When I was in my mind 20s, I used to openly wonder why it felt like older people got stuck in their ways.
When I hit my 30s. I was working too much, saw a romance I held dear crumble and at the same – having poured my heart into a company, I saw my efforts taken from me.
I was hating the world. But more than that, I was hating life.
All of this was shortly after being utterly delighted by a surprise party my ex wife had planned and thrown for me when I turned 30, something she somehow managed to pull off without a hitch for me and I wasn’t even the slightest bit aware of what she was doing until it had happened.
I have a hard time controlling my thoughts and emotions sometime.
And in that moment she’d caught me off guard.
I knew I’d married someone special in Lisa.
Four years ago, in the desert, while taking bath salts, I saw and experienced something that fundamentally altered the way I perceive and understand the world.
Oh I have heard every excuse. “It was the drugs”, or “It was a hallucination”, and even “It was fiction”
But for me. In that moment of utter despair where I tried taking my life.
Surrounded by a holocaust desert which had been bombed as far as my eyes could see in any direction.
The smell of burnt skin combined with a putrid, sickening odor the likes of which has no parallel in the world I have come from.
The mountains, destroyed as if the bombs had thrown the dirt 1000s of feet in the air before it finally settled leaving craggy peaks straight out of a science fiction novel.
My skin. It felt like it was searing from the radiation. Unlike anything I’d ever felt laying on the beach.
And seeing the road sign. Where Las Vegas should only have been 80 miles further to the East on this highway, was now 362 kilometers.
And the feel. Inside me. For every Terminator movie I ever saw and wondered why the haunting movie soundtracks caused such a feeling of despair and utter horror.
I now understood. As this world. This experience. Is where that emotion came from.
As my car ran out of gas somewhere in this post apocalyptic Mojave desert
I looked at this world around me.
And did something which forced me to remember.
I sliced my wrist.
Now in that mistaken moment, I gave myself the greatest gift I could ever have imagined.
I believed there was someplace better than this. Knew it. And I knew – beyond a shadow of any doubt that anything was better than this world I had suddenly found myself surrounded by.
You see, it doesn’t matter how and why I saw what I did.
The fact of the matter is I did.
And in that magical moment where I saw and experienced the impossible.
I became the impossible.
All my life I’d searched for meaning. For definition. “Why am I here and what’s it all for?”
And in that really fucked up moment in my life, the answers began to darn on me.
Through experience, education, and the years after those events, events which alienated me from pretty much everyone I loved as I started down a path of becoming something more fulfilling and personally meaningful to me, I’ve come to realize the importance of developing and cherishing my individual perspective.
Logically. Rationally. No matter how I saw what I saw in the desert that day.
I proved to myself beyond any shadow of a doubt that god exists.
That the bible’s a real historical text.
I proved to myself fictional worlds can and often are real to those who inhabit those worlds, as real as the world I call fact and the experiences I have that others may refer to as fiction.
I realized that time travel. Space travel, fantasy, science fiction – all of it wasn’t just a product of Hollywood movie magic – but was also happening around me all the time.
Things that didn’t make sense before suddenly gained clarity.
But with this clarity in some areas was developed a little fuzziness in others.
And as I beat myself up throughout my life for making mistakes. For the poor life choices I’d made which had effected my family and friends and loved ones, repeatedly, around me.
That day in the desert.
That magical day.
I began to realize.
Those mistakes were my breadcrumbs.
To lead me back to remembering why I’m here.
To enjoy life.
And why I made those mistakes to begin with.
To travel back in time and help my friends and family enjoy their life and take them along.
You see. I’d made mistakes intentionally. To teach myself and other’s it ok.
We can go back in time and correct them and make it all better.
And this is why we forgive.
Time is both linear and nonlinear at the same time. It branches all the time, pools up in certain areas, and is much the reason why gravity exists and planets form.
If I go back in time. I can alter and change my timeline to my heart’s content. My experiences in my past remain the same, and I’ll remember two timelines, the one I lived through, and the one I went back on and changed things.
There’s no ‘balance’ here. We’re here – collectively – because we WANT to believe in people like me.
The fantastic. The people who make you smile. The ones who give you hope. And warn you, well in advance before something major happens, to keep the fuck away because this could get ugly.
Breadcrumbs. Reminders of where I’m at and why I’m here.