Meditations on Hitting Rock Bottom

Jilted_Groom_Hits_Rock_Bottom

Well, it happened.

You hit rock bottom.

It was bound to happen.  You couldn’t keep going the way you were going without things coming to a head.  Or to the bottom, as it were.

The cries of, “We told you so!” are ringing on already ringing ears, and if your vision wasn’t swimming, you’d be able to make out disapproving faces.

But it’s not so bad you think.  You can pull yourself out.  You fell out of line, but you can get back in it.  Just need to dust yourself off, adjust your armor , re-wrap the company line around your shoulder and start towing again

And you’re rising.  But the line breaks.  And you’ve hit the bottom again.

But it’s not so bad you think.  You can pull yourself out.  You fell out of line, but you can get back in it.  Just need to dust yourself off, adjust your armor, re-wrap the company line around your shoulder and start towing again.

And you’re rising.  But the line breaks.  And you’ve hit the bottom again.

But it’s not so bad you think.  You can pull yourself out.  You fell out of line, but you can get back in it.  Just need to dust yourself, ADJUST YOUR ARMOR, re-wrap the company line around your shoulder and start towing again.

233px-German_-_Armor_and_Lance_for_Fighting_on_Horseback_-_Walters_51578,_511336

And you’re rising.  But the line breaks.  And you’ve hit the bottom again.

You go on like this for a while.  Until you realize that you’re not really rising out of the pit.  You’re just bouncing.

You’re still riding the momentum of that initial impact.

So the next time you hit, you reach for the nearest boulder and hang on for dear life.  You don’t bounce.  You stay on the bottom.

You stay there.

The ground starts getting hot.  Real hot.  The armor you’re wearing heats up.  You’re cooking inside of it.

Now the ground is on fire, and so are you.  The flames leap as high as the pit’s edge, and you want to let go.

But you don’t.  Because you’re tired of bouncing.

And as you burn, your armor starts to melt, and the pain floods in.  Every shitty thing you’ve ever done, said or thought comes flying into your mind with crystal, uncompromising clarity.  You see your pretenses, your anxieties and your masks dance before you in an insane waltz, waiting for you to issue them their marching orders.   You think of the people you’ve hurt, the opportunities you missed out on because you were too scared to try.  Or to love.

Your heart feels like a pin cushion for broadswords.  You’re screaming at the top of your enflamed lungs.  And you realize the pain isn’t coming from the fire.  The fire’s only going after the armor, burning it away.

The pain was already inside of you.  The armor tricked you into thinking it wasn’t there.  Fair enough.  You wanted to be tricked.  That’s why you made the armor.

But it’s gone now, and now  there’s nothing between you and pain but time and opportunity.

Eventually there’s nothing left.  You’re burned through and through.  You rise to your feet, naked, covered in soot, glimmering red  like iron pulled from out of a forge.

You stare at the edge of the pit, and with grim determination,  you begin to climb.

What remains of your armor is now a slag heap, a smoldering ruin.  You leave it behind, knowing you won’t forge another.  Don’t  need it.  Not anymore.

There’s nothing left of you but stardust.

Stardust

And everyone knows that stars are bulletproof.

“If you’re lucky, at some point in your life you’ll come to a complete dead end. Or to put it another way: if you’re lucky you’ll come to a crossroads and see that the path to the right leads to hell, that the road straight ahead leads to hell and that if you try to turn around you’ll end up in complete and utter hell. Every way leads to hell and there’s no way out, nothing left for you to do. Nothing can possibly satisfy you any more. Then, if you’re ready, you’ll start to discover inside yourself what you always longed for but were never able to find. And if you’re not lucky? If you’re not lucky you’ll only come to this point when you die.”  – Peter Kingsley

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4 thoughts on “Meditations on Hitting Rock Bottom

  1. Great post. Powerful imagery. You are doing the work by not doing anything (which leads to everything!) Now that the armor has burned away can you see that there was never any rock bottom in the first place? Or a top that you fell from? You are here! You have begun to break the cycle of looking up from the bottom and pining for the top. Or being at the top and growing bored and restless and wondering what it would feel like to jump. You are just there! And no where! And everywhere! What happens in the meadow at dusk?…..Everything and nothing!

    I love the crossroads analogy!
    “If you come to a fork in the road, take it.” -Yogi Berra
    Thanks for a truly inspiring post. Sounds like you may have found a balm yourself, and its main ingredient is stardust!

    Like

  2. Hope you’re ok? There is nothing more precious than hope & tomorrow. Also remember, that no matter how hideous the thing you’re dealing with is at the moment, time will put it in perspective. Hope you are free without the armour.

    Like

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