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| With my own light... |
While
I was in the depths of my disease I had a book in my mind that I tried to write
and the title of that book would have been “Alone”. The theme of that
book would continue to be an exploration of how alone I was but it was
not a Boo-Hoo story. I was alone by choice even though I had family, friends
and a mysterious sense that a power greater than myself was always there.
Running through that story would have been a grand struggle, a rebellion… a
rebellion against everything I thought was controlling my life: bourgeois
religion and morality, government institutions and political or social
manipulations (I was so far to the Left I was always Right) and these ideals left me alone... like my heroes; Rimbaud, Baudelaire, Kerouac and Neal Cassady. In the end I would
die naked and alone just as I came into the world.
I
finally wrote that book after I got sober and its them was the same alienation
and search for union, but the ending was qualitatively different in that I found
the joy of never being alone again. Yes, the pure and simple joy of that
awakening turned my life around and I never have to be alone again.
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