I am sending this to you in parts to open myself and share the process of what comes next. And so, here I am
Send me, I say….
What else do I have left to lose?
Part 1:
The waves are folding close to the shore this morning. The sun is mostly hidden by a drape of gray clouds with open patches that allow the sun to break through.
I can feel the warmth when the drapes peel back. But that’s fine.
I guess today is not a beach day for most.
I can dig it . . .
The beach is not vacant by any means. No, not at all.
However, I assume the usual clientele are elsewhere and doing something else, which, of course, brings no consequence to me.
No.
I much prefer this moment as it is.
The beach is my sanctuary and so, this is perfect.
The sands are mostly empty and free from its usual bodies that lay as worshippers of the sun.
All is quiet as opposed to the summery commonplace with little pales playground kiddies who build sandcastles and collect shells or dig with little plastic shovels that are either yellow or maybe red.
I am fine without the distractions and fine to sit with the hushing sound of waves collapsing onto the sand.
This is the sound of my Church.
This is the sound of their orchestra and the choir.
Where am I?
Point Lookout
Long Island, New York.
This is where I am
Point Lookout . . .
A name of reverence and meaning.
This place comes with a series of memories that date back to an early morning, cold, on New Year’s Day. I used to find myself here for our yearly walks with my Father, The Old Man.
I have history here.
I grew up here, in a sense and the laws of coming full circle have brought me here again.
I have the forgiveness of sins and the absence or burdens here.
I have prayed here and celebrated here.
God . . .
it’s been more than five decades.
who’d have thought this would be me
or she would be her
and somehow . . .
I wish she was here
We are a week away from summer’s end.
And still, I don’t mind.
The sun came out again….
I feel the warmth on my skin which I know is close to vanishing due to the seasonal months of autumn and winter
But this is fine.
I am fine as well. At least, currently.
I am fine to be still and somewhat silent.
Unless of course, you count this message to you which I hear as I write this to you.
I hear this as it reads in my head like a humble narrative, holy too and with a prayerful attitude as of to be here to confess to my God that I am man and you . . .
you are the woman of my dreams.
I come here to confess with a soulful approach and to offer this with a modest truth that yes, I am in love and love is in me.
I am man
I am the son
I am the one who lost and came home and yet, it is meaningless to try and quantify the financial losses because my loss was more than anything money can buy.
And so . . .
I see you now, clearly, in fact.
I see you as more than you see yourself, which, of course; this is often the way it goes when people look upon us with love.
You are so beautiful.
Far more beautiful than you believe.
And yet . . .
I am here next to an empty spot
God, this hurts.
Either way, I am fine for the moment.
I am broken, perhaps, and I am aging or getting older and maybe weaker.
But for now, I am settled with a quiet attitude and breathing in the ocean’s air with hopes to feel a semblance of redemption.
just a moment
just a touch of peace
just a minute of this
that’s all I need
(for now)
I am fine while sitting beside no one and finding a moment of peace.
I am fine despite the empty space that is not filled in a bedroom.
there seems to be a hole in the bed, which is something that contributes to my fears of drowning in emotional quicksand.
Please . . .
don’t let this happen
It is not fine to be so alone in bed.
But ah, this is fine.
This…
This right here.
I am fine and perhaps I am lucky too.
I am love someone so much, regardless of whether they are mine or beside me or whether I can have them (or not) and regardless if they are elsewhere . . .
I am lucky to have love for someone so deeply.
I have to say this here and now.
Nothing is the same anymore.
Not me. Not you.
Not the beach and not the old streets in the town known as East Meadow.
Ah, the old town….
This is where it all started for me.
I knew you before “I knew you,” because somehow, I think I always knew you.
I drive by my old house all the time. . . .
. . . and I remember the days when I wondered if I would ever find you
or have you
or kiss you.
do you know what this is like?
Or am I alone again?
The sun is going behind the clouds again
I am sitting in a short little beach chair that I purchased from an older woman who sells things on social media. I never did things like this . . .
Buying merchandise from people out of their homes, which comes with a mild to moderate form of oddness, which I ignore for now.
I ignore this because the prices make sense, despite the people we meet like this or the guy I had to deal with from the old town who I was sure we knew each other.
But for some reason, the familiarity made the introduction odd . . .
My stomach is partly empty and about to growl but again, I am.
I am fine though.
I am fine to resign to the peace and quiet that surrounds me.
I breathe in
I breathe out
But the water is not just out there in the ocean . . .
. . . I feel the tears filling my eyes.
But why?
Why feel like this?
Why weep?
Why love?
Why live?
Why admit to this or to anything?
Why acknowledge the pains and vulnerable substance of all that I am and all that I feel.
The horizon is gray at the moment.
I look out to the sea ahead of me
God, it’s been so long since my last offshore trip.
I miss it. The sea
Soon….
