The Poem: My Eucalyptus
What happens when you no longer live under my moon.
Will your leaves still season each colorful breeze.
Will I find every leaf’s imprint in the shale of my mind.
Your gifts were more than shade and strength to lean upon. Your countenance will last forever.
You were my eucalyptus.
The Prose: Le Petit Mort
The little death. Like a deep breath, you quell the pain of all the guilt ridden sighs in my chest.
You see, sometimes I need a whirlpool for my brain. Normal is just a setting on the dryer she exclaimed. To which I proclaimed, that’s so refreshing I might just love you for it.
But the fairer sex cannot be the only tiny death I find.
You see, I am getting good at Le Petit Mort because I am finding ways to get better at La Vie.
When I was younger I believed that like the song says: ‘it’s better to feel pain than nothing at all’ and after all ‘the opposite of love is indifference’ so how could I have been any different.
I still forget the hangovers now and then and tie one on but thankfully I feel the need to suffer bad decisions only very rarely now and I think I might outgrow it.
I used to get stoned alone when I needed to press the reset button. Sometimes I still do.
The art of living is the art of making friends with oneself: for your very resiliency against the certainty of life’s trials exists solely in the health of your relationship with yourself. Your self-esteem and your inner-disposition are sacred domains which no individual has the right to deprive you of. Thus, a wise man learns to suffice for his own happiness alone.
The most effective means of self-containing the sanctity of your happiness in this manner is in habitually exercising the inestimable practice of retiring within yourself to find peace. The trust in yourself you will build through this practice will afford you a lasting sense of peace whom no other person is capable of providing.
So, I verily say to thee, make happiness not just your personal responsibility but an unassailable right that you alone have granted yourself simply because you know that any and everything else in the world promising you happiness is a fugazi compared to the surety in knowing that you can be happy despite whatever may happen because you’ve practiced being happy and you are good at it.
So enjoy the taste of your food, the air dancing on your skin and every other simple pleasure we take for granted. And when dark waves crash upon your door or you’ve stumbled, retire back within yourself and find the sacred peace that exists within your DNA. Yes, you are wired to experience the full spectrum of bliss available to you. You must be like a painter, working with the colors you have. So breathe and remember that you can satisfy the invisible pains of a thousand sighs in a single deep breath.
And if all else fails, remember that life is suffering. Life is shit. There are starving children around the world, and victims of horrible crimes against humanity at the hands of tyrant leaders. Right now, prisoners in North Korea are being tortured and countless others are in physical and emotional pain beyond what you are capable of even imagining. But you can afford the luxury to be happy, so don’t waste the chance to make the world a brighter place. Let it be written that you were a pilot light for the peace and joy of others. May peace be with you forever.
Inspired by Thomas Jefferson: “The art of life,” Jefferson once wrote, “is the art of avoiding pain. [And] the most effectual means of being secure against pain is to retire within ourselves, and to suffice for our own happiness. Those, which depend on ourselves, are the only pleasures a wise man will count on: for nothing is ours which another may deprive us of. Hence the inestimable value of intellectual pleasures.”
Now, listen to Celtic Amazing Grace and breathe with me.