By Doug “Uncola” Lynn via TheBurningPlatform.com
The words in the title of this piece are not my own. Believe it or not, these are the words of actor and comedian, Jim Carrey, from the end of the video below. It inspired this essay.
Quite often, I find myself considering what is called the ripples-in-the-pond effect. Like throwing a rock into a smooth body of water, the action (throwing the rock) creates a splash (consequence) that in turn releases ensuing vibrations (reactions) that ripple across the allegorical pond; which, I believe represents the fabric of space-time. By this definition there are many variables that are enjoyable to think about. The size of the rock or the number of throws, or actions, involved. For every splash, there are consequences; for good, or bad.
Another interesting construct for these considerations is called the Butterfly Effect. This is when a tiny butterfly flaps it little wings which then creates a chain of events that lead to a hurricane, or typhoon, on the other side of the earth. Whether by throwing rocks or flapping wings, both are seemingly small individual efforts generating domino effects with their own subsequent ramifications. I enjoy contemplating these symbolizations because they reinforce my belief in the individual while, simultaneously, describing the individual’s effect on others within the matrix of a universally connected macrocosm.
If I strive for good, you, who are reading this, just might benefit. Or, if I choose wrong, you will not. Personally, I find meaning in these possibilities.
The video below made me think of my college roommate. He died this time of year not too long ago; in the dead of winter. Back during our college days, we would often converse in our dorm room. Sometimes we would talk into the wee hours of the morning. About our hopes and dreams, our future plans, and girls. He was a good-looking dude and dated some very attractive babes. Since he was so much better looking than I, I would tease him about that.
We had many funny stories. Like one time he was dating this perfect ten and she would come over to clean our dorm room. She would make our room shine and sparkle, except for my stuff on the floor. She wouldn’t touch my things and I was fine with that. I thought she was way too controlling, anyway, and my roommate and I would laugh about it in our late evening discussions.
My college roommate told me things that no one else knew and I did likewise. His father died in an automobile accident when he was only six. This was common knowledge for those who knew him, but I was one of a few, if any, who really knew what that was like for him growing up.
In any case, we both graduated college and enjoyed success in our respective careers. His wife was also a college friend of mine and I remained in contact with them through the years. My old college roommate blossomed into a Donald Draper -type of businessman and I enjoyed seeing his career skyrocket. He joined all of the clubs and associations that I avoided like the plague and he became very well known in his community. He also liked to party. He drank a lot. Because of that I also witnessed his epic fall from grace; and the years that ensued.
I was one of his only friends who stuck with him to the bitter end. I first watched him lose his career and his family. Then later I saw him become broke and homeless on his way to dying alone in an efficiency apartment that I obtained for him. He was 52 years old.
I saw him a week before he died. His eyes were clear that night and he was in good humor. He said he joined a church. But, just days later, the apartment complex’s manager called me upon discovering my old college roommate’s body. He died from organ failure due to alcohol. It was not the future he’d planned.
Looking back, I realize there were signs before the beginning of his end. When I commented on the dent in the front fender of his car that he never got fixed, he just said someone hit him and he was too busy to get it repaired. Sometimes, we both drank whiskey behind my house and watched the sunset. He never wanted to talk about his wife and kids after a certain point, and I didn’t push. I could see the amount he drank, but wrote it off as a remorseful phase that he would overcome when he was ready.
One time when I was helping him move into my city, he informed me he was in a twelve-step program. Another time he became agitated and he told he “needed a meeting”. I didn’t understand that at the time.
One summer evening he rode with me to visit my Dad who was dying in a care facility. When I got to Dad’s room, I walked over and gave him a hug. When I turned around, my old college roommate had tears in his eyes. I didn’t say anything about that and afterwards we went to Hooters. This was all before I knew he was an alcoholic.
In chapter five of the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), it speaks to those who are unable to benefit from the AA “Twelve Step Program” because they lack the capacity to be honest with themselves. I believe this was my friend’s problem. I wanted to understand and I believe it was his unwillingness to face himself, especially in light of the insanity of his alcoholism. In retrospect, I also believe his pride played a part. In any case, I had no idea how to help him. Today, when I look back on it all, I am pretty sure I did the opposite of helping him: I enabled him. Alcoholics and addicts increase their substance abuse in the face of rising consequences. I should have known.
My old college roommate died around the same time as my Dad and around that time I began to question my own life. I wondered if I was perhaps a little too proud of my material things. Maybe I wanted too much to believe in the illusion of retirement that I knew would never be there for me in my old age; unlike my Dad. I feared for my family and the unknown.
For many years, I had considered what was going on in our country and world, and I measured the overall consequences and momentum of events. Having a knack for planning and strategy, I could usually figure out the most efficient way(s) to get from “point A” to “point B”. But when it came to the forthcoming future, I began to see “dead ends” at every turn; war, economic hardship, and extreme privation. For a while, these contemplations caused a sort of a paralysis in my life. I was paralyzed not from turning away from truth, but from facing it squarely, looking outward; from considering future options and seeing no way out.
The rocks had been cast. The splashes were coming; only to be followed by inescapable, painful tsunamis.
In time, however, I began to recognize the pride behind my fears; and how, like my old college roommate, a type of pride that led to resentments and anger. Beneath all mad is sad and underlying both is fear. I began to think about faith; how faith without works is dead. In my own case, therefore, faith became right action; deeds more than words. I also recalled something I heard (or read) from the Bible about “clothing oneself with humility”. I realized when I got up every morning and got dressed, I should throw on a heaping dose of humility. Even if I didn’t feel humility, I could choose to take humble actions like I chose to get dressed that morning. In so doing, I began to see how the matrix was much bigger than me.
All I have to do is try my best every day. Seek truth, speak the truth to the best of my ability, and take right action in the hopes it will benefit others; including some I may not ever know.
I’ve not been one to give Jim Carrey much thought, other than some of his movies. I watched The Number 23 last summer on Netflix and even turned it into a post out here in the interwebic blogosphere. It is possible this was the reason I was sensitized to the following video which I just happened to see on another blog (i.e. – the ethernetic pond) yesterday.
The video is 5:38 in length. 5 x 3 = 15. 15 + 8 = 23.
Connections are everywhere. Even if we only see what we want to see, I know it is all way bigger than me.
Am first. A post to read again.