Maybe…
The heavy clouds appear to be raining in the distance. I can see how the bottom of the rain clouds sort of drift down as if to be scattered like a blurry scene and from here, I can tell the rain is falling.
There are a lot of mysteries out there.
At sea, I mean.
I can see the cargo ships which are far away and resting and waiting in the shipping lanes, not moving at all and on standby. I assume they are awaiting their clearance to address the ports at the shipping yards which are far west from here.
The sun is going in and out, like a game of peekaboo
What is this?
What is life?
What is lust?
Or what is love?
Are they the same in the best of cases?
I certainly hope so.
And if either lust and love are both, then I ask you this:
Does lust and love intermingle like a happy madness that burns with wild and insatiable fury that keeps us blind to the ugly things around us?
If lust and love do intermingle, then are the two like a beautiful missile that builds like a mushroom cloud and thus; do we become devastated from the greatest explosion?
Does the combination of both lust and love bring us to an unstoppable need that hopefully never dies?
I wonder if this is this a different kind of salvation?
Or if I will be saved by this, or by you, will this save my life and keep me whole and make me perfect?
I want my love to live like this and be this way forever.
If it is up to me, then my vote is that things like this will never die.
To die . . .
Hmm.
I think about this in a different way.
I don’t think anyone ever wants their love and their lust to die and so, how many of us know what it means to love?
Or wait –
How many of us know what it means to live?
How many people understand the meaning of what it takes to be alive?
And for the lifeless ones, is their fountain of hope or fountain of youth awaiting to teach them how to live to the fullest?
Is love the only way?
Are we all so mindless?
Are we all too blind?
Maybe . . .
Or is it this?
Is it the remnants of pain and fear?
Maybe . . .
Or is it the humiliation and foolishness that came from past relationships that cause us to turn away and refuse to believe in soulmates and true love?
Nothing, no one, and there is no way for me to utter my thoughts better than this:
Life is
I am
We are
Period
End of sentence
And so, of all things I will ever dream and hope for, I dream and hope to be part of something deep enough to be part of a “we” or an “us.”
Instead, I am just an “I” at the moment
as in my, myself, and I.
Life alone is not lonely because of my presence of self but more, life alone is lonely because of my yearning for the only presence that makes me whole
“God, she is the most beautiful girl in the world.”
“Blessed Father, please. Let me have this. Let me try harder. I won’t let this go to waste or discard your gifts ever again.’
I gave up most of my world to pursue a poor choice and a dishonesty.
This is fine because although I was misled, at least I know.
Or, at least I know now . . .
At least I am able to say that what I have is what I caused.
It led me to where I am.
I did this.
And so, I caused my isolation.
However, I view this now and I have to see this with hopes to create a better salvation.
I need to create my best redemption so that I can salvage the balance of my life and live righteous
(and be better, not bitter)
At least I know the truth.
And I know the truth was ugly which is why I fell for such beautiful lies.
But I?
I am not a fool nor am I small or shallow or wasting away.
At least, not at the moment.
The sun has been behind the clouds for a while now. . .
The raindrops are coming
I felt a raindrop without regret or contempt.
Maybe I should go
Or maybe I should stay and let the rain cleanse me.
However, the rain might be too heavy, which means it might be time for me to go
So, I leave the leave the beach.
for now . . .
Part 2:
Monday –
The sunrise was beautiful this morning.
I could see the varying shades of color along the horizon.
I saw hues of orange and red and even purple too.
It is morning here on this side of Purgatory.
The weather is supposed to build up with the humidity, or so I am told.
I hear the rain is supposed to fall for a few days.
And again, I don’t mind this.
Not at all.
Here it comes and I can feel it, the September breeze is around the corner.
Wow . . .
This month is a mark or a marker which means I have successfully made 54 trips around the sun.
I made it further than the predictions.
I made more of myself than what I was told.
I made a lot of things
I made mistakes
I made some bad choices and some great ones too
I wonder though.
I wonder what is means to “move on”
I wonder what people think when they tell me:
“You have to let things go.”
How?
How can we let go of pain when the pain still hurts?
How do we let go when the mourning and the loss is still too present?
How can I move on or let go when my head and heart are filled with too many hangups that keep me chained to an unchangeable past
The word here is unalterable.
The past is the past
Today is today
Tomorrow is tomorrow and to be honest
I am tired from being afraid of all three
Part 3:
Nothing is ever the same as it was.
And yet, I feel the same way.
I do not see you or anyone so differently.
I do not feel so differently either.
I am as I am, which is how I was made.
I am looking to change and to improve.
I am looking to better myself
I am not looking to prove myself.
No. Not this time.
I am looking to earn my spot at the table
So
Please . . .
Make me work for it
Do not give me anything
unless I deserve it
Okay?
Good
The day is young
The night will be here soon
And with all my heart
I just want to see you
Now
and forever.
The Written Addiction 