The Key to the Kingdom of Infinite Possibilities
This morning when I was in the shower rubbing salt scrub into my legs I thought I had a flash of inspiration. I was thinking about how there is this person I see and I hear his stories, but I can't have a dialogue with him. Which is fine. So the flash was that I can write something to him here. I feel like I did this with him before, but it was done with timidity. Or...I'm scrambling around here. I feel embarrassed to say I thought he might Google me, find the blog, and then read something knowing it was meant for him. I think this makes me look bad. Because I suppose a normal person would not think that way. "I can use my blog to talk to specific people. People who I don't even know know my name." The point being that I wanted to say something about something that concerned him recently. He got terribly ill with the flu-ish situation that was happening. I say it that way, because it was unlike any flu I've ever encountered - if you want my expert opinion - as the owner of a pair of scrubs. I saw him soon after he returned to work and it clearly had a huge impact on him. As someone who is obviously strong I think he was humbled by the experience. When he spoke about it that time I felt a sense of his having survived something tremendous. I also noted I thought he needed to share with his support group as part of the healing process. What I wanted to say was that it was hard for me too. I got sick and stayed sick for over a month, but that part only got bad a few times. What struck me about the illness was the toxicity of it. I began to feel that the planet was purging right around the time we had a bitter snow fall. As if after so many decades of abuse it was releasing poison into the air. I did feel like the cold air outside was poisonous on several occasions. And then I put boiling water into my instant coffee and it fizzed like Alka-Seltzer. I felt like my food supply was dwindling, like everything was going bad. I filmed a video in my room and it felt like I was trying to make contact. I was scared and I looked bad and I felt like a refugee. The illness didn't hit me physically like it did him, but I definitely got hit. When I look at him I feel like I see something in him. There is definitely a story. The way I got hit was by pictures. On one of those snowy nights during the illness I heard a train and I listened to the cars go by. And in the cars I saw dead bodies of men, women, and children. It was a modern version of the Holocaust. I truly felt that some kind of top secret cleansing took place. I imagined a committee deciding who would contribute enough to be allowed to live since we overran the planet. Then there were various techniques administered to solve the problem. When this potentially delusional idea took over I was unable to see it as such. After the storm broke it was hard for me to integrate into the world again. And then a bunch of other stuff happened for me and my attention jumped around. But what I wanted to say to him was, "I know. I understand. I got sick too." Right now I see him in my mind and he's looking at me and he sees some very dark matter inside of me. I can do something with that. He might be thinking, but I don't know. And he's much more deadly serious right now, when he's alone. His brow is furrowed, because he's carefully thinking something through. The joy may come later.