Oh, screw you thumbdowners anyway. Uncomplaining doesn’t mind my antics on his posts, as long as I keep the cray cray shit until the very end, when me and EC are trying to win the imaginary grand prize for hitting the hundredth post markers, proving either that we have some real stamina at monitoring the numbers of people posting on certain comment threads OR that one or another of us needs to get a life. With my dear friend and hombre, Me Hoe El Coyote, sure to make some witty repartee soon, I will simply tell Uncultivated I sometimes look backward along the pathways of my life, sure that if I only strain hard enough I will be able to see where I took the wrong turn and along the way I bump into my son and then my husband along that path and stop right there when I realize the turn was not so very wrong at all.
How’s that for some prose?
Okay, Underrated (Holy Moley the folks don’t like me being flippant on the first comment do they?)…
I watched the video and reread. Is a very thoughtful piece and I commend you for taking on a tough subject with style. Am not sure about the wise counsel of that sage Jim Carrey of Dumb and Dumber, which I’ve heard was an epic performance, but having never seen it, I’ll leave it to experts to judge. I do have a tough time listening to Ace Ventura, Pet Detective concerning the deeper meaning in life.
I hear you. However, some of his performances are far more substantial, such as ‘The Majestic’, ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’ or even ‘The Truman Show’. I was NOT impressed with Carrey in his earlier career, even though I recognized he was very talented. For me, its usually not his ability, but the movies he chooses to act in. Not everyone’s cup of tea, but he does seem to have more on the ball than many (most?) celebs who spout endlessly.
As far as the down-thumbers … fuck ’em.
True enough and fair enough. I did see what a monumental talent Jim Carrey had, even in the Ace Ventura stuff (the slow motion scene still cracks me up). But my stepson was about 8 or 9, completely awash in stupid Jim Carrey movies like The Mask and other excuses for Jim to make buggety-eyed faces. By the time he was Bruce Almighty, I was sick and tired of Jim Carrey anywhere, so I only rented and watched Truman in the past few years when picking up movies during log-stacking evenings. He is a really good actor and perhaps has more on the ball than some actORS. But, would he ever have been Truman if not for this?
I’m not going to go into all the ways this post hit me, because that would require a recitation of my life story. But hit me it did, the most profoundly of any of your many excellent posts. Obviously, I’ll repost it.
Thanks, Robert. In the post-Trumpian era maybe we’ll meet in Galt’s Gulch and share war stories.
BTW – I just quoted you (with proper attribution) over on Stucky’s Solzhenitsyn thread.
Be sure to stop by Maggie’s Place for some broiled rabbit… probably on an open spit. Those river rocks we gathered last year will make a helluva fire pit out back. Big enough to slow broil a deer perhaps. But, definitely rabbit.
That may be the best line in the whole book. It’s certainly the most quoted.
If I fear that my cancer will come back, then I am unable to enjoy whatever time I have left. So I don’t worry about it beyond making some changes that might help keep it at bay. Worry is detrimental to your health.
There is much more I could say about this but I promised my husband I would help him work on the house he wanted to build. Apparently, I lied when I told him I wouldn’t help with it. Long story.
I have done some research into some natural oils and remedies as far as some types of cancer. Have you looked into that type of therapy?
Yeah, Maggie, I am considering CBD oil. But that is as far as I have gotten.
MC
Been reading thru this thread. I never know for sure what to say to someone going thru a health crisis. Still I would like to send my best wishes your way.
I think I know a guy, Mary. We’ll chat soon. Today, I have cataract removal, so I might be out of screen shot for a day or so. I have to wear some sort of a patch, but I’m not sure of reading limitations. I’ll find out today at 1030, I guess.
Mary Christine – A friend was diagnosed in September Liver, Lung and Spine. Metastisized given 2 to 4 months. He has been receiving Chemo every 3 wks, but he has also been using CBD oil. The doctors are not certain if it’s the chemo or the CBD, but his tumors are shrinking. He is also past the 4 month mark.
Much research has been done on CBD, check out Dr. Mercola on Utube.
Good Luck to you !
Peace n Prayers
This company makes a concentrate of organic CBD and THC ONLY for medical patients, many of them with cancer. They have one on one contact with their patients about their condition and treatment. http://www.earth-alchemy.com/
Mary, what is it that inspires us to write a comment that seems to be completely out of the blue and hardly on point? It is almost a juvenile chat board kind of comment until somebody shares it with somebody and it’s like you gave them the missing piece to an old puzzle they had abandoned in the living room table.
You were urging me to get medications and the backstory you added was just that piece for somebody. Thank you.
Cool, EC! Glad to have helped!
I lost a high school friend/boyfriend to alcoholism/liver failure this past year. We weren’t close; hadn’t spoken to him for decades, but I had visited his mother a couple years ago to chat and say hello. She’d mentioned he wasn’t doing very well, but I didn’t pry.
So strange to imagine that kind of lonely… that will make you drink in spite of what you know it is doing to your body.
Beautiful.
We choose – the greatest gift and most daunting responsibility a person can possess.
I wanted to expand on this earlier, but I just didn’t have the time.
I believe that even beyond the consequences that result from a decision, (the ripples, etc.) is the strengthening of what led one to making that decision in the first place. For example; if you make a choice based on hate or fear, you will be even more prone to do the same the next time. If you choose love or forgiveness, you are more likely to build on that the next time. What we choose solidifies, one small bit at a time, who we are and in what direction we will walk/grow/perceive.
True? I don’t know, but my own experiences personally validate that belief to me.
The pride that helps us endure betrayal can also destroy any shade of trust we have left in humanity, along with the ties that bind. It’s a double edged defense mechanism that cuts inside and out. Seen it up close and personal. Your reflections hit so close to home, it almost teared me up and that’s something that rarely happens with me. Thanks. +1000
Hope walks thru fire and faith leaps over it…
I believe this self destructive strain in the boomer generation is an aftereffect of the cultural destruction we have endured since WW2. We used to be a country and a big tribe but no more. We would all be better off in a small community with less competition and more cooperation. The younger generations see this and the brighter ones are rebuilding society from the ground up; locally in small groups.
We all need silly fun and light heartedness.
Very sorry to hear of the devastating losses of your father and close friend Uncola!
The honesty part, in AA as far as those who remain sober or not is really quite simple, that is knowing that the person is addicted to alcohol, and simply won’t stop drinking after a drink or two, like a normal person. It could begin with a drink, and end a decade later.
Btw. Not a single one of the twelve steps says that someone has to go to AA meetings. People can work the steps anywhere and everywhere.
