Perceptions

“I was 17 when I first walked in these doors. I can still smell the musty air, thick with the end of the day’s weights and regrets of a wasted youth.”

“I had no idea that you were there. Where were you?”

“I was standing right next to you” he said

“Why didn’t you try to stop me?” I said curiously, as I felt rusty feelings of neglect surface. “You knew I had a problem, even when I didn’t!” I thought, but wouldn’t dare say it. This is the last guy that I wanted to offend.

“Still think that I have a lightning bolt with your name, on it, do you?” He says half chuckling. He almost looked as though, he was holding back a waterfall of laughter at the very thought of it.

“Russ, I am not interested in keeping you from what you want to do. I don’t identify you by what you do, just as I don’t find My identity with what you believe me to be” He paused as if he wanted me to considered what he had just said. I was thoughtless. When more than enough time went by, I picked my head up to look at him. He was staring at a butterfly, outside the hard-water stained window. The butterfly, maybe a Swallowtail or possibly a young Monarch, is perched on a purple coneflower that wildly grows on the outside of this empty tavern house.

“Did you know that just a few days ago that butterfly was crawling on its belly for its next meal?” Now we are both looking intently at the butterfly. “It would take him 5, maybe 6 hours to reach the flower that he is on now. Of course, he wouldn’t be drinking like he is now. As a matter of fact, his diet has completely changed all together.”

“He also has no idea, that in just a few hours, he will be completely destroyed and smashed on the chrome bumper of a local delivery driver”

“What?!” I retorted.

With slightly more than a witty giggle he reassures me that he was only kidding.

I start laughing louder than the joke was funny, more because of the fact that he totally gets my humor.

After a few more humorous jabs at the look on my face that “I should have seen, when he said that”, we both settled down and wiped the tears from our cheeks. Coming to a slow silence, the butterfly captured my minds eye once again.

“Was his life different when he was a caterpillar?” He prodded me along.

“Well, yeah, I mean, I think so”

“And which is the better life?”

“Well, the butterfly’s, he can fly where he wants, he can even crawl if he wants. He can go a further distance in a shorter amount of time. And shoot, he even looks more inviting.” I answered

“So the butterfly is better than the caterpillar?”

Now, I’m suddenly aware that I’m on a journey.

“I’m not saying that one is better than the other, it just seems like a better way”

“Hmmm….now honestly do you think a caterpillar is thinking to himself ‘can’t wait till I’m a butterfly so that my life can be better’.” He says in his best impression of an Eeyore voice. Pretty good I might add.

“Well no, I mean from his point of view everything is fine, he eats sleeps and gets where he needs to go to repeat life everyday”

“So, you’re saying that it is about points of view?” He asks me as though we just arrived at our destination.

“Perception….”

“Ooh, I like that word.” He interrupted, a bit too excited to me. I still don’t get why.

“….might be a better word to describe it.” I finished

“So what do you think that caterpillar would say if you told it what a horrible life it was living and everywhere it went you kept reminding it of where it should be if it would just hurry up and become a butterfly already.”

Well, assuming I can speak “caterpillar.” I thought. He smiled.

My words slowly unraveled, like a red carpet. “I guess, it would probably think that it was a good idea, but at the same time probably feel pretty helpless that it didn’t have the ability to become that butterfly. It would actually probably feel pretty bad about itself.”

“And what would that accomplish”

“Not much”

“Not much good anyway.” He added “Do you think that it may tell you to eventually get the hell out of its life, quit reminding him of what a horrible thing it is and that it is doing just fine with out your observations?”

“Yeah that sounds a lot like me, when I was seventeen and I had first walked into this old tavern.” I said with my head hung a bit low.

Without allowing my head to drop completely to my chest, with a finger to my chin he says “Yeah but look at you now….beautiful son”

“Change of perception?” I asked

“You look different”

“I see things different”

“You speak about different things”

“Everything seems to be filtered from a different mind than I had before”

“So are you a better person than the person who spent all those years returning to your addiction and nearly living in this tavern?”

“A better person? No, I actually feel like I am the same person on the inside. Probably more “me”, now, than ever. In light of thinking about that butterfly, I am no better than the people that still crowd this tavern every weekend.”

“So what’s changed for you?” He encourages me

“A new perception?”

“A better way?” He looks at me, questioning.

