Until He says so

You know the surest way to knock yourself down a few more pegs is to check out several of your old classmates’ profiles on the LinkedIn.

Partner.

President

Principal. And not the high school kind, either.

Might I strongly recommend you not do that, embark on said lark whilst ensconced in the middle of a slowdown at your own employment. Homies on the LinkedIn–crushing it. Thanks to the current shit show in Iran (and probably some other economics)–not crushing it. In fact I’m probably as of this writing headed back to Alaska this summer. Just doing what a man needs to do to put food on his table, clothes on his and young blood’s back and, oh, did I mention he wants to go to New Zealand his second semester next year. He got accepted. I’m terrified to look at the bill.

So it’s like that around here, again it seems like. My reinvention that I thought had smoothed out some instead clunks ahead. So now what, President, Partner and Principal of my own destiny?

It’s toward the end of the movie Tombstone. It’s after Wyatt hurls himself into the wide open creek as basically target practice for the bloodthirsty cowboys. He mythically eludes all the bullets, adding to his legend. To quote Doc Holiday while they’re all reflecting over a fire on the day’s divine events: “It’s not revenge he’s after. It’s a reckoning.”

I’m not just going through a reinvention. I feel like it’s a reckoning. An earthly judgment day. While initially I saw it all as a repurposing of myself, and I still do in many ways, things– very inexplicable things–have happened along this course that are way beyond the reach or definition of a reinvention. These “things” are nothing short of a voice inside of me saying, Suffer asshole. Until I say you’re done.

That’s pretty verbatim, too.

For I have done some very hurtful things. Abortion, adultery, others too. Enough perhaps to earn me perpetual suffering all the rest of my days. I’m preparing myself for this possibility, no shit. Saying sorry a lot, too, trying to live sorry, since saying it is easy.

Next week is Holy Week, home stretch for anyone following along with Lent. Fast more. Pray more. Refrain more. Give more. Be and live sorry more. Suffer more.

There’s always room for more suffering. I don’t have colon cancer thanks to the results of my recent poop kit. Young blood’s good. Real good. And as much as I bitch about it, going to Alaska means I’m healthy and strong enough to go to Alaska.

None of that is suffering.

-tmc