I am the fool

I am the fool.

Again I have invested on faith - a desperate faith devoid of legitimacy, counting as belief what was only hope. Such is the trademark of the fool – a willing ignorant, made vulnerable by loneliness to the fear of discovering that there is nothing in this world uniquely for him.

I am that “him,” having used sentiment as vouchsafe for my trust, sentiment being a creature of nostalgia, a succubus that blinds and possesses, making the possessed a danger to himself, forever walking backwards into the future.

I bridged that span between hope and trust with that sentiment I saw as deferred promises, seedlings of love, carried through the years, waiting patiently for good soil and the right season. Those promises, familiar and attractive, though dormant, were like buried treasure. I always knew where it was. The key was waiting for the signs to reveal to me when it was safe to reclaim it for my own.

So, having weathered the storms of my world, washed up on the beach of my tomorrow naked, battered, and still alive… seeing the treasure uncovered in the sand before me I took as a sign that it was time to stake my claim.

I swallowed sand and seaweed putting your rubies in my mouth. I split my fingernails swimming through your gold coins. I cut myself deeply upon your crowns and ornately decorated figurines. I nearly choked to death entangled in your chains and strings of pearls. I had backaches from sleeping on a bed made of your bars of gold. I nearly went mad looking through the facets of your diamonds. All your worth both saved me and nearly killed me.

Having been found, you saw the sky again, and the sun, and the moon, and the stars. You saw the mountains, the lakes and oceans, ponds and streams. You felt a freedom the world envied and glowed brilliantly for the world to see.

And the world came.

You, believing the world to be good, welcomed the world. You met it with arms wide open and, in my estimation, being a new fool, they adored you, for the world adores nothing more than a new fool. The world made you feel as if you were needed – that it needed you, that you were its… savior.

And as it sucked away at the brilliant shine of your innocence, you became tired, stressed, and frustrated. Suddenly the world was a hole you needed to feed, and its mouth was wide open – bottomless.

It wasn’t long before you came to the conclusion that you weren’t ready for a relationship. I should have given that statement its due respect; especially in light of your occasional comments about the limitations of our involvement. For some reason you came to define the legitimization of a relationship by the presence of a singular inanimate object rather than proof of demonstrated commitment.

I frowned; the truth seeping through.

It is your consistent position that your job commands most of your time and energy – your rationale for not having any for our relationship. At the same time you say you appreciate various qualities I embody and the ways in which they complement your life. I, however, am left wanting. I feel taken for granted... cheated. With all of your reasons why you cannot fully participate in this relationship, there seems to be no consideration of reciprocity or justice in your vocabulary.

Do you wish to maintain your assertion that you, as a rule, are accommodating? To others, I am sure; just not here. After all, it is written that a prophet will not be appreciated in his own home. It should come as no surprise that I would be taken for granted. From whence does that character trait originate?

In my foolishness, I created the doubt to give you the benefit of my hoping; while you took advantage of my nature and my love for you… as an opportunist? Or perhaps with some subconscious agenda to repay me for the heartache you felt so many years ago? Should such be the case, touché. No matter what your reasons, conscious or subconscious, I am overwhelmed.

Neither time, nor energy, nor attention, nor honesty seems to be available to effectively deal with any of it. We’ve forged ahead on borrowed time, having betrayed the integrity of this relationship long ago by choosing to ignore the seeds of destruction that have, time has shown, found fertile ground.

And now, if I may vent, and perhaps leave you with something to satisfy some future appetite – should one present itself, though experience has taught me that in like situations, there is never meaningful reflection, only avoidance and reaction.

The ghosts of your past have been calling. I have heard their moans in the night. I have seen their visage in your guilty eyes. You have inquired of curiosity, within the safety of your hall of secrets, whether the key to peace lies in your past. Your faith has been shaken, and straying, you have betrayed me.

In my elevation, I have seen more… and realized less. I have leaped for a dream come true… and bruised my heart in the gravity of your doubt. I have sacrificed my attention to benefit others – and have been abandoned in my need.

You have asked for my devotion, yet make excuses for yours delayed. You have asked for monogamy while taking on other lovers, again excusing yourself with semantics. You have asked me to be sensitive of your jealousy, while blatantly ignoring mine. You have petitioned the estate of my being, while unwilling to surrender yours. You have treated me like a prostitute instead of a lover. You have begged my patience, seducing my wrath, even as I cling to loving you.

What are you to me that I should suffer you so? Who are you to me that you should defraud me wearing a mask of innocence? I have shown you my blood and you insist that you have drawn none. I have bared my wounds and you stare at me in denial. I have shown you your own hands, covered with my blood – and you… you become dumb.

Where is my satisfaction, and why must I endure your refusal to address me candidly, with an open heart, and a sincere soul. What have I done to deserve your silence, abandonment, and rejection? I am worn. Denied life, evil swells…

…

You’ve made it painfully clear that there is nothing more to say. You have prematurely asked me into your life without realizing that, just around the corner, you would find fulfillment in others; that there exists a very real satisfaction in giving yourself to many instead of just one.

Entrapment

I recently had a conversation with a friend who said she was disheartened by "Joe's" attitude when stating he felt he had been disallowed by racism from certain levels of success.

My reply was that Joe's statement was not an acknowledgment of impotence but rather helplessness. The difference? Impotence suggests an inherent lack of power, while helplessness denotes just that - a lack of help, assistance, guidance. Semantics, I know. But there is power in words.

Man seems to have this inherent need to control his destiny. When confronted with obstacles he cannot navigate, rather than concede defeat, he excuses himself, engaging in the mental gymnastics necessary for the integrity of his ego. He blames someone or something else for either denying him access to information necessary to overcome the challenge before him, or for not being available to coach him through to victory.

His admission is in fact more clearly translated as "I haven't found a way."

In the movie 'Entrapment', starring Sean Connery and Catherine Zeta-Jones, there is a scene where Zeta-Jones' character must maneuver through a complicated grid of laser sensors to reach a coveted treasure piece. The complex array of laser sensors represents racism. The skill set necessary to successfully navigate such an array is the answer eluding many who recognize the sophistication of the system of racism.

The problem is that most have not had a blueprint to study, nor a coach/mentor to help develop that navigational skill essential for success. Out of frustration, most succumb to a defeatist attitude.