Stranded in a Trance
when life’s affairs become unforgivable
I've never been to either of the poles, in Antartica, the south pole, nor the Arctic, the north pole. People that have been to one of the poles, or the other, I have met, and conversed, and have been enthralled in the stories. Extreme conditions is a situation, personally, do not relish finding myself. Life though, and living through it, whether we like it or not, appears to place each inhabitant of earth in a state of something we did not expect to find ourselves, often extreme. Would you agree?
… preferring the latter to the former.
I recall a time when I became a registered architect. I had finally accomplished a long sought goal which was driven by places, experiences, classmates, teachers, professors, employers, spousal support and friends, then by passing a grueling seated exams period. As often the case in life, a passionate attitude drove my mind to the occupation I chose.
Because of the certification I had been presented, I furthered an ambition to put out my own shingle, which is to say to put out a business sign. Some of you may be entrepreneurs and understand the desire to conduct your affairs without the oversight of other people, by employing yourself, self-employed if your prefer. By the time I had got to the architectural registration part complete, I had been employed, however I also had been self-employed, preferring the latter to the former.
In late 1992, in the 12 month, I took a risk. I quit a job that had a lot of promise, a great position that addressed all the kinds of skills I wanted to continue to develop. The only issue with the work was the perception of a lack of self-autonomy. In essence, I sought an autonomous enterprise.
I connected with old friends, one of my brothers, bought a building, set up a practice, and began soliciting clients. One’s own dream of independence and self-sufficiency materialized shortly thereafter. As with any young business the days were fraught with issues. Not being capitalized sufficiently in a capitalist system, made for difficult times financially.
The Firm grew in terms of projects, outlooks, networking and even the publication of a periodic newsletter. One could say the avant-garde had arrived in town. The Firm was on the verge of making regional headlines.
About three years into the enterprise with the day-to-day routines manifesting themselves, I was handed a little note from my brother, while sitting in my office space. The note was on a very tiny piece of paper, a meer one half inch tall and doubtfully three inches long with four written words, “Prepare to be fired.”
“… to an utter state of being transfixed, is one.”
First off, everyone that own their own business has an implied expectation one cannot be fired from one’s own business. Yes, maybe, as it turns out there was some legal claim that we could be fired. This issue was never settled in court. In whatever kind of legal organization we had formed the plaintiff suggested they were allowed this obscene act to be perpetrated on my brother and myself, at the same time, on the same day, in the same place. Specifics of this firing are immaterial to the sobering zoetic message, as we shall read.
For a silent moment, … place yourself in a room, stranded, and fired.
I suggest closing one’s eyes, if I were you, so if you really have the empathy for us two, or people finding themselves in similar stead, it will not hurt as much. From this stranded stance, standing or sitting, one’s being moves into a trance. One’s body knows so little about how to react to such an action. One’s mind, with its exploding thoughts, sees nothing clearly, wandering aimlessly in a fog. One’s emotions are transported to each nerve ending, throughout the total being, making ‘my legs turned to jelly’, or as the French exclaim, ‘j’avais les jambes en coton’. Breaking tears, exasperated, near fainting, expelled to an utter state of being transfixed, is one.
Open eyes now.
I have a remembrance I want to get off my chest, which my sweet wife has always criticized me for having, the act not the remembrance of it, although it was really beyond my control at the time. The episode went like this: myself, spontaneously letting out a primordial scream, in my bedroom, on my bed, some days following the transfixed incident at the office. I don't know that I've ever made any such sound since then, nor can I recollect ever making such an outburst before that day.
The closest similarity, I recall, to this primordial outburst was when I was four years old. I was in my Grandmother’s house, after my young and beloved Uncle Carlos had died from a head on auto accident, killing all five people. Grandma Rena before the funeral, laid in her bedroom, on her bed, screamed so loud, for so long, so helplessly, nothing could be done. I knew then after my scream, how she might have felt after her scream. Honestly, I cannot really equate the two events, as I had not lost a child, how could I ever?
