Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man, that he didn't, didn't already have
February 28, 2022
After four hours of sleep, I woke to the phone this morning. I recognized it was an automated appointment reminder for Thursday. I didn’t answer.
I checked my texts. Rebecca sent me a Reddit link to a Russian soldier’s text conversation with his mother.
The tears came instantly. I scrunched my eyes tight against the hot liquid and whispered aloud, “No. No. I can’t do this anymore! I cannot read these things; I cannot see these things!”
“But Coco, you cannot avoid seeing this stuff, hearing this stuff. It’s everywhere. You cannot avoid the pain of this war. You need to accept that,” Spirit said to my heart. Or maybe it was one of Spirit’s imposters. Yes, I see it now. It’s a lie mixed with a truth. Spirit is pure Truth.
It’s everywhere, the suffering of war. But I can limit my exposure. I know how to do that now. I know how to protect my mind. I’m not perfect at it, but I have a method. I’ve been honing it a lifetime.
Behind my still closed eyes, I saw Pain saunter in. I was not surprised. She slowly lowered herself down onto the plush sofa I reserve for her in the conversation room of my mind. She plumped the pillows behind her, grabbed a lap blanket and slowly drew it over her lap, smoothing the folds as she tucked it in around her. She looked up and smiled, her sly wry smile.
I opened my eyes and went back to my phone. Scanning the comments; more links. I linked to a video of a Ukrainian boy fleeing his country, tearfully recounting he’d left his father behind to fight.
The sadness overwhelmed. The tears flowed hard; the sobs began. Despair filled me full up and began oozing out, surrounding me with a gaseous cloud of pure poison suffering, which clung to me, neither spreading nor dissipating.
I looked up into Pain’s eyes.
“You fucking CUNT!” I screamed. I wanted to lunge across the room, grab her neck, extinguish her power once and for all. She continued to hold my gaze, frozen in her characteristic languid, all knowing, smug expression. She only knows how to be one thing: my torment.
“This consuming solidarity I feel, it’s not good, it’s not healthy. I’VE GOT TO DETACH!” I screamed, this time at God, shaking my fists at the ceiling.
“YOU’VE GOT TO STOP THIS WAR!”
I closed my eyes, and inside I slowly crumpled to the ground and stretched out onto the familiar bed of red-hot coals of defeat. I submitted, I embraced the overwhelming pain, pushing myself flat on the searing rocks, making certain as much of me was connected to suffering as I could. I know from living this cycle over and over a lifetime, it’s only when I completely surrender that I can get to the bottom of despair and begin to build the strategy to rise back up.
This war is fresh and shockingly intimate. I’ll be in despair and defeat for a time. I only hope it won’t be long. No one knows, though. Wars can end in just days; wars can stretch on for decades. I pushed into the realization of it. War is hell. Yet, people push through, people survive, spirit persists, Spirit persists.
I looked up into Pain’s eyes.
“You can’t get me,” I said, returning her languid, all knowing, smug expression with my version of the same.
“I know what to do. I know how to do this, now. You taught me. You’re good for something. I will limit what I take in. I will protect my mind. I know how to do this, now. You taught me. You’ve made me better, stronger, smarter, and more resilient. You’re good for something. You taught me the bad things make me better.
But you don’t own me, Pain. You will never own me. You will never have all of me. You’ve lost your hold. You might as well face facts.”
She continued to hold my gaze, frozen in her characteristic languid, all knowing, smug expression. But then, her lip twitched, so slightly, so subtly, I’m shocked I caught it.
My lips slowly curled into my best crooked cocky smile. It’s Courage, that smile. Courage is the gift of Spirit. I love it when I have Power to smile that smile.
Pain is cracking. I’ve done it. I’ve pushed through and I’ll keep on pushing through. That cunt is going down.
The world Perseveres. And life goes on.