The Manic Side

Eventually, it breaks. Eventually, after months or years of chipping away the thing breaks through and you’re where you want to be. This takes energy. When one is filled with this energy it is like there is something within them resembling God, and who’s to say there isn’t. To create on the subject of creating has a tendency to turn into the same sort of meta bullshit that poisons the majority of today’s entertainment. It isn’t cool anymore to make fun of oneself to the point of pain, it’s gotten sad that this could pass for comedy for so long. What I try to write is the pain you don’t have to laugh at because you know what it is when you see it. It is easy to take the high and see it as magical, this is all we see every day. Victory, achievement, the exhilaration that comes when a plan is executed to perfection. These are the Friday Nights of life, the times one may look back on and say “that was memorable” or “I will never forget this day.” The more of these days I’ve had, the less I am able to enjoy them because I know what comes in the morning. You start over again. After the last congratulatory text, there is nothing but another road being gobbled by another horizon.

So what then is the fabric made of? To me, the real beauty and reality of what we call life comes from the realization that we are sentenced to a whole lot of Tuesday mornings, and that the Friday nights are nothing to live for at all. The real truth, the marrow of being, is not the manic side, but the drab, ugly, scolding depressive one. The place where a single step forward is about as much of a victory as one can seem to stomach. A real life lived on real terms, is a life lived with feet to the floor, eyes as open as possible, and with suffering set as the accepted default. The creed is not to chase celebration, but to realize and to bear the burden, regardless of how heavy it is. This is living -- the refusal to die just yet.

Of course, it’s unwise to ignore the mania too. The manic moments are gifts, times of great abundance graced from some source far beyond our understanding. Pride, pleasure, perfect placement in timing. These are the moments we are afraid to live because we know that they won’t last forever. During these times, we fear what is around the bend not because we don’t feel as though we can handle it, but because we view it as some sort of strange trick being played on us from above. Mania should be enjoyed, partied through, accepted for what it is and then left as a corpse and a story to tell.

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