Be grateful for the beauty around us.
A Saturday night, ready to go out (after a day of depression). I leave all those thoughts behind; throwing some Phish on in the background while I get ready. The dogs are dancing; the sun is setting. This Phish set is pretty kick ass. Time to start Phishing and Twisting!
“And when you heard the end result
I told you it was not my fault
if you were here more of the day
it wouldn’t twist around that way.”
Prelude to my next article on the dog sport we call flyball. My dog, Patches, has been through hell and back with me. During all this time, he has played in over 30 flyball tournaments, traveled over 150,000 miles in six states, has had the record time for Australian Cattle Dogs, and is finally retiring with over 20,000 points as a Top Flight Expert Dog. I wouldn’t know what to do without him.
The rain falls again,
Inside my twisted head,
Giving my free will away,
To things that make me dead,
This storm seems forever,
In the world we call life,
Falling down, get back up,
It’s what we have left,
I turn away from demons,
That conquer my chosen path,
I know I’ll get through this,
This hell won’t last.
There’s an asylum at the top of the hill that I look at. What goes on there must be something. I imagine souls burdened with twisted minds doing f**ked up things. That, I perceive as an act of complete innocence. It’s not their fault that they are f*&ked up. What can they do about it? There is no silence in a mind full of unreal thoughts. I question the higher power. Why does he/she grant such distorted, wicked minds to innocent souls? They truly don’t deserve this. It’s kind of f%$ked up if you ask me.
Don’t we all have free will? I’m not so sure about that. I’m plagued by my own issues. I’m an addict. I (according to extensive research) was born an addict. Addiction is treatable. Addiction is mental cancer. I am in remission. Whether I stay in remission is up to me. I’m grateful for each day and the people in my life as I take one hour at a time. I look up at the asylum. I hope one day the people in the asylum get out with a piece of serenity and solace. I will pray for them.
This morning, while walking the gremlins, I ran into a gentleman I knew from recovery. He obviously relapsed. I could smell the alcohol leaking through his pores. He looked like he had been in a fight with stitches on his face, along with being up from the night before. I took the opportunity to sit down with my friend on a bench in the town square park. As AA teaches, I made an effort to help him out, from one alcoholic to another. I pulled out a picture of patches on my cell phone and asked, “What’s the same about you and my dog in this picture?” He could not answer as he took a swig off a vodka bottle. “You are both stuck in the mud.” I informed him. Then I asked, “What’s the difference between you and Patches?” Again, no answer, just another swig. “That dog is happy being in the mud!”
I have gotten to the point in life where I believe this 4.5 cents of wisdom is helpful in my new found life. Alcohol and drugs are really not a solution when being stuck in the mud and muck from the stresses of life. Sh*t is going to happen on a daily basis. With that, we can take on our own fears and insecurities (without picking up) that confronts all of us with a serene, open mind and be happy just like my dog in mud. I told my friend I loved him, and will be praying that our conversation will make sense to him one day in the future.