Saugerties, New York

 

“To err is human.

To forgive, divine.”

I had woke up on the wrong side of the bunk. Of course my lower bunk only has one side, so it's impossible to wake up on any other side. Unless I were to squeeze through the teeny exterior window that lets in fresh air - be it cool, warm, humid or rainy. I had a case of garden variety grouchiness. My effort to be sunshiny all the time, especially when the humidity is thick enough to cut with a knife, had reached an impasse. In sobriety I've learned to pause before agitated - letting emotions pass overhead like so many clouds. But let's face it, at the end of the day, I'm only human. Very human. And as I've before and I'll say again, I'm no saint. Far from it. Sometimes, my well-constructed, personal paradigm just gives out from under me. Such was the case yesterday morning.

The DIY Oatmeal Breakfast is our default morning meal, but the bays of the bus were locked and I was unable to gain access to a huge stock pot into which we had transferred 40 lbs. of rolled oats when the bag tore and got wet at he bottom. We had a tight schedule, so for efficiency’s sake I'd prepared a large pot of polenta. Although the cornmeal dish is more associated with dinner, it also makes for an elegant, porridge-like breakfast. I can't remember what set me off, but at the least provocation I went into a richly-lathered rant with instructions clearly written on the bottle. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. It was as if...

God said: Go forth Michael, I release thy from the Bondage of Patience, from the Shackles of Tolerance. Enter the House of Baser Instincts, cast out thy Higher Self.

I'd had it up to here [writer indicates with hand] with mapping errors, navigation missteps, abrupt shifting of plans, the ridiculously-chronic rain, subsequent mud, wet clothes and cramped quarters. The tendency for personal items to disappear and never be heard from again. The finicky tastes and unrealistic expectations at mealtimes. The mechanical problems which are becoming commonplace. So, in a moment of weakness, I loosened the reins and let the horse race ahead. It was quite a gallup.

All you need to know was the last thing I said: “This is not a fuckin' diner!”

And though a short-lived tempest, it must've came off as being totally out of character for me. And it was. Out of character. For the way I choose to live my life these days. That person yesterday morning? that was the old me, letting self-will run rampant. The new me takes into consideration what others may be experiencing, how they may be feeling. Yes, even if feelings are ephemeral. We're all in the same boat, aren't we? Subject to the same vicissitudes.

My conjugation of thought reached a head late this afternoon when Derek candidly shared on facebook how he was feeling about being on tour. Although I had noticed him being circumspect for a day or so, I hadn't paid it much mind. After reading his wall posting and now seeing him looking down in the mouth I approached him sitting off alone, asking if he'd like some company. He said hat he could go either way. I sat down.

Boy, was I in for a big surprise. Turns out it was I, or more precisely my behavior, that had contributed to the way he was feeling. While my rant wasn't meant to be personal, as Derek put it, he's a person who got caught in the crossfire of my salvos, so it was personal.

I then did what I do. I made an amend, apologizing for my thoughtless tirade, asking him how might I set things right. Nothing more was required except a much needed hug. For both of us. To see the mood of this smart, lovable guy brighten was beyond compare. Reminding me once again, that which is written in the 10^th Step. We practice these principles in all our affairs. And when we are wrong we promptly admit it.


Period.