Ya know, I’ve always been a fighter. Someone who doesn’t give in easily when I feel that I’m in the “right.” I’ve been learning, but not really learning until just recently, that trying to help is not always a good idea. Right now, I am quite self-absorbed, because my life is either coming together or it’s utterly falling apart. Maybe both. It’s like my entire life has been all about coming to these moments, all about being here, now, and not so much in the sense of physical location, but in the sense of spiritual location. These are the days. Make or break. Fight or flight. Give or take.
The family unit is by its nature fraught with complexity and very often a lot of dysfunction. In my family, it’s far more likely to be a question of how far any one of us is willing to go to establish a sort of “reality,” than it is about learning how to respect and love each other. As my parents decline and become more and more living in-between this world and the next one, the three offspring are responding in our own ways. In a way, I almost wish my parents would just go, so their suffering would be over, and I could definitively cut ties with my siblings. Oh well, I’m cutting those ties now. I mean, right now. We five, we’re the last of our line. I’m feeling that maybe that’s a good thing, really.
What I’ve come to understand of late is that it really doesn’t matter what is right, or who is right, or whether something is good for someone or not, or whether the truth comes out or not, or whether someone’s intentions are good or not. What matters is how willing a person is to force his will on others, and what steps are necessary to obtain that which one desires, and whether one is willing and/or able to take those steps. You could almost say that my family is a kind of microcosm of what we’re going through as a species.
What it seems to be boiling down to is this: all the energy around me is telling me to let go. Let go of my need to protect, because it isn’t recognized. Let go of my desire to help, because those I see as needy don’t recognize the need, and those who want to stop me because they are afraid of my intentions want something else. Let go of my wish to show what is right and what is wrong, who is right and who is wrong, and to convince those who have no understanding of right and wrong of what is the way to proceed. It is entirely possible that I am wrong in my perception of what “should be,” and I am arrogantly insisting on having my own way, and now the Universe is thwarting me because of something I don’t yet understand.
My fear is that after I let go, there will be suffering that I could have averted. Perhaps I am wrong about that, perhaps it is only a fear. If I’m right about it, and I am prevented from alleviating that suffering, am I not simply making that suffering harder for those feeling it? Perhaps it’s not my job to alleviate it. If my presence is continually being explained as an attack, a false kind of help, a sneaking wrong, does that not cause suffering by those who believe that to be so?
I’ve been wrestling with the idea of “Resist Not Evil,” and then following that with “work around it.” Maybe it’s not my parents that need my efforts, maybe it’s ME, or maybe it’s other people I haven’t even met yet. Maybe it’s my country. Maybe it’s a dog. Well, I just don’t know right now. It seems kind of delusional to think that I have some kind of destiny to help my country, but perhaps I could help in a small way. It seems much more reasonable to think I should help a dog, because I do believe that would help me, because I’ve longed for that kind of relationship for years and years. Let go and let Dog?
I’ve been trying to detach myself from my “things.” If I am going to head out, hit the road, leave this busted destiny here and find the real one, or just “another” one, I really can’t be dragging all this shit I’ve collected around with me. I’ve daydreamed about coming home and finding my entire place burned down and how freeing that would be… But right now this all just feels like failure. It feels like I’M a failure. Not so much what I’m doing, but me, myself. Yes, I’ve felt I have to stay near my parents… That could change now. But I’m NOT getting a jab for a job, and I will NOT wear a mask.
Anyway I don’t feel normal anymore. I feel like an outcast, like a leper, like a “homeless” leper. Like someone poised to fall through those famous “cracks.” Maybe this will wear off, when I get away from my family and this whole situation with judges and fingers pointing at me like I’m a BAD person.
I suppose I’ll end up filling my car with whatever and heading south. Back to where I once belonged (and hope that my car gets me there). I have a tent, a camp cot, a sleeping bag. Warm clothes, cool clothes, shoes. Soap. My computer, I guess, although maybe not. What I really want to do is find a bunch of outliers out in the boonies somewhere, off-grid, growing their own food, and being anarchists…
Meanwhile, there must be some shelter around, somewhere, back in the Old Stomps. I do have friends back there, I think. Will anyone want to let me surf their couch? I have no idea…
And I still haven’t gotten my income tax refund… That would sure be helpful before I go, and if I don’t get it soon, should I just forget it? If I don’t have at least $200 in my account, it costs $5 every month… Could I risk putting a few things in storage here? Or should I just LET IT ALL GO? If I can make ANY money selling my “belongings”… and will anyone even come? And will they say shit like, “I’ll give you five bucks for your guitar”? Uh, HELL, no. Too bad I don’t have a trailer hitch…
But I have to remember: far worse things have happened to lots and lots of people. And I shall not attempt to help anyone who doesn’t ASK ME TO. Maybe BEG me.
Whatever. OK, enough about me. The Bohemians sing, “Nothing really matters. Anyone can see. Nothing really matters…” At least I’ll have my CD’s in the car. I think coffee at Micky D’s is still a dollar and nine cents; maybe it’s gone up.
Here’s where I used to wander… Perhaps I’ll wander there again soon, with a dog.
Let Do and let Dog, I say. Your brothers are the lepers, I cannot believe they think having strangers take care of your parents is an acceptable alternative, but outsourcing care is what men do. If you end up computerless, I can try to fill that gap if for various business you have to conduct, can send things to a po box if you have one. Email me ok. Holding on to you is helping me hold onto me.
Sending you a huge loving hug, wish I could deliver it in person. I know you'll find it yourself where you are supposed to be. However, I must say this as a mother. I may get pissed at my kids. I have a daughter I'm mentally disowning at least every six months. But the truth is losing contact with my three, and I believe this to be true to the vast majority of mothers, would be equivalent to losing a limb. Our children are a part of us and any creature who doesn't understand that bond and attempts to sever it, unless for very good reason, is less than human. My dear friend died of covid in NYC at the beginning of this hoax. She had two sons who she loved uncritically. (I didn't share her enthusiasm, but I'm not their mother). However, I imagine she died alone with no family there to say goodbye and I cry every time I think of it -including now. You can only do what you can do, take care of yourself. You're not alone.