Sunday Morning Thoughts: 12.24.17

As I write, Santa Claus, allegedly, is traveling around the world to deliver goodies to all the nice boys and girls. People have fallen asleep in the arms of someone they love. Warm beds, full bellies and anticipated joys to come when the sun rises.


Someone just died of a heroin overdose. Someone else is drunk, sad and alone. People are hurt, raped and killed. There are people working in jobs they hate. At this very moment. But everyone already knows that.

The holiday season suicide thing is bullshit, though. Evidently, vastly more people off themselves in the spring. According to the folks who keep statistics of such things.

Yet, I do not aim to bring you down, despite what my opinions for the Christmastime consumer frenzy. I would like, if possible, to be uplifting whilst still realistic. A folly perhaps. We shall see.

So, I don’t know if you have ever seen someone overdosing. I have. A few times. And though tragic it is that substance abuse kills, the far wilder thing is when those souls chemically set for demise, are saved. With opioids, they’ve got a nifty little antidote type thing. A few hits of that, a big gasp, perhaps some vomit and moaning, but from blue in the face, back to life. It’s not like when plain ol’ CPR and a few well placed electrical shocks bring back a ticker that had stopped ticking. The return from that beyond seems messier.

The overdose is, usually, an escape. Or the drug itself is. And the overdose is the escape going farther than the body can handle. So, when this ‘wonder’ drug cuts off that high, those folks are back in the world they meant to escape. Some are sad. Some are angry. Some end up getting their next fix as soon as they’re released from the hospital.

And such means are but one of the ways the human mind seeks itself free from where, and what, and how it is. Meditation, violence, sex, music, arts, travel, language and its manipulation… all sorts of ways. Different strokes for different folks.

Perhaps it is not constant, or overwhelming, or even noticeable, but the chances are if you hold sentience here on Earth, efforts are made in order to get away from whatever life holds.

And as every philosopher, famous or otherwise, always vaguely asks… why?

You would think this would be a limited trouble to those downtrodden and misfortunate, but depression is rampant all over. Well adjusted, successful, family orientated folks are just as capable of being miserable. Of feeling hopeless. Trapped. Etc.

It could very well be that happiness, or peace of mind, may be impossible. Or the path, not the destination. The nirvana, or what have you, is a process and not a place. Or that it is all just a fantasy.

Yet people bet their lives on finding something, anything, that can bring their mind to ease. I know I do. In many ways, though not any that I would deem irreversibly damaging. But the itch is there, and there are times that it appears to be total insatiable. Other times, it doesn’t seem all that bad.

But here’s the thing about getting away from some part of your life- You can’t. Your life is yours, as mine is mine. And as far as any of us beasts can tell, this is the only one that we’ve got. In the grand scheme of things, our lives mean little to nothing. We don’t mold stars or form planets. We don’t live long enough to read enough books, let alone shape the universe. But our lives mean something to us. The people living them. Even if we choose to see them as meaningless. And some of us either have the fortune or misfortune of having our lives mean something to someone else. Family, friends, lovers, enemies, etc.

So whatever part of our life we wish to run from can always follow us. Though that does not mean that it cannot be dealt with.

You can accept your deal. Come to terms with circumstances and learn to live within those parameters. Addicts and amputees can learn to live a life after what ever horror that has happened upon them. They learn to grow from a new point.

If acceptance isn’t right for you, you may have to face down the woes of existence. Which I can dig. I myself, am that way. At least thus far.

But you don’t have to run away. You can make the good from the bad. Or at least break even.

And if you’re really into the whole Holiday spirit shtick, invest a bit of your own life for someone else. Someone who needs. You don’t have to be a medic working overnight on Christmas Eve, though the world needs such humans. It can be as simple as paying attention. Laughing or listening. A hug, or some space. Honesty. Silence. And so on. Each situation calls for something different, but to think that nothing can be done for yourself or anyone else will do nothing to help us along to finding that mythical answer to that big, looming ‘why’. And it need not be only in the season of eggnog and tinsel. In fact, in can’t be. It has to be all the time. The whole year. Because remember, more folks choose suicide in April than Christmas. But there isn’t a month, or day, or year where something like that doesn’t happen. And all the other terrible goings on.

So that’s that, for now. I aim to be in the world changing game, to whatever degree I end up being capable. But for now, I shall retire. It’s 3am on Christmas. I had best get some sleep. Yuletide and such can be exhausting.

Cheers. Have a merry and so on. Do your best. It is all any of can ever hope to do.

I can’t be too much of a Grinch. I did watch both Die Hard and Die Hard 2 tonight.

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