Ten years ago today, I celebrated the vivacity of my mother among beloved friends and family. Her passing was the launch of a new journey for me, and her salute was a North Star imbedded in my heart for the remainder of my days.
One year ago today, a man, with whom I was falling in love, ended his life. It was the unveiling of a new perspective on how I approach reality, and an experience I’ll never discount.
Heavy shit, yes, but…
Today, because of the ten and the one, I declare myself zero. An integer, a real number, that’s neither negative nor positive. It just is. The direction I choose to head from here is my call.
I tend to err on the snarky, sarcastic – gasp! – pessimistic side. To be frank, it’s a coping mechanism. A damn funny, witty coping mechanism, and one that feeds my performing artist ego. But, at times, it’s bitten me in the ass. Hard.
It goes without saying that this week has been one of reflection. There’s been journaling. There’s been tears. There’s been whiskey. There’s been cigarettes (gasp!). But you know what there hasn’t been? Despair. Drama. Depression.
This fact alone adds an infinite number of points in my favor. It proves a theorem I’ve been toying with for days, which is that when I simply decide, and then act, the energy around me becomes less vacuous and more electrified. It becomes positively charged.
I believe this was my mother’s main intention with her words and example; she wanted the bleakness of her prognosis to yield a result more uplifting and encouraging than anything we could imagine. I also posit that KP hoped for the same with his art; he wanted his work to breathe a life of its own, provoking thought and exemplifying the beauty of an occasionally bleak world, especially for after he left it.
October 25th will never be a downtrodden day for me. It’ll forever be my opportunity to reset, to course correct.
To remember that hitting zero’s restorative and life affirming. Thank you, PMDM and KP.