I have a mirror right on the back of my bathroom door that makes it so that I stare back at myself while I’m using the toilet. (I usually sit down for both poop and pee, if anyone wants to know) Usually, I try close the door so that I don’t see myself. When my wife is home, I like the door open so we can talk if she wants to. But, there’s just something disconcerting about staring at myself while I’m trying to pinch off a loaf.
For some reason about 2 hours ago, I left the door open so that I was staring at myself. I stared at myself and just let my mind wander. Then something weird happened…
I’m still having trouble defining it. See, I have always felt like I was 16 years old. I still feel that way. But, whenever I looked in the mirror, I saw a 16 year old dude staring back at me (albeit with piercings, tattoos and burdened with adult worries). Today, I saw a 32 year old man staring back at me. Which is fine with me, by the way. I still feel 16, with all of the energy that I had when I was 16, just in a package that looks better. A package that has less, but is absolutely 20x happier than any other time in my life.
The idea of getting older never bothered me. The idea of dying bothers me even less. (Truth be told, the idea that I am 32, and I’ve not accomplished the goals I have for myself is really my only bother. But, I would like to think that this would always be so.) Now, I feel like I can finally accomplish the things I wanted to. Some great weight has been lifted away, and the roadblocks have been destroyed, leaving only empty road. I feel like the 32 year old guy staring at me now has the focus to accompany the 16 year old energy. I feel like I can move planets.
For the first time since 1999, life is absolutely worth living. After I saw that in the mirror, I finished what I was doing, sat down at my computer and just stared at the screen, mulling over what I had just seen. (A Facebook friend, pointed out that in all this bathroom talk, I had not mentioned hand washing. Rest assured, I did wash my hands. I’m not a mongrel. And truth be told it was a rather messy shit, Wesley…) At that point, it all came together. Everything I had ever wanted for myself, everything I had ever hoped, everything I had ever dreamed was sitting right there in front of me.
It was like the final piece of the puzzle fit and I got to see the whole picture. It was the specific and the general, melted together into one glorious whole. It was the beginning and the end. It was the parts and the sum. It was the everything and nothing. Words fail its description.
It was absolutely beautiful.
I feel powerful. I feel absolutely whole. I am immutable, yet ephemeral. I am the entirety of my existence, yet a small speck in the absolute vastness of the rest of existence. A small, minute, precious speck. I am the darkest particle in space and the brightest, hottest star in the sky. I am everything and nothing.
The phrase “born again:” has been perverted by Christians, so I’ll refrain from using it, as it implies some kind of religious experience. Be assured, I had no religious experience, more like a monumentally transcendental one. I finally realized, despite having said it all these years, that all you have is this life. All you have are these moments. All you have are those ambitions.
I am the happiest I have ever been. Happier than when I was with my ex, Michelle. Happier than when I was a kid. Happier than when I graduated from high school.
Now, I don’t just realize that I can do whatever I want in this life. Now I believe it, too.
The guy staring back at me in the glow of an LCD screen is an amazing mother fucker, and he’s in love with life.
I am both the peace and the chaos, both within each other, the fight and the reconciliation, the love and the hate, the broken and the whole. And, I want to weep at the beauty of it all.