Not an Oracle

It begins with a sensation.

Like a fist to the stomach, an ice cold bath, a paper cut. Sharp and fast.
I'm standing at the top of the stairs and the sensation arrives, swift and direct, and the blood surges through my veins like lava and yes, I am ready to erupt. I am standing at the top of the stairs and the overwhelming urge to throw myself down its short flight of twenty steps grips me. Yet, these steps are not cushioned with linoleum or carpet, these are hard, cold concrete slaps and I want my skull to greet each one with a sickening crack. I want my bones to twist and snap and bend and break. I want my spine to shatter like peanut brittle. I want to feel each moment as I break and lose my shape. I don't want to recognise the reflection.

I've been here before.

Standing on the curb edge, waiting for the three tonne lorry to pass. Imagining what it would feel like to marry my flesh to it's hot metal. Or walking by the river, I wonder what it would be like to try to swallow it whole. The bubbles escaping from the corners of my mouth as I submerge further. I let it all in. Sinking deeper into the abyss.

Yet, it is fleeting. As quick as the sensation takes hold, it releases me from its clasp. Offering me a moment to look inside the cacophony of madness. It's like looking inside a large shell. The softest whisper is transformed in to a vibrating pulse that can not be escaped. It rings in your ears and the claws slide in.

And then it's gone.

Like a hypnotist snapping his fingers, his volunteer is brought back from the trance. He may be slightly dazed, bewildered even; what did he just experience? He's not quite sure but he knows it was fraught with danger. There's a relief afterwards. Thank god that's over with. Whatever that sensation was, whatever it meant, it's done with. Except as the willing volunteer stands up from the hypnotist's chair, he realises that he was not so willing after all and he's signed a contract with that sensation now. As sure as the sun rises each morning, that sensation is set to return.

It's a strange feeling when you come to the realisation that nothing will ever be the same again. We might think things are constant, we might even indulge in the same fruitless activities day in and day out with the preconception that it's ALWAYS THE SAME. But it's not. Somewhere, clock hands are turning, seasons are making their small changes daily, cells die and replicate. They are all making their subtle changes. As are we.

As I sit here on a cold Sunday in July, listening to the rain which hasn't ceased all day and Beach House's 'Apple Orchard' on repeat, I realise that I'm clambering to hold on to the things I've lost. Those seemingly endless hours of youth where adulthood felt as though it was an alien life-form living in a far off galaxy.

This was the moment the mild epiphany (if you can really call it that) occurred.

And you will have to forgive me for indulging in one or two clichés here, but sometimes they convey the idea in the simplest manner. Why spend time looking backwards when it has no use anymore? The past is the place we have come from but it sure isn't where we are going (unless time travel is discovered to be a reality). It's like being stuck in mud and you're facing the wrong way. You are not able to see any of the opportunities in front of you because you're fixed in one position, looking in the wrong damned direction!

I guess, I am a creature of habit and there's a certain security in looking at the past. It can't have any immediate effect on you. It's all over and done with and all you have to show for it is are a few fragmented memories, a bunch of scratches and scars and a little/infinite knowledge firing its way around inside of your skull. We may have collected all these things from the past and carry them around with us on a daily basis but there is no point in utilising them only to study how they were obtained back in the past and they may not even serve any purpose in the years ahead. However, one thing's for sure, the things coming at you, from this illusive concept we know as 'the future' sure can.

I will be frank.

- There are days when you don't wake up because you haven't slept all night.

- You've lost track of what day/month/year it is and all you can feel is a sense of dread as you try to systematically recall what day it was yesterday.

- You wonder if the thud in your chest is caused by your heart beating or your soul trying to escape.

- You find yourself going through the motions despite not knowing how you got from point A to point B because you were internally scolding yourself for not sleeping last night. This is then proceeded by you being mad at yourself for 'self-scolding' because you know it can't be helped.

- You successfully manage to make it out of the door and you wonder 'now what?' and 'is this it?' The best questions seem to consist of two or three words. Each word resembling an injection of antifreeze, a piano falling on your head, a second lost.

- You try to conclude whether you are 'wasting time' or 'losing time' and what the difference is between the two.

- You realise that these were some of the thoughts plaguing your bed the previous night so you try to distract yourself.

- You read a newspaper but each story takes you from one horror to the next and you scour the pages attempting to find something they call 'good news' but you're suddenly at the obituaries and it all seems crystal clear now.

Breaking out of the habit is the hardest thing you can do. Leaving the comfort and safety of what you already know is not an easy feat. But this is the only way to truly live; to drink up the new and open your arms to opportunities before they perish on the vine. Grow wise and be cautious but walk on that ledge and immerse yourself in the sights. The bright, bright lights and the biting breeze. The raw freedom that comes with taking a risk.

