Thursday, January 16, 2014

The Concrete Room: revisited

I'd like to move in multiple directions in a given time frame. So, I'm going to attempt to do this with you here. I'm not sure I won't fail. Fall down & sputter through it. However, I'm going to try anyway. I have a good friend, who happens to have a job as a therapist. He's another voice saying that I should write my story out. After doing so I should get someone to read it & help me with it. So it can get published.
...[can I just say it? what I really think of this.] [deep breathe... ok, here we go]
short answer: This is crazy. Why would anyone want to read my story? I don't want to read my story. It doesn't make sense. It makes Star Wars look like a true story, a documentary. I don't believe it & I was there! [I have to stop there before I start writing in all caps. Did you notice how I looked like I was asking you if this was ok, but I didn't really wait for you to respond before launching into this? Just something to think about. The joys of blogging]
Now for a longer, muddier, answer that I don't really like as much. Yet it's more truthful.
long answer: I'm ok with reading... hearing... watching... a story with sadness & pain in it. I like true stories with stuff like that in it. I want to see DAY ONE [Renee Yohe's story. The very first "HER" in to write love on her arms]. I want to see GIMME SHELTER. I want to see SHORT TERM 12. Each one has very sad brokenness & pain in the stories. And I'm ok with that... just as long as it's not MY story. Because that story... I can't just turn off. That story doesn't have margins in it from where I sit. It's bigger than the "screen". there are parts "not in the book". "Scenes" not in the movie. Sometimes I'm not sure if it owns me or I own it... "ya know"? & I'm back to a Spock's Beard tune: "Do you have your baggage, or do your bags have you? Your doing fine, it's not too late. To lay your burden down & walk through heaven's gate..." Good bye to Yesterday, by Spock's beard, from the disc V. So, yes, I'm kind of "double standard" about this story thing. Not really a thing to be proud of, huh? I'm going for honesty. Not sure I like it, but...
So... that being said. Here's a gutsy move. Not sure how smart it is. Lets just go for guts for now. As I facebooked tonight:
"...When you stop taking chances, you stay where you sit. You won't live any longer, but it'll feel like it..." Summer Rain, by U2 [a "b-side"]

 [this isn't really part of my story, rather a feeling after telling my story]

the Concrete Room,
[an email I sent]
I've been meaning to tell you this for quite some time now. You may not remember me telling you [years ago] about a "how I felt" moment. It was after I first told a therapist my story. I told you about a room. Feeling:
"naked in a concrete room. No windows or lights. chained to the floor. [both hands & both feet] Barely seeing a wooden door in the ceiling...& not being able to reach it."
Do you remember that? I'm sure there was much more detail to it than that. However, I'm not really going to research the actual wording. The point is to take you there... as it is now.
That "room" now:
[this came to me a few weeks ago, or a month ago]
"turns out the room, at least now, is in the side of a mountain... The floor is still there, however, there's grass & weeds growing up between/ around the edges of the blocks. One of the walls is still completely there. The one against the mountain. A small part of the connecting walls is still there. Yet if you turn your back to the mountain you can see a breathtaking view. Which easily makes you forget where you are standing. In what was a dark prison cell. The ceiling is gone. small pieces of concrete, a rusty screw or two, & some splinters are all that's left to remind you there ever was a ceiling, with a door in it, at all. The shackles are vacant. Empty of their prisoner, seemingly for quite some time now. Lifeless on the floor, also rusting. The sunrise streaming onto the mountain. Into the this place like the sun itself was brandishing a thousand Katana Swords. Each stabbing into the concrete..."
Hope... runs free.
Just thought I'd share.

 I hope sharing this is a good thing. I think I'll repost a song here as well. Don't know quite why I "feel the need", anyway...
Gungor - I am Mountain

May His grace drip from your fingers,

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