Chris Spheeris Some writing

Hermit crab

I break out of one shell after another
Or perhaps more accurately
I don't break out at all
I vacate
I evacuate
To a place where I can breathe again

Every shell is my self imposed isolation
Yet I continue to choose one after another

There is always a way out if i pay attention
Sometimes, all I have to do is remember how I got in

It's not a long life for a hermit crab
Just as the journey is never long enough for a natural traveler

Hurry
No more formalities
I crawl fast

From shell

to shell

the old house

the old house
is filled with secrets
hidden between the pages
of the books
in the trunks
in the dark and musty basement rooms

locked away
in secret drawers
of old dressers
under the boxes
in the hot and cedar-scented attic
are things, hidden things

the walls
what these walls have witnessed
what these walls have recorded
the private histories
the secrets...oh the secrets no one else will ever know
and how long have these dirty walls remained silent

long ago, the windows were boarded
to keep the light
out of rooms that had should have been condemned

I went back to the old house
pried open the door
I walked the creaky wooden floors
and smelled the decay
of things long unexposed to the air

I spent my childhood here
so much to remember
so much to forget
so much that passed safely into my memory
so much that never made it through

I see an old clock
on an old wall
stuck in a very old moment
7:18
what day? What year?
Was it morning or night when time stopped?

There are frames with no pictures
and mirrors
unsilvered and grey

I'm overwhelmed by the sense of how fragile
and how imperfect I am
of how time, history, reflection, mystery and sheer endurance
have made this house a temple

but there are secrets in this house
that I don't need to know...

with my tears
I bless this house
and the generations that left their mark
and the marks left on me
and I now leave it for good
till one day soon
the wrecking ball will free the ghosts
and put the secrets to rest
but I will keep
in my pocket
one photo
of a child
on a swing
all alone
in the yard
outside the old house

eating brown beef

well, I finally faced it
i finally found the courage to say
that my life was shit
i had acquired a picture of success
but the picture fell off the wall
And the frame shattered
i used to think that my life would have meaning
if I earned a place in human history
but in the face of eternity
human history is a very small story told by very small mouths
and immortality?
well! This place wasn't built for immortality

so now, what am I doing here?
i don't know
the sunset sure is pretty
and I like the purple flowers in my back yard
and Julie's voice on my answering machine is smooth and sexy
the air smells great
and my blue Thai jacket makes me feel like a Buddah

i used to be an idealist
till I let go of perfection
and ambitions of one day being reconciled
now I let myself
smoke cigarettes when I feel like it
and say "fuck" in public

and why am I saying all this?
i don't know.
because it feels real to me?
because I'm not wearing underwear
and I like the way the evening air ventilates my crotch?
because maybe I just need to hear myself say it?

i like the sound of crickets
and I really like the feeling of a baby sleeping on my chest
drooling
into the ever-expanding wet spot

so what about purity, and piety
and all this "spiritual" stuff?
am I now a traitor?
nah! Spirit creates everything of Heaven and Earth
not just the whites
but the colors too
and the shadows
and the night
and the doubt

for so long I tried to attach some sort of meaning to the universe
and tried to make some sense of my personal psychology
yea, right!
it's like trying to route a river through a straw
i still do ask myself
"why am I here?"
"why am I here?"
"WHY-THE-HELL-AM-I-HERE?"
i don't even understand the question any more
and maybe that's part of the answer

smell the air
change the color of my hair
think my thoughts
feel my feet
go outside and cross the street
hear the music
touch the person next to me
look into their eyes
feel something electrical
feel something magical
feel something greater than the sum total of me and them
of me and you
of you and me, and them, and us

these treasures
of wonder and amazement
all far greater
than any rewards I had imagined

i watch the sunset
i talk to myself
i hear the jets
i smell my socks
it's really quite simple
I can't make a mistake

i can change my appearance
i can change my mind
i can shit in my pants
but i can't even pretend to be someone I'm not
because it will always still be me

it's hard to indulge in self-desolation
when I see a baby's smile
or a wildflower blooming in the desert
it's hard to feel sorry for myself
when I'm taking a walk
and I pass my neighbors
and they invite me over for a barbeque
a barbeque of New York strip and beef ribs
being a vegetarian
the concept of roasting animals seems really vulgar
but I have to laugh
because their eyes are clear
and their smiles are warm
and I accept their offer
and look forward to the time when I will eat brown beef

beyond need and beyond desire
there walks the simple figure of the uncontrived
the unmanipulated
that doesn't look beyond
but just looks
that doesn't express any thing
but just expresses
that doesn't live to have or to do
but lives, simply to be

