Goop

I was sitting on my couch this morning and envisioned myself entering my apartment through the front door walking through this goop. There was nothing grose about it, maybe ‘goop’ is the wrong word. It was just this thick cloudy/clear stuff that enveloped me. I could walk through it but it left no path. It just merged back together, unified. I imagined it was everywhere, that everyone was walking around like me, confined to their own bubble. Its function was to isolate and to be invisible, to cloud perspective and be a barrier to others, to prevent connection. I have been thinking about my loneliness lately and trying to understand how it’s come to be. I was also thinking about this doco ‘Abandoned’ that I’ve been watching on Viceland and these guys who were tracking ghosts that haunted one of many shut down malls in the States. It made particular sense to have this vision in my apartment where I moved into as a newlywed 11 years ago and looking at its doorway, for which the significance of I will get to. Getting married for some reason seemed to mark the beginning of the end of our relationship. I see our relationship like the shape of a mountain. We approached it from either side drawing closer and we reached the peak together around our engagement then once we were married we continued our descent in the opposite direction, drifting further and further apart. Before we were married we would talk about heading in the same direction, and after the opposite direction and neither of us would compromise on our values. Integrity can threaten relationships. That’s been a tough one to learn. Near the end I was feeling so distant from her. I would approach the front door of the unit with a feeling of dread about occupying the same space in the physical sense and feeling totally removed and confined in every other sense. Sex with her exemplified this feeling. It was horrible. Detachment, isolation, alienation and the disempowerment to change it are the worst feelings for me and I’m guessing I’m not alone here… ironically. I live to connect, to reconcile, to forge partnerships, communities, to support and encourage. All my fantasies are about this yet in reality I am still yet to figure out how to make this happen. I try consciously to become the type of person who is most likely to connect to others but here I am at 35 struggling. What is this clear goop? How do I identify it, see it for what it is, penetrate it and get to others? I am sick of existing alone, having no effect, feeling invisible.

Chris

I had the thought approaching the end of 2017 that this is the year Chris Cornell died. It was significant to me. I took it hard. I’ve never listened to or connected to anyone’s music more than his and at the risk of sounding like a crazed fan it felt we shared a similar soul. For instance I played the Rage special on him which my friend had lent me a recording of and if I take just the first 3 songs; Like a Stone, Show Me How to Live, and Be Yourself I feel each say so much about him and me and loneliness I guess. Like a Stone is about the security that the thought of death can offer; how he saw it as something he can rely on; that’s always there for him if he ever really needs it – and yes this thought made me tear up. I’ve had this thought more times than I can remember. Show Me How To Live speaks so much of Chris’s angsty relationship with God/a Higher Power or “Higher Truth” to use his words in a recent song. This definitely reflects my journey and this song reveals a kind of questioning, discontent seeker trying to figure it out like me and so I scream his plea along with him but with his angelic voice blaring to drown out my… less than angelic one! Be Yourself reflects his integrity and desperate optimism and while I might critique things a lot and reflect on what has hurt me I remain an optimist at heart though it’s real tough to hang on to at times and again the thought of him losing this brought tears to my eyes. In this sense I thought if he killed himself, maybe the temptation would prove too much for me. It felt like a bad omen. My security was the love for my daughter. I have said that she is the only thing keeping me from it but then I thought of Chris’s children who he obviously loved. He was married too and I was single… again. And he was incredibly talented unlike me and so good at expressing himself and had millions who appreciated him. He had what I wanted, what I thought might give me some more security and fulfillment if I could obtain it, that it might remedy my persistent depression. In this sense it threatened my hope too. I was down and just trying to get through one day at a time when this news came and it really plagued me. I’m pretty good at keeping it together but my boss could tell something was up with me and sat me down for ‘a word’. I ended up telling her about Chris and how his music had been there for me since I was a teen then I cried!

