Saturday Writing Essential 10/24/09: Call out your Demons: A Halloween Musing

We owe the darkness. It is part of us; we are part of it. I can think of no better time than Halloween to call out your demons. But be careful, they are not named demons for nothing. They have controlled you in the past, and they could easily do so again. From our demons and ghosts come the depth of truth, the link to mortality, and the deepest roots of humanity. Not really dualism, but yes, without the darkness we would not know light. There are leaves up there, shaking ever so gently in the breeze, reveling in the joyful lightness of being. But it is Halloween and the trees will soon be bare. For some of us, probably all of us in one way or another, a good part of strength, empathy and credibility comes from our dark side or from a darkness thrust upon us. In my case it is a darkness within. There are still some secret dungeons of despair that I cannot tap into....yet; though I know that for me, there is only one path to redemption as an artist and a man. Part of it leads through those dungeons. I know that it is how I choose to face these demons and bring them into the light that dictates whether I am received in my own mind as victorious or as a failure. I cannot know beauty until it has abandoned me. I cannot feel wise until I have outwitted (or sometimes un-witted) myself. I cannot be at peace until I have driven a stake through the heart of unworthiness. These are the mother’s of my demons. The little ones are much meaner and more personal.

I awoke from the tap on the window. I awoke with that dull hum and ache in my head that comes when you have only slept for a couple of hours after drinking most of the night, and the day and night before too, mixing gin and tonics with beer; now curled up in the back seat of a Volkswagen on a dirty country road, out of gas, beer, money and luck.

There is a cop at my window.

“ Sir, can you step out of the car please.” The cop shined his flashlight in the window directly in my eyes.

The moon was full. A huge orange ball peeking above the black silhouette of the tree line at the far end of the pasture. The moon was always full here, sucking the life and the light out of the world. It is always night. Why did I come here? I thought this would be easy when I first arrived. But they rule the night. I was here to bring them back, to call them out, name them for what they were and take away their power. I felt fortunate that in this land of night, if you want to call it that, nothing is as it seems and most of these demons, at least the ones that are not yours, are just going through the motions. So I told the cop I was just sleeping one off. He said “Ok, well you drive safe then sir.” Everything about this place was like the “real world” but not really. People like me found themselves here when the floor under the “real” world caves in under their feet. Then, we have to root out the cause and either kill it, or make peace with it. That is if we ever want to see our families again. On the surface, I’m probably going on with my life, maybe people know I’m not really there, maybe they don’t. Maybe I’m locked up, Maybe I’m working on Wall Street. It’s so different for everyone. Some people have an autopilot, some people don’t. I’ve been told by ones who’ve come back here for seconds, that you don’t know until you get back. This world is real alright. As real as anything ever gets. And I know where my demons are, but I’m afraid.......

Writing Prompt: Something different this week. I want to do a collaborative story telling. Add a paragraph to my story as a comment to this story. You may comment more than once, but please don't follow yourself too closely. If you are making a comment that is not part of the story please put it in [Brackets] so we know.

Bonus: Write a story or poem dealing directly or indirectly with some darkness or demon that has or is plaguing you. You don’t have to be explicit or embarrass yourself just deal with what you feel comfortable with. This could be something you have conquered, something from the school of hard knocks, or something you know you will have to face at some point or other. Mine will come in the form of a poem later this week. (I’m not happy with it yet). If you write a separate post be sure to tag it: Satwe.