a good friend of mine asked me a very pervasive question today. 'Where does the pain go?,' he probed. I was frozen, dead in my winter fearing tracks. Typically prepared, always with an answer, I was stunned to try and forge an answer to a question i have long forgotten to answer. Where does the pain go?
pain.
got an answer yet? where does the pain go? i quickly think of my typical muses in times like this. guitar strings, drumsticks, pens and notebooks, headphones, blank stares or a camera lens. we've all become very good at channeling our pain into inanimate objects, but when asked straight up i suddenly doubted that those pain-carrying vessels had been rightly classified. in that moment, i felt the pain. the pain of the past two months. the pain of a struggle that reveals itself on so many levels. what kind of man cannot provide for his family? you quit your job without a job lined up? you're spending your time looking for jobs? online? your wife still supports you? you're a barista now? maybe i am over-analyzing this situation but i want to get to the real truth about pain. the fact that so many of us somehow get rid of it on a superficial or temporary level, but what of the real feelings and questions we have. can we be whole? where is pain supposed to go? is there an easy answer?
the truth of the matter is just this. we all have pain. hiding pain is no sign of strength. pretending you're okay only prolongs the truth that you are probably not okay. and we have to be okay with not being okay. okay?
what do i mean here? you have to do wtih pain what you would do with any other wound. you have to clean up the blood, repair the skin, shed a tear, use choice words and let it heal. emotive pain is no different. life.is.not.easy. but life is not meant to be live like a pressure cooker. life is meant to be loved, lived and healed. find a living, breathing outlet for your pain. find another wounded healer to share with. ask people questions and listen to their answers. find out what is really going on, how they really are. listen to people you meet on the streets. look in their eyes and heal them with a smile or an open door.
a few of my friends and i would have scream-fests in the illinois cornfields back in my more angry days. an observer of these events would be confused at the mixed messages being sent up in the heavens each night...words of pain and emotion, screams of joy and thanks...a crying out for reality. this is who we are. right now. thankful. pissed. and letting someone know about it. sounds odd, as if some sort of alcohol was involved...but healthy for us. everything feels better once you've said it, out there for the world to know...and at least, for once, off your shoulders and onto One's who can.
on the popularity of president elect Barack Obama.
i watched my television screen broadcast the events of November 4, 2008, a day that will inevitably go down in many histories, wondering what sort of election we were actually having. one can make a passing argument that elections are mere popularity contests, everything from class president in 8th grade (which you lost to Lance because he made a video) to the election of our nation's leaders and policymakers. part of this is true. popularity is part of what makes a candidate electable. but i digress. watching people spontaneously erupt into tears, shout for joy, dance and fill the streets over the outcome of 'the most important election of our time' was sort of detached for me. like Barack Obama is some sort of rock star or celebrity like the Beatles. Granted, history was made and this man resembles hope for change in so many ways. so many walls were knocked down last night, but i was just so surprised at the reaction we heard (please don't take this to mean that i am downplaying any of the cultural and racial significance of this amazing accomplishment in American History, and what it means for non-indigenous Americans). heck, i even found myself getting a little misty when Obama was talking about his grandmother last night. i don't know if i want to draw any conclusions on these thoughts, but to just put them out there and see if this resounds with anyone else.
for many it seemed like they were die hard fans and Obama-nation had just won the world series after being down 3 games-0. maybe it was because he made us feel a part of something big, a revolution of sorts. a charge to the status quo. a movement for the people, and by the people. did we shout and cry because he won, or because we won? did we glue ourselves to the television because we want something different...real, actual change with prosperity and the hope of america actually becoming a respected nation again, full of truth, opportunity and dignity? i think you know the answer and, despite the pandemonium in grant park last night, the thrill of the campaign will wear off...the feeling of that little black box taking your ballot will not last. what i hope for in this country that i saw go crazy for Obama last night is that people stick to it. Obama is not the Messiah alone. Jesus couldn't change the world on his own, without help...without people sticking it out after the lights fade and the park is empty. my hope is that people will stay involved and look toward actively fighting for what is right and what needs to happen in our country and our community. Obama has great power to change the course of the country, our community and the world. i hope we keep perspective on him as only a man...and hope that he never wears leather pants like Bono or gets a bowl cut like Ringo...
Yes we can.
Just for the sake of indulging to a new topic...I began reading Garbage Land by Elizabeth Royte tonight. The book is a memoir on the trail of trash that follows from our cans to the landfills, and supposedly uncovers the secret life of rubbish. She writes from the perspective of a inquisitive Brooklyn resident who gets the dirt on what happens to her, and millions of other New Yorkers', trash each week. It is said in this book that the average New Yorker wastes 6.7 pounds of material per day (America, 4.4 pounds per day). so far it is a compelling look into the life of our waste. where does the trash go after the garbage fairy (i'm sure they would love that title) comes to take it each week? how have we reduced our lives to everything being so disposable. 'there is more where that came from', 'oh, just toss it', 'it's garbage night...throw out the leftovers'. and in the morning you wake up and your waste is someone else's' problem. without a second thought. gone. myself included. such a strange state to say in my head, 'this took 12 hours to plant, 6 months to grow, 72 hours to travel, 2 hours to make, 4 hours to cool, 1 hour to package, 48 hours to the shelf, 1 hour to buy, 60 seconds to cook, 9 seconds to devour and 1 second to say that i've had enough (though there is still 5-6 bites left) and throw it out'. and i'll never think about it again. disposable. a new word to us in the 20th century (and the 21st). people used to save everything. they used to repair clothes, reuse food, reuse paper and generate little waste. and we (America specifically, generating about one third of the world's waste with only about 4% of the world population) average 130 pounds of wasted food, just food, per person per year. have we progressed? have we evolved? really? i'm aware of the facts, we have so many people and times are different...i'm just stating some facts from my reading and appalled at how easily i waste and dispose. we have a part to play. read the book if your interested.
8 years ago