Why?

Anyone who use to read this blog from time to time will notice that the name has changed and I have deleted the post that explained why it was called "The Inane Ramblings of a Deviated Mind". I deleted the explanation because I do not fell that it served any further purpose to this blog. So why the name change? In the past year my perspective on my words, thoughts and actions have been changing significantly. I am coming to understand that our thoughts, words and actions form the world around us. I no longer feel that my words are inane... they are the foundation of my world. I no longer feel that my thoughts are rambling... they are direct in their purpose of my personal growth. I do still feel that my mind is deviated though (in a good way). I deviate from the standards of what we are told to believe about life and religion, while trying to find my own path. I hope that someone can get something from where this journey takes me, and I hope that I can share ideas with others who are finding their own path.

Letter.

Dear Rodney,

So… who is this Christoph person? Chris? Christopher? Kristoff? Khoast? Tristen? Orman? So many names that I have gone by and only a few of them the name you gave me. I’ve gone by my fair share of names over the years and for a long time I wasn’t even sure of whom I was. I wandered for years after your death, trying to identify who was this child that you had left behind. Left behind. What a cruel way to look at things Dad. Yet, that’s how I thought of it for a long time after you died. I knew it wasn’t your fault, but I felt like I had been left behind.

Do you know how angry I was with you when I last saw you? It was such a simple matter and not worth the anger that I spat at you. The sound of that Black Dodge’s slamming door, after the angry words we exchanged, would come to haunt me for years to come. Yet that was nothing in comparison to the horrible thoughts and words that came from my mouth in the two weeks before you passed away.

I was on a Christian retreat during the last two weeks of your precious time with us. I had studied for months on how to run a Bible Camp for under privileged children. It felt so good touching the hearts of those young children. I felt a real connection to them, as I know they felt it with me. We brought Christ to their hearts and they brought compassion and love to ours. One of the children made me a special salvation bracelet that I wore the rest of my time on the retreat. I couldn’t believe how much a small bracelet made of multicolored plastic and a leather string could mean to me.

I was so mad at you on that trip. I spoke such harsh words about you. I doubted things about you that should have never been in doubt. Yet, I was a child of only fifteen at the time and it was in my nature to rebel and rail against the boundaries. I don’t blame myself now for what I said, but it took me a long time to get to this point.

There are a few days in your life that you will never forget and for me the day I got home from that retreat is one that will stay in my heart until the day I die. Richard picked me up from the church the moment that my foot landed off the van. I could feel a fear that I could not explain sweeping over my soul, this was not right. As we pulled into the driveway I could feel the sands of a thousand beaches fill my legs. The weight was too much to hold. I stood at that door as it swung open, not sure which two family members would be standing there. I don’t remember a word being spoken for as soon as I saw Kim and Mom standing there I knew I had lost my father. My scream and howl is all that I remember as I crashed to the floor.

I can’t remember anything after that until I was standing by your casket, looking at the body your soul had left behind. I knew you weren’t in there, but I knew you were nearby. I did something I have no recollection of ever doing in your life time when I bent over and kissed your cheek. No one had warned me that you would be so cold. I reached down and tucked my salvation bracelet into your hands. I buried more than my father that day.

In the years to come Kristoff fought with a destructive rage that would lash out at anything and anyone in his path, including himself. I sought solace in drugs and alcohol. I threw fists through walls. I sliced blades across my skin to try to find a physical pain that would take away my emotional pain. I rejected faith as a pointless system of arbitrary laws to control the masses and deaden us into sheep. I hated everything, and took joy in nothing.

Khoast was on a steady decline from fifteen to twenty-one. I pushed anyone who cared about me away, and it wasn’t until someone I truly cared about pushed me away that I began to look at myself. I may not agree with why she pushed me away, but it made me truly look at every aspect of my life to that point. I was grasping at straws. I had no respect for myself, I had no love for others and I had totally rejected the divine.

I began to look at myself and realize that things had to change. I started to devour faith like never before. I had always been interested in religion and had always studied them. Yet until this point I looked at them as a scientist looks through a microscope. I had been trying to find their holes and their flaws. What kept them together and what would make them fall apart? Now I began to see them for what they were. I remember feeling my faith coming back to me, yet different than I had ever felt it before.

So… who is this Christoph person? He is a person who has found his way. I have learned that compassion is the meaning of life. I have learned that the divine has many names and many aspects and it doesn’t care what names we put to it. The thing that matters most is that we love each other and have compassion in our hearts. I don’t claim to have it all together, nor do I claim that I ever will. What I do know is that in my loss of you I have become the man I am today and that man is an echo of you.

The anger is washing from my soul, the loss will always sting and my love will eternally grow.

I love you. I miss you. I know you are here watching over your family.

Love,
Me

Darkness.

I never realized that I was raised in a dark house. I’m not saying that we didn’t have light bulbs or that we were nocturnal creatures. Nor am I saying that there was no ambient sunlight coming in. There was no duck and cover act with a supernatural hiss if sunlight came rushing in. It’s just that we kept all of our windows closed and well covered. The blinds were typically closed tight and the curtains were drawn over them. Now I know this sounds sinister and it conjures up images of the house you walked by as a child and wondered what devious plans the occupants were formulating behind their darkened windows. Yet it was nothing like that. My parents were just people who enjoyed their privacy.
We were creatures of solitude, which is because we were truly creatures of habit. We went to the same restaurants when we went out to eat and ordered the meals we knew we liked. When we went on vacation we went to the same locations, in the same hotels, going to the same putt-putt courses and driving miles for the same restaurants. Perhaps our darkened state of living was merely due to our natural drive to be habitual. It was habit to draw the shades and enjoy a certain level of ambiguity.
My life is a constant demonstration of being habitual. Although I do strive to step outside of my boundaries whenever possible. I try to push my boundaries of comfort by trying new foods, going to new destinations and meeting new people, but my habitual state likes to have its way in the end. I always find myself sliding back into that comfortable spot I know so well. I like to sitting in my favorite chair, invite over my closest friends, pop in my favorite movie and see if I can draw those curtains just a little bit tighter. I like living in a dark house.

Music.

Do you know what an eerie calmness is? Have you ever felt a disturbing wave of peace? Has a song ever touched your soul so deep that it racks your body into chills? As if someone has peered into the deepest recesses of your subconscious, gazed at the vast reaches of endless space & potential and played their measure to command all the stars in that expanse to harmonize with every inch of your epidermis? No? You think that what I just wrote is pure gibberish? That's a shame, because it is a truly amazing experience. Yes? What was it?


Those who know me well will know that my next statement will speak volumes...
Nine Inch Nails is no longer with Interscope and Trent has released a new collection of work. Ghosts I-IV is available for download, and it is not for the average music listener. I am only through Ghost I currently and the complexity and layering of this piece of work without the use of lyrics is absolutely chilling. Haunting would be a more apropos statement I guess. Thank you Trent for once again proving that Music is an art form and not just a spoon fed remedy for the masses.