Goodbye, Romeo & Juliet

I am always suprised how Shakespeare can still move me. I haven't read/seen that many of Shakespeare's plays, but I love the one's I've seen. It amazes me that 400 year old stories can still strike a chord deep in our souls even today & it makes me smile to think that words that someone wrote down that long ago can still mean something today.

His arguably most famous play, Romeo & Juliet, was one that I hadn't ever seen or read until only a few years back. I'd never understood it & never really wanted to see the play with such an unhappy ending. I could never figure out why it was so popular with such a tragic end, the killing of two lives needlessly when, if they'd only waited, things might have worked out....

I watched Baz Luhrmann's Romeo & Juliet a year or two back on DVD & loved it. Part of it was Clare Danes - I've been 'in love' (for lack of a better term) with her since seeing her in "My So Called Life". Mostly I love watching her eyes that seem to say more in a look than a hundred lines of dialogue. The other part was just the beauty of the story, the tension of the romance between these star crossed lovers, longing to bridge the gap between themselves to embrace that flame of passion & love that burned between them.

And, yes, the ending was sad. The scene is there in the moments between 'resurrection' & death, where they both realize the terrible mistake they've made & end up losing their lives in the process. It's sad & tragic & everything that a good Shakespearian tragedy should be.

It still makes me wonder though; what if they would've waited a few minutes more before being so rash & impetuous? What would've happened? Would their lives, their love had a chance to flourish even amidst their families hatred & 'fatal flaws'?

My twenties were a rough time in my life. I can't remember why exactly. School was hard & I never felt like I was really getting ahead in it. I'd sort of made a life for myself serving others, but sometimes that left me drained, other times full. Part of it was fears. I'd met some fantastic friends in second year university; first really close friends I'd ever had & I loved it. Over the summer I had to go away & I missed them terribly & somewhere in third year the fear of abandoment sunk in & I nearly crushed a number of the friendships by being all clingy & afraid that people were going to leave me.

Not sure where the fear of abandonment came into my life. I try to think of where it's from & nothing really stands out. Only pictures I get are of a time when I was in elementary school & it was blizzarding really bad, so bad that school closed early to get us all home before it got too nasty. My parents were away & we (my brothers & I) didn't have keys to the house & so we had to go to our grandparent's place to wait out the storm until mom & dad arrived. I don't remember much of it, but I remember taking some different coloured circular pieces from some game & making a picture of a little home & I remember the sense of longing for the safety of my own home & the fears of not seeing it again. I remember the relief of seeing my parent's car drive down my grandparent's lane. But that's about all. I can't remember what happened. My grandmother is famous for spreading fear & worry & so I'm not sure, maybe she said something that made me afraid I'd lose my parents to the blizzard. Maybe somewhere in that time that's when the fear of abandoment snuck in side & took root.

But I remember that my time in university was rough. I was unhappy & emotional. The melancholy was running high & I had a number of times thinking about committing suicide. The thoughts didn't go very far. Most of the normal means of killing myself were either unavailable or I was too chicken/unable to do them (can't cut myself & have a hard time swallowing one pill, let alone a whole bottle). So I guess it was never 'that bad' (whatever that means), but the thoughts were there. Some days were better than others. Some days the drums pounded loudly in my brain & I was afraid that I'd do something stupid.

But I didn't. I survived those years & watched my 20's turn to my 30's. I can't say I'm free of the fears & the voices of insanity. But I've learned from my 20's. I've learned most of all that nothing stays the same; that life is full of seasons & often, if you wait that extra moment, give it an extra chance, things will change. Sleep heals & things often look brighter in the daytime. No sorrow will last forever & there is always a release. You may have to remind yourself to breath somedays; may have to focus on just staying alive so that you can make it through the ache to the manageable moments to the happy ones....but there is always a release, a place of freedom, of love, of joy that you never thought could be yours. But you must have the courage to wait, the courage to risk another day, another breath.

And so I wish that you, passionate Romeo & wild, firey Juliet, would have waited that extra moment, that you'd have given life another chance. Sure there is something romantic of being 'united in death', but the real unity, the real uniting comes after years & years of shared romance as you learn both how much you know the other & are unravelled by the unfathomable mystery of their otherness.... there is a beauty & an awe of being able to stand next to someone you know so intimately & yet realize that they are still a universe of 'other'. This is a great adventure to plumb the depths of each other, to navigate every uncharted terrain of their hearts & yours as they uncover & unlock parts of you that you didn't know you had.... or had been long buried.

