#16 Why I Write part 2: Purgatory
I went to a catholic elementary school and I always wondered what the fuck purgatory was. Now, at 32, I understand purgatory because I live there. Caught between heaven and hell, I exist in suspension. I feel both the upward pull of angels and demons dragging me down. Whether or not I am saved or damned depends upon my choices. No, I don't want to continually fixate on the difficulties in my life because I believe that whatever you focus on becomes larger. I have enough hardship and I don’t need any extra, but my life is my life and right now I'm looking at what's fucked up.
I did what I was supposed to. I made good grades. I don't have a police record. I went to and graduated from an accredited university. I pledged a prestigious fraternity. I served in the military. I love my mother. I've selflessly helped people. But have also been cavalier with money. I haven't always planned for the future. I've survived day to day and now my days are cold and more than a little lonely. I have $5 and some change to my name. That's not mentioning the $7 and change that I have in the bank that I can't get to. I have a quarter tank of gas and 13 more days in the month. By all accounts-I'm fucked and the hold the devil has on me seems to be getting stronger. It feels like the pavement of purgatory is slanted and slippery, and I'm sliding south.
That’s only half of the truth. I also know that falling will only happen if I let go of hope and surrender. I've never been good at surrendering when my back is against a wall. I have always found a way to fight. I haven't always won but I always took swings at the enemy--even when I was losing. Victory depends on perspective and I do know this. Even though I slip on the slope, I’m still climbing. I own my own magazine. It's mine and even if it fails I know how to start another one. I have writers that are writing for free because I asked them to and they believe in the magazine. The website being developed for the magazine is being done for far less than it should cost because a web designer heard me speak and offered the services of his company. I know that I walked into a poetry slam last week and won. I know I just met a guitarist that makes my words sound fantastic because he approaches playing just like I approach poetry. I met him because I chose to help my daddy when I really didn't want to. I didn't think I'd get any benefit from helping Pops, but I did. That's why I still cling to my dreams and continue to approach life with an open heart; even though my heart is repeatedly ripped out of my chest and flayed on the spit of indifference and coldness for it's own sake. There are still blessings and a reason to look toward heaven.
I've thought about suicide before. Never seriously enough to make plans. I've just let the thought of ceasing to exist flutter through my mind long enough to let myself know that nothing is bad enough to make me stop living. I'm not willing to not see what a new day may bring. It always gets better---ALWAYS. It always will get better because I refuse to stop. It is in my moments of despair that I have learned the most. It has been during the times of my worst trial and hardship that I surprise myself and make it better, just by hanging on. The act of straightening my back and focusing on the reality that I want my life to be helps me to know that I will get there. I know that if I continue I will break through. When I do it will be because I was able to survive, and mediate the bad times. Taking responsibility for my life makes it truly my life. If I don't I give my life over to everything that wants to see it destroyed.
Despair is easy. Wallowing in self-pity is easy. Stopping is easy. I have never understood easy. It doesn't compute for me. Nothing in the passed decade has been easy. I don't even expect ease, or gratitude or appreciation anymore. I won't say that I haven’t received all three at some time or another. I will say that they have come far and few in between. So I don't write, or spit poetry, or work with kids or endure indifference because of what anyone wants. I do those things because of what I want. There is so much that I want out of life. So many places that I want to see and so many things I want to do that I can't stop or compromise my integrity for less than what I know I deserve. It's just that remembering that I deserve the best gets hard when the bills come due and leave my account in the negative. I know that I have the strength to do what I must do to get what and where I want to get. That takes strength.
That strength comes from understanding that I am not alone. I'm not the only one in purgatory. There are a lot of us. I just tend to be louder and shout my woes,hopes and triumphs in ways that aren't the norm. I write. A pen and a pad or a keyboard and a screen keep me sane. They help me hold to my center and continue when things seem to be crumbling. My voice is valid. What I say and what I think about matter, even when no one is listening but God. If I struggle for the rest of my life and never get noticed I will leave this, my writings, as my testament. I am alive. Through joy, sorrow, triumph and defeat my struggle is a reflection of all of us who struggle in silence. So when the way is made I know it will be made because I refuse to settle for the abyss of life in purgatory. I've been to hell and escaped more than once. Even now, I feel the devil stalking me and waiting for me to falter. I refuse to. I will not get caught up in the struggle, give up and give in to oblivion. Too many people do. I hold on to hope.
I feel like I'm writing for those lost souls who gave up and gave in to the world. There are so many people that settle, give up their dreams and never live before they die. They think that death is being in a box and being planted 6 feet deep. Too many people can't dream longer than 5 years after they get out of high school. The world closes in and starts to demand things. The bills, the job, the kids, the money(or lack of), the car and more than anything else, keeping up the appearance of living lost dreams and doing what we think people will admire keep us in purgatory’s prison. People struggling to meet those demands don't realize how precious life really is. Then there they are, the walking dead. Zombies caught in a matrix that doesn't let them truly taste the juices of their lives. They are dead long before the first clump of dirt drops on their coffins and don't even know it. They still have dreams but those dreams are stillborn because they don't honor or pursue them. At best they just spin their wheels. Television and intoxication are easier than scratching their way up a vertical slope toward what they know their lives should be. They settle for being hollow eyes and fat bodies behind Wal-Mart shopping carts buying microwavable food in bulk. Their dreams become ether because life doesn't seem to allow for dreaming.
