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Friday, January 15, 2016

Unfortunately, I can see


"My secret is that I need God- that I can no longer make it alone. I need God to help me to give, because I no longer seem able to give; to help me be kind, for I no longer seem capable of kindness; to help me be able to love, as I am beyond being able to love. " - Douglas Copeland




     Once in a while, you are able to get a glimpse into this notion, known simply as human depravity. An unfiltered, purified stare. Some of us, however, are blessed (or cursed, depending on your point of view), with the ability to see beyond the here-and-now, the mundane, the superficial - not just once in a while, but continuously, always, in every circumstance. I'm one of those. I just can't turn that switch off. I remember complaining as a child- "I cry too much. I'm too much of a softy, I just wish I could stop feeling and isolate my heart so I can be like all the other boys. I want to be tough like them." Mom looked at me, an answer already prepared- "Don't you ever, ever, ever try to kill your heart. God made you this way, and it matters. It matters that you can feel what others can't."

It was a very hot day, not just due to the sunny June weather, but it was the kind of hot where two people are so entrenched in their anger towards one another, that all they feel is the pop and crackle of the negative energies thrown at one another. I wasn't expecting my life to change that day, nor was I intending to take it the way I did. Maybe I can eloquently explain what happened, and how I processed it, maybe I can't. Two minutes ago, I was just researching the technical specifications of Mobil 1 Synthetic oil- I had no agenda when I sat down to make this post. Anyways, here goes, without telling too much: A client of ours was insane, and irate. The job was completed, but the little strings we had to tie up began to lead to a much bigger rope that the client was trying to tie around our collective necks. She seemed like such a nice lady, too. One last time, I agreed to meet with her, to take care of one or two more minor issues she kept dreaming up, and then we'd get full payment. Looking back, I could've done a much better job at keeping control out of her hands, and to better position our policies in a way to provide automatic protection from cases like this, but hindsight is always 20\20, so they say. We arrived at the client's residence, only to find her in hiding, "so angry with you that she never wants to speak with you again" - that were the words given by her equally insane fiance, who showed up instead. I still remember what handgun I was so shocked to see, a Glock 23, outside the waistband holster, on his right hip... black, all black, blacker than the evil in his heart. Insults were thrown our way, and what was intended to be one last olive branch to salve the wounds created when a friendship turns business related, and then goes completely south- well, it was a complete dog and pony show. Two in the chest, one in the head, empty the mag in his torso after that. Keep firing until it's empty, reload, keep firing. Fresh out of an excellent conceal and carry class, I had only carried a firearm for about a month prior to this situation, but the training paid off. All I could think of is winning the fight- I knew I'd die: he's go a fullsize .40, mine was a subcompact 9mm; I had 8 rounds before I had to reload, he had at least 16... plus at that range, there's no way he could miss. He dies, my crew lives, he dies, my crew lives, he dies... Thankfully, they also train you how to avoid conflict during circumstances like this, and the fires of wrath burned down to simmering coals, and we were able to walk away with nothing more than extremely high blood pressure.

     I wasn't ready to die that day. Not for the reasons that transpired- I was 21, playing the role of a fast-rising CEO, living solely for my own empire: greatness in and of itself is something highly treasured, but greatness simply because I wanted to be great was the wrong path, and when someone brings a gun to you and you begin to see what you're dying for, but more importantly, what you're living for, that's what shook me. I finally saw it- I pulled back the curtain, had an "aha!" moment- use whatever cliche you want - but this was the beginning of the end for this chapter in my life.

So the story keeps going, with many more pages to fill- but unfortunately, I can see. I can see the big picture, I can see why that guy over there shouts so much, to let us all know that he's really, really insecure, never shown how to lead men, never shown how to be a man, so he puffs himself up to do man things. I can see why she always resorts to anger, the heart of a little girl in a woman's body, actually crying out, wondering why her father never loved her, why her mother treated her so. I don't know where to go with this, but at that moment I knew I needed to stop running- I saw what Douglas Copeland wrote - I saw my own depravity, my own twisted nature, my own utter helplessness. This wasn't new, but the experience was something that cut far deeper than anything else. Unfortunately, I can see those things. It's very inconvenient, being in such close contact with your heart. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

1 comment:

  1. Keep writing. I can't wait to see what you write next.

    ReplyDelete