The Drive

Yes and no, success and failure,
anxiety waiting on the cusp of every conversation.
No satisfaction, no complacency,
relaxation a luxury, stemming from burnout.

Where does it come from,
this desire to succeed,
to push further and further?
Satisfaction reserved
for the bigger and better.

Body slumping, slouching, slithering with apathy
when defeat appears,
sweat dripping in anxious rivers
when success suggests new responsibility.

Life fractured, begging reaction,
never able to conclude what is better.
Stagnation and ease,
continued stress and success,
or even a recession to less,
all begging to be pursued.

LawBringer

Looking back, I begin to understand the horrors that were perpetrated. At the time, back when I was in the thick of it, that was not something that I could allow myself to think about. The only thing that I could let my mind dwell on was the next task at hand, the next order to be attended to. I write this now as a last testament to the power of the regime I worked for, and so people know the price that must be paid in order to achieve law and order. 

One of the most vivid memories I have of my time working as a Lawbringer is from early in my career. Lawbringers, at the beginning of their tenures, would typically seek employment from a regional Ruler, and upon working in the employ of a Ruler long enough in order to learn the trade, would often go into self-employment; a far more difficult path, but one that allowed for at least some sense of freedom. While I was not quite fresh meat at this point in my career, I was undoubtedly new blood, and as such, I still worked for a Ruler. This Ruler was something of a dual edged sword, at least in the sense of the people that he was supposed to be serving. In essence, there were two types of people that a Ruler was supposed to take care of – the people that lived in the lands that he ruled over, and the Lawbringers in his employ. Now, as someone working in the employ of Ruler Jonessia, there were very few people in the world, regardless of their wealth or status, who had a more luxurious lifestyle than I did. This, however, was not nearly the case of the people subject to Ruler Jonessia. 

Some Rulers looked upon their subjects as children in need of care, some Rulers saw them as potential dangers that needed to be taken care of with caution in order to protect themselves and some saw the people outside of their strongholds as nothing more than a nuisance to be ignored as much as possible. For each and every Ruler, there was a distinct way of managing the people in their care. For Ruler Jonessia, it was quite brutal. Jonessia saw his subjects as a means to an end – people were the means to the end of wealth. 

There is something that I should mention, in order to dispel any ambiguity that may be present in my statements. While people born into the role of serf were forced to stay on the land they had been born on, those who were blessed with the role of Lawbringer were given the ability to choose which Ruler they would like to work for. Some of the people born into this position chose where they would begin their careers based on the Ruler who oversaw the lands, some based upon the beauty of the land itself, some based on the cultural peculiarities of each land that they might have an affinity for. (Some other classes of people had rights similar to this – merchants could choose which Rulers to strike deals with, Armorers would work for whatever Ruler could guarantee him safety and wealth and the Priestesses would work with the most superstitious Rulers). 

This should dispel the notion that I worked for a ruthless Ruler because I had to. No. I did it because I wanted the benefits that he guaranteed to his Lawbringers. Wealth, comfort, and success at the expense of others. Now, don’t worry, I wasn’t constantly exploiting others for my own sake. Sometimes I would even sacrifice a bit of my own self-comfort in order to make the lives of those serfs a little more bearable. But the story I am about to tell is not about one of those more altruistic moments of mine. 

After being in the employ of Jonessia for a few cycles, I had earned his trust – he knew that, as long as I was guaranteed recompense, I would do what was asked. This was important to establish as a new Lawbringer working for Jonessia. There were more than a few men who had come to serve Jonessia believing that they would have no qualms enforcing brutal and draconian rules if it meant that they would live in luxury, only to find out that they had weak stomachs and could not performs the duties expected of them. Well, now that I had at least a fledgling trust placed in me, I was given my first task that was not just brutal, but was important as well. Often, Jonessia would have his Lawbringers engage in brutal practices just for the pure joy of the brutality – if his serfs were brutalized enough without reason, then they would certainly never engage in activities which would cause the brutality to have a reason. 