Correct – in a limited sense. However, most members of AA (and other 12-Step organizations) w/ long-term recovery/sobriety will tell you that meetings have been essential to developing and maintaining same. There are, of course, the occasional exceptions that test the rule. Without knowing the individual it’s impossible to say where Uncola’s friend went “off the rails” but likely it was somewhere early on in the “Twelve Steps”.
People always relapse by not working the first step. It happens every time that someone relapses. Can’t relapse while working it, guaranteed.
Soultion?
Kill you ego. A few healthy doses of Psilocybin, DMT, Lysergic Acid Amides, etc should do the trick/trip.
Admin, this surely proves there should be an entrance test for former ZH morans. I have not seen anything worthwhile from this bitcoin refugee.
One of the best things I’ve ever read. Thanks.
Now I’ve got to figure out how to apply it to my own life.
Love and Fear are human concepts the universe is indifferent to. We like to think we matter but we don’t. We sit somewhere between the unimaginably small quantum world and an infinitely vast space and those of us born in modern times have been the luckiest creatures this planet has ever hosted. No plagues for us nor famine either. We fly through the skies and cruise down roads in air conditioned comfort on fossilized sunshine and yet some gripe about this luxuriant life.
Our luck will run out. It always does. A super volcano could change everything tomorrow or a rogue planet make its way into our pleasant little solar system. No reason to dwell on these eschatological issues. What will be will be and we cannot change it. Best to live like a dog and believe there will always be food in your bowl and a warm bed to lie in because its always been like that.
No famine or plagues here at present anyways. Yemen, and some countries in Africa, for examples, present an entirely different reality of plagues and famine created by American foreign and CIA policies.
Unit, every time my dog comes in from outside he goes to his food bowl and stares at it. It’s the funniest thing I have ever seen. He just started this recently and he almost 10 years old.
You were a true friend, maybe the only one he had.
Doug,
Great post. Humility. That’s a big word and hold’s a lot of implications for how we live our lives. I think there is an important reason why we are warned, so often, against excessive pride. Excessive pride, untempered by humility can destroy us but even more importantly, it can retard our growth and keep us from the purpose that God lays out before us. It keeps us from learning.
I think about this topic daily. Each day I get up I look in the mirror at my aging body and I remind myself that what I see in front of me is not permanent. When you realize this applies to everyone, even the people you love, not only are you humbled but if you are smart, you are grateful and begin to realize that most of what we do in this world is window dressing. You also realize that you ‘control’ a lot less than you would like to think.
My mum was here for Christmas and we had a discussion about purpose. She is in her late sixties and is concerned that her time in this world was for naught. That she never accomplished anything noteworthy. I kind of laughed at the assertion and told her that we all play our parts in the story. Some of them are big, some of them are small (in our eyes), but all of them are equally important. After all, without her, I would not be here. The same with all of you and your folks. And so here we are. Playing our parts not knowing how big or small they truly are but perhaps knowing, that they will play out just as the creator intended. For his reasons. Not ours.
Sort of makes you wonder about your friend’s situation. Maybe his suffering was your lesson? I guess only you and God know the truth of it. All I can tell you is that as I’ve gotten older three words have become important in my vocabulary:
I’m not sure.
Thanks for writing Doug. It was a great way to start my Sunday.
Thank you, FM. In my own case, what is strange about humility is that, quite often, I don’t necessarily “feel” it, per se. It’s like dress for success or when you smile someone will smile back. I have to choose to take the humble action(s) and then I have experiences which I can’t deny. Upon having those experiences, I then feel gratitude which I would not have enjoyed had I remained in my usual/normal self-concerned state.
Regarding my old college roommate’s situation, I often wondered what would have been different had his Dad not died in that automobile accident. Would that Dad’s son have been more emotionally secure? A better husband and parent? Less angry? Less fearful? Perhaps.
Ironically, my friend’s Dad died because someone stole the stop sign from a rural intersection; probably to hang up in their house, barn, or shop.
Ripples in the pond. For good, or bad? Either way, it’s bigger than me.
Believe it or not, controlling a lot less than I would like is a source of comfort to me anymore. I call it humility.
I’m not sure what to say, as everyone seems to like this post…to me it was meaningless California-style drivel.
In what way chardlots? Do tell
Charlotte – You said a lot about yourself in very few words. I might have said the same myself years ago when I watched Zorba the Greek and didn’t get it.
My father drank himself to death on Memorial Day a few years ago after trying for decades. We’d been estranged for a long time since he was a violent drunk. I’ve heard the tales about how his mother left the house with her favorite two kids and left him and the other kids in the house when the kitchen caught fire. I think this is the root of addiction- not facing your issues. I didn’t have my first drink till I was 24, I was afraid I’d be like him. I have a glass of wine or a drink sometimes now, sometimes even over a bad day, but I’m always very conscious about why I’m having one.
My favorite phrase from AA is “When two or more are gathered in His name, He will be there with them. from Matthew 18:20. It is powerful when two or more do gather and believe something sacred is participating. I find the door does open to the sacred if you believe – have faith and have studied the sacred. I apply the thought to our meetings here on TBP. And i know many are gathered here in the name of _________.
In AA they always refer to a “higher power of your choosing” instead of God – too many bad memories of a white bearded old guy sitting on a throne in judgement – and they claim AA is not a religion due to the bad connotations of religion the afflicted bring with them. I can’t say I blame them.
A man sued the State as he was court ordered to attend AA. He claimed they could not force him to attend religious meetings. The case went to the Supreme Court. He lost. And was awarded a dollar for his misery.
I like the AA way of prayer. No petitioning allowed. Pray only for knowledge of His Will, or ultimate good; and the power to carry it out – a difficult task to achieve. It is meditation, not appeals for favors, that is the key to knowing how to proceed in this short time on the dance floor. And practice of it leads to improvement in my experience.
Jim Carrey comforts me with his diverse performances and transitions to a higher state of mind. Thank you Doug and Jim for sharing.
I will continue endeavoring to persevere, looking for doors and practice jumping over fire.
Here is a song written by a junkie who died after he fell from a second story window with heroin and cocaine in his apartment and in his system – mercifully ruled an accident?
To me it embodies many aspects of recovery found in the halls of AA.
The song is mostly known as “My Old Addiction”
Lesson here from the in house want to be theologian .
