Tag: fear

At the Absolute End with Tori Amos

At the absolute end, anything that puts the mind at ease is welcome. Cue music.


The August rain crashed down so hard and loudly that we could barely hear one another indoors. I was propped up against the wall, having given up on life, listening to the waves of sound, soaring and then sinking, outside. The woman, who’d appeared suddenly, informed me that my options were exhausted. But that I should know that strings had been pulled, resulting in this situation, which she called ‘a decent way to go’.
I thought she was joking, so I asked her.

She said that she’d been serious and that the storm had been arranged so that I couldn’t hear it coming. Apparently, things could have fanned out in worse ways. I didn’t doubt her on that.

A new wave of rain, more intense than the previous, came down on the building, as if a solid wall of water had been placed between this little windowless house I was trapped in and everything else.

“They’re all gone,” she said.
“They?”
“Yes, any potential help is gone.”

There was a surging-falling sound – in the storm outside – like objects fighting to climb up into the sky. Multiple objects.

“It’s them”, she said, as she saw where my eyes were. I’d been looking out of the corner of my eyes, craning my neck upwards, following the sound.

“Them?”
“Yes, all the Spirits you’d have thought would show up. They’re leaving.”
“No, I wasn’t expecting any.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Who were you expecting then ?”
“No one. I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
“Not even demons? All your fears – they originate from somewhere you know.
“Figments of my imagination. No more than that.”
“You don’t really believe that.”

I didn’t want to think about my fears. Not then, not at the absolute end. I wished for music instead. Anything to put my mind at ease. Let that come however it will, but please let me go out with good music.

“Tori Amos”, she said suddenly, as if making an offering.

I was surprised. She’d guessed correctly. Did she read my mind ? So, it seems she’s one of those blessed beings. Now I knew.

“Everything that exists at this point will remain, of course. The real question is if you will return.”

The opening chords of Cornflake Girl starting in the background and I couldn’t stop a smile from appearing on my face and staying there. Despite myself, I was feeling happy again.

“When will it happen?” I asked her.
“As always, in good time. When they are ready to receive you.”
“Will I simply be put out. Or fade away? Will I be reborn?”
“You’ve received answers to many such questions by now. In fact, you’ve been asking your whole life, haven’t you?”
That was true. Only, I wasn’t sure if the answers I’d got so far were the truth.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“If I come back, will there be a Tori Amos? And her music.”
“Everything that exists at this point will remain, of course. The real question is if you will return.”
“In the future?”
“In the-”. The lights went out. Sounds. Feelings. Consciousness. Everything went out.

Everything.

photo from unsplash.com by Lucy Chian

The Principle of the Monster Surprise

We all think we’ve met Monsters in our lives. That may or may not be true. But do we know how to deal with one when we do?

God bless the Monster. It’s a decent thing actually. It wants to be loved like every other living thing. It’s appearance can be improved no doubt but I’d say that’s perfectly acceptable considering it’s got a beating heart, like you and me, inside. Which makes it ultimately, lovable. Don’t prejudge a monster. Don’t do that. Walk right up to the Monster. Look it in the eye, kindly. Be respectful. And that’s when the surprise happens.

Continue reading “The Principle of the Monster Surprise”

Mortality

There comes a time when your body betrays you.

There comes a time when your body betrays you.

You begin to lose awareness of your surroundings. The warm sunlight, the cooling breeze gently swaying the tops of trees–such things suddenly catch your attention as if they had been mere apparitions before. Your brain seeks an explanation for what’s happening. But the answers you receive do not satisfy you.

Your chest feels congested. It’s as if cardboards have been stuffed into the cavity beneath your ribs. You experience difficulty rising up after spending too long sitting cross-legged on the floor. Dark clots in your spit bring unfamiliar fears. It dawns on you that it’s possible that none of the futures you had dreamed of for yourself or your family may materialize.

Is this how mortality is supposed to feel?

You decide not to inform your loved ones about what’s going on. A fear (perhaps it’s childish) warns you that telling them would permit the nameless to congeal into something real. What chance would you stand against something frightening once it becomes real?

So you pray that whatever it is goes away and maybe tomorrow or three days or a week from today, your head would stop hurting. Maybe your chest would feel spacious and free once again. Maybe your breathing would no longer be labored.

You find daily gratefulness in previously unrecognized victories: thinking clearly, walking steadily, breathing comfortably and being able to just function without fear.

On the appointed day, in the sterile hallway, you wonder how you survived your nights of solitary torment. Finally, your name is called and you stand up to go inside, knowing you are about to find out if your fears come true or it’s nothing after all.

photo from unsplash.com by Bertrand Zuchuat