At this time, Jonessia had a bit of a spat going with one of the other Rulers whose land bordered on his, Ruler Kasparak. Now, Kasparak was about as different from Jonessia as one could ever be. Kasparak saw it as his duty to foster the success and happiness of his subjects, allowing them to achieve as much as they could on an individual basis. Kasparak prided himself on the motto of his lands; “Aequalis Potestatam.” This message, written in the language of those long dead who valued such things, simply meant “equal opportunity.” This meant that anyone, whether born onto the land or an émigré from another land seeking fortune (if they were lucky enough to be allowed to), would all have the same chance at success and happiness in life. While this was obviously a good situation for those born without the privileges to seek new lands and opportunities, it even seemed to draw people from other lands. To me, the lands of Kasparak were where one went if they wanted to diminish the power of their birthright, but there were still people who came, from all the different regions, to participate in Kasparak’s experimentation of libertarianism. 

Well, as one would assume, the clashing ideologies between Kasparak and Jonessia did not lead to cordial conversations and cooperation. While Kasparak had been engaging in his libertarian policies for quite some time, his ideas were just beginning to spread to other regions, and both the amount and quality of fortune seekers drawn to his land was quickly increasing. Because the lands of Jonessia bordered on the lands of Kasparak, the obvious happened – the people who had been used as a means to an end began to hear of the opportunity just across the border, even though Jonessia did everything in his power to contain any transfer of information, or as he called it, propaganda. Well, with people hearing about a life free of brutality and filled with more freedom than they had ever known, there began to be an exodus of people from the lands of Jonessia. If the classes of people who were born into privilege had been emigrating, while it would have been frustrating to Jonessia, he most likely would not have done much to stop the exodus, for plenty of those in the privileged sections of society sought to be employed in his system of exploitation. However, it was the people that Jonessia relied upon for exploitation that fled to the lands of Kasparak. This is where I came in. 

Like I said before, there were many cases where Lawbringers, like me, engaged in pointless brutality just for the sake of keeping the serfs docile. However, now that I had a reason, I began to get creative. I booby trapped the borders, tortured the families of escapees just to make a statement to people thinking about leaving. Everything was going according to plan, until one day when I was in the middle of chasing a family who had escaped my investigations and were able to get a head start on me. 

Now, once a group crossed the border, I had no legal right to capture the people who had escaped – however, I often disregarded this if they were still close to the border. Well, in this particular instance, I was far too confident that I could capture this family before being spotted by the Lawbringer’s loyal to Kasparak. After getting reasonably deep into the territory of Kasparak, I did begin to get nervous, because even someone as cocky as myself gets nervous when the possibility of capture and torture begin to increase in likelihood. 

As soon as I began to contemplate the possibility of being captured, it happened almost immediately. I was shot in the arm, and taken by the Lawbringers on the other side of the border. Now, even though I had heard plenty of the propaganda that had come out of Kasparak’s lands, and had even seen pictures from the his lands, my understanding of what would happen to a captured Lawbringer would be analogous to the way that I had been treating the people under my rule for the past few years. I could not have been more wrong. After being brought into custody, I was given medical treatment for the wound in my arm, which was absolutely mind-boggling to me. Under the care of Jonessia’s Lawbringers, the wound would have been allowed to fester, perhaps to the point where the whole limb would need to be removed, just for the sake of making the life of a prisoner a bit worse (and for the sake of not wasting resources on an enemy). After receiving treatment, I was put in a cell, albeit one with basic accoutrements, such as a toiled, regular meals, and even basic entertainment. Currently, I am writing this from my cell, and have even been told that I will be allowed to publish my writings, in their entirety, without censorship from those in power. I cannot imagine someone being allowed to write, let alone publish under the rule of Jonessia! 

While I will most likely live the rest of my days out in this cell, and I now truly believe that I belong in this cell, perhaps my writings will help those seeking to make a life for themselves, whether from the privileged classes or from the bottom of societal ranks. I do not ask for forgiveness for the crimes that I committed under the guise of Law, but I do ask that my words not be dismissed simply because they come from the mouth of a criminal. Consider not only the rewards that you seek to reap, but the price that others must pay for you to reap them. 

Walking Contradiction

Standing up, day after day.
thinking one thing and doing another.

Questioning why one side showed itself to others,
the other subsisting on secrecy.
Unsure why one was accepted,
one seen with confusion and scorn.

Shaking hands, smiling,
following society in an odd dance.

Not truly disliking it nor feeling particularly genuine,
success and failure blending together, possessing qualities
worthy of praise and disdain both.

In this odd riddle of life,
constantly engaged in internal battle,
ideals and actions never in alignment, a
Question, floating about, understanding lacking on why
the two facets of life sat separate and in poor harmony.

Did the lack of connection exist as a societal consequence,
or stem from a weakness,
the kind that defines a person?

