Discontent is a poison the human spirit concocts in a suicidal attempt at realism.
And with that, good morning, Coffee Lovers. I'd like to begin by apologizing for the lack of a post on Thursday and Sunday. I was sick and then in California. But I'm here now for this Thursday's important notice.
I want to address poison. I don't just want to write ABOUT it; I want to write TO it. Just as the body fails, slowly or quickly, quietly or violently, when poison is let loose in the veins, so, too, does the soul fail in its varied tasks when discontent and daily warmongering against the self and all the other selves belonging to other people overtake the fragile arteries of the mind.
So, to you, Discontent: go away. I've opened wide the gray door that leads in here and in you have traveled, or perhaps I crafted you from disappointment and confusion. Regardless of your origin, you have stayed far too long here, in my mind. And I am respectfully requesting that you quietly leave me in peace now.
If not, if indeed you persist in your darkness and malcontent, well - it means war. With a sack of swords given me by those who love me, with armor I have made in my fragile two hands, I will unmake you. I will smile past you, compliment past you, dance past you, laugh and love and sing and write past you. Discontent, winter is ending, and so you, too, must bow to spring. I choose to be roseate like the first flowers of May; I choose to glow like that distant and ever-nearer ball of fire that defies the darkness of our Universe. I choose no frost to be a part of me; freeing myself from ice, I rise beyond you and your unnecessary, inhuman tears.
I spent this weekend in Berkeley, California and then in San Francisco with some of my favorite people in the world. Sitting, looking out at the ocean as the sun sunk to purple extinguishment with my friend Shreya (http://stayepic.blogspot.com), I remarked how good, simple, necessary it felt to be perfectly and peacefully happy.
There is something about the ocean which understands those on her border, accepts all of their sorrow and banishes it to her depths, where it is sung out by whales and made beautiful. It was in the realizing of this, in the realizing that there is so much that is greater than me, that I settled into a peace I have not known for many, many months.
May you find the ocean this week, or the week after. May your wait be short, your peace be long.
And: may you rage with all the ferocity you can muster against discontent, always.
May your coffee be strong, your passions electric, and your laughter easy.