jazz, deadly serious

The commute both to, and from, work has become a one of society's most common rites of passage in both the figurative and literal interpretations of the phrase. It's a sad note that to be successful in our society one most sacrfice so much for so little and that this would be considered normal and required living (if you can call it that). Sadly, it's one of the last rites of passage we have left, so I fear it's hear to stay.

It's a trek and it's a challenge, which are the telling signs of any great rite. So in essence, it's the perfect rite for us. Making it to your location would be the challenge and the reward would be the stories you bring back with you. It's not much of a "thinning the herd" rite of passage like they used to have in more primitive times, but not everyone can do it and not everyone comes back. In one piece, anyway.

Emotions can run pretty sour in the early morning and even deeper still in the early evening. A long spell sitting in a car can test even the most harden souls. In either case, blood sugar and the mind and body's need for rest are at their extreme danger levels and the slightest thing can send a weary traveler into blind hysterics. Multiply that inbalance by 75 million and that's how many supercharged, hypoglycemic, emotional retards you have on the roadways each day. It's a volatile powder keg just waiting to explode!!! Were lucky that the delicate balance rarely gets tipped.

The ability to relax the mind, the body and the soul in this environment would be incredibly helpful in these fragile moments. Sadly, it's an art form that has been mostly lost to us because of other circumstances such as large cups of coffee, hands free cell phones, and cutesy talk radio personalities. It's asking too much of people to focus on a peaceful balance. I think they would rather just react. People just don't want to control their emotions or think things through anymore. They just want to be lead while believing that they are in control of everything around them. They want a line they can stand in. Or a lane, as the case may be. It makes them comfortable to know that their number hasn't been called and nothing more is expected of them. From their community or themselves.

I pass the time with coffee and jazz. I have been listening to it for the past 4 months and I just can't get enough of it. The coffee is optional, but the jazz isn't. It just working for me right now. I'm calm within the sounds of a muted trumpet ever so gently purring out a solitary note. I'm glee within the up tempo dance of learned fingers across a piano keyboard. The piano sings. I'm overjoyed and optimistic when I hear the-- HEY FUCK YOU!!!!!! Fucking asshole! Cut me off! Fucking son of a fucking bitch, cock sucker, mother--

Suddenly my world is all rage. The bouncing bass sets in motion an outrageous tempo that is my dark thoughts of murder, torture and revenge. These thoughts are within us all and are easily tapped into. They lie just under the surface of our collected and calm demeanor. They sit there next to uncontrolled laughter and silliness, and passionate sobing.

I am the righteous hand of justice scorned, and I shall see your dark and bitter soul destroyed beneath me! Your sin is driving in a manner that is unsuitable to me! It's an indication of all of your selfishness and your complete contempt for others and you shall be destroyed. AND I SHALL BE THE BEARER OF YOUR SALVATION!!!!

The offending car and driver have found their way down the highway and are completely out of sight. Yet I am left still filled with the rage and it grows as I have the time to think about it. It that must be satisfied. I try to give my rage a name and justify it more completely by bringing up the driver's race, their sex, their income(purely based on their vehicle they are driving), their politics(if any stickers indicate it), their intelligence(purely based no their fashion sense) anything I can. I just need a reason to hate them and I can let it all out. I need justification for what I feel should be done, by me. Nasty, mean things fall out of my mouth or flash across my mind. I'm shocked at just how vile and dark I have become.

At no time during my drive have I given this much thought to how much I like other commuters or how much I enjoy them. I haven't tried to befriend any drivers based on the same criteria that I used to determine whether I hated them or not. So where does all this hate come from? Why is it so easy to brew up a steaming hot cup of hatred and why is it so fulfilling to do so? What happened to all of my growing up and out of this childish feelings?

In the midst of Coltrane, I am suddenly aware of my own shame and guilt. I am aware that I have spent twenty minutes plotting the demise of a stranger just because they did practically nothing to me that impacts my life now or ever. I was willing to change my whole life just to strike out at them. Suddenly I am aware of all the times in my life that I have wanted to kill someone and plotted and schemed to do so. Willing to do it even if it meant the end of my own life or the worst fate of life in prison. Suddenly I am ashamed. Terribly ashamed.

When I have wanted money and I have not wanted to work for it, I have plotted the death of relatives. When I wanted sex and there was either none around or something in my way, I have plotted the death of rivals or obstacles. When I have wanted fame and someone else has beaten me to the punch, I have plotted a death for the soul more fortunate than I. When I have felt cheated, wronged, disadvantaged, dishonored or unlucky, I have sought justice by the demise of anyone. Anyone that might take away the powerful emotions that are eating me up inside.

I am cruelty. I am what humanity is on the fringes of it's core - Evil.

Lessons in, Lessons out....

Breathe. Slowly. See the world larger than yourself... Breathe.... Breathe again. Think. Eventually the rage subsides as you realize that your hatred has no real foundation. It's baseless. You're feeling emotions that reveal your darker self. Not your malice, that's just a symptom. No, what's darker is your selfishness. Your shortsightedness. Your detachment from the world around you. That's what evil is. All the things that make you act out that are due to a lack of self discipline, self respect and self control.

It's a hard place to find yourself in.

It's easier to just get angry and fill your head with the unbridled wrath. The hard way would be to do that which is right, but to do it we would have to be someone that wasn't selfish and had more self control in the first place, and we know that we don't have that level of control or we wouldn't be so easily filled with homicidal tendencies.

Breathe. Listen to the sounds of a saxophone moaning. Listen to the tingling sound of a snare drum being grazed ever so softly, by a wire brush. You're not angry at all. Who cares who cuts you off. They want to get there faster, cool. What's the rush? When did you buy the interstate and make all the rules for everyone?

It's not a perfect world. Traffic is a reminder of that. Just do what it takes to get yourself through it. The journey, as it is with all things, is the reason you're alive in the first place. If you consume all of your time thinking about how much you hate the road blocks and speed bumps, you'll miss out on how wonderful it is to enjoy the road blocks and speed bumps.

What is a weed but a flower who's virtue has yet to be discovered.

Before anyone knew any better, the trumpet was a loud piece of junk that annoyed everyone. It wasn't until someone gave it a chance that it became Coltrane.