Excuse me if I happen to be one of those people who tends to regard “good times” or the ease of life with a cautious eye. I’ve done the loop so many times before where you begin to go down a good path, start making dreams, hang your hat on certainty, and wake up in hell. Oops, that obviously didn’t work out as planned. And I’m sure you can tell what follows this cycle: depression, doubt, low self esteem, hardening of the outside shell, wariness of new folks, sensitivity towards the old crew…all things that make you go “ewww, ewww, ewwwwww”.
So, as I wake up and feel good, look at my man and dog, and feel content, happily sit on public transit looking at the beautiful Bay Area on my way to a good job, I start to feel that sense of “ut-oh” creeping in and panic is sure to follow, whether closely or hidden behind a passing bus- WHACK!!! (that’s going to leave a mark…). I am bummed out that I can remember a time period not too far off in my life where I believed in the goodness of all human beings, the ability to work hard and get the equal rewards, and the positivity that I’m invincible and life can’t harm me.
Ahhh, the good ol’ days. Like a veteran of all conflicts, life included, I now carefully see what is before me with a trained eye to spot evil, avoid conflict, fly above gossip and back talking, and straight up ROLL OVER the crazies.
But where as I have begun having concerns for the goodness that is enveloping me, and my inner -eye is on the search for the ring overdrive, I’ve just heard from a best mate of mine that during his rise to peace and fulfillment, he was sucker punched by life and we both agreed, at this age, it gets harder to get up. The maturity we have acquired over our years allows us the knowledge that THIS TOO SHALL PASS, that we are better off, and that, in the end, we will be fine. But what doesn’t change is the shock and horror that once again, JUST when we were beginning to think that we had bypassed all the bullshit and motherfuckers, in that dark alley, we meet our maker again. And no matter how much we have trained from the last battle, honing our skills and raising the bar on our success rate, once we’re alone, in the dark, with the most evil of all evils, we wet our pants, begin to cry and realize- “Fuck, it’s happened again”.
It’s a terrible, terrible feeling.
Knowing where my mate was just weeks ago, and what is happening to him now, it reinforces the wibble inside of my heart that I should TRULY enjoy all the things that make me happy right THIS SECOND. Appreciate my happiness and revel in its warm, all encompassing layer of cheese and goodness, because….because….well, because it can go just.like.that.
So, today I’m singing in my head that old Mister Rogers ditty, “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, ohhhh, would be mine” and really, really meaning it. I’m too much of a warrior to not keep on my battle gear, but choose to compliment it with a pastel cardigan and toy train. *wink*