This is how life should be.

Shatter your preconceptions and never assume anything. Never take anything for granted and love like it will never last. Because it never will. Celebrate the small things and take time to look up at the stars and the sun and the moon because the answers come when we tilt our heads upwards. Connect your feet to the ground and walk wherever you can. Make that connection between your body and the land, like it was always meant to be. Be outside and live outside of yourself. The truth will come to you that way. Stretch away anything that holds you back and learn to let things go.

That is how it needs to be.

'Give me life. Give me pain. Give me myself again.' - "Little Earthquakes" - Tori Amos (1991)

'I'm so happy because today I've found my friends. They're in my head.' - "Lithium" - Nirvana (1991)


This won't be another tirade about managing to make it to the end of the day. Nor will it be an excessive list on survival tips. Instead, this will be about waking up each day and knowing that you're still alive and functioning... Barely. However we'll choose to focus on the operative word here: 'functioning'. From this point, it's uphill. A rucksack ladened with enough bricks to build a small house is firmly strapped to your back. Your feet are covered in red-hot weeping wounds which are sandpapered down to the bone by a pair of uncomfortable shoes. Your chest is caught in a pulsating death-grip by a python the size of a swimming pool and you can barely make out where you are going through bleary eyes.

But you're alive, you made it to this point and you tell yourself that you can get through it. One day at a time, one hour at a time, one minute at a time and hell, if needs be, one second at a time. Sometimes you stumble and sometimes you can't find the words. Those are the bad days. When the words won't come and you end up resembling an inarticulate ventriloquist dummy and wonder if people notice. You know that they notice.

It's like you're caught in perpetual exorcism with yourself trying to free your mind from those entities that clog and perverse the functions of a normal, healthy brain. 'But that's okay' you tell yourself. What 'doesn't kill you makes you stronger,' right? It's about feeding yourself moments of hope. It's about having the shield up when those arrows come at you from all directions. It's about allowing yourself to run away even if it's in your mind and finding those moments to appreciate a spectacle such as a setting sun or a blinking star.

Sometimes that's all you need.

It's not easy when people expect more from you especially at the point where you feel a little bit triumphant because you've managed to make it through the day without completely losing it. Yet of course they don't see that. You know it's not their fault and you have to suppress the ideas of screaming at them how proud you are that you made it this far. That something that might seem mundane and down-right easy to them is not always that easy for the rest of us. Cut us some slack.

There's a quote from Plutarch that I often think about, 'what we achieve inwardly will change outer reality'. It's a simple concept and yet it's probably one of the most difficult theories to adopt in our everyday life, especially when our instincts may default to pressing the big ol' 'self destruct' button with a furious temper. It starts from within. We have to learn to make friends with those demons and then politely show them the door. Banish the free-fleeting thoughts about what other people might think and look after ourselves. It may sound selfish and self absorbed but battles can not be won when we are still waging war with ourselves.

It doesn't matter that you skilfully performed that famous 'trip dance' when you fell over your own feet in public, hoping that no one would notice or that the old woman who screeched 'I am not an invalid!' when you offered to help her on to the bus the other morning made you feel no larger than a penny. It doesn't matter that you waved to the stranger who you thought you recognised only to discover they were waving to their friend behind you or that your shopping bag split on the journey home, causing apples and potatoes to shoot out in all directions and inevitably forcing you to face the cumbersome decision of letting them roll away forever or scrambling to pick them up in red-faced silence. It doesn't matter that you spent the whole day with your trouser flies down on the same day you decided to wear cartoon alien boxers or that you tried to push the door which had the word 'PULL' in large capital letters plastered on the front of it. It doesn't matter that you found yourself plugged into your headphones and Wilson Phillip's 'Hold On' came on shuffle playing loud enough to be heard on public transportation when you are surrounded by people who are indiscreetly trying to hide the smiles creeping on their faces. It doesn't matter. I don't feel I have been successful in completing my day if I have not sent red-hot-lava-like blood rushing to my face or wanting one of those inexplicable sink holes that you hear about on the news from time to time, opening up beneath me and plunging me into the perfect hiding place. A small dose of humiliation from time to time keeps us humble and keeps us human. Despite the soaring sense of mortification each time I find myself dealing with another 'situation', I don't think I would have it any other way. I like my ego kept in line, thanks.

How do you make sense of things?

I don't.

The idea of trying to make sense of everything is infinitely vast. The void that can never be filled. I attempt to make sense of the things I can but I really believe that the truth is this; 'not much makes any sense'. A lot of what we perceive is nothing more than coincidences and random happenings that resolve in the 'here and now'. However, this is not to say that lessons can not be learned and that there is not room for progression. Maybe the random production of events is all part of a planned outcome.

Who is to say?