The misplaced sense of duty,
causing abandoned morals, replaced with practicality.

An ever widening gap, conjuring up the Walking Contradiction,
the ever bewildered Individual.
Scenes, running over and over in our heads,
making perfect and no sense at the same time.

Images, in full HD and color,
spinning behind our eyes,
distracting from the person in front.

Words and phrases, echoing in our ears,
said by people yesterday and tomorrow and a year ago,
constantly following us from place to place.

Dreams, stepping out of slumber,
chasing us through waking hours.
Ambitions, the children of dreams,
driving us, forcing our hands to run over the keys,
our feet over the ground,
our lives over the coals.

Difficulties, from past and present,
dog us daily in everything we do.
These turn life into a challenge,
and without them life turns into nothing,
into something meaningless.

Should the challenge be accepted?
Should life be conquered?
Or should we accept the malaise,
the meaningless of ease?

 

Eastern Washington December Morning

Out of the slumber of night, dawn awakens,
light dripping out over white earth.
Tendrils of sun, grasping like the wizened knuckles
of grandmother, reach out across the snow dusted hills.

Frost, claiming the car as its own, dissipates slowly,
forcing a decision on sleep clouded minds;
show up late to work or get up early and scrape the windshield.

Standing at the stove, making breakfast,
warmth from the electric stovetop
clashing with cold window drafts.
Hands warm with cooking,
cheeks cold from staring out the window,
the disparate temperatures oddly comforting.

A magazine, filled with other people’s opinions,
two eggs, a hot cup of coffee and
a dirty tablecloth.
These welcome the new day.

The drive to work,
radio waves echoing inside the car.
The drive, peaceful in the mountains,
frustrating in the town.
Thick fog, a fluffy white cape,
dresses up the cascades.

The car pulls into the parking lot,
two minutes after eight,
the three usual suspects smoking their morning cigarette,
the smoke indistinguishable from frosty breath.

I walk inside, the day begins.

Transplanted

Transplanted, one edge of the country to another
Looking for meaning, through many different avenues.
Is the truth I look for to be found in work?
Is it to be found living in community?
Is it to be found in solitude?

The meaning I seek,
Sometimes elusive, sometimes close,
Never completely out of reach,
never totally understood.

Meaning to be found in new people,
in new areas of the country,
in new struggles and new triumphs.
Or is it in all the places I left?

Cold

As the sun began to peel over the snow-capped hills, the morning air bites through the cracks and holes in the trailer. The dual combo attack of cold and sun finally reaches through the fog of sleep and drags us, somewhat unwillingly, into the conscious world. A steamy shower and a hot cup of coffee push back the tendrils of frost, warming our fingers and face for the coming day.

Mental Illness

The other day, I was working at a community mental health center in eastern Washington, and it was my turn to teach the lesson for that day. In these lessons, we are allowed a large amount of free reign, and on this day I decided that I would start the day by asking each of the participants what they were grateful for.

Before going into what was said, I think it would be helpful to give a little background. The group that I lead is one comprised of adults, most over the age of 40. Some of the held manual labor jobs, some were criminals, some were lower management and some are severely mentally disabled and unable to hold a job whatsoever. What is interesting, however, is that they all come to this group for the same reason – so that they can improve their mental health. While it is partially from the lessons that these clients hope to improve their mental health, I believe that the most significant gains come from the simple fact that these clients are in a safe place, away from the usual dangers and triggers that the rest of the world almost constantly throws at them. The vast differences in their life experiences is something that, when I began, I thought would create a gulf between the clients, causing them to focus on what made them different and not on the things that they had the same.

What really caused me to pause on this day was when we started with our gratitude journal. Every day, before beginning the lesson that I had planned for the day, I start with a gratitude journal, asking the clients to tell me one thing that they are grateful for since the last time that we met. The answers usually are about family, the people who take care of them, football or their animals. While these are all good answers, they can become a little routine. This day, however, one of the clients stated that he was grateful for his mental illness. Not only was this a very unusual answer, but it was one that took a significant amount of introspection. Before I had a chance to ask this client more about what he meant, the statement was met with quite a bit of resistance by many of the other clients in the group. Everyone else had a very understandable distaste for their mental illnesses, as they had the understanding that it was these illnesses that caused their difficulties in life, and were the reason that they needed assistance in their lives.