You will never over come the sin and evil in your flesh or heart.Just read Romans chapter 7 .Paul goes into full details as to why.You can try humble pie all you want but it’s nothing but false humility back up by that same old foolish Pride which is Evil in your heart.Christ breaks the Guilt of sin and frees us from the domain of sin. AA is just more pagan Deception because it leaves it’s victim ( your friend ) still trap in sin and guilt.The Butterfly effect and all such is really just the Providence of God in action.
Read between the lines BB.
A healthy dose of fear is good to have . It’s is what keeps most of us alive .Death is the last enemy according to the Bible but the fear of death like the fear of God can be a best blessing.
You have to remember Jim Carrey is a pagan with a pagans philosophy.A rich nicely dressed pagan but still a pagan promoting his Godless ideology.That’s it.Kinda like AA.
Really like stuff like this, so Bravo! Sir. Great strategy to use, when we get bogged down and distracted with the day2day gloom around us, if that’s where we choose to focus.
Thought displacement is the ability to replace negative thought with more encouraging focus.
This link below came to me in an email from a good friend, arriving just this morning, as a wake up call to focus on what really matters. Carpe diem, for sure, B4 our number is called.
It’s a FB post by a young lady in Australia, and is worth reading. I do not know her, but I’m betting this has gone viral on FB and beyond.
Good Day.
Edit:
My email source has DL initials also. Coincidence?
To the down vote: I’m waving at you, but just not with all 4 fingers.
I’m confused LGR… who is holly butcher?
Not sure Ms. Maggie. From reading the FB post, (I don’t subscribe to that, btw), I gather she’s a young 26 year old Aussie who has a terminal illness, and just posted her thoughts about what’s important in the life we have left, instead of what’s trivial.
To me, it was just another good message to read. I thought it fit with Doug’s theme.
Lager, this is typical womanese; you tell a story, a short one, and the woman in the audience wants to know what color was the car?
Are you writing a fucken book? is the correct response but unfortunately, I can’t be mean in person; here, yes, in person, no.
‘tsokay by me L.
I’m finding the meanness has it’s role, as do the ones who dish it.
Can’t be like a long tailed cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs, so roll with it.
Absence of it would make the site an echo chamber and be boring as hell.
If any here actually met f2f, I’d expect there’d be 2 reactions.
1. He / she doesn’t look like what I expected, judging from their writing.
Kind of like hearing a radio broadcaster’s voice and trying to envision what they look like. What’s imagined is rarely close to what a given bag o bones truly looks like.
A few around these parts bravely post fotos, so we know. OTOH,
Stuck revealed his height yesterday. I’d stay out of his path in f2f mingling, cuz I’d lose in any kind of collision, accidental or intentional, hah!
2. Second reaction might be along the lines of: So this is X. Then memories would be triggered; some good, some bad from the experiences of reading how they chimed in on all the topics.
Get past those 2, bring some libations into the mix, and all hell could break loose, or more common ground found than not. Sure would be interesting.
I thought Holly might have been either the subject or the object of the story instead of just one of those faceless FB people we see shit on all the time. It wasn’t “womanese” anymore than this was snarkese on your part.
Maggie is playing a Jedi mind-trick on me, if I insist it is womanese, I have to admit I was being snarky.
Hey, Maggie, tell me more about finding sand in your shorts, were they on or off at the time?
I can, and was, to my husband today. Be mean in person, that is. Out of the ordinary for me and born out of frustration. I may tell the story. It kinda took everything out of me.
Anybody that gets involved with a woman had better have a sense of humor. My ex came home from work one day, she said one of the gals was in a tizzy, she lost her mind and destroyed her husband’s sports trophies and caps. The guy wouldn’t be home for another night.
I’ve been through much of that, and it’s a good thing to revisit the bumps and valleys.
Not proud of some of it, but… shit happens. Too often it’s been how I learn things, and without wading through the shit I wouldn’t be in the good place I have now.
Two personal lessons I’ve learned:
“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans”.
~ John Lennon
“When you are going through hell… keep going”.
-Winston Churchill
The ripples on the pond are my favorite simile for government.
Politicians don’t like the way the pond looks, so they throw just the right rock, in just the right place. Yeah. Right.
When they realize the ripples didn’t go where they thought, the solution is throw another rock, maybe a bigger rock… or a handful of gravel… or… or …or…
Meanwhile we pay for the rocks and deal with the splashes.
Aramaic Bible in Plain English
There are friends who are friends, and there is a friend that is closer than a brother.
In the long, dark night of the soul, crazy whispers reverberated in a tiny town where fish jumped in the pond long ago and faraway. Them kooky kids could run up a thread count like few others. A strand of three; not easily broken.
But, you must admit it is the finest form of STM flattery to have that little band of blatherers do their bit on one’s thread. Think of it this way, Unbaitable, at various moments along the way you have looked at someone across a room and realized that you both GOT that moment you just witnessed together and even though you might never see them again along the way further, you can remember the meeting of the eyes and the flash of recognition.
Makes you think those damn Hindus aren’t so damn crazy after all. Almost.
RE: “the meeting of the eyes and the flash of recognition”
I always liked how EC put it:
“It’s like cleaning house after your girlfriend leaves, You don’t care for the underwear, the dirty cotton balls, makeup and fake jewelry or thousands of pairs of shoes, what you miss the most is her little sideways smirk.”
I had such a moment once. I used the drive-thru at the JIB and the girl opened the window to hand me my drink. I looked at the girl and she looked at me and for some unknown reason we both started laughing. What was the joke? I don’t know but we had a momentary connection.
I was a freshman in college at my first big college party, celebrating the soccer team’s win over some other soccer team (intermural.) The Captain of the soccer team (a Lambda Chi stud muffin if I remember right) walked over to me and said “I just want to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”
I gotta tell you… the line worked and that guy could have done just about anything with that 19-year-old me. But, he just kissed me, stood beside me and chatted with me and my gal pals who were green with envy before wandering out of the room and out of my life forever. I used to go to the shore, dreaming of the day he might have looked at the stands and remembered me… no, wait a second. Was it that guy or Alejandro? Oh, hell… I’m getting my lovelorn anguishes all confused.
Mine was a sideways glance, and a smile from fine looking brunette female that would make a Bishop kick out a stained glass window. The trigger? A warm Spring day, criusin around w the windows down, and I took the radio volume to level 10, when “L.A. Woman” intro started playing and got my fingers and toes tapping. She did likewise. Brief, but a great small connection memory from 25 years ago.
Sigh… the people we have been secretly stalking all of our lives, eh?
