Dread Poets Sobriety

“What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

-Mary Oliver

Well? What are your plans? What are mine? There is an underlying theme to today’s post. Fear. Have you read “The Shining”? Fantastic, but not the point. Mr. King stated that “The Shining” is a book about addiction. Many years later, when he wrote the unexpectedly terrific sequel, “Doctor Sleep”, he further explained that it was a novel about recovery. And was it ever. Still haven’t arrived at the original point here… in, “The Shining”, FEAR is described by the acronym, “Fuck everything and run”, I’m good at that one. In the sequel, however, he preferred a far wiser and useful variation, “Face everything and recover”. Sometimes the most profound statements may be found in the most peculiar of locations. Such as horror books, for instance.

Anyway, someone once said to me, “How big would you dream if you knew you couldn’t fail?” I think of that statement with some regularity. It haunts the murky tunnels of my mind. In a good way, though, like Casper. I think we’ve hit the record for most quotations in the first 100 words, so I’ll try to abstain from here:)

I allowed fear to run my life for a very long time. It claimed the driver’s seat early on and refused to relinquish control until I finally did. It’s a subtle and vaguely infuriating paradox that letting go, surrendering, was finally my answer. The Chinese Finger Trap was my existence. But I needed to deflate that unhealthy ego I had strenuously maintained for so very long. To be humbled and finally realize that I am merely a human. One simple flesh-bag with the miracle which is my one wild and precious life.

We’ve veered off topic, that’s certainly never happened before. I was afraid often as a child. There was a point where a house around the corner burned down, and for at least a year after, I went to bed every night terrified that our home would meet a similar fate. Irrational? Silly? Of course, but that’s childhood in a nutshell. I even had a specific plan as to how to grab my guinea pig (Ms. Chestnut Brown) and which route would be most efficient for our escape.

Let’s skip over some other horrifying incidents which need not be spoken of here and rejoin teen years where it was my sexuality that terrified and disgusted me. In fact, I was utterly adamant that I would die with the horrifying secret of my homosexuality forever secured. The despicable things people would say in my presence with my “identity” still under wraps carved wounds still being stitched closed to this day. But I am no longer afraid. I live my life today by a set of iron principles set down by those far wiser than I. No, not the code of Shadak and then Druss the Legend from my favourite author at the time (still top 3, Brandon Sanderson is fighting for top spot though). Though that one is beautiful as well. It states, “Never violate a woman, nor harm a child. Do not lie, cheat or steal. These things are for lesser men. Protect the weak against the evil strong. And never allow thoughts of gain to lead you into the pursuit of evil.” Powerful words and not so far removed from my own ethical guide-rails. Do I always live up to those standards? Sadly not. However, once again, I am but a single human, flawed and somewhat broken as any other. I will forever strive for excellence in all things while remembering the core belief of self-compassion. And, so importantly, honouring my fears as they may emerge as the helpful biological warnings programmed internally over so many millennia past.       

Today’s poem is slightly contentious. It may seem as though I’m devaluing the efforts of heroes, and that is in no way my intention. Let’s read, and I’ll explain further below. I’m extremely tardy in my greeting, but thank you so much for visiting today. Your presence is a blessing beyond words. Ironic.

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“The Terror”, Jan. 23, 2024

An absence of fear 

Resonates sacrificial courage 

The shine of bravery dulled 

Where horror fails to stalk 

Valour demands the fight 

Insists upon panic’s quelling

The greatest heroes are to be found 

Often with they who run towards the fire in faith 

But always in those for whom 

The blaze evokes unadulterated dread 

Yet, nevertheless, defiantly onwards sprint. 

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Is the grammar in the last line fucked? Sure is! I thought it sounded better that way. I did say I would attempt to exonerate myself from insulting millions of first responders, etc, for whom fear is of no regard. I honour them. They are doing God’s work, if such a thing exists. I praise their blessing.

This poem contained some extremely broad generalizations regarding what courage is, how to define bravery, aside vast cattywampus threads of general discord and non-sensibility. But I know well how difficult it can be to stand up when everyone else is sitting down. To speak when others remain silent. I know the value of these concepts because I never possessed them. Even today, they are developing with a slowness for which I am generally dismissive of but also remain absurdly grateful. It’s paradox day! Anyway, to be clear, in no way do I reject or diminish the courage of those for whom fear is not an issue. Instead, I credit those stalked by panic but do what is right regardless. I salute you all! I pray to one day to be fully among your noble contingent. Until then, we continue moving forward, one day at a time.

Thank you again, dear friends. This was a touch longer than the usual drivel, but apparently I had some things to say! Remember, you are loved, you are enough, you belong.  

And ask yourself, what ARE you going to do with your one wild and precious life?

Happy Trails and Waggy Tales,

Alex Blaikie