"to be?
or not to be?"
THAT is still the question

getting real

I'm not comfortable enough with you to tell you what I'm really thinking, so I'm only going to allow you to see what I feel you're gullible enough to accept as my genuine expression even though I'm editing through my teeth.

and though you may really know that you're not getting the real thing, you, in return, may meet me mask-to-mask with an equally abbreviated version of what you are thinking, because you know that I'm full of shit and you are as uncomfortable to tell me as I was uncomfortable to tell you what I originally thought=.

I'm not comfortable enough with myself to say what's really on my mind because it's much safer to let you respond to this filtered-out-watered-down version of me rather than to risk the real thing.

so we're both afraid, but what are we afraid of? and is there any place lonelier than this, or anything more exhausting than dancing around what we think are each other's sensitivities, or our own?

sometimes I just want to say this:

the truth is, your breath stinks, and you drain me with your neediness, and next time you see me in the coffee shop, please don't interrupt my delicate serenity with your need for validation. and I don't find you interesting in the least even though you try so hard to convince yourself that you are, and I'm sorry you don't see that the harder you try, the more uninteresting you are and the more of a drag you are to be around.

other times, this is what I want to say:

my experience of you inspires persistently strong feelings in me that I've been wanting to somehow share with you, not so much so you can respond, but more so I can get this weight off my chest and free myself from the imprisonment of my silence. the truth is, there are no reasons for these feelings. if they could be attributed to reasons alone, then maybe it would be safer to share them with you, but then again, maybe they wouldn't really be feelings, and I haven't seen signs of you really wanting to hear what I have to say, and sure it would be difficult for me to watch you react and grow distant from what I have told you from the core of my vulnerability, and yes, it would be wonderful to unlock our fear of exposure and share in the delight of freeing our silences, but I just have to do it to do it, because is there any place lonelier than living in a world where our feelings have nowhere to go?

we are them

lately I spend so much time in my head
that I'm starting to believe that I am who I think I am-
an autonomous, free-willed individual
among autonomous, free-willed individuals
and as much as the consensus seems to support this point of view
something about the whole thing just doesn't sit right with me

everywhere I go
there I am
and everywhere I am
there I go
doing something
charming
or stupid
or compassionate
or courageous
I mean
ANYTHING I do
that i can later step back from
and JUDGE or QUALIFY
becomes a problem

it's a problem because I get trapped in separating my SELF from my ACTIONS
when I EVALUATE what I do, I split myself between the one who DOES what I do
and the one who JUDGES what I do

when I DO something, I believe I'm the DOER
when I JUDGE what I do, I believe I'm the JUDGE
but I can't be BOTH at once
nor can I be either one completely

it just another example of the fundamental conundrum that is my life:
when I think of who or what I am, who or what do I point to?
Who is the pointer and who is the one who's being pointed at?
And since I can't really be sure who either one is,
Any belief that I may have as to who I think I am will have no real authority

I'm trapped in a dilemma
where I BELIEVE myself at times
but DON'T believe myself at other times
and I don't know which is WORSE
Believing in a me that might not be real
Or NOT believing in a me that might be

and if I start believing that I'm NOT who I think I am
then THAT becomes just as big of a trap
as believing that I AM who I think I am
because in order to have the authority
to believe that I'm NOT who I think I am
I have to know who the "I" is
that's believing that the other "I" is not

believing that I know who I am FEELS better at first
but seems to always get me in MORE trouble LATER
but believing that I DON'T know who I am
becomes so bewildering and unsustainable
that I'm forced to convince myself that the self I'm enforcing is convincing