I am helping a friend through the last stages of liver cancer. We have had some really good, intimate, conversations here in the last year. He is a “seen the Dead 52 times” kinda guy, hog rider, hard worker. Never got really caught up in the material stuff to excess. But he does enjoy the nice things he’s accumulated. The last visit, he said it plain, what we all need to keep in mind. He looks at his stuff, likes it, but it has almost zero significance to him. He only cried when he was telling me how much he appreciated me sharing this trouble with him, that friends and family are the only thing worth anything. That, and where his eternity will be spent..
I think we are all here to instruct each other.
Chuck was someone the normal people laughed at. Because he seemed a little slow, and mostly because he took this weird medicine and zoned out on the bleachers during phys. ed. I shared a hall locker with him and we spoke enough for me to learn: he started smoking in 5th grade, and was weak to tobacco. Specifically, the nicotine constricted his arteries so much he was close to gangrene in his legs (no phys ed for him!) and the medicine only killed the pain and his thinking skills enough to make it survivable. Then one day, Coach Vinson called me over and told me to put Chuck’s stuff in a bag; he had died the night before, smoking in bed. I had no urge to smoke before, but after that I never even considered it.
Todd and Cindy were on their first date, junior prom. He crashed the car and she went flying out the window, landing head-first against a stump. She died instantly, it took a couple of months to talk Todd back into the land of the living. Strangely, he said he had no idea what I said when I visited, just remembered hearing my voice. My family always buckles up in the car.
Perhaps those who die young are here to teach us how to live. Perhaps they had their missions laid out in heaven and came ANYWAY, knowing when they chose.
We are all teachers, like it or not? Or everything is random chance and coincidence?
Uncola, thank you for posting this. It reminded me of my college roommate who’s father died when he was 8. The only difference is I was like your roommate. My addiction and alcoholism almost destroyed everything in my life, but God gave me the beautiful gift of desperation. My Story is long and full of twists and turns, if I told you how things played out in me and family’s favor with all of the wreckage I had laid out, you probably wouldn’t believe me. It’s that surreal. AA saved my life and my family relationship! I found God again and ultimately Jesus. God has truly taken something terrible and devoid of light, and turned it into a beautiful story and Blessing that will benefit my family and I long after I am gone. Alcoholism and addiction are family diseases. The ripple effect for bad, can last for generations, and cause other personality issues with individuals and dysfunction in the family dynamic. God has broken this cycle with my family.
I’m sorry that some see AA as a cult. If it is, I’m a proud member. It has done more for me and my family than I could ever repay. I believe AA was inspired by God. It has saved thousands of lives. If it wasn’t in existence, I’d be either locked up or covered up. But for the Grace of God go I….
Thanks for commenting, Raider. I’m very happy for you and your family.
I’ve read a lot of books and the A.A. “Big Book” is as eloquent, profound, and life-affirming as any. A.A. has worked for millions of people for over 80 years and has benefited alcoholics worldwide who became desperate enough to become willing. Willing to be honest. Willing to be accountable. Willing to listen.
As you know, the key is to stop drinking and Alcoholics Anonymous helps that to happen. That makes it a pretty amazing organization by any definition.
I’ve done my research. If anyone reads through the Twelve Traditions behind A.A., they will realize it is the opposite of a cult; it is the anti-cult.
Thank you again for commenting and I wish you and yours all the best.
The 12 traditions preserve the aa organization. The 12 steps uphold the members. Even the 12 steps are just suggestions. The desire to stop drinking is the only requirement to be a member. Not a cult at all.
“I’m sorry that some see AA as a cult.”
It’s a self-help program based on the idea that the best way to help yourself to stay sober is by helping others stay sober. I understand bb’s point that alcoholics need to seek god. However, the chains of alcoholism are quite strong.
The Book of Love by The Magnetic Fields
An animated video to complement Mr. Carrey’s presentation:
Kind of trippy there, KS. But now I want to hear Depeche Mode’s rendition.
Your friend was lucky to have you. Some of us will never have a friend like that. My best friend, Jan, I met in the 8th grade. We stayed friends for years, through many of our early life struggles. We even had the same work history, not all of the time, but through several job changes.
Eventually, she was promoted into HUMAN RESOURCES. (Why do I hate that term?) This was a very large package delivery service who likes the color brown. There was policy against fraternization and I was still administrative. By this time we were mid to late 30’s. That ended our 20+ year friendship. Probably for the best anyway. She was rather liberal and I was becoming more and more conservative. Still, I never really made another close friend after that. She made a lasting impression on me though. She was always recommending one book or another and I would always read them. “The Princess Bride” was a favorite. We had such good times together and I will never forget them.
I was going to go into an example of the butterfly effect on a micro-level from an episode with my husband today, but I am really exhausted and you could reasonably say that one of the effects is that I am too tired to go into it. Not only that, I’m going to have to wait until tomorrow to remark on Stucky’s post.
Have a pleasant evening, Uncola!
Pride goes before a fall and the meek shall inherit the earth but humility/meekness just feels good and is never regretted. I was moved by the post, Thanks.
Watch out for people who pretend they are humble. Everyone struggles with pride in some way or another.
BL gave me shit for “false modesty” on IS’s Q post yesterday. There is a difference between false modesty and not taking credit for other peoples work. I have no problem taking credit if credit is due. I’ll probably get miffed if I think I deserve credit for something and don’t get it. But that is the way of the world and happens all the time, in general, so I get over it, eventually.
EC, mentioned that a story I told the other day was helpful. This is the ripple effect that probably happens more often then we know. I never would have known if he had not mentioned it. We do things all the time that will cause that ripple. Sometimes it’s positive and sometimes it’s negative. Smiling and being patient with a cashier at the store can make that persons day in a way that helps her to be able to handle the inevitably horrible people they deal with all day.
The other day I stopped to pick up dog food. The store wasn’t busy and I didn’t bother to get a cart for the 30 lb bag. There was one person in line in front of me buying one small thing. I don’t know what what the problem was but the cashier was having to look up stuff on a tablet and it was taking forever so I took the bag around the counter and put it down on the outgoing side of the counter so I wouldn’t have to pick it up again until after I paid for it. I tried not to get impatient as it seemed to be a problem with the customer, not the cashier. When she was finally done and I stepped up to the counter she thanked me for my patience and gave me a $10 in store coupon override.
You don’t have to do big things to change the world.