After listening to their statements of doubt, I asked the client who had stated that he was grateful for his mental illness why that was the case. He gave no reason – he said that he did not know. A bit disappointing, isn’t it? Perhaps, however, it is better this way, at least for you and me. While it would be a bit too much to state that we all have some form of mental illness, I do not believe that it would be inaccurate to say that we all struggle with some form of inner demon. Depression, anxiety, addiction, whatever it may be, there is some struggle that we will have to grapple with, and this struggle against our demons can cause us quite a bit of pain; can cause us to resent those demons. What if, however, we learned, like the client, to be grateful for these demons, even without knowing why?

Addiction

While working with a demographic heavily populated by underserved sections of society, such as Latinos, Native Americans and people suffering from addiction, I came to the realization that I may have a very unique set of skills that I can use to assist the clients with the issues that they are facing. In my freshman year of undergrad, I began using opiates and benzos recreationally. At a point towards the end of this first year, it got to the point where it was not recreational anymore, and was becoming a hamper to my life. During the summer, I found a stash of Xanax and OxyContin, which I started abusing heavily. At one point, I overdosed and blacked out for 36 hours. Due to this, I had to go to the emergency room, where it was stated that I would be fine and that I was just a college kid who had made a mistake experimenting. When I was told this, I latched onto it and used it to tell myself that I really did not have an issue, that it was just a mistake and nothing more. I stopped using pills after this, which allowed me to lie to myself for quite a while that I did not have an issue with addiction. Since then, however, I have come to realize that I stopped using not because I didn’t have a real issue, but because my family was incredibly supportive, and provided me the strength that I needed in order to conquer my addiction. In the last few months, however, I have come to realize that it was much more than a mistake, and that it would have been far more accurate if I had been told that I had an addiction problem. This realization has come to me because of the interactions that I have been blessed enough to have with some of my clients. If I had not had the support of my family, which has been the case for more than a few of my clients, I truly believe that I would not have realized that I was circling the drain of addiction, until I was too far down to make an effective change. I wish that I did not have this addiction in my life, that when I get hurt, I could be given the same medication as everyone else and not have to deal with the pain, that I did not have to worry about how I will respond the next time a situation arises where I have the choice between using and staying strong.

At the same time, however, I believe that being given the opportunity to conquer addiction, and actually doing so, has been one of the biggest blessings of my life. It showed me that I could stand up to addiction and prevail. In addition to a blessing in disguise, I also believe that it is a life experience that I can use to help clients now, as well as far into the future, showing them, just by my mere presence, that addiction is not an unstoppable monster. Before having this issue in my life, I had many aspirations in which direction I wanted to take my psychology degree, all of which are still present. Working with the elderly is something that I would be great at, and is also a demographic that is distressingly underserved. Studying the connections between physical and mental activity, and how physical activity can be good for mental processes is also something that I have a strong interest in. In the midst of all these desires, being given the opportunity to serve an indigenous population and to serve those with addiction and at the same time learning more about myself along the way has opened my aspirations much further. I wish to continue working with populations that are regularly shunned by society at large, whether that be the elderly, indigenous peoples, people struggling with chemical dependencies or those who are suffering from severe and persistent mental illness. This work is something that is not only necessary, but also something that is closely tied to who I am.

Contradictions

From the morning moon to the evening sun, we can see contradictions in every beginning and ending, in every person and in a surprising amount of our own actions. When the beginning is the same every day, however, we notice nothing, placing ourselves into a routine. Sometimes, this is necessary in order to give our lives structure, while at other times it does nothing but kill our sense of variety and excitement for the new things in life. The interplay between the need for structure and the need for variety is something that permeates every area of life – some people need more of one and less of the other, a struggle personalized to each and every individual on the planet. Going too far to one end causes stagnation, while going too far in the other direction engenders chaos. What is interesting is that certain individuals need something approaching a guaranteed repetition of events in their lives if they are to function well, while others need an injection of chaos each and every day if they are to stay interested in the world around them.

Perhaps even more difficult than figuring out the balance of uncertainty and mundanity that allows us to proceed in through life in a healthy way is understanding why other people would choose to live their lives on a different path. While we may never understand why someone would want to live a life full of pandemonium or of an unchanging rigmarole, it is not difficult at all to understand the absolute necessity of both types of people in the world. It is the realm of change and innovation that the chaos-seekers inhabit, while those who seek a more routine life create the structure that allows us all to expect that our society will continue to function at least in a bearable way.