Twitter to the rescue!

After my SOS call yesterday on Twitter, I had an overwhelming response to my plea for a guest blogger. Only one response but it only takes one and to the rest of you too lazy to help out a fellow writer…may the keys on your keyboard stick and you lose the letter e for at least a week. (Was that mean? I think it was mean. What can I say…I’m stressing here.)

A big thank you goes out to Lindsey (aka Tony) of rewind revise for boarding the Blogdramedy train. I’ll shut up now and leave you to read.

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One Train May Hide Another

Years ago a friend introduced me to Kenneth Koch’s poem, One Train May Hide Another, which he wrote after reading a very important sign at a railroad crossing in Kenya. You may not like poetry, but the opening lines of this poem are, dare I say, all you really need:

“In a poem, one line may hide another line,

As at a crossing, one train may hide another train.

That is, if you are waiting to cross

The tracks, wait to do it for one moment at

Least after the first train is gone. And so when you read

Wait until you have read the next line–

Then it is safe to go on reading.”

Tony...pretty prose, personality and a bit of a babe.

How many times have I crossed that blindly leapt onto that seemingly clear, seemingly safe track only to be run down by another trainthat was there all along? How many relationships? Friendships? Career moves? Poorly crafted wardrobe choices? Happy hours gone on one too many hours, one too many happys? The list goes on…but I take solace in knowing that there are many of us “track leapers” out there.

I was once in a relationship with a boy who was smart, and good-looking, and dressed well. He came from a wealthy family and a life of privilege and promise and uncontested opportunities. But emotionally I was unfulfilled Fuck it. I had my feelings slaughtered on a regular basis. Needless to say there was a lot of heavy drinking involved in that relationship. A lot of shared misery. A lot of mutual understanding for how it was to be raised by an alcoholic mother. There was a lot of love there, but very, twisted dysfunctional love…which begs the question if it really was love at all? If neither one of us loved ourselves how could we have possibly loved the other the way they deserved? But I digress…the patterns of this relationship were there from the beginning. The writing was on the wall, day one, when we met at a cigarette break. He was hungover and unfriendly and I was perfecting my tough image and ball-busting. For years we would date then break up or cheat or get together or hide are feelings holding out for the other to break down first. Vulnerability meant defeat. After enough years and enough heartbreaks, I broke up with him and moved to California. I started dating other men. I thought I crossed that track…until he showed up in California and wanted to get back together. He had changed, so he said. So I tested him and said, “Then quit smoking.” To my surprise, he did and my God, hold the phone, you would have thought the man walked on water. I was convinced this was proof that he was now a better man. I dropped the other guys and got back together with him, even moved in with him…and right when domestic life was getting really comfortable and it felt safe to cross that next track, BOOM, I got hit with the same patterns of behavior that were always there. I was just stupid enough to believe I had the power to control him, the power to change him. I mean, he stopped smoking because I told him to. I DID have power over him, right? Right?!?

Bullshit.

Look up. Read the signs. Listen to the universe. It is speaking to you.

The same way we eat that last bite of food before sitting a minute and figuring out if we are full.

The same we, once again, expose ourselves and share our feelings with a friend who continuously runs them up a flagpole, hoping this time it is going to be different.

The same way we commit to too many weekly activities before scheduling ourselves into our own time.

The same way we hit the “Publish” button or the “Tweet” button on a thought we feel somewhere might not feel completely right, but we go ahead and do it. Feel the blog shame later.

The same way we overlook the warning signs in a relationship at the beginning because we’re so fucking happy, or overlook if the person we are starting to date has the qualities we really admire and want in a partner, holding out the candle of hope for that fucking c-word “Change.”

STOP. PAY ATTENTION. That is our one job as human beings in this world is to pay attention. Look up. Read the signs. Accept the truths you wish were untrue. No one changes another. Change comes from within. I thought I was truly practicing this until I realized I was still “changing” my behavior in hopes of controlling another’s. If I act tough about this or share this or suggest that, maybe he will do this…

If I have learned one thing in thirty years, it is that anytime I start a sentence with, “You should…” I am already in over my head. And even when someone solicits me for advice, advice is all bullshit. All you can do is share your experience.

Thanks to blogdramedy for this guest post!

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And you’re welcome, Lindsey. This was brilliant! Anytime you want to board this train…just give me a toot. On the horn. Not…you know….a trouser mouse toot. We want to keep this environment fresh and smelling good.

There are still seats available so if you’d like to board and blog, I have an opening around 4:30.

Posted by Blogdramedy on January 12, 2012

http://blogdramedy.wordpress.com/2012/01/12/twitter-to-the-rescue/