I write what I write because I have had the same hollow eyes so I know what they see. I just refused to accept that vision. I refused to let go of the dream. I've held it until it became something I could sink canine teeth into and shake into being. So I write for them because they won't or can't bear to. I look at the mess of life and write what I see. Hell is hot and heaven is hard but purgatory is both. The only way out is to dream and then work.
I did what I was supposed to. I made good grades. I don't have a police record. I went to and graduated from an accredited university. I pledged a prestigious fraternity. I served in the military. I love my mother. I've selflessly helped people. But have also been cavalier with money. I haven't always planned for the future. I've survived day to day and now my days are cold and more than a little lonely. I have $5 and some change to my name. That's not mentioning the $7 and change that I have in the bank that I can't get to. I have a quarter tank of gas and 13 more days in the month. By all accounts-I'm fucked and the hold the devil has on me seems to be getting stronger. It feels like the pavement of purgatory is slanted and slippery, and I'm sliding south.
That’s only half of the truth. I also know that falling will only happen if I let go of hope and surrender. I've never been good at surrendering when my back is against a wall. I have always found a way to fight. I haven't always won but I always took swings at the enemy--even when I was losing. Victory depends on perspective and I do know this. Even though I slip on the slope, I’m still climbing. I own my own magazine. It's mine and even if it fails I know how to start another one. I have writers that are writing for free because I asked them to and they believe in the magazine. The website being developed for the magazine is being done for far less than it should cost because a web designer heard me speak and offered the services of his company. I know that I walked into a poetry slam last week and won. I know I just met a guitarist that makes my words sound fantastic because he approaches playing just like I approach poetry. I met him because I chose to help my daddy when I really didn't want to. I didn't think I'd get any benefit from helping Pops, but I did. That's why I still cling to my dreams and continue to approach life with an open heart; even though my heart is repeatedly ripped out of my chest and flayed on the spit of indifference and coldness for it's own sake. There are still blessings and a reason to look toward heaven.
I've thought about suicide before. Never seriously enough to make plans. I've just let the thought of ceasing to exist flutter through my mind long enough to let myself know that nothing is bad enough to make me stop living. I'm not willing to not see what a new day may bring. It always gets better---ALWAYS. It always will get better because I refuse to stop. It is in my moments of despair that I have learned the most. It has been during the times of my worst trial and hardship that I surprise myself and make it better, just by hanging on. The act of straightening my back and focusing on the reality that I want my life to be helps me to know that I will get there. I know that if I continue I will break through. When I do it will be because I was able to survive, and mediate the bad times. Taking responsibility for my life makes it truly my life. If I don't I give my life over to everything that wants to see it destroyed.
Despair is easy. Wallowing in self-pity is easy. Stopping is easy. I have never understood easy. It doesn't compute for me. Nothing in the passed decade has been easy. I don't even expect ease, or gratitude or appreciation anymore. I won't say that I haven’t received all three at some time or another. I will say that they have come far and few in between. So I don't write, or spit poetry, or work with kids or endure indifference because of what anyone wants. I do those things because of what I want. There is so much that I want out of life. So many places that I want to see and so many things I want to do that I can't stop or compromise my integrity for less than what I know I deserve. It's just that remembering that I deserve the best gets hard when the bills come due and leave my account in the negative. I know that I have the strength to do what I must do to get what and where I want to get. That takes strength.
That strength comes from understanding that I am not alone. I'm not the only one in purgatory. There are a lot of us. I just tend to be louder and shout my woes,hopes and triumphs in ways that aren't the norm. I write. A pen and a pad or a keyboard and a screen keep me sane. They help me hold to my center and continue when things seem to be crumbling. My voice is valid. What I say and what I think about matter, even when no one is listening but God. If I struggle for the rest of my life and never get noticed I will leave this, my writings, as my testament. I am alive. Through joy, sorrow, triumph and defeat my struggle is a reflection of all of us who struggle in silence. So when the way is made I know it will be made because I refuse to settle for the abyss of life in purgatory. I've been to hell and escaped more than once. Even now, I feel the devil stalking me and waiting for me to falter. I refuse to. I will not get caught up in the struggle, give up and give in to oblivion. Too many people do. I hold on to hope.
I feel like I'm writing for those lost souls who gave up and gave in to the world. There are so many people that settle, give up their dreams and never live before they die. They think that death is being in a box and being planted 6 feet deep. Too many people can't dream longer than 5 years after they get out of high school. The world closes in and starts to demand things. The bills, the job, the kids, the money(or lack of), the car and more than anything else, keeping up the appearance of living lost dreams and doing what we think people will admire keep us in purgatory’s prison. People struggling to meet those demands don't realize how precious life really is. Then there they are, the walking dead. Zombies caught in a matrix that doesn't let them truly taste the juices of their lives. They are dead long before the first clump of dirt drops on their coffins and don't even know it. They still have dreams but those dreams are stillborn because they don't honor or pursue them. At best they just spin their wheels. Television and intoxication are easier than scratching their way up a vertical slope toward what they know their lives should be. They settle for being hollow eyes and fat bodies behind Wal-Mart shopping carts buying microwavable food in bulk. Their dreams become ether because life doesn't seem to allow for dreaming.
I write what I write because I have had the same hollow eyes so I know what they see. I just refused to accept that vision. I refused to let go of the dream. I've held it until it became something I could sink canine teeth into and shake into being. So I write for them because they won't or can't bear to. I look at the mess of life and write what I see. Hell is hot and heaven is hard but purgatory is both. The only way out is to dream and then work.
posted by J.Bailey | 7:45 AM
1 Comments:
"Purgatory" is the best explaination I've read of why you do what you do. And of who you be. I love you for how you do you.
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