No one knows what tomorrow brings. And no one knows the hour or the day. Nobody knows what will come and who will go. Nothing is ever guaranteed. And I know what we are supposed to say. I know what people tell us. I know all about the power of positive thinking. I understand visualization and the need to create a picture for ourselves; otherwise, if you can’t see what you want then how can you get it?
I understand the laws of nature. I understand what happens when we step out of line and the unfortunate lessons which follow. I also know how the lessons become increasingly worse when we don’t learn the first time.
The following story is not necessarily mine to tell and the views in the following paragraphs might not be shared by others. However, these views are mine. These are my thoughts about a night back in the month of what I believe was September in 1987. This is a story about an elderly woman named Mary. She was known as Crazy Mary, which is an unkind thing to say but facts are facts and the truth is history is unconcerned with our feelings or opinion.
They say springtime is coming in less than one month. This means our half of the northern hemisphere will tilt closer towards the sun. This means more daylight and an earlier sunrise. This means warmer weather too, which means summer will be here before we know it.
As for now, I am writing to you with no agenda in mind. In fact, I am watching the orange hue build from the horizon in the east. There is a white line in the sky, which is the sign of a jet plane, flown over my home at a place I call Wesley Hills. I am on the verge of something here. And so are you, for that matter. We all are.
It is a little after 3:00 in the morning . . .
I yawn while laying on the couch because the bed frustrates me when I can’t sleep.
Ever get this way?
I find myself traversing between sleep and dreams and then waking up, wondering and thinking too much of course about insignificant things. And then I’m awake (like now, for example) with my mind in a million places at once.
If asked if I believe then I would say yes, I do believe in something. I believe there is something out there. Maybe it’s just energy. Maybe what I believe in is a balance to the unbalanced life we live. Maybe it’s just a need to have something on my side, or maybe this is me talking to myself, which is something that I do often. But again, if asked do I believe in prayers then my answer is yes, I do believe in the power of prayer. This is not so much about my belief in God or the lack thereof. It is not even about religion, let alone an organized religion, or about a man or woman who stands on an altar or at a podium and tells me what to say or how and when.
I go down the old streets sometimes, in memory of course, or in dreams, or in pictured flashbacks of times when time was less crucial.
Life was much simpler then. Me, you, us, the world as it was and how it’s changed.
I go through the different locations that were if anything; safe to say these were the birthplaces of my life because to me, it is accurate to say that yes, we are born more than once.
As I see it, we all have our ways of doing things. And me, I write.
I write my thoughts to keep them from gravity. I write to replace thoughts with action and to stop the momentum of my ideas that tend to grow legs and run off into crazy directions. Hence, the anxiety, which is why I write to remove the shame or stigma of being nothing else but normal
(if there is such a thing).
Over the years, I can say that I have watched good people give themselves away to bad things. I’ve watched people move like moths to a flame and witnessed as they lost to life the same way water loses to a drain. I have seen people with good intentions end up on the street and become something opposite of who they truly are.
On the other hand, I’ve watched as others point and judge and act like a jury to a life they have no understanding for. Then again, I suppose we are all guilty of this, —playing judge and jury, that is.
Be advised, this is not for everyone. The following advice might not apply to you or to anyone outside the realm of rejection or depressive thinking. But for some, this is what I call a relatable substance. Not everyone knows how to get back up after they’ve fallen, nor does everyone believe they have the ability to do so. No one talks much about this.
To be honest, most people will say, “Don’t talk like that,” or they’ll say, “Don’t feel that way,” or “You just have to get back up and get over it,” as if the word “Just” makes everything “That” simple.
I take this up to the roof sometimes. My thoughts, that is. I head up to the roof of a building, which is high above Lexington Avenue.
I look out at a sea of tall buildings and a skyline, which I depend upon. I see this place as my quiet refuge. I take to the roof, which is high above the street and high above the speeding cabs and the pedestrians in masks because, well, everyone is wearing a mask these days. at least, they are supposed to be.