“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them — words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a tellar but for want of an understanding ear.â€
― Stephen King, Different Seasons
I really do wish there was a soundtrack for my life besides the one that played in my head. Â Call me what you will but sometimes I wish that when I entered a room everyone would hear the theme to Raiders or The Imperial March.
Maybe that is crazy, egotistical or something else but sometimes I think about it because it is fun.
We’re on the cusp of Passover and I am lost in thoughts about seders past and people who are no longer here. I am stuck in moments from the past while I look towards the future and trying to figure out what made those moments so memorable.
Who Accepts Us?
The story of Passover is about freedom but not just the physical kind, it includes the mental too. Don’t worry, this isn’t a post where I am going to preach or witness to you, it is just trying to share some thoughts with you.
Because very few of us have people in our lives who we believe/feel accept all of us for who we are…unconditionally. So we operate in a sort of slavery to social conventions and dictates that we often refuse to break.
Sometimes it is important to not step out of line because to do so would cause more harm than good and sometimes it is the best thing we can do. Sometimes our freedom from slavery comes the moment we say fuck it I am going to take a shot at doing XYZ because it is what my heart requires.
Boring People and Boring People
Change the emphasis there and you can move from being the person that serves as a cure for insomnia to a description of other people. I think about this often because I don’t want to be the person who is the substitute for Ambien.
But I also don’t want to be the guy who is like everyone else because it is easier to get along when you go along. And of course as a writer/marketer I have professional reasons not to be boring.
So it is important to me on multiple levels to do what I can to not be boring.
Everyone Has A Story
I suppose it is part of why I try to ask people to tell me their story. Most people like to talk about themselves so when you give them an opportunity to do so it is a way to help build connections and to prevent them from thinking you are boring.
Unfortunately it doesn’t necessarily mean that you won’t find them boring, but those are the breaks.
And of course listening to someone tell their story is often interesting and a good way to stimulate ideas for stories to write. Truth really is stranger than fiction.
What I often find interesting about trying to get these stories out of people are how many tell me about what they really want to do and how they are doing something else until they can figure out how to do what they really want to do.
And that my friends is enough fodder for the midnight hour.
“There are no safe paths in this part of the world. Remember you are over the Edge of the Wild now, and in for all sorts of fun wherever you go.â€
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit
Stan Faryna
Freedom is purchased at great cost. It comes with great responsibility. It travels a trail of tears and a long road of hope.
I find it interesting that both the Passover and Easter story teach us this about Freedom – when we would like to imagine freedom as a license for doing whatever makes us feel good.
That reminds me of the Gorillaz song, Feel Good.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pw8PpYBiDsc
Johnny continues to refuse to accept that I am too far away to visit him on weekends. He refuses to consider the thousands of miles of ocean and land between us. He is sure that I have unwritten him in my heart. Sometimes, he wonders if I’m angry with him and he says he’s sorry for whatever it is. Sometimes, he says he hates me and doesn’t want to talk to me on the phone. His mother encourages Johnny to close his heart to me.
All the toys in the universe would not make amends. My only ammunition is prayer. And if you suspend pity and empathy, prayer seems an unfortunate and untenable refuge.
On Saturday, I attended a cousin’s wedding and the minister reminded us of Christ’s first miracle – turning water into wine at a wedding party. The wine had run out and his mother pressed him to make his first public miracle. Christ was reluctant to do so, but he honored her and kept the party going. Actually, the guests commented that his wine was the better wine. With a smile, I like to imagine someone danced on a table as they saluted the bartender from Galilee.
Everyone has a story, a heart, troubles, joys and dreams. And it needs to be told – just as the who’s of Horton’s whoville had to sound off.
You remind us to tell it, Jack.
Jack
Hi Stan,
I am sorry about the rough patch with Johnny. It is really hard when our kids are upset about things that are beyond our control. We do the best we can and hope that between that, life experience and their maturity they begin to understand why things are as they are.
Some of the stories we share here might be things that help the kids too.