Monday, June 4, 2012

The Loss of a Child (Loss, not death!)

In the story of my growing up and maturing, the book Ronin-Cita, I told the humorous tale of a dead wife. The ghost of a memory who turned into a reality once I grew up. I never knew in my wildest dreams of writing through the make believe death of my wife, that I would actually lose a child soon after the completion of the book.

How can one describe that pain. It is not a joke either like in Ronin. I did not lose her to death, I lost her to something so much worse. I lost her to life. Death is easy to deal with and accept on a certain level. But life, that is different. So much different indeed.

I started this current book as a humorous spoof about me and my mini-van that I acquired in Ronin. I never knew that a month later, the tone of my life would change so drastically, that I would still write with humor, but the darkness that accompanied it, would make Luke Magnotta look sane.

To lose a child, Wow, I have seen a lot pain in life, but I have seen a LOT more fun, lol. But this is different. It is not the greatest pain, it is not the longest, or any other summarative adjective. It is simply the most complete however. Some pains have colors attached to them, red-hot, white, or black, but the pain of losing a child is different. It needs no color, for in its completeness, it simply is. Hmmm, kinda like God "I am" - "It is."

But was a warrior, I have to respect it l for it is the perfect strike in its totality. When the enemy strikes you with a knockout blow, a true fighter enjoys it. For you have just learned a weakness in your fight. A true fighter does not fight because it is fun, a true fighter, has fun because he is fighting – there is a huge difference.

So when the enemy strikes you with the perfect blow; a blow that is complete in every conceivable way, it poses a quandary to a fighter. Do you hate him for it, or rather do you love him for it. The choice is not an easy one. For in the end you have to choose between the pain of your loss and your identity. If you choose the pain, you betray who you really are. If you choose your identity, then you deny the pain, and therefore the love you had for that child.

But Me, I have always chose option C in life. So I do here. I look for a way to blend the two into one perfect unit.
In the story of my growing up and maturing, the book Ronin-Cita, I told the humorous tale of a dead wife. The ghost of a memory who turned into a reality once I grew up. I never knew in my wildest dreams of writing through the make believe death of my wife, that I would actually lose a child soon after the completion of the book. How can one describe that pain. It is not a joke either like in Ronin. I did not lose her to death, I lost her to something so much worse. I lost her to life. Death is easy to deal with and accept on a certain level. But life, that is different. So much different indeed. I started this book as a humorous spoof about me and my mini-van that I acquired in Ronin. I never knew that a month later, the tone of my life would change so drastically, that I would still write with humor, but the darkness that accompanied it, would make Luke Magnotta look sane. To lose a child, Wow, I have seen a lot pain in life, but I have seen a LOT more fun, lol. But this is different. It is not the greatest pain, it is not the longest, or any other summarative adjective. It is simply the most complete however. Some pains have colors attached to them, red-hot, white, or black, but the pain of losing a child is different. It needs no color, for in its completeness, it simply is. Hmmm, kinda like God "I am" - "It is." But was a warrior, I have to respect it l for it is the perfect strike in its totality. When the enemy strikes you with a knockout blow, a true fighter enjoys it. For you have just learned a weakness in your fight. A true fighter does not fight because it is fun, a true fighter, has fun because he is fighting – there is a huge difference. So when the enemy strikes you with the perfect blow; a blow that is complete in every conceivable way, it poses a quandary to a fighter. Do you hate him for it, or rather do you love him for it. The choice is not an easy one. For in the end you have to choose between the pain of your loss and your identity. If you choose the pain, you betray who you really are. If you choose your identity, then you deny the pain, and therefore the love you had for that child. But Me, I have always chose option C in life. So I do here. I look for a way to blend the two into one perfect unit.

Monday, February 13, 2012

A new Chapter

So today we wrote a new chapter in "Ronin" our upcoming book. It is entitled "gravity" and is about some thoughts of the angel in the story, Clarence.

