindful of every species' right to the same, to coexist, we can embrace the chaos... confront it... at least, within ourselves, knowing that moving through it, surviving it, transgressing it, evolving within it, reflecting on our states of being, will lead to peace, rest, a smile, a laugh, love, prosperity, connection, ultimately true harmony... and maybe even, a free drink.
