Unthreatened

Unthreatened

Samuel Bird

I ran as fast as my busted-soul little cowboy boots could carry me. I turned over my shoulder to see that the stick he was carrying was bigger than I thought it was, and his larger frame was catching up with me. I was scared, but I was also embarrassed. This would be the only two years of schooling I would have until I was an adult, from the ages of eight to nine. I had argued with my parents that the world was not as horrific and filled with evil people as they would tell me. While it was still better than home, my illusions were shattered, and if I didn’t run fast enough, perhaps much more. The small-town little school we went to was next to a farm that we would run around on. Despite my efforts to be a part of the other children’s circles, I had failed. I spent much of my time out here in the field alone or with one of the other outcasts. We would build forts out of sticks and rocks. The depth of my rejection had given me enough time to perfect the art and my dwellings were strong. I slipped into my fort as it held up to its name. The stick he was holding that could bridge on a log, started to bash the roof and sides of the tiny home. He would make fun of this and that as he went, and reminded me that no one was coming. I tried to reason what had brought him to this, but that same reason wouldn’t allow me to see the world through his eyes. I looked up as my little home that I could feel safe, became a cage I was trapped in. The same mental program that kicked in and locked me down when my father would come to my room kicked in. I felt weak. I felt small. I felt powerless. Each smiting of the log against my home sent another section flying until, at last, I was exposed. I can’t remember what happened next thanks to a merciful mind with mitigated memories. While my mind has forgotten, my body has not. I recalled that feeling when a sound or look reminded me of that day. I went home ashamed and cowering. It was not the pain that hurt me, but the loss of hope. I dreamed that when I found my way away from my family, I would be safe and secure. I dreamed of strangers who tipped their hats and wished me well. I yearned for another soul to connect to and for them to think well of me to their very core. It was now clear that I had failed, and I was wrong. I went home after school. My parents hadn’t been home much, but that night they were both home. Their conflict needed a penalized party that wasn’t big enough to choke and kick back. I filled that role once again as the world itself became one large threat. I worry this could or has happened to you. I want to unpack this process this idea, make sense of it, and help us find meaning in it. I also have a friend I wish to come to your aid. 

The years passed, but now without their blows. My weariness for life had made me despondent. I would lie in my bed for hours with frozen cups of my urine to my side as I was locked in. I was once again trapped, in such a way that this same cage built in my younger years, became one I sought to spring from until now. While I was trapped there, dreams of running away and building a better life in a big city were torn from me. I now knew what people were like. I would only change my persecution from the familiar to the strange. I lay there trapped, essentially dying. I was on the cusp of a collapse that I couldn’t rebuild from. The choices were before me. I could stay trapped here and fail, or I could start fighting, and fail all the same. However, with the fight, at least I wasn’t going out like a coward. I wouldn’t be taking this lying down. I didn’t want to pass on my pain, but I also didn’t want to just take it. There was one thing left that was holding me back. I was so young and weak. Those that held power over me and exercised their abilities on me, would never condone what I was about to do. With the ample time I had to think and philosophize, I thought until something snapped in my mind. From that day over a dozen years ago, I became rebellious. I would exercise control of myself, no matter what entity or control they thought they had. To this day, my mind still does not comprehend authority. This only opened up the way, but it was not the way. I needed to find the means of my fight against this dark and bitter world. Coming of age and starting the process of being a man, the means became more clear to me. 

One last bad evening set me off on my journey. I began to hop out of that bed and do pushups. When violence came, I held my head high and didn’t cower. I would work harder, think more clearly, and grit all the way. Life wouldn’t get easier on me, so I got harder on it. In the absence of my savior, I became a ragtag version. I would do anything I could to feel strong, but not at the expense of others. Because of this and the aggressive anti-masculine atmosphere of my early years, I realized that my emerging manhood was coming more and more into their crosshairs. I was shamed for it, blamed for it, and told I was irredeemable, but they had no God or hell to send me to. I began to do anything I could to celebrate this masculinity. I celebrated alone and even earned more persecution, but I was fighting. I still felt threatened, but now the wild look in my reminded the world that it wasn’t the only one who could inflict.

