Karmic Kamikaze

This post was written 8 years ago while in a different job and a much different place with my wife and kids. It rings truest today. I have a real problem that may be the root of all those enumerated on this “emo blog” of mine. I want to be great! I do not want to be the best husband in the world, or the best facilitator, or the best basketweaver. I just desperately do not want to be ordinary. I want to have benefitted people in the world in whatever I do especially those closest to me. However, I am not nearly good enough to be great and I am just good enough to understand that much of my life depends on the people around me.

Just nine years ago, I was floundering in my last year in a job that wasn’t headed anywhere. An acquaintance who profoundly influenced my twenties and traveled a path through mental health with me from afar had died a year before. My on-going battle with depression, which I was just beginning to quantify, gripped me more than I would ever care to admit and hadn’t admitted, until just now.

Then my wife did it. As I anguished about some issue concerning work or life, or more likely the balance of the two, she gave me one of those patented “Honey talks.” Those talks in our old, old house are distinctive. They are different than the “deck talks” I had with friends sharing a beer and staring at the stars. “Honey talks” all occurred sitting on that same couch facing that same sign whose home was the mantle or a living room wall of three different residences, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” It was my guiding star when I felt troubled, my mantra to mumble. All these talks involve my wife breathing a lot out of frustration, collecting the next thought, trying to absorb every point from all the angles my brain fired its concerns, a download of my thoughts shouted into the void. They all involved her saying, “I know you know this about yourself, but…” or “Honey, you can’t just…” and I usually filled the dead air with, “I know. I know.” or “But maybe, I’m the one who can.”

Recently, I had this feeling of dismay when I woke up each day for the period of a few weeks. It was startling and clearly depressing. The idea of "waking down" struck me as we confront "Woke" culture and as I dealt with the negativity I felt just waking up. I tried to play with words throughout this journal but it's nearly all stream.

Everyone has seen quotes referring to ourselves as works in progress or masterpieces in the making. When we jettison the "bad" parts of ourself, aren't we denying the masterpiece a part of its composition? Perhaps in isolation and in extreme those traits stick out, but as parts of the greater whole work to create the art. 

Years ago I watched an NBA game late one night around this time of the year. The Lakers found themselves the hottest team entering Miami to face the team of potential. Miami was on a 6 game slide and had pointed to the matchup as a way to right their ship in a single game. They did so and won. Kobe Bryant, the Lakers’ perennial MVP candidate and two-time reigning NBA champ, had a poor shooting night. By all accounts he had hit all the shots that mattered in the game save closing the game out when he could, typically his strong suit.

And afterwards, what did he do? He walked out onto the other team’s home court AFTER the game and shot for another hour and a half, many from the same area he had missed the shot before. Amazing. Even more impressive, he had done the same a few hours before the game, before anyone else had arrived. When asked why, he said that he needed to improve; he had to make those shots. It was his job.

Moments. ←That one.

Moments seem so insignificant. They aren’t quantified in seconds. They are so tiny that we do not perceive how they heap and pile into hours and days and frequently into years. We cannot comprehend the truth that our lives are but series of these infinitesimal fragments strung together. We cannot appreciate how significant each one acts in its role to build plans to which we adhere for years on end or how they are each an episode in the habits we revere or despise.

Whenever I’m troubled, stressed, or can’t sleep, I search my mind for a phrase and chronicle from there my thoughts using stream of consciousness. I don’t edit it or censor any thoughts. I just pick some images in my mind and try to let them speak for me.

For several months, I’ve been haunted by the image of a yo-yo and a pogo stick, these novelties that require some manner of skill and balance, but ultimately don’t matter at all. Frivolous skills ill-equipped for meaningful use.

But tonight as I sat down at my computer, I thought of how many dark rooms were lit by my apple and my thoughts. I thought of all the talk of how much our daily lives have changed and how much mine hasn’t at all. These are my thoughts, uncensored…

What the hell is a “karmic kamikaze?” To be honest, I tried a million other names when I started a Blogger account 15 years ago. Finally, I decided to think of two words that I really love that sounded cool and that no one else would have likely used. Since then, I have used the two words in some combination for a number of accounts all over the web.At the time I started the blog, I had begun writing once a week or so and I reserved it for moments of silliness or inspiration.