REALLY, I think I'm only happy when
I'm DOING something
because then, I'm INVOLVED
I'm out of my head
BUT HANG ON!
I'm ALWAYS doing SOMETHING
whether it's BREATHING
or WALKING
or DRIVING
or just sitting around doing nothing but
THINKING ABOUT WHO I THINK I AM

But the thing is,
I don't always FEEL like I'm doing something
my mind considers some activities
more SIGNIFICANT than others
and that's a HUGE TRAP!
Because the things that the me that may not be me focuses on
may keep the real me from seeing the things that show me who I really am

and my mind!
God! My mind is constantly pointing to things and saying to me
"OK, HERE COMES THE GOOD STUFF"
or "PAY ATTENTION NOW. THIS IS IMPORTANT!"
IMPORTANT TO WHAT OR WHOM???
And WHY?
When I look back, I can see that I've gotten excited over some really stupid things!

lately, I find it a welcome relief to experience things that AREN'T IMPORTANT
things that I would have previously considered"FILLER"
And so now my mind says,
"OK, HERE COMES SOMETHING THAT'S GOING TO BE ABSOLUTELY FORGETABLE "
or "PAY ATTENTION! THIS IS COMPLETELY INSIGNIFICANT!"
in the bigger picture, what my mind finds insignificant
holds as many clues to my true nature as what it finds important

The real irony is that when I'm REALLY doing something
when I'm really engaged,
I'm out of my head
Cerebrally DIS-engaged
At one with my experience
and "I" don't even exist

so maybe these memorable moments when I don't exist
Are telling me to let go of the unsolvable riddle of who I am
because "I" am fundamentally just a MYTH
a bad idea
a fictional character that I've invented based on real events

but it's REALLY HARD to STOP being me
because people STILL come up to me thinking they know who I am
and call me by my name
and reference the past
and reinforce WHO THEY THINK I AM BASED ON WHO THEY THINK I USED TO BE
and eventually I succumb to these enablers
and I start SELF-REFERENCING again
and I fall back into the addiction of identity

so trying to give up on myself is realistically not going to work

so what are the options?
what does the "i" that I'm not even sure that's real do to validate itself
or reveal it's own INHERENT ILLUSION?

I've heard that meditation works wonders for seekers of truth
That sitting around doing nothing but cultivating inner emptiness and silence
Makes the world that is neither empty nor silent seem more clear
I.ve heard that nurturing nothing but totally empty, forgettable moments
When I'm totally out of my mind in communion with the void
Will push the "reset" button on my illusions and re-mind me of who I am
Hmmm...
I'm not sure if I,m willing to do anything that requires the I give up my morning latte

And speaking of giving up things,
some people find their truth in religion
and give up control of their lives
and hand themselves over to GOD?
But over WHERE?
where IS that place?
Behind me? Next to me?
Maybe it's in front of me, IN THE PLACE WHERE I HAVE YET TO STEP
Hmmm...I don't know,
Logic tells me that if there's a PLACE where god IS
then there HAS to be a place where god ISN'T
and no matter how confused I get
I just can't imagine that

And how convenient it all sounds
GOD! like directory assistance
With all the answers to every question at all times
but IF go to god, then WHICH god?
The greeks have 12,
the hindus have dozens
Christians, muslims and jews all have their own gods
And most of them have no room for Buddha
And don't sit well by a river at one with the tao

It appears that
there are as many interpretations of god as there are interpretations of self
So the confusion around GOD is pretty much the same as the confusion around SELF
Hmmm...

Yup! life IS confusing
And sometimes I get depressed
But I think that's just because I'm trying to work something that doesn't work

This whole thing is hard for me
Because by nature I'm an overachiever
deep down inside, I'm pissed off that I can't figure this one out
and I'm a bad sport sometimes
And I think that if I can't win, I want to quit
Leave the competition
End it all
but to do THAT in a way that would satisfy my overachieving nature,
I'd have to...
To...
Kill myself
Metaphorically and otherwise
I'd have to commit...SUICIDE...
The word "suicide"...
It leaves a dark lingering pall like the ring of a church bell at a funeral
Suicide... But the problem with "suicide" is that it's is so DARK, so CULTURALLY STIGMATIZED
that my final act of SELF ASSERTION,
when I'm finally able to take control and says to god:
"screw you, coach, I'm taking myself out of the game!"
would be generally construed as a FAILURE
a TRAGEDY, an INABILITY TO COPE
and I'm way too vain for that
and by the way, did I forget to mention
that I DO LIKE IT HERE?
and as far as death goes,
DEATH doesn't sound like fun at all
and I have way too many commitment issues for something so long term