I don't know how bad it was, or what pushed you to the brink, but I wish you would've given it, given yourselves, another chance, another moment in the sun.... I pray that you are embraced by love, that His arms enfold you & shelter you from the hurts you faced in life. I pray that His tender embrace cradles you both & that you do find yourselves united in love, and united with Love..... but I still wish for a better ending to your tale....

Hello, my name is Kirk & I'm an addict....

The roomies were watching "the 40 year old virgin" tonight. Had to leave part way through 'cause stuff was hitting too close to home. I've got 6 more years 'til I'm the 40 year old virgin. I've already got the toy collection, the comic books, weird habits & some of the social akwardness, 'specially around members of the opposite sex. Sure lots can change in 6 years, but I was likely saying that 6 years ago.

Speaking of comics & odd habits, went to the Calgary Comic Book Expo about a month ago. Had never been to one & figured I should go. In all honesty, it was a soothing place & a lot of fun. They had a bunch of people in costume & a real carnival atmosphere. They had the Jedi/Stormtrooper units from Edmonton, Calgary & Drumheller in (some of the storm troopers were looking a little big for the regulation uniform). Surrounded by all that geekness I felt pretty at home & safe. Part of it was that I was in a room full of introverts & so it was quiet - a definite hum of activity - but not the noise & chaos of a room full of shouting extroverts. Part of it too, was the shock of seeing just how many really pretty women were there. It sort of gives me hope that there are women who embrace geekiness (or, more importantly for me, women who embrace geeks).

One of the interesting things was listening to the Batman Panel discussion with Alan Burnett & Paul Dini, producer and writer of the Batman animated series. It was kind of cool 'cause I've watched these guys on my DVD's at home talking about the series & it was neat to see them in person.

The thing that intrigued me most was listening to them talk about the Batman character. As a writer wannabe, I recognize that there is an aspect of where the story, the character sort of end up writing themselves & taking on a life of their own. It was interesting to hear them speak about Batman & say things like "he's a sicko", "he's as crazy as the villians he brings in... maybe more so because he thinks he's sane", "he's a man obsessed", "his story won't end well"... Again, I know that in writing your characters often become a part of you, if they were not a part of you to begin with, and so it shocked me to hear them speak in such negative terms of the life of the Batman....

...though perhaps there's a little bit of insanity that stalks us all.

Lately I've been obsessing badly. A lot of it has been struggling with singleness. For quite a while there I was struggling with the fear of never finding anyone. Recently the struggles have flip flopped & I've been afraid of the possibility of finding someone & wresting with all the fears of whether or not they'll like me, whether they would or could be grafted into my odd little life. It's insanity to flip between the fears of being alone & the fears of finding someone. And the insanity has been nibbling at my brain, like a rat chewing at a prisoner's toes & then scurrying into the darkness, just beyond the reach of the light, waiting for the chance to return. I've been staying up late, trying to extend my waking hours, hoping for that one moment of clarity or significance; or of trying to suppress the moments before falling into slumber where you stare at the darkened ceiling, lying in an empty bed & feeling life tick slowly away. Exhaustion cuts those moments down to a minimum, though it eats away at your health & sanity without the full night's rest. A very bad cycle pushing one closer to the edge...

One Friday night a week or two back, I was home alone & had time to watch a movie. In the middle of the insanity, the tug of war of conflicting fears, I wanted to pick something to help me get my mind off of it all. I chose "Batman: Mask of the Phantasm" figuring it was safe. How deep could a cartoon be?

In the story, there are flashbacks to Bruce Wayne's early days as the Batman. Still haunted by his parent's murder, Bruce has made a vow to his murdered parents that he will avenge their deaths by stopping every criminal in Gotham. He pursues this quest, this vow, with determination; it is his obsession, the insanity that Alan & Paul spoke of.

But into the story comes a woman, a woman relentless in her kindess & a woman who he, unexpectedly, falls in love with. There is a scene in the movie where he is standing next to his parent's grave in the pouring rain, begging that he be released from his vow. He loves his parents, he wants to honor them in their death, but he pleads with them, saying, "I want to keep my vow, but I didn't plan on this, I didn't plan on being happy".