When my father-in-law was with us in Oklahoma, I got us some of those life-affirming books and inspirational decorations for his room/apartment at the assisted living center. It was a lot of fun that first month or two, pretending that he could transition into a life so very different from all he had ever known if we just tried hard enough to pretend all the terrible bad stuff had not happened.
But it had all happened and left deep scars. By the time we all realized there was no way my dear Poppa could keep the hurt hidden any longer, Nick’s mother died and turned his tiny glimmer of hope for reconciliation with her into ash. I’d seen him excited at the thought of talking to her on Mother’s Day and then had to see my husband destroy those hopes by telling his father he had just flown back from Cleveland, where he’d attended his mother’s funeral.
We tried hard to find some real spiritual meaning in what we faced together, my Poppa Grooch and I, and he told me many time that I was the daughter he’d always wanted to have and I accused him of telling that to all his daughters and he assured me he only told it to me now. He was a dear man, at least he was by the time I got him. He died exactly two weeks after my best friend from early childhood and into adulthood. The last time I saw her was just after she turned 50, when she went for the second or third full-brain radiation treatment, a radical treatment chosen as a last resort to shrink some of the brain tumors that were rapidly taking over her brain. Knowing her as I do, I grasped that it was her final bargain with God, in Whom her belief never faltered. More than once my dear beloved friend would say “Martha, I know the Lord is going to heal me and I will accept His Will, but I do sometimes wonder when He is going to heal me.”
So, the answer for her and for her two lovely daughters was “not in this world.”
In those last days at her home when hospice was there and she was awake and/or alert for only moments at a time, her husband of forever (and my own old friend from when it was the “three of us” and not “them and me” not that it mattered) said that comment had simply changed in direction, not in Faith. “Clint,” she would say, “I think I saw the angels early this morning. Maybe they are coming to get me today. I hope so.” Her hope for healing had turned to acceptance of dying. In many ways, it was perhaps a turning point for myself, with Poppa G telling the doctor the week after I got back from her funeral that he wanted to stop the life-extending medications. My best friend had sung at our wedding and my father-in-law knew losing her was hard for me. He and I lost a lot of people together, yes sir we did.
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Lost her in June 2012 and him in July 2012. This image of me here the following October with a new driveway to a spot where a basement would soon be dug after a barn got built seems like it happened a lifetime ago. In many ways, it did.
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And now the damn transmission needs to be replaced. Shit… always something.
Maggie and Poppa G have that look like you may as well roll up the pants legs, they are in cahoots.
Maggie, what you wrote about your friend’s end brought this to mind.
My family, a few years ago, lost first my uncle, then my aunt and then their oldest, my cousin, to cancer in less than 2 years. My uncle was the really good kind of Christian, and his passing was full of reconciliation, love, humor and patient acceptance once he knew the fight was over. My aunt, even though she had significant problems earlier in her life, also ended well. I’m not sure where my cuz wuz as far as spiritual. Still, a really nice man.
The point is, my aunt said it best, as only one looking it square in the face can. “There’s a faith for livin’, and a faith for dyin’.”
That statement, told to me in a calm matter-of-fact way, had a profound impact, and I revisit that conversation from time to time.
I’m not sure how this applies, but through this life we’re ALL pain-bearers, one way or another.
‘Feelin’ no pain? Must be in Heaven.’
Nice. I think the pain we absorb is perhaps equal to the joy we can give. I like to think so, anyway.
Thank you for your comments on this thread, MC. For what its worth – I view modesty and humility in relation to their impetus / motivation. It’s like comparing selfish to assertive; or sympathy versus empathy. These correlations might even be interesting to write about someday.
Maggie and I posted at the same time. It that’s your driveway, Maggie, I can see why you drive 4 x 4’s.
EDIT: But whenever I post vehicle photos online (and usually out of sheer paranoia), I always black/block out the license plates? Just looking out for ‘ya.
Please… take it. Just don’t leave a trace and get it before the first of February, when we drop the insurance.
Hey Unco
Been meaning to get back to this thread. I will say the video is profound. What is most important is it should resonate with everyone regardless of creed. Might write some more later.
Cheers
RiNS
Thanks Rob – I saw that surfing on Saturday, before heading out of town for the afternoon, and kept thinking about it.
@ January 8, 2018 at 3:32 pm above – Maggie said:
And, for me, that was the irony. To hear the words in that video, from this guy:
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Plus, the # 23 angle and what was said about acceptance, fear and ego; specifically, in regards to my old college roommate (and me).
Speaking of all that, I have another friend involved with A.A. and she once told me this formula:
EGO = Edging God Out
But, at the same time, she has told me about her own friends in the program who are Christians, atheists, agnostics, Wiccans, and pagans, all just trying to stay sober.
In that fellowship, like everywhere else, it seems there are separate camps dividing the folks when it comes to perceiving “connections” as opposed to… shall we say…. viewing “indiscriminate arbitrariness”.
Even here on TBP, the various commenters appear to fall into separate camps on the driving forces, or lack thereof, within the cosmos; and yet we still seem to agree that collectivism, socialism, communism, Obama, Hillary, John McCain, Lindsay Graham, et al, all suck.
This was my whole point with this piece: I don’t have to understand it all. It’s bigger than me. And that’s where I’ve found my peace.
I’m glad you liked that video and thanks for telling me.
Until next time,
Pasta la vista
BTW – @ RiNS – regarding your comment above where you repeated the phrase from the video and wrote:
“Hope walks thru fire and faith leaps over it…”
Even if – by chance – you wrote that out of incredulity, or exasperation, you got 10 upvotes. Not bad
Yeah I noticed that. The short sentence punches above its weight. I need the votes! 🙂 Over on the gulag thread some folks no likey what I have to say. Tuff job being a shit monkey. But its all in fun eh!
Hey my team won again in Monday Night Curling. Amazing how the simple things in life can bring so much joy. And a beer afterwards..
That video pointed out so well, how in the past much of my time was spent running in circles. Burning my feet. Hope never left yet it always was two feet away.
How things have changed.
Been meaning to write about trip to Scotland. It was a transcendental experience. Almost Spiritual. Turns out my ancestors likely came from Lewis. Just a few years back if I had received an invitation like that to go to that Isle there would have been an excuse to turn down the opportunity. No longer.
Faith, however one defines it, does help in making the leap sucessful. That Carrey fellow is a pretty smart guy. And yeah the doors are everywhere.
Anyways thanks for taking the time to write this. Ripples in pond. You just never know where they will go.