NO!
I mean YES!
Life IS FUN!
and I feel fortunate to be ME
and even if I don't have a CLUE
as to what that means
I wouldn't trade MY confusion for ANYONE else's

I look at all the poor bastards out there
who AREN'T me
and a lot of them
don't look like they're having as much fun as I am

it makes me want to give some of MY fun to THEM
to sing a cheesy song
or say something profoundly stupid
or TICKLE them
or do something just to let them know
that life doesn't have to be SO SERIOUS!!!
And let's get something perfectly clear here:
LIFE is NOT the NEWS!
which is worse than serious, it's downright MORBID
and the NEWS is NOT LIFE!
because real life is not edited nor editable nor biased
But self-identity is nothing but a bias
and reporting on life is just an exercise in biased self-assertion
and maybe that's why those poor bastards out there look so serious
because they're BIASED toward being serious
as if LIFE were a JOB and not simply a PRIVILEDGE
Or an OPPORTUNITY to have some fun

I have to keep remembering to LIGHTEN UP

and to appreciate
people who lighten ME up
when I'm feeling CONFUSED
or SCARED
or SAD
or GENERALLY DISCONNECTED
or worse yet, SERIOUS

so if I can put a smile on someone's face
the way so many do on mine
it's WAY more fun
than doing nothing but sitting around wondering who I am

it helps me to FORGET myself
because if THEY respond to me
and I to THEM
then WE've created some sort of CONNECTION
and we start having this THING
you know! a "THING!"
and I start thinking
maybe ME and THEM is a WE and isn't as separate as I thought

then I get all SENTIMENTAL
and can't imagine ME without THEM
and I go even more GOOEY and MAUDLINE
and UNIVERSALLY CO-DEPENDENT
and can't imagine ME without EVERYTHING around me

and in that BRIEF interruption
in my chronic low-grade EXISTENTIAL TERROR
I start to see that
I...AM...THEM!
And THEY ARE ME!
and I AM EVERYTHING!!!
and excluding ANYONE or ANYTHING else from ME
is just BAD ETIQUETTE

and it ALL makes me feel
like getting up on a SOAP BOX
and telling all the poor bastards
who aren't smiling
that it's OK
because THEY ARE ME
AND I AM THEM

and now
I want to be KING OF THE WORLD
so I can get on TV
and proclaim
HEY! IT'S ALLRIGHT!!
Because WE ARE US!!
And YOU ARE ME!!
And THEY, THEY ARE WE AND THERE IS NO "THEM"
ALL THAT OTHER STUFF WE USED TO BELIEVE WAS JUST AN ILLUSION!!!
GET IT??
OH! AND YOU DON'T REALLY DIE!!
CUZ THERE'S NOWHERE TO GO!!!
IT'S ALL ONE BIG WARM FUZZY
OUT THERE
IN THERE
ONE BIG WARM FUZZY
GET IT??
GET IT??
HUH???

HUH???

now I can imagine some of US
who have yet to embrace that I AM them
Are looking at the part of US that's ME
and are saying
WOW if I AM him,
then I suck too!
but now I can't be stopped
because SUCKING is ok
and so is being COOL
and being FAT
and being VAIN
and being OLD
and feeling INSECURE
and even feeling SEPARATED
because THAT"S why WE ARE US
because WE ARE ALL THAT
and EVERYTHING ELSE
and if we are EVERYTHING
then we include GOD
and GOD always includes US
HALLE-FUCKIN-LUIAH!!!!

so I'm going to shut up now
and get off the soap box
and go back to being EVERYTHING
in a LESS CONSPICUOUS WAY
and I hope I stay here for a while
cuz
GOD
it feels GOOD to be EVERYTHING!
and GOD
it feels GOOD
just to BE!

and

GOD

IT

JUST

FEELS

GOOD!