A second recollection, post office event, was when my father, who had been very supportive of my brother and I, emerged in the surprise situation we found ourselves, gathered in a room with the people who disrespected us with their unbecoming, useless, wrong, acts. My father turned to the individuals, facing them eye to eye, and a said without malice,
“What you have done to these two brothers is unforgivable.”
The pronouncement was unexpected. The reaction in my mind confirmed that our father was fully aware of the traumatic and physiological results revealed in this unsettling matter the sad affects to each would befall, for the years to follow.
You may have had, or are having a similar time stranded in a trance. We trust not.
A few days ago a storm approached home. It had a name, Landon. Landon was full of mischief, respecting no one, least the birds of the sky. This storm was both hot and cold, rainy and snowy, sleety and icy. There were winds and tornadoes, there were floods and a groundhog blizzard, there were level three travel emergencies (one may be arrested if driving in one) and power empty homes. There was zero visibility and a two thousand mile band of Landon.
The clear rain came, the misty drizzling rain changing to a fresh frozen state followed. The sleezy sleet pelleted the tin roof to our isolated house. Then the white ice build-up began, slowly covering the tan green grass lawn, the stone filled grey drive, the chip and tar gravel black street, as far as one could see. First a tenth of an inch, later a half an inch, of uncompromising ice fell, then more. I took a hard steel ruler out to the once clear stained wood deck, that had stood slick with water from rain, pushed through the accumulated ice, and measured one and one half inches of un-compacted ice depth. Landon did not give up.
Into the late hours turning into early morning, ice reigned. Maybe by four AM the ice subsided, so that the showers of blinding snow could cover the ice’s treacherous terrain. Falling, falling further, falling the winter snow piled on. Numerous moments throughout the night, I pushed myself out of bed wandering down the small hall and rooms in the dimly lit house. Gazing out the windows I heard no noise, saw no movement of any kind, excepting snow fall, and noticed in a 360 degree vantage an eerie glow of whiteness permeating the air, from the frozen land, to the iced trees and gutters with icicles, to the illuminated cloud cover above. It was as if transfixed in the Aurora Borealis with one and only one monochromatic hue.
The realization of strandedness emerged. We, the two of us humans, the two cats, and the one dog, were fazed. Nowhere was one to go, and by no means anyway to get wherever there may be to go. I went into suspended animation. My nature mom, Gaia, had naturally pinned it to us, nearly breathless and feeling naked like an Adam or an Eve. Was there some intended displeasure she was administering for an unforgivable choice we had made to misbehave such we all became stranded in a trance?
Dawn, the next day, did little to alleviate our unpronounced cries for sun and warmth and feeling. Our bodies, our minds and our emotions were knotted by extremes, an extreme terrorizing storm, over and above, side to side, and in the front and and in back of our meager suburban bungalow. The day crept along, without any mail served, no passing travelers seen. Finally some hot creamed coffee and bites of heated food made the daze to dispel the confines. The birds of the sky were given black sunflower seed, and their feathered friends gathered quickly.
Landon has subsided and forgiveness is being contemplated. Weather can predicted and moves on. Scars from the mid ’90’s human storm of extreme behaviors, have remained uncovered. Can we say the same when human life is unforgivable?
A Zoetic Message
Forgiveness offered to that, that is unforgivable, is our inspired thought to cogitate on doing.
Did Dad forgive them, the former friends that fired two men simultaneously? I do not know the answer to the question, I never asked. I know, I forgave them. I asked of them, their forgiveness of me, too.
Somethings we did or said may have caused an inexplicable, unexpected act of firing of long standing good family friends, though then, I knew not what sparked such animus and hostility to set upon two kind and sublime souls. Let us think.
Landon, we collectively forgive you too, as we ask Mother Nature for your forgiveness of our self-centered ways. Forgiveness is freeing when spent freely.
Michael, thank you for forwarding your thoughtful piece. We have found -- through the virus -- that in a battle between civilization and its hubris vs. Mother Nature, the latter always wins. It is indeed a humbling experience. Appreciate your message. -- Jim