MC, I don’t know what mood Bea was in. He’s usually a genial person.
I recall a time I was volunteered to drive an RV full of astronauts to a simulation. I was kind of nervous and when one of the dudes got up while I was driving, I meant to say please sit down but what came out was a sharp, Sit Down! Old J- tried to soften the tone of my command still echoing in the quiet bus. Is that EC barking out the commands? he asked. Nobody said anything to me as they got off, I had earned a dick award that day.
Was that before or after those astronauts were on the moon?
Well I was going to ignore BL but it was still bothering me the next day so I just had to get that off my silicone inflated chest, you see. Then it bothered me no more.
Don’t let it get to you, MC.
Notable:
what I like about the 1st half of the Mr. Mojo Risin’ tune,
(even if some wood shoe wearin’ dude from Minny might not)
is the bass riffs, or better, the lack of them. That’s Ray Manzarek and his
ambidexterity tickling a different set of keys with one hand for bass,
and the other for the primary keyboard sounds. That takes some talent,
in this fan’s humble opinion.
As a piano player, I believe you can appreciate that, M.
And L, you just might like this too, as this dying thread inches toward 100, but I have my
doubts it’s going to get there. That brass ring holds no pride for me tho.
I am listening to the Doors and thinking about that movie What Dreams May Come that Robin Williams was in a decade or so ago. A real artsy fartsy production. Ending up with him staying in hell to be with his suicided wife, which was the sacrificial act required to save her.
Meh. You and I could haul this to a hundred, but unless anyone wants to discuss the potential for depression in Jim Carrey, I will wait for a cue from you.
By the way, my kid grew up with Blue’s Clues… has anyone else been tempted to talked about Q’s Clues and sing the little ditty?
I’ll say that I saw some of Carrey’s comedy talent in the early years on In Living Color. Lately tho, I’ve lost interest in him. For Blues Clues, I have no knowledge about that. Good play on words, to link to Qs clues.
Sober over 30yrs here. I’ve lost many along the road. RIP Bobby, Dave, Jerry, Sean, Chris….
If you don’t believe in the disease model and the terminal nature of active addiction, stay sober long enough and you’ll bury some friends.
To the author, hindsight is always 20-20 and if you acted out of love no one can fault you. I made numerous attempts to help my best friend but in the end the dope got him. So know that even if you’d dragged his ass to detox and meetings he might still have ended the same. It’s not up to us. God bless and thanks for the story.
Thank you, Tom. I appreciated your comment very much. I may not have your depth and breadth of experience in this but some of my humble actions today include being a mentor for my county. Some of my duties include assisting youth facilities, treatment centers, and the jail, in setting up meetings where addicts (both alcohol & opiate) and can speak to other addicts.
My old college roommate’s grandfather was an alcoholic and I understand there is a definite genetic inclination to the disease.
Speaking of connections / ripples in the pond – in Maggie’s post above ( @ January 9, 2018, at 9:42 am), she mention’s Robin Williams. When my old college roommate was in the throes of his sufferings I read an interview where Williams spoke about addiction as a response to pain.
Even non-addicts who have witnessed the devastating consequences of addiction, as well as the benefits of restorative recovery, can understand a few things that, in turn, may be shared with others. Some of these include:
1.) Unless the addict stops using they have one, or a combination, of three futures awaiting them: Insanity, incarceration, and/or death
2.) They reach their “bottom” when they stop digging. This is a choice.
3.) They don’t have to do it alone.
4.) If they, at first, take steps they may not believe, they will soon have experiences they can’t deny.
My condolences on the losses of your friends and thank you again for your kind, encouraging words. It is my hope they will benefit someone else reading this today.
It’s ‘throes’
Also, you make the mistake of ignoring a very important phase called ‘loss of control’. At that point, all volition is gone. Drunks at that stage live to drink and drink to die. While I liked ‘Leaving Las Vegas’ for the zany love story that it is; how many men aren’t looking for a hooker with a heart of gold? The truth is harder to bear.
My idea is that men over a certain age have no business drinking and women of any age have no business drinking. Drinking alcohol is otherwise known as self-medication. Just stop it.
“My idea is that men over a certain age have no business drinking and women of any age have no business drinking. Drinking alcohol is otherwise known as self-medication. Just stop it.”
I believe without the conviviality alcohol provides the world would be a worse place. I also believe Christianity was formed on it. Communion = bread and wine provided by the grace of god plus all the dedicated church females (nuns anyone?). I can only imagine free flowing sacraments by the liter and finding the “spirit”.
“4.) If they, at first, take steps they may not believe, they will soon have experiences they can’t deny.”
“Fake it til you make it” is/was a slogan with utility for me.
Are we at 100 yet? I’m conflicted. I want to put it to bed but don’t know if I can stand another scene where Maggie makes out in the gym, or at the beach or some boy’s dorm room. This is a family site, not Teen Romance. Now put your dance shoes on.
In conclusion, when confronted with a naked chick and one in uniform, go with the one in uniform, T4C and Maggie the WAF have proven this impromtu rule.
El Coyonymous,
I caught and fixed that “throes” soon after I posted my last comment. Some changes don’t propagate to some servers right away, but I’ve noticed they do catch up here at some point.
This thread obtained more comments than I expected, so no complaints.
I read the Leaving Las Vegas book and saw the film years ago. Two other powerful films about addiction include Requiem for a Dream (2000) and Flight (2012).
I found the premise of Leaving Las Vegas without clarity, like a foggy memory of drunken evenings on the beach or in dorm rooms. Did Nicholas Cage just decide at work the day before to buy a shitload of booze and drive out to Vegas and drink himself to death? Did whatshername really dry hump the guy to try to get him to eat some rice and live another day?
I have come perilously close to alcoholism in my life, having lost more old friends, AF comrades and more than one old boyfriend*, not to mention numerous family members to the demon rum. Is one of those quirks that last year, when I had my awakening and cleansing and turned around and bumped into myself… well, I almost completely changed my taste for booze, except the occasional cold beer. It is almost as if my decision to only consume certain types of foods convinced my body all that wine was a bad idea. I now have a store of wine for the first time in my life.
Anyway, I do admire those who quit drinking on purpose, not as a “by the way” on the way to getting healthy.
*the last time I saw the Cuban, we toasted to long ago and then he and a few others toasted and then his wife, a friend from THEN, took his keys and I suspect she and Alejandro left not long after, she driving. All of my stories concerning the Cuban end or begin with someone passing in someone else’s home.
