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He (the kid) has been away for eight months. Self imposed exile. Living on a couch, starvation rations and wearing his welcome at the slum house owned by some societal leech and his daughters; welfare and disability. Something snapped inside Tom or maybe he had had enough, more likely, the kid had finally done something to irk the wrath of a loser like Tom. Why would I say that? When he ends a conversation with his mother by saying, “don’t answer the phone if you see this number, it may be Tom and he is raging because of the Prednisone.”.  No, kid, that tells me you done something bad enough to have the misguided soul who sheltered you for these past months, kick your ass out the door.  Prednisone has side effects, raging about a useless kid that won’t get off his ass to find a job, is not one of them.

This could get interesting.

I have become more or less quiet, stress free and set in my routine. Yes, I admit, I am more a creature of habit than I ever wished to admit. I like peace and serenity. Chaos, my old friend, is dead and buried along with the fine white stallion and the shining armour. I believe I have grown up, Sort of. Relatively speaking. Oh bother. Matured maybe. I am stopping there.

It is my hope the kid gets there too, someday. I hope he gets there quickly and he spares himself the 25-30 yrs of turmoil that I put myself through. I understand he cannot learn my lessons or even learn his lessons through my experience. But this is like watching the re-run of a bad movie. I watch and cringe because I KNOW what will happen next. I see the outcome of that choice. I have asked why I need to see this. Why the universe put this youngster in my path? What am I to learn here? How am I to grow through this? Thus far I can only gather that I need to learn patience, compassion and how  better to support the kid’s mother (Kat…aka; My Muse).

I feel, however, that I am having a crisis of faith. I am a firm believer in a set of spiritual principles that guide me through life. They have done so, for the last 15 or more years. When, I say WHEN, I use them. There were times when I did not walk that path and the pain was unbearble. Now, as many of you know, I am not a religious sort. In fact I have certain contrary views on organized religion and their version of God or what is or is not spiritual. Religion is for people that want to get to heaven, spirituality is for people that have been to hell. My crisis? I pray, yep, I pray and the power of prayer is out-friggen-standing. It works, but this time I can’t feel it working. I pray for the boy,I pray he discovers something to believe, I pray he is guided in a direction hat will not harm him. I ask for the willingness to love, tolerate and be patient with him. Then, a minute later I am acting out the “what if’s” or the “if this”,  “if that”, if If IF! In the immortal words of Dennis Hopper as The Photojournalist in Apocalypse Now; “If is the middle word in life”:

And so it is here that I can “if if if” myself into a dilemma. It can be quite discouraging to be here. Meditation, prayer, thinking, being still, living in the moment, nothing, nothing is bringing my mind peace. But then, I really know what’s at work here. It is a battle. Battle?…Battle. Inside. My ego, my pride, my brain…they wish to do battle with my spirit. No no….I have not finally gone off my rocker. It’s not like I have running gun battles in my head. NO….most of the time there is no battle and I kill whatever MoFo by proxy, several times. BANG. Thank God for first person shooter games.

The muse chuckles when she hears….the ratatat of gun-play and I yell…”how you like that…beatch?!?” Great stress relief.

One things for sure. Whether or not anyone reads this. It has been an incredibly cathartic exercise or exorcise, depending how you look at it. For those that pray. Throw one in for me, for those that don’t, send me a good vibe or two. I can use it.