Freewill

"You can choose a ready guide in some celestial voice
If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice
You can choose from phantom fears and kindness that can kill
I will choose a path that's clear
I will choose freewill." -Rush, "Freewill"

What to do, what to do...

Being an adult can really suck sometimes. When I was a kid, the decisions I had to make rarely affected anyone more than just me. Should I be a ghost or Dracula for Halloween? What shirt should I wear today, the one with the dragster belching out flames or the "Beach Bum" shirt? Should I trade this PB&J for that SLT (stripple/lettuce/tomato)? Should I try to "loop-de-loop" on the swings? I wonder what will happen if I say "No" to mom...

It was the school years of 1985-87. These were the formative schooling years at Forest Lake Academy. I was a good kid, never having been in any real trouble. But I do realize one thing: I was easily moved under the influence of the powers of persuasion. Turns out, these two years were the years of bad decisions.

Bad decision #1: I was a hall monitor who thought it was a good idea to harbor stolen property in my room. In exchange for receiving a bitchin' boom box from the perpetrator of the crime, I would store it and it's mates in my room until it was deemed the proper time to sell said property. It was flawless, except for the perpetrator being filmed, followed, and found by the local retail store from which said property was stolen. Mice squeak when caught by the cat, and fellow mice get ratted out in the process. I was lucky enough to only be stripped of my title and responsibilities and to be banned from said retail store, not that being banned from a K-Mart that was not in my home town was such a bad thing. They also took "my" boom box back. And I had worked so hard for it. Humph.

Bad decision #2: The setting was the luscious tropical island of Jamaica. The company was the entire Forest Lake Academy concert band. The decision was some killer Jamaican ganja. I remember we were at Dunn's River Falls in Ochos Rios and my friend and I decided that we were going to try to find some island smoke. Hmm...where were we going to find that in Jamaica? And how hard was it going to be? How long would we have to search? Easy squeezy. After only one question, we found out it wasn't going to be hard and that we didn't have to go anywhere. We were directed to a guy selling artwork by a large tree. We started talking to him like we were buddies and within minutes, asked the question. No problem, mon. He removed a picture that was hanging on the tree and opened up a hinged door built right into the tree. Hanging inside the hollowed out section were numerous buds, of which we had our choice. We picked one out and gave the guy $20, which was a deal, considering it was a foreign country, we were kids, and the fact that he actually followed through with his end of the deal. And we were happy. We tried it out in a port-a-potty. We tried it out in the dormitory room we were staying in, blowing out the window. And we would have gotten away with it too, if I hadn't have given some to a girl I liked who tried it in a stall in the bathroom of the women's dormitory and promptly told where she got it. I was lucky to have been accepted back for the following school year. Perhaps having the pastor of my local church speak on my behalf helped there. In fact, I know it did.

Bad decision #3: How two teenagers got not just wine coolers, but wine coolers in 2-liter bottles, is beyond me. But here we were, two unpracticed alcoholics with solo cups and warm 2-liter bottles of Bartles and Jaymes wine coolers, drinking it like it was Kool Aid (Oh, yeah!). It probably would have been okay if we'd just stayed in one of our rooms and kept quiet. But, no, we had to take our stupidity out into the halls of the dormitory and onto the grounds of the academy, where we ran around like idiots, laughing uncontrollably and yelling out, "I'm so dizzy!" at the top of our lungs and falling down. Drunk, that is. Of course, at my disciplinary hearing, I blamed it all upon being distraught over the break-up between myself and my girlfriend of one week. That didn't matter. I still ended being suspended for the remainder of the first semester of my senior year.

The decisions were made with knowledge of the consequences of being caught. Regardless of the fact that most often times, the decisions were made under the strong power of outside persuasion, the truth is that they were made by me alone. Nobody forced me to do anything. I did it all of my own free will. Despite what happens, for better or for worse, that's the beauty of being a human being alive on this multicolored spinning orb hurtling through space; whether you are allowed to do something or whether it's prohibited by law, morality, even decency; or even despite there being consequences for your choices...you are able to make that decision. Even if your decision making process is impaired, say, by mental illness, and your decisions are not correct or even allowed to come to fruition, you are still free to make choices; the process of free will is humanly inherent.

These decisions I've described from my past are far from completing a life-long list of bad choices. They're merely examples that barely scratch the surface. I've made so much more than I'm going to admit. What I've listed...who have they hurt? I used to think that they only hurt myself. And for the most part, that's true. But what about those who love me; those who I disappointed? More importantly, what about those I love? A central figure that falls right in the middle of those who were possibly affected by my choices is the person who tried to ensure that I made the right ones; my grandmother. She did her best, and she did a fine job, but she will never be the one to blame. She will never be behind the wheel of the high-speed, off-course, runaway train that is my decision making process. The responsibility lies solely and squarely upon my shoulders.

I talked a while back about being upset about something that was given to someone else that I felt should have been given to me. It's been a little while, and I've had time to let it sink in, but even at the time I talked about it, I had accepted it and was processing the moving on of my life. I figured that if it was meant for me, I would have gotten it. Time would only tell if the decision that was made would end up being the right one or not. Well...time, as fickle as he and his partner (that being of beauty called karma) can be, have decided to act quickly, as I see it, but right on time, in their eyes. It seems that what was offered and given to someone else is now being offered to me. I can honestly say that pride kept me from deciding right away. I was upset at being passed over and not being given what I had wanted for a long time. I was mulling over the numerous things that would come into play once I accepted what was being offered to me. I won't know for a while if I'm making a good choice or not. I do know that I will do my best to ensure positive results from making this decision. So many things can go wrong, but, oh, so many things can go right. But I've decided and it's going to happen.