Maggie, obviously romance was out of your league. That wasn’t a ‘dry hump’ as you so infelicitously put it, it’s the thing so many have sung about – dying in a woman’s loving embrace – he literally dies, how cool is that? With Elizabeth Shue, kill me now, Liz, I choose love!
Please don’t ask what dying in your arms meant, but it was just that, sex. The entire story takes place while Michael McDonald sings. In that space of time, you see that Ben’s alcoholism has cost him his wife and family.
He can’t fix that so he decides to end it all in a blaze of boozy glory. When he can’t drink around the clock, he decides to go to a place where the booze flows 24/7. Then he meets a gal who is a doppler for his estranged wife. Wowsah! (I’m still hoping to run into Laura Aguilar, she looks just like my ex-GF.)
Capisce?
It’s an unusual way to tell a story bypassing the crisis and heading straight for the denouement but the movie does that. And it does it again by skipping the usual romantic intros and getting right into moving in together, which is tres modern.
Now you know what happened to The Graduate
The first minute of that LLV clip is a perfect example ego-inflated anger and self-pity. Things didn’t go his way because of his own actions so he burns it all and heads to Vegas to die by booze.
Trivia: The book’s author was an irishman by the name of John O’Brien and the BMW and rolex that Nicolas Cage had in the film were the same as O’Brien’s car and watch. I read somewhere once that when Obrien’s family informed Cage of this he, in turn, told Roger Ebert he found it “creepy”.
Another one from that time.
For El. Cuz you know, just for the halibut.
Sometimes anonymouses sound like El. Other times, they sound like someone else. The “hooker with a heart of gold” and “just stop it”. The choice of music and right-eyed flounder. Interesting. But it is El who is often the spell-check sandinista. Hmmmmnnn. The mystery. I like puzzles.
We could do one of those Mickey Rooney 60 minute skits (sic)…
Sometimes, Anonymous sounds like a certain Stuckenheimer. But other times, Anonymous seems to be a certain EC who sometimes self-identifies and other times, simply leaves a message for Magarita (again, sic) who continues to annoy him by calling him Me Hoe. And then, Rooney continues, there are times when Anonymous just sounds like some Anonymous trying to make a point.
The C mark brass ring is within reach. I shall inch it closer, on the heels of Uncola’s last comment. ‘Flight’ was a pretty good movie. Functional addicts (some) can still perform surprisingly well in their duties, but in the end, they are jammed up and struggle to exit from the hell of their battle, with their substance of choice. I have an old friend who is losing his fight to abstain from Jack Daniels. He’s had numerous interventions by others who care, but it has been futile to try and help him escape. We will get that phone call one day, and it will be sad. To avoid falling into that, I absorb as many encouraging ripples from anyone’s pebble toss into the ponds I float in or watch from shore, and Uncola’s one here is exceptional. When we have something great to share, Send it out with your own personal, creative touch, or just as it is when you received it. It most likely affects way more people in helpful ways than you realize. Thumbsie approval or disapproval counts be damned.
Booze is like fire. It can warm you or burn you depending on the size of the conflagration. But keep playing with it and odds dictate you will get burned. I was rooting for Denzel Washington’s character to get away with his crimes, but he grabbed that bottle off the top of the mini-fridge and by the next morning he was laying beside the toilet with bruises and bleeding wounds. I didn’t understand how he could not have picked up that bottle. I also didn’t understand how he was better off losing his career but being honest at the end. I understand now. Flight is a great movie.
100, I win. EC.
No I didn’t, it was juvenile delinquent.
Well that was a slow creep up the comment-count. I really thought it was about done around the high 80s, low 90s. I actually thought about one post after another – ‘That’s 91’ ‘That’s 92’ until I hit 100 just to laugh at the down-thumbs. But, where there’s a will, there’s an inheritance.
I didn’t think it was going to make it either. Thank you, party people. And I’m told my own comments count as long as they are on topic or in response to other commenters
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Cults and Group-Think Have Destroyed America and Americans – Andrea Iravani
Peace,
Andrea Iravani
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Hopefully, those weren’t Sharpie markers. Otherwise he’d been throwing a little of this in his bath:
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That looks like Zara’s GF gone to town after he passed out on New Year’s. The black cherry lipstick is a dead give away.
With those whiskers it does look Persian.
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It would not surprise me if the Bodacious Barbarella of the Boonies doesn’t show up to ream Underpants for turning TBP into a regular AA meet and greet.
She’s helping Stucky insure the Benz thru Cooter’s bail bonds and pizza palace. Even with 100+ comments she’ll find something to moan about. That bitch ain’t never satisfied.
Nothing wrong with that, Maggita. If this site helps somebody stay off alcohol, great! More added value for the piddling subscription fee.
My son and I read every single book in the Captain Underpants legend. Not proud of it, mind you.
Good gawd Uncoola I’m so proud uh yer. Over 100 on yer own, gawd dammed I never thought it would happen.
Maggie, that must er been the homeliest grouping uh college females ever in the history uh the gawd dammed world if you was the cutest there. I ain’t tryin ter be mean, but good gawd uh mighty yer look like that dwarf on lord uh the rings, and I know about menopausal shit and all that but between you and sturky we got the gangliest oaf and the squattiest dwarf, and El Coyote is that talkin tree, and Admenstruater is Gandolf, and hardscrambled is the Eagles flying high over everbody else, and uncoola is Frodo just tryin ter figure shit out.
How could anyone vote that down! That was fucken awesome!
I certainly could use that axe.
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This is like the comment-string -that-just-won’t-die.
Uncola, you really tapped into some hitherto unknown dark abscess of the psyche. Or is that psycho?
Sometimes, in the fading light of any dying thread, the regulars start playing to the back of the room. A lot of inside baseball stuff going on there. 125 is a nice round number to close it down. Fare thee well. Fare thee well. Until we meet again. Who’s up next? I forget.
Life’s a message in a bottle of spirits. No matter how it’s distilled, or fermented, according to whatever recipe, it’s addictive. Details vary, but that one doesn’t.
Nobody gets out alive. The doors open & the doors close. This addiction vs that addiction, rank ordering the kaleidoscope, doesn’t make much sense, pay any dividends. Perspective.
Forgetful, I remembered your story about skiing and crashing while I was listening to a story about skeleton sledding. I guess I forgot to thank you for that. Life may be a dream but it is nothing without good stories.
EC