November 4: Just Want You to Know, Truth, a Little Out of Control

There in the hospital, Billy was having an adventure very common among people without power in time of war:  He was trying to prove to a willfully deaf and blind enemy that he was interesting to hear and see.  He kept silent until the lights went out at night, and then, when there had been a long period of silence containing nothing to echo, he said to Rumfoord, "I was in Dresden when it was bombed.  I was a prisoner of war."

Rumfoord sighed impatiently.

"Word of honor," said Billy Pilgrim.  "Do you believe me?"

"Must we talk about it now?" said Rumfoord.  He had heard.  He didn't believe.

"We don't ever have to talk about it," said Billy.  "I just want you to know:  I was there."

Again.  This passage is all about facing a truth that you don't want to face.  Rumfoord must, if he accepts Billy's version of Dresden, alter his version of history.  It seems as though Rumfoord is in the denial stage of grief, mourning for something he has lost.  He's been alternating that with anger.  Denial, anger, outright ignorance, denial again.  Rumfoord knows that Billy is telling the truth.  Now, Rumfoord has to decide how to deal with that truth.

Truth can be a bitch sometimes.  It forces you, sometimes, to confront things about yourself or your life that may not be very comfortable.  For example, I have a crazy existence.  I work two basically full-time jobs, although one is categorized as "part-time."  I have another job on the weekends playing the pipe organ for a Catholic church.  My Poet Laureate position adds yet more (wonderful) chaos to this existence, with readings and workshops and events.  Then there's my kids.  Dance lessons and concerts and recitals.  Last night, after two weeks of non-stop 17- and 18-hour days, I had to acknowledge that my life is more than a little out of control.

Of course, now that I have come upon that truth, I have to decide whether to do anything about it.  Last night, I decided to go to bed much earlier than I normally do.  That may be all that I need.  I'm just feeling a little exhausted at the moment.  A little quiet time is what I need, perhaps.  Time for focus on . . . well, nothing.  I can't really remember the last time I've done that.  Maybe in August, when I went on vacation with my family for a few days.  Although, I did plan for a couple poetry readings and a workshop while I was away, so I don't know if that counts.

Please don't misunderstand me.  I love what I do.  Love reading poetry, sharing poetry, talking poetry, writing poetry.  I love teaching at the university.  Love playing the pipe organ.  I even, to some degree, love interacting with patients at the medical office.  Perhaps, it's just the combination of all of those things that seems overwhelming right now.

So, that is my truth at the moment.  I am not angry.  I'm not in denial.  I have created my truth.  Usually, I love my truth.

However, Saint Marty needs to take a nap from his truth today.