A while back I went to an AA meeting to celebrate a friends first 30 days of being sober. Above the door as you walk in there is a sign saying "You are no longer alone" & I initially scoffed at it thinking that there is no way one meeting could wipe away the years of loneliness (though secretly I wished it would). Honestly, though it was one of the coolest things I've been to in my life. It was beautiful to listen to people talk about their stories. A room full of people sharing out of the vulnerability of their hearts; laying their lives bare for all to see. And the cool part was seeing everyone young & old nod in unison, in agreement because of the shared stories of their battles. It was beautiful & it's what I wish church could be like; that freedom to share, to live your lives in the 'light' of truth & honestly, to be able to speak the names of the demons that plague you & find that in the embrace of love, the embrace of a common struggle, the demons have no (or lesser) power to hold.... & yeah, it was beautiful to see my friend up there & hear her story & to be able to cheer her on as she faces the next 30 days of sobriety. It's beautiful to see people pursuing wholeness & recognizing that we all stumble & fall & get up again in that pursuit, and ultimately that we have to release our control, recognize that we are not god of our lives & that we need help, we need others to hold us up.

While there, there was a lady who was reluctant to speak or to celebrate her milestone in sobriety 'cause she was having a rough time of it. She mentioned that one of the hardest things was dealing with the happiness. She'd been used to life being hard, being a mess, but now she was cleaning things up, putting things right and it was going well. But that scared her, terrified her & she felt so ill equipped to handle it all....

At the time part of what she said resonated with me & part of it puzzled me. How can happiness be so terrifying I thought? But now, like the Batman, I understand a bit better.
I think we are all addicts in one way or another. There is always a hole in us that we are trying to fill. Some deep, dark, primal emptiness that longs for something more. Ultimately I think it's our cosmic loneliness that we long for the great romancer to come sweep us off our feet, we long for the bridegroom of love to find us, to take us home to be with Him & to give us the new name that only He knows... & here in the world of 'coal & roses' we see glimmers of happiness that they vanish like the morning mist, ethereal, just beyond our grasp.... the little tastes of happiness & the long droughts in between tend to drive us mad; crazy with the ache for more & so we try to fill the void with whatever we can ....anything to fill the emptiness, to still the voices, to deafen the hollow echo of the nothingness & loneliness. And often nothing does & our insanity eats away at us for so long that we learn to live in a 'comfortable level of despair' as Rich Mullins once said.

And then happiness breaks in & we're caught off guard, unsure of how to deal with it. The hardest part is the fear that it won't last; that the moment we get our hopes up, the moment we really try to hang on to the happiness, the moment we actually believe that we are loved, or are worthy of happiness, worthy of a good life... in that moment, it will all vanish away & we'll be plunged back into the frozen stream of despair & loneliness, feeling all the more foolish & all the more pained that we took the chance on happiness & didn't 'guard our hearts' (ah, lovely christian-ese phrase) & steel ourselves against the pains & joys of truly living.

And in all of it, there's nothing you can do except admit it. To stand in the light & say, 'Hello, my name is Kirk and I'm an addict'. I am addicted to the mad scramble of finding whatever will fill the void & numb the fears. I am trying to walk out of the addictions of self loathing & learning to accept that God loves me in all of my uniqueness & brokenness. I have a lot of conflicting fears & some days are better than others at fighting them & stilling their voices. Some days I feel insane 'cause they fears contradict each other. Some days I'm afraid to be alone & other days I'm afraid to be with someone. Mostly I'm afraid to get hurt & am only starting to believe that I am wanted, chosen, worthy, loved.... I feel stupid for all of this because 'normal' people know how to be loved, or at least that's what I tell myself. I'm still learning slowly. I'm way more comfortable in my own skin than I was, but some days the old addictions are there in force & it's all I can do to hold my own against them. I long for love & fear it; I fear that I won't be 'enough', I fear that it will leave, I fear feeling happiness & then facing the abyss again. I have a lot of fears, but I have hope. I'm learning to be 'the beloved', learning to leave the pursuit of an identity, the striving to 'earn' a sense of importance & self-worth & learning to accept the love & identity that is given me by God & by those who love me for who I am.

God help us all...