The Door

A memory came back to me soon after his suicide as I reflected on my own desires to do the same. I was standing near the front door – where I had this “goop” vision. My wife at the time told me that she’d leave me if I didn’t start making good money. It cut like a knife to the chest. I was the naïve chump that took my vows seriously. Despite feeling a distance emerging between us it came as a complete shock. She had never even suggested such a thing in the 8 years we had been together. It hit hard and could feel myself about to implode and had to walk out that door. As the tears began to erupt I descended to the car park and locked myself in our car. I couldn’t bear the feeling and couldn’t bear being in the same building. I had to get away from her, try to outrun the source of the pain but I knew that I was also craving an end. I gunned it out of the garage heavy footed and half blind with waterfall eyes that gravitated toward any solid object that could take me out. I wanted out and was losing control of my limbs and knew I needed something if I were to continue here. I fumbled through my CD’s, eyes off the road tempting fate and Audioslave found its way into my hand and my stereo. As I played I connected to something higher that gave some perspective to my pain and more importantly remedied the isolation; I wasn’t alone in this. I continued to the cinema; a refuge for me. Cronenberg’s Eastern Promises was playing; a perfect dark escape. I go to the toilet to wash my face and gather myself. I look in the mirror and can’t believe how well I hide the pain. I don’t know if I’ve ever cried like this yet my eyes have somehow remained white. It’s always seemed that my pain has been invisible to the outside world but the girl behind the counter whom I knew somewhat looked at me, like properly, the way no one does – the reason Marina Ambramovic can turn looking at someone into an art installation. I’m not accustomed to people acknowledging my pain but she seemed to. She didn’t say much and gave a free juice. A small gesture – a look and a juice and it meant the world to me. It said; “don’t give up”. It reassured me that people want to connect and want to… be nice. I’ll always remember it. Thanks Chris, thanks the girls whose face I can see but name I can’t remember and Palace Cinemas for paying for the juice even though you didn’t mean to.

I possibly wouldn’t be here without Chris or the others who are considerate or bare their souls to connect or create something real that casts a line out and hooks you. Even if it hurts, like listening to Chris does – now more than ever, you’re connected to something and this beats isolation any day. I’d rather embrace the pain of reality with someone than live in a disconnected escape.

Grace

The exception to my solitary state is the time I spend with my daughter. She is someone who embodies the ability to connect, to be completely present and snap people out of their solitary state. It’s not something she has “figured out”. She was born with it. I’d have her in the carrier and walk around and sometimes catch the train. Actually my favorite time was peak hour for which I usually do anything to avoid – like refusing to get a 9-5 job! ‘Zombie traffic’ I call it but for this reason I’d take my daughter out cause she had this incredible power to pierce its atmosphere. She’d pop her head out trying to catch people’s eye, looking into them, often smiling and so many people, or zombies as they appeared to be, who had their heads down either looking at their phones or looking forlorn after work would suddenly come to life at the sight of her face. The transformation was incredible to witness. Their eyes lighting up, their animated smiles seemed to come from nowhere. I wish I had that power! It would evolve to putting her face between people and their phones and now at 2 she physically lifts my head up if she catches me on it. She did this the other day and said “I want to chat”. “Ok Darling”. How can I say no? Every day I spend with her I meet people who I wouldn’t otherwise because of this incredible gift she has. It blows my mind but it also seems strangely familiar and I realize it’s something I’ve lost rather than some new thing I’m trying to find. Something about life has extracted this energy, this naturally positive state I and I’m guessing all of us once possessed. This goop isn’t of nature but nurture. It’s developed in the atmosphere, in culture, in structures and in the deceitful ways it tells us how to solve our isolation. I can consider it on a grand scale in the present state of things or identify it throughout history but this can be overwhelming, or I can look at it in myself. What has made me this way? Where has this shame and fear and doubt come from? … this need to protect myself, to exist in armour? What thoughts, lies are convincing me to continue in this way? Can I be rid of it? … to clearly see others and become free to move toward them? I begin to identify the reoccurring thoughts I’ve had recently; that I’m alone and lonely because no one is interested in me, that my loneliness is unique to me and everyone else feels close to at least one other (or as Cornell puts it; “love is for everyone who isn’t me”). The two tracks I go down are blaming myself for this state or blaming everyone else. These thoughts and these paths don’t do anything to remedy this state, rather they are what keeps me in it. Now end on a positive note! The moral I guess is that even if you don’t know it, a small gesture, a look, a smile, a word of encouragement, being curious about others can spread hope, can really mean something even if you don’t know it.