They say that one should dip their toes and test the waters before plunging in.
I do not have that kind of mindset. At least, not when it comes to certain curiosities and compulsions. They say that one should crawl before they learn how to walk but in all fairness, my mind moves too fast for me to keep up with plans like these.
It all started out as a simple thing. Or at best, I suppose everything starts out simple. And then one day, the demons broke free like prisoners who were free at the gates.
The temptation was overwhelming enough to make me forget about the threads of common decency, and, so, I became someone else. I altered and changed in the sense that I left behind my childish things. I shed my childish ways, even though I was still just a child
And yes, behold the touch of something different. Behold the witchery of something mind-altering, and behold the substance which even the Devil warned us about.
Stay away from this one.
This one is not good for you.
However, I replied to the Devil like the Son of man when He said, “Get behind me, Satan,” to which he smiled and volunteered the friendliest, “Okay,” I have ever heard in my life.
I am reminded of the term, “abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”
Or in Latin, “Deserite omnem spem qui hic intratis.”
Abandon all hope . . .
I remember.
The transition from one day to the next had me loaded with questions. Only, my questions changed the further I progressed into what some might call the volunteered abyss. But again, those who know will always know and understand why. Those who question will never know or understand.
But for now, let us talk like two who are one and let me express myself as if you and I were joined at the same level of awareness. This is not to say that we share the same mind or the same heart or soul. No. And this is not to say that we share the same background or culture or even the same experiences. Let us just say that as different as we are, the similarities of relatable life are more than astounding.
Yesterday is gone. This is something that died long ago. Therefore, the things I held dearly or the fights and the battles that I swore upon or held allegiance to are just as gone. The line I drew in the sand has vanished just like the fashions of the last generation’s youth.
What’s gone is gone is gone . . .
. . . . and yesterday is gone.
Certainly.
My old ideas that were rigid and inflexible have all subsided like dead blades of tall grass and become weak.
I once offered that I will never bend over because it becomes too hard to stand up straight afterwards.
But yes. I’ve bent more times than I’ve been able to straighten myself out.
I think about this now and how today’s challenges or difficulties are bound to mean something different to me at this same time, next year.
I know.ow that our apparent truths are the same as what we have been told by those who supposedly know better than us. I know what we have been told by those who stand behind pulpits and altars. I know that we act like parrots and repeat words to act or sell off information as if this was our own knowledge.
And I hate this.
I have always despised the know-it-alls.
Our so-called truths are the same as what the churches say and the same as the sermons from preachers on Sunday.
We agree when we hear the words, “This is the word of the Lord!”
Thanks be to God, we say. . .
because everyone wants the ticket, “upstairs,” so-to-speak.
When I was 13, there was a young boy whom you never met or thought about, or perhaps even cared about.
He laid in a hospital bed with tubes feeding his body and machines at his bedside. But the system and the “powers that be” could do nothing else because the young boy’s insurance would only pay for so much . . .
A preacher entered the room.
The Mother wept and said, “Thank’s be to God!”
For what?
For this?
For the death of her only boy?
Her son lay dying and still, she believed.
And I wondered about this.
How?
I first discovered the relevance of spirituality in a slow-moving nod. I was not alone, by any means. However, the name of my company or co-defendant does not need to be mentioned in this category.
We were down in a basement. The only light came from a small to mid-size lava lamp, which had red bubbled lava roaming up and down inside the calendar-like tube. The red bubbles moved the same was that I felt which was euphoric to say the least. Only, this was a different high. This was much more intense and certainly more deadly, which is why, again, I regard the words, “abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”
There was a flood of warmth inside of my skin and moving through my bloodstream like a tiny boat moving through The Nile River. I felt this inside my shell or otherwise known as my body.
Suddenly, the world outside of me was distant and untouchable. I was numb and weightless as my emotions sunk beneath the standards of objection. And all else was easy and unobjectionable.
Sound detached.
Life detached and the sensation of physical touch was absent. And again, “abandon all hope,” which is exactly what I did.
This is the opiate.
This is the so-called nod that let me drift awayI can explain it best like a droplet of water rolling softly down the slope of a leaf until it reaches the end.
The droplet hangs there in a semi-falling state, partially clinging to the tip of the leaf the way my soul clung to life.
All is weightless for the droplet of water for a second, partially defying gravity.
Inevitable, the waterdrop falls into the puddle below and mixes into the flood of something much larger than me.
(Or you)
I felt my body shutting down into some kind of amused, but semi-conscious state. The thought of breathing and my heart beating became real to me. I could hear this.
All else was extinguished and gone.
And then . . .
. . . Then I returned to find that gravity had shut me down and that my sensation of being weightless was due to the poison in my bloodstream.
I have been told the bible said the world belongs to the Devil until The Son of Man returns. This is the Devil’s world until God returns to Earth.
And when we are good or if we follow the laws of God, then we can move on. Else, we are stuck here and thus, we return with the same or worse standards until at last; we are healed enough to follow the law.
This is how life and death seemed to me.
Death is not a threat to a dying man.
Punishment is no threat to a man who serves a life sentence. And so, Hell would have no meaning to me if all this meant is that I would have to return to this sick, sick world until I learn to get it right.
I lost my faith along the way. But I always felt close to something.
I felt closer while I was lost in the mix of a wild confusion..
I know that I was always searching for something.
I struggled though. I struggled to find the perfect feeling when in all fairness, all I wanted to feel was balance. But the scales always tipped too far in the other direction and the pendulum always swung back and forth.
I can tell you that the sobering hours were painful. I felt the sting, but not the needle.
The sting was from my scraped wrists, which was due to the handcuffs that clicked too tight above my hands.
The pain was from the hard bench that I was cuffed too while awaiting the officers to process me.
I waited and waited and saw night turn to daylight.
The transition from bliss to pain left me with questions and the sum of my fears were faced by both demons and Angels.
It took me decades to restore my faith
Or to believe that I deserved to have faith.
The nod is gone
But no one forgets them.
No one forgets the smells.
No one forgets the rituals.
No one forgets the contrast between Angels and the beast.
I abandoned all hope.
And somehow, I was allowed out.
I don’t know why
But here I am . . .
. . . still alive
scars and all
Bless me Father, for I have sinned.
I offer this as my act of contrition, which is not scripted or said the same way –
But dare I say it nonetheless
Yes, I am a sinner
Alive and well
And walking around in New York City
So, go ahead grammar Nazis
kill me with your critics
I’ve seen hell firsthand
All else means nothing to me
The Written Addiction 