The World is made of Glass

I know what it's like to do something you hate.

Go to work ... or home ... or to other people's houses.

At the end of my days saving the world I couldn't bear to go to the office anymore ... the aroma was heavy and depressing ... regardless of how I pumped myself up ... the smell immediately left me depressed and sad.

The people did too ... all wanting more than they were willing to give ... all taking with the expectation I'll always deliver ... each wanting more at the precise moment they're receiving.

The last several months ... thanks to technology ... I went to a coffee shop on Chippewa Square, turned on the laptop and communicated with everyone from a distance ... because I could no longer bear their sight ... touch ... smell ... sound ... and unceasing demands.

The truth of the matter was I had nothing else to give.

Though I never gave up ... which was a gross mistake ... sometimes in life it's best to give up.

Of course once you do ... you have to start over.

"God's greatest gift," says Elie Wiesel, "is the chance to start over."

God's been good to me.

I've started over a lot in my life ... and am doing it again.

Sitting in the dark on the back deck in the middle of the night ... full of frustration and non-understanding ... I think of something I haven't in years.

"Commit a crime and the world is made of glass," wrote Ralph Waldo Emerson. "Some damning circumstance always transpires."

In worlds made of glass you can see everything regardless of how much you hide ... and things break to the point of no repair.

One of my favorite writers ... Morris West ... wrote a book about a rich woman overcoming childhood incest and the damnation of the Catholic Church ... on women and incest and sex ... so she has a single visit with Carl Jung ... the inventor of analytical psychology.

It's a great book ending in a convoluted mess because ... life is often a convoluted mess.

I think the secret is choosing what's good and doing your best with what's bad ... and everyone comes down on one side or the other ... because there's always good ... and there's always bad.

"Why do you do this every day?" I'm asked. ""Put yourself out there ... say what you feel ... question the majority ... dig through the past searching for clues to why I behave the way I do now ... celebrate your NOW in flamboyant ways ... juggle the light with the dark?"

I believe it's because the world really is made of glass and I'd be foolish to hide it ... and what I do ... when it's all transparent anyway ... perhaps just to you ... or your lover ... or the whole damn world!

I don't mind the transparency ... in fact I welcome it.

I do care when glass breaks and worlds fall apart.

I've seen ... and lived ... far too much of that in my life.