Don’t mistake the man for the mess
by You Have My Word
Don’t mistake the man for the mess is my extension of what’s already been penned. “Don’t mistake the man for the moment,” is what Jamie Tworkowski wrote a week ago in response to Henry Rollins’ take on suicide, but I need to extrapolate the extent to which his statement applies.
In essence, the totality of a man should not be weighed in a moment.
Everyone loses their grip sometimes. Everyone flips the bird. Everyone is hopeless sometimes. Everyone makes a bad decision at some point. Those are the moments.
In extension, the totality of a man should not be weighed in the mess either.
The mess is sometimes what ensues and engulfs after the moments. It’s the sometimes inexplicably undoable; it’s the sometimes all-encompassing broken; it’s the sometimes perpetual now for a ‘time’ that isn’t yet reined in enough to be called a ‘time frame’.
We are not our moments; we are not our mess. We cannot judge another by either lest we fall to the same retribution.
We are not our weakness, though we have them – many, for some. We are not even our strength, though we hoist them high and trust them to carry us on the wind. We are not our rage, though the fury sometimes fills our veins – it is not our blood. We are not our greatest joys, though pray them plentiful and relish the radiance they shine.
We are sacred vessels made from dust and holy breath. We are coarse clay, cracked enough to let light scrape through. We are consecrated dirt and beautiful Divine graced to walk through the moments and the mess.
Do not mistake either for the man.