It hasn't been just "me" for a long time now. Decisions I make will most certainly affect people who depend upon me and depend upon choices I make. Never have I been more aware of this. I know this and they are the ones I'm doing this for, in the end. It is for me, but more importantly, for them.

I'm going to do it for her. I'm going to do it for him. I'm going to do it for us.

Keep the Change

I can feel the warmth of the campfire making the soles of my shoes soft. I should probably move them before they start to drip gooey drops of fine German engineered footwear into the fire pit. I should move my feet but I'm so comfortable and I'm sure my shoes won't melt anytime soon. It sounds like many others are still awake and enjoying this crisp and cool Autumn evening. A few short hours ago, this fire pit was burning tall and bright, encircled by old and new friends laughing and mingling and holding cozy koozies. Things were passed around. Things in jars that tasted like cherries, apple pie, peaches, and fire. Things that required fire. Now, it's just me and a few others trading out yawns and holding on to the remaining minutes of the day as the fire burns lower. 

All of this feels like it was yesterday. It should have been yesterday; it should have been this past weekend, because this past weekend I was sad. If it had been yesterday, I wouldn't be writing this today. I was supposed to be somewhere this past weekend, at a VW event I haven't missed in over 15 years. I was supposed to be hanging out with like-minded people; people who have become as close to me as my own family. I was supposed to be sitting around the fire, in danger of melting my shoes.

Why didn't I go? I could blame it all on money. I could afford it. It's less than $40 for myself and my kids to spend the weekend there. Of course there's gas to buy, but it's only a few hours away. There's food and play money too, but that's just a little extra. It would be close, but easily done. I could say that my kids are just not that into VW shows like they used to be. But it's more than the show. It's camping by a river; it's feeling the camaraderie of people that are there for the same reason you are; it's time away from home. That's something they're still into. I could say that I wasn't sure if I was even going to go, that I wasn't ready for it, that work and school hampered my efforts to make plans to be there. I could say all these things and there'd be a tiny bit of truth in it. But it's closer to the truth to blame it on change.

I usually go into everything I have an interest in with a fiery passion. When I first got into the VW scene, I tried to do it all. I would try to hit every campout and show or cruise-in I could. It became more than just a hobby; it was a lifestyle. Not that driving a simple vehicle was too far a step away from my personality. I don't need a fancy car, and a VW Bus is far from fancy. My current car sure isn't fancy. It's the gutless wonder, gas-saving little sibling of the Zoom-Zoom family.

I do still love my Bus. I can't wait for the day when I have him back on the road. I still love going to VW shows and campouts. I will be hitting a few of them up in the next few months. I look forward to them. So what's changed? It doesn't sound like anything has changed. I can't even tell if I've changed without being told. But I think that there's definitely something. It's subtle. It's low-key. It's inner and quiet and almost invisible. I think it is me.

I've been working on me for a long time. Physical aspects are one thing. It's been a life-long battle with keeping my body in the shape I want it to be in. Not the way others think I should be; not the way the biased media thinks I should be; but the way I want me to be. I rarely win this battle, but I'm on the offensive and actually winning for now. Mentally? I don't think I will be where I want, when I want. I think I'm where I should be, but who's to say where that is? I certainly don't know if I'm even supposed to know when I'm where I want to be, but I have a feeling that I will just know. Ya know? Let me tell you, my last real relationship that ended (and the way it ended) really left its mark on my heart and scarred my trust of giving myself, wholly, to anyone. I know your attitudes and feelings should not be dependant upon the actions of others, but it's so hard to not let that happen. Truly, it wasn't just the last failed relationship, it was the culmination of a short string of failed relationships that was the mortar in my wall. I haven't used this wall to keep anyone away (anyone is free to look over and even visit) but I believe it's part of my attempt to work on me; to make sure I know who I am. Honestly, I haven't even so much as gone out on a date in almost a year. Yes, I've met up with some fine women, but they were not bona fide dates. I'm sure that if they're reading this, they'd agree. I hope...

So, on Friday, I was sad. Thoughts of times past and time passed and changes that occur...and knowing I was missing something I didn't want to miss. I knew my friends were already there or on their way. Pictures posted to Facebook were bound to be showing up on my wall throughout the weekend. But the choice to miss out had been made and I planned on getting things done here at the house and do a little fun thing with my kids. The little fun thing ended up being a drive up to Chilhowee and a hike to the waterfalls on Saturday. It was simple, family fun. And that night, I had my own little fire in my fire pit. I kept my shoes far away from this one, though.

Sunday, we tackled a long-overdue job: cleaning out the kids' room and another room with boxes filled with pieces of the past. Things brought from my old house, packed away in haste to be gone through at a later date. I've attempted to do this job numerous times, but you know how rummaging through pieces of your past goes...ADHD takes over. It takes perseverance and a touch of ruthless tenacity to not get distracted by what you find. It's easier with the help of another person. My daughter kept me on track, and we took out a rather large chunk of memories to the donation center and got another step closer to making that room full of memories into her new bedroom.

That's change. Letting go of something that just might be subliminaly holding back the progress you thought you were making. That's exactly what I've been trying to achieve; progress in my life, something more than just the obvious physical changes, something on a deeper level; getting my heart and soul back on a level where I can be free to trust, to live without fear of hurt, to know that even if I fail and fail again, that it will be okay. Because even after what's happened before in my life, I'm still here after all.

And that's change I can keep.