Gravity
(Written 1/18 – 1/19/12;; edited 1/24/12)
He was a true warrior this one, but he had become the wolf. How else could the boy escape the pain? How else could he escape the pain, that the he had surely felt? The pain of a bleeding heart such as his, that absorbed all the pain it saw in the world?
How could Clarence blame the boy? The boy, whom he looked down upon in equally proportionate measures of love and pity. The wolves that had terrorized him had dragged him down in a whirlwind of gravity that the angel could understand.
It was the reason that angels in pictures had wings. Because how else could they fly? How else could they escape the vortex of downward thoughts that entrapped man? The gravity of his own self-doubt and loathing?
These humans in their nature lived in a duality that angels like Clarence did not have to endure. Angels looked upon the face of God day in and day out. It was their world, it was all they knew and loved.
Even in times of trouble, when they helped the humans behind the scenes, it was not the humans they saw. It was manifestations of the creator’s face that they saw. It was all they ever saw. It is what kept them holy.
He thought of the example of an airplane. The law of gravity was the strongest force in the known physical universe of man. It was absolute. What goes up, must come down. Yet according the laws of aerodynamics, man was able to defy this law. Birds could defy it, but only for brief periods of time.
People gave credit to their shape, but that was not really it. The real trick was that they had to work. They had to stay in motion. If at any time they stopped moving, or stopped holding their wings out while gliding, they would fall to their doom.
Man needed fuel. He never actually flew, he simply put off falling.
His aircraft could not fly without powerful rocket boosters that gave artificial power to him. Artificial power, because it was neither eternal nor limitless. Gravity never ran out, but the fuel tanks that flew his ships would eventually. He would fall eventually.
He had to stay in his plane while flying. It was only there that he was safe from falling. If he were to step outside, he would be stepping into his physical demise.
That is what made angels special, why people thought they had wings. It was because they never fell. They did not need artificial means to avoid the downward spiral of negativity. They were immune from the spiritual maladies that afflicted man and caused him to think downward thoughts and die. They could not fall, because they never looked down.
The only force attracting them was that of the creator who they gazed upon constantly. It was their fuel; it was their safe ship that would never run out of fuel. They had not need for rockets; theirs was the ultimate creative power of the universe.
Humans, like the boy who lie dying alone in the dead of a ditch, could see God’s face, but only through prayer. It was so much harder for them, and in that time they did not feel the spiritual effects of gravity on their soul. They felt full of love and grace.
They were not afflicted by the spiritual maladies of wrath, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy and gluttony. They were both uninfected and unaffected, by the spiritual poisoning of gravity.
When one with their God, they could fly as the angels could, above the sorrows of their gravitational existence. The existence which kept them tied to the ground, always looking down, instead of up. Always trying to get up the hill, while thinking downward thoughts.
There was of course, Lucifer who had looked away from God once. One, who on the high wire ahd made the dreadful mistake of looking down. Resultant of it, he became the spiritual infection that plagued the humanity below. The original to fall, he created the gravity that pulled man down.
Clarence and company however, provided men the lift they needed, as men were open to it. But poor humanity. How hard must it be for them to keep their eyes on the prize. Poor humanity, thought Clarence. By their every nature, it was not possible to eternally gaze upon the Creator, the way that Clarence was able to.
Of course, he had come to them in many forms. He had even become manifest as a Carpenter’s son, so that he could enter their world, and make it possible for them. In a physical form, they could never look upon him without ceasing.
However, he could live inside of them. He always had, but by becoming incarnate in flesh, they were able to see it. They were able to believe it. Even in times of weakness, they could always fall back to the power that he had showed them inside of themselves.
In this way wondered Clarence, were they not even above the angels? It was truly awesome as it was to gaze upon him all day long. The humans on the other hand, literally had access to the unadulterated power of his heart at any given moment. The downside of course, was that they had to fight to access it.
After all, the Creator was not stupid. He would give them access only to his power, but never control. It was Clarence’ job to help the boy, who lie dying alone in the dead of a ditch, to know how to use this properly. Because looking down at the boy who had silly thoughts of hocking his soul, in hopes of revenge, Clarence knew that he would need it.