demonize me

“Besides the noble art of getting things done, there is the noble art of leaving things undone. The wisdom of life consists in the elimination of non-essentials.” Lyn Yutang

Closure.

Closure. I've started this way before. Every writer knows the most unenviable obstruction for their craft is an empty page. And the rule book would suggest that every story begun requires an ending. Though it's true in dramatics, this is less true in life. Each tale we weave is far larger than our prediction and much of it goes on under our keenest radar. Most of the points of passage we tend to spotlight are but transitions and not the key beginnings or endings we convince ourselves they'll be.

My sister and parents have been having a veritable war of veiled diplomacy for some time now. A turning point in their relationship left all of the chaos, all of the drama, all of the unresolved feelings up in the air, and in their ways and from their individual perspectives they await the crash landing. Missing that clean ending puts all three of them on edge, and heightens their need to be in the right.

I once heard it said that there are three sides to every story: yours, mine, and the truth. My parents are convinced of one set of stories and my sister assures herself there is another. She is certain to recount these tales again and again ad nauseum on most occasions that she and I get together. It's one of the more frustrating things about spending time with her. One thing that never changes is her perspective. It is forever stalled out in bitter tragedy.

If I had it to dictate now, perhaps I wouldn't have lived the childhood I did or I wouldn't have dwindled under the shadow of those formative years, but every life has its share of stumbling blocks and inevitable potholes. We have to off-load the things that make our journey unbearable. Eventually we just have to bid farewell to that drugged up, useless passenger, that monkey on our back. Turning inward is the only way the outward will ever change. You can't force the hand of others, you can't correctly suspect the motives of others, and you certainly can't alter who someone else is, except yourself. You only get one lump of clay to play with, alter and morph. It might get brittle and it might get dented, but those are the places we find character, art, and meaning.

The empty page suggests that every road leads everywhere. As a writer, the possibilities are dizzying. Every possible outcome can come of this. What is true in art echoes in life. I used to get caught up in future thought. I would seek results of actions, trying so hard to choose the ones that would bring me to my goals, avoiding those that would lead me away. We can't choose our strings. We just have to learn to navigate them, and pluck despite the rhythm caught in the tether, fighting against the power of accidental frets.

These are our demons. I don't mean the Paranormal Activity brand of demons. Well, not exactly. I once thought we had to travel with them. I figured we had to tote them wherever we went. They were our crux, our Achilles heel, the bane of our existence. Well, I say, set that funeral pyre aflame with all of the things in your life, in your soul, in your heart, you don't need that don't help you thrive, that don't motivate you, that just don't matter.

I've had my fair share of monkeys, clawing at my back, weighing me down, pinning me to the past. I say, excise your demons. They are your responsibility. When it comes to these things people like to project blame. It's similar in a fashion to guilt. People may send you on a guilt trip, but you're the one who packs the bags. Own up.

Be your own solution. Poison that monkey and feel the brutal pain, the emotional exhaustion, and then the relief of having cut that umbilical of sorts, the thing that's cutting off your life energy, and sapping your spirit. There are myriad ways things manifest in your body over time. Just let that dead zombie monkey corpse that means you harm punch its way out of your body however it will.

What outcome do you want? In contrast, while a writer begins with endless possibilities, endings need to be bought, raised, owned, and earned. We allow beginnings to start nearly anywhere, but we need to be convinced and sold the safety of the foundation at the other end of the arc.

Closure doesn't always wear the colors you expect it to. It doesn't always show up on time. Sometimes it rears its head in those quiet moments between notes. It comes when the silence is comforting and allows for more than an opportunity to hear that cacophony of disconcerting white noise that muddies everything. And it comes when items of nostalgia begin to take new form, or consequently none at all. The same can be said for the people in our lives. We only get one chance to live this life. Do it with vigor. And prance along to what's next.

♫ enjoy yourself
take only what
you need from it ♫
-"Kids", MGMT