I became more rebellious and strong until I realized that my behavior was causing problems. I had sworn not to hurt others, especially those weaker, but I had made my life much harder. While I will never regret this time and what it afforded me, it was clear to me that it must come to a close. I began to consider how to soften up myself and now become more fully human. The wild and energetic side of me had developed, but now I needed the rest of me to catch up. I was not in a perfect situation, but I wasn’t in danger anymore. At least, not often. Feeling some safety, I began to let loose and feel what was left after all that had happened. Those years were full of tears of gratitude and me coming to terms with things. I was able to feel what was done and begin to understand it. As powerful and obvious as a laser beam to the eye, a realization came to me. I was big. Not in the sense that I was larger than average as my malnutrition made that impossible. However, I realized that I took up space. I had a body like everyone else. It was peculiar but incredibly healing. Time passed, but this time with many wonderful things to offer. 

A few months ago, I pulled myself into a deep meditation. The first step is the clearing, processing, and ordering of the mind. The next step is deep and powerful thinking that is akin to creating a universe, but one outside of matter. This world of thought was structured around ideas that often find themselves in this paper. Esse Maxim was the frame of that land that held it all up. I came back to my breath and ended this experience. I sat there as an idea came about that had nothing to do with what I was considering or working with. I felt old. Specifically, I felt fifty-five years old. I felt like one of those older men who, after a long and hearty life up until then, is incredibly strong. I thought of all the thoughts that usually elicited fear, shame, and weakness. However, no love lost, pain inflicted, or confusion could steal this from me. I felt secure. If there was such a thing as belonging, then I was nestled right where the universe wanted me. I went outside and saw birds and trees. I looked out to see jagged mountains and houses. These entities had not changed, but to me they had. They had lost their sharpness. No more could the eye of a stranger hide horrors. No more could malice behind every thought of their love. No more could this world be about to kill me. Partially, I had found the world as a better place than before. While it changed in my mind, it hadn’t outside. What had changed primarily was something inside me. I had become truly strong. This isn’t a cheap strength or one that could be expressed easily, but it is one that led to me feeling unthreatened. 

I think anyone errors to say that their foray into the world is a sufficient summary of everyone’s experience. Similarly, I don’t tell you that the way I found the world has anything to do with how you have. However, I imagine you powerless. I think of you, feeling small and weak. I think of that weariness in your heart as you measure up to the world and find yourself so small. The world around you, in your mind, is filled with teeth and claws. The rivers seek to drown you. The mountains filled with peaks to fall and dash yourself apart. Even the fluffiest of puppies has claws and the brightest of roses has thorns. How then can you have an honest sense of security in this world? Your fortune can vary in the situation you come up in and how secure it may make you feel, but outside of what we can control, what can we do? I think I stumbled on something powerful and something that isn’t just the case for me. As we sue the world for peace, we may need our faculties and strengths to motivate this peace. I then seek for you to have that strength and those faculties. As my philosophy is not without objective and you are that object, I seek to do what I can for you. The more I consider it and weigh what would be the best to give, this power comes to mind. I need you to know that your actions can act on the world around you. You are not without your ability to exact change. Abilities to act that you do not currently possess may be something you do later, by doing what you can now. The way you manipulate reality around you is sufficient for now and can start you on a process of building toward something. And what if you fail? What if all the many little facts needed to keep you alive become false? Then before you pass, know that your engagement was something without shame. Making this engagement and effort the pinnacle of value makes it always in your grasp. It is not happiness that is fleeting, nor peace that is disturbed, nor faith that is stolen by disillusionment. Rather, your strength comes from the fact that you are working to be strong. Let the horrors that mount against you, and yet you are undefeated at the war you wage, the war of fighting for its own sake. You now stand unassuaged and without impact. In the meantime of your demise, you stand in safety. Not because there are no blows, but because of the fortress you have made yourself to be. The core of who you are commands the rest of your being, from a place that cannot be harmed. If life wants to chew us up, let us be more than it can take in one bite. I seek to comfort you, steal your woes away, and hold you safe. Since I am limited in doing so, I can leave you in the confident care of someone I trust. They are wise, though they don’t often know it. They are strong, though they are told to discredit such. They are brave, though they have a fear that makes that bravery. They will do all the good and protecting that I wish I could do. To bring you to this powerful place of being unthreatened, I leave you in the capable care of yourself.