“But not better than this crowd.” I say nearly simultaneously.

“So…”

“So…” I interrupted “…if you would have tried to stop me from walking in these doors the first time, or even the fiftieth time, than you would have insinuated that those outside these doors were better than me.”

“Which is a lie” He also interrupts

Still a bit cloudy for me to grasp, I continue. “Since you don’t identify with what I do but who I am, then what I have done has changed but who I am is the same. Since I have changed what I have done then my perception has changed.”

“Not quite there yet. Since your perception changed, then your actions have changed.”

“Ok…semantics?”
“What do you think?”

I don’t appreciate being questioned or being led on.

“Cause and effect Russ.”

“Well, my life is better because I do things differently now.”

“Interesting” He says in a way that causes me to think that he has a private investigators badge stuffed away in his breast pocket.

“Back to you being better huh?” I pause in my journey and feel myself coiling slowly back from confrontation. I am still not sure if I am coiling as a snake before attack or as a puppy with a tucked tail.

“Well, I sure wasn’t very happy before. I mean nobody cared about me, unless I was partying with them! They used me….they used me for my presence! Misery loves company! You were there. You said so yourself. You let us all hang ourselves in our addiction! No one is truly happy in a place like this. They are escaping. Men don’t escape…men confront! And by the way what are you going to do about the ones who………” I stopped. I realized that I chose to be the snake. As if the snake is any worse than the cowering puppy. I didn’t feel too bad about it.

He remained…..the same.

“You mentioned escaping and confronting. What did you mean by that?”

“Well, in my recovery, I realized that I came to the tavern to escape.”

“Escape what?” He seemed to be genuinely curious, as if he didn’t know. It was pretty believable. But how could he not know? I mean, come on.

“Escape responsibility, ownership of my decisions, and ownership of my consequences. Escape confrontation. I don’t know...pretty much life.”

“I agree.” He confirmed “Really, you escaped from all the beauty of life.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. That stuff stills seems pretty scary to me.”

“Exactly” He confirmed again. “Life is dangerous, and so is your heart. It’s much easier to run from your heart than to confront it.”

“Well, like I said, I wasn’t the only one. As a matter of fact there are taverns all over this area alone that are filled with escapees.”

“So everyone in a tavern is escaping?”
“Well, that’s the way that I see it?”

“Your perception”

“My perception” I paused. Now wondering if I should have confirmed that. He waits.

I look out the window as if to breathe some fresh air through my eyes. The butterfly is gone. Just a few patches of Coneflowers, a large needled tree and some sunshine bouncing off the weathered glass, is all I can take in.

“I’m just wondering when people are going to wizen up and shut these taverns down. They’re just a spout for the addict and a sick point of revenue for the beneficiaries.”

“Interesting,” As if whipping out that badge again. He continues. “Yeah, maybe your right, while we are at it, maybe we should shut down amusement parks too.”

What?! I think. He responds “Well, some people spend whole paychecks between the ticket sales and commissaries, when they should be spending it on bills and college funds.”

“Yeah well, there are a lot of good memories built there too, memories that make up a child’s most favorite and prized recollections. As a matter of fact, I can still remember when my dad took me and four of my friends for two weeks mapping out and visiting all of our favorite parks. Nobody had a better dad then me that week.”

He smiled at my scrapbook of reminiscence.

I was quiet as I caught myself understanding.

“So what is one mans escape could be another man’s treasure.”

He reiterated “Perceptions”

“Perceptions” I confirmed.

“So what do you think changed the caterpillar’s perception?”

“He grew wings”

“Sounds pretty miraculous”

“Well it is”

“Is it?”

Damn badge, just take it out already.

“Russ, I’m not trying to get you to understand anything. I am not trying to make you any different. I am fine with you believing that you are what you do. I am offering you an opportunity to figure out if you are fine with that “perception”. He maintains with no sense of striving in his tone. “The caterpillar went into a cocoon. The caterpillar has come into a new experience.”

“My experiences formed my old perceptions…” I added, as if to take the lead. “…to escape instead of confront…”

“So what do you think might change perceptions?” He asks giving me an opportunity, once again, to be my own wise man.

“A new experience”

“Your life can be an invitation; you can be a new experience”

The restful picture of life, outside the window stained by hard-water, once again captivated our souls.