Today I explained to a co-worker that I love driving at night. Unfortunately the car I'm borrowing from Fozzjnen broke down last week, so I'm immobile at present. That's fine, that's not really why I need money, but mainly for living/school expenses and Jew-stuff. Having "living" and "Jew-stuff" in same sentence is kind of redundant, as Jew-stuff is part of living and IS living. Judaism is life, and everything else is just a part of life.
Anyhow, I'm telling my co-worker about driving and what it means to me.
I'll try to summarize.
Sometimes at night, when everyone else is asleep, we find ourselves unable to sleep. Sure we can wait around, whack-off, fuck someone, do coke, get drunk and pass out, but sometimes that doesn't always work, unless you're doing it every night and when it gets to that point you are just trying to escape. So instead of that, we have to get out for a drive, at night.
At night, when the roads are clear and everyone else is asleep, we have an opportunity to let our soul go on a little journey. Some journeys are longer than others. Some are actually only an hour long, whereas others might be several days long (i.e. someone driving from one state to another for sake of their soul).
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| Before driving at night, this is pretty much all I did when my soul couldn't sleep. |
So on those nights, in my case, I'd drive. I'd find a place to let my soul rest, even for just a moment. Through the dark hills, the long dark nights, those nights where God doesn't talk to you or you can't hear him. Or rather, your spirit is dried up: this is when it's time to check-in to the hotel for your soul. You won't find this at home. You won't find it at work. You'll find it in the people you know and see, or know but are absent. The people care about, or love. You find that hotel for your soul, on that journey, through dark hills, and dark roads. And in nothingness of the listless night.
But if there was nothingness inside you'd be asleep, sound as baby. You wouldn't have dreams that wake you up in a sweat. You wouldn't have nightmares about other times and people. About love, about death, about life. You wouldn't have to worry about those issues if there was nothing. But there is something, and that's why your soul can't sleep that night.
That nothingness is out there, outside of your body, outside of your soul. And it's haunting your soul. So you go out, and you rest your soul. You rest it the best way you can, by moving yourself around the world, letting the world move around you and the Sun, as you drive through dark hills and empty roads. You can do it alone or you can do with someone else with a dry soul. I've done before. Alone and with another. You find just enough time to give your soul a pit stop, refuel and keep going. No racing soul is without a pit crew of friends and loved ones, without these, you can't win your race. No, that's wrong, you can't even participate. How can anyone drive when their soul is already dried up and cold?
And it's not the race, it's YOUR race. I can't race your soul's race, you can't race mine. But you could contribute, and in most cases when someone you love or care about, a friend or family member, when they do contribute you'll feel it. You might not say it, or know how, but you do.
So when you go to bed that night. And not much has changed, you might have to do again: you might have to give your soul another temporary journey into the night. And you should do this, so that your soul sleeps, even briefly.
You wake up, or rather your soul wakes you up, and when this happens, you'll know you're ready to go about your new day.
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When I finished my spiel to my co-worker I realized I was doing the right thing choosing God and choosing life. I need life. And I need a place for my soul, where that place is on Earth I don't know, but as long as it keeps my heart warm towards those I care about, I realize I am doing the right thing. And the price is worth it.
Believing in God, Chuck Norris, Odin, or Waldo, I don't care what you believe. But there is a soul, and you've got it.
Do you have the long dark nights, where God stops talking?
When you don't hear the sounