I have
always said that if one does not condemn a person’s behaviour then one condones
it. There is a fine line between the two. Sometimes there is little room for
either. We get to swallow it whole or puke it out. We are left with little
option but to bite our tongue and ignore the obvious. It’s never easy deciding
what to do. We have choices but those choices often leave us in a worse
position than when we were assaulted, offended or found fault with another
person’s point of view. There is little decorum left in this world. Even the
people we are close to usually end up treating each other as if quite disposable.
There is no excuse for such bad behaviour. It doesn’t matter if circumstance
silences the truth. Sometimes we just have to distinguish between sinking to
someone’s level or rising above it. We have to discern who to and not to listen
to.
“Don’t take a ride
from a stranger
No way to know where
they go
You may be left on a
long dark road
Lost and alone
Don’t you recall what
your Mama told
You’ve got to learn
hot from cold
When you're afraid
that you might get burned
Where do you turn?”
There is no
question that I love me some comic books. To my surprise, I recently found a
retailer who fit my requirements for collection. The warehouse is filled to the
rafters with box after box of paper gold. I had never seen anything like it the
first time I entered the split level library of joy. I am still overcome with
some degree of happiness whenever I walk through the doors. My second visit was
a tad less inspiring. As I stood thumbing through one of the Marvel sections, a group of four or five
nerd-men gathered around the checkout and started a discussion on the best
qualities of a woman’s vagina. I was not amused. The entire time I spent there
that day was filled with misogynistic detail and inappropriate conversation. It
was as if the owner and his minions didn’t even think about the customers they
exposed to this repugnant thinking. I didn’t say a thing and spent $53.00 that
day. Round three. The next visit was all about “the fags”. For over an hour, I
leafed through Wonder Woman comic
books (for my partner) and searched for titles from The Man Called Nova. One gay joke after another found me lacking. I
still purchased $66.00 worth of my favourite things that day. It’s been going
on like this for the past 2 years. Every visit just adds more, an unending
diatribe of racism, bigotry and conservatism. I quite often feel like good old
mister 45 is breathing down my neck. He hides among the boxes and baggies. He
watches me flip through comics like I am North Korea and my missile is aimed
at him. It can be distracting but it comes with the territory. It could be
argued that by frequenting this establishment that I am excusing the behaviour
but the truth be told, I don’t want to give up access to the library as I know
it. I can handle the xenophobia but I
can’t handle restrictions on that wonderful hoard. Let them have their
thinking. It can even be amusing, listening in on such conversations. I’ll take
my comic books and I’ll pay the price for listening.
“You’ve got to know
who to
Who not to listen to
You’ve gotta know who
to
Who not to listen to
They’re gonna hit you
from all sides
Better make up your
mind
Who to, who not to
listen to”
I have
family scattered throughout Ontario , Canada London , and St. Thomas Hanover Central
Ontario town. Somehow over the years, the people I was once so
close to have faded away. I could use time and space as an excuse. I can
justify my absence because of their mistakes. Perhaps, in the end, it is my
mistakes that have dictated my lack of interest. In particular, it is my cousin
Lisa I miss the most. We had a closeness all our lives but it has been shelved,
dismissed, and for no real good reason. We should be more. It takes effort to
fix the past. It takes motivation and exertion to resolve such issues. There is
really very little that needs to be fixed. It takes commitment and work. This
seems to be the explanation I have been looking for. I’m lazy, unmotivated and
I have fallen into a safer place. It’s not that I have issues with any of them (other than the Bear killers).
I cannot think of one thing that really stands in the way. I can’t speak for
them but I feel this rant will have little consequence. I suppose, to some
degree, that just comes with the territory. There is something to be said for
denial and it’s easier to hope than it is to actually do something.
“How can you learn
what is true and just
How to know who to
trust
Here comes a man with
a scam to sell
How can you tell?
You've got to know
there’s a bigger plan
Room to fall, room to
stand
Pray for the plan to
begin in you
Keep your heart true”
Being
Bi-Polar, unpredictability and imbalance come with the territory. Even long-term
treatment has meant little difference in terms of constant control and
moderation. It doesn’t matter just how treated I am, there is still a part of
the disease that pops up given the right circumstance. It is all about degrees.
While years of medication and therapy have granted me some influence over my
emotions, impulse can often overcome instinct. I can seem quite rabid, although
these moments are fleeting. It is often not about whether the pills are working
but whether I can work the variables and maintain myself. It’s a constant
battle, always managing my mood in case it flares or accelerates out of
control. Most days there is little struggle. Everything works just the way it
is supposed to. Something always comes along to interfere with my stability.
Occasionally, nothing is responsible and the noise comes with no regard for
anything at all. One is best served just getting out of my way. Oddly enough, I
don’t usually have any problem with my depressive state. The meds apparently
have seen to that. I still get sad, sometimes blue, but I have not had a depressive
episode in well over a decade. The same cannot be said about my mania. It is
the beast and is best served cold. It comes with little warning and tends to
stay even after it’s done. I stand fighting, battling to keep it in tow.
Eventually, if left unchecked, it pulls me apart, almost in two. The entire
time I experience this hypomania, I am contending inside. There is a challenge
in knowing what to and what not to listen to. I have had to learn to discern
between what is all in my head and what is based in my being. The two do not
exclusively go hand in hand. The challenge, in a manic state, is figuring out
the voices from your voice. I can be my own worst enemy. It isn’t ever easy and
I fail far more than I succeed. The lasting battle has always been the internal
struggle, not the external manifestation. It can be laborious distinguishing
between myself and myself, given the right circumstance, given the right mood.
Who am I anyway? Am I that raging monster, the one who is a part of me, my
natural state? Am I something better, now more instinct that impulse ever was?
Am I rising above it all or sinking to my own level? This duality, apparently,
is part of the package.
“You’ve got to know
who to
Who not to listen to
You’ve gotta know who
to
Who not to listen to
They’re gonna hit you
from all sides
Better make up your
mind
Who to, who not to
listen to”
I think
people get confused by the voice of God. I doubt very highly God even speaks to
us. What we believe to be a Divine communication is simply an internal dialogue,
manifested through the ego. We hear what we want to hear and convince ourselves
accordingly. It is not that I claim there is nothing to have a dialogue with. I
still believe but I don’t believe the way I used to. God has become rather
intangible these days. I see in terms of vastness rather than flesh and bone.
God has become so much more than mere mortal, despite any human condition that
may have begged to differ. It’s tough being stuck in this earthly coil. It’s
even tougher given the choices we must make. Sometimes, it is hard to know which
way to go. If God is speaking to us, then surely there would be no doubt. If He
spoke to anyone, there would be no doubt. I guess you have to recognize just
who you are listening to. You have to discern between that which is Holy and
that which only serves our own purposes. It would be unfair for God to reach
out to one person and not to the rest of us. If He plays no favourites (Romans 2:11), then why is this person and that person
granted access and the sum of us remain to flounder about in misery? Even if
the voices are clear, how can we identify just who we are talking to or just
who is talking to us? I believe that most times, we are speaking to ourselves.
We project our wants and desires, expecting answers that never really come.
When they don’t, we convince ourselves that they have. We make it so, even if
it isn’t. With the devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other, we do the
dance that we do. We tell ourselves we are puppets of this God or that God, all
the while pulling our own strings. We create our own reality by believing everything we tell
ourselves. We usually end up far worse off than when we started. Still, God
never comes down. God never speaks directly to anyone. I am not sure that He
ever did. I suppose that chance just comes with the territory. Only a foolish
man can fool himself.
“Everyone will have
their words to say
Find the word to help
you find your way”
(Who To Listen To, Amy Grant 1985)
There is
more than one of me. There is more than one of you as well. One strives for
right and the other can’t see. It rules in the shadows, back to back with the
light. Who knows which will be stronger today? Most people walk the fine line. All
those fences simply mark the way we go. The roads we travel are paved with all the
choices we have made. Each choice dissecting all of the good and shadow in me
and in you and in everyone. Any goodness speaks for itself but the shadows move
in secret. You have to watch for them, learn to discern them from the rest of
the noise. We keep trying to get into heaven but the darkness withdraws, it
pulls us away. If you want to have sunshine, you have to learn to live with the
shadows. They come with the territory.
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