A Comedy of Death...

These past days have been hard on me.  And it really seems like these days have added up to several months.  Where this got to be difficult is the days that I had to step back and take care of myself, and I had to trust my friend, and let go of some of the control that I still seem to demand in my own life.  And in that process I had to risk myself.  And in many ways in stepping out in faith to trust someone, opens the door to the death of a small part of my heart.

Now that is not something one would typically find funny.  And you may wonder why I would say it was a comedy of death is because that is sometimes the only way we can deal with the struggles of our broken world.  When we go out and begin to start a day in the world...  the demands on us tend to make sure that we put on the outfit and manners that the world demands.  You see while we walk around wearing the mask of comedy... deep inside of us the other masks which show who we really are remain buried.  

And yet at points in our lives, we reach points where as much as we would like to be the person who is the perfect display for the world...  we are unable to accomplish this desire.  And we see that the desire for that perfect mask, actually makes us long to disappear...  to be erased from time...  and brings us in touch with death.


And yet with the world around us is dancing in the mask of comedy, seemingly missing the fact that our own mask has fallen to the floor and shattered.  And that in order to save us from falling into the draw that we call death they must risk also trusting us with who they are behind the mask.  So then we are faced with the question as the dance of death is lapping at our ankles, will anyone hear our cry within our heart for help... and willingly risk letting us know that despite the masks we all wear...  that we might see that they are as broken as we feel.

And yet calling it a comedy of death is actually the way we ignore the fact that in our world... people go out of their way to hurt people.  People they profess a great love to, and also people they hate.  And yet in that hurt, some around us feel so broken, and alone... That death seems like the only way to heal the hurts they see they are causing in the very people they love and yet are trying to steer away from the comedy of death... because that very act - bring a stop to the dancing and silence to all the voices of people who knew us.

And within me, years ago I faced for a small window of time being cut off from contact in what was then my world.  And recently I willingly went back to that world of silence, without contact to my world... 

In the quiet, away from what is left of my family.  The storms that had been gaining power inside of me came spilling out.  And the waves of emotions that threaten to drive me back into dancing with death... became ripples... fading into the lake.  And once back into the main body of water, their ability to live in my dreams and turn them into nightmares fades, just like the ripples in the lake after you drop a stone into the water.  But if we were to try to contain these ripples, you just might understand the hurricane of emotions that I feel inside of me... fighting to see the light of day.

And yet, in the world I grew up in, it was plainly clear that I either learned to contain the emotions that threatened to tear me apart, or to disappear.  You see, emotions have been drilled into my brain as showing the world that I am a failure, weak, and worthless.  And it forced me to learn ways to contain and deny that they even were possible.  And in this process... I learned that I would always struggle with this.  I had to do it perfectly for my mother to love me, along with lists of other things.  And that seemed to mean that I was never going to know love without the pain of learning by mistakes, which found me facing punishment and wondering how I would explain them away.  And this process with my mother became a different dance.  A dance for approval and love.  One that in time... I came to believe I would never master the dance and earn her love.  And yet, in the days before her death... the words I love you, came rolling out of her mouth... with no conditions, demands, or requests.  Years of being a servant for God, and praying my mother would love me...  ended with three little words and her death.  And in those moments, the comedy of death changed for me, FOREVER...

Photo: Credited to http://fifoglejdura.blog.pravda.sk/2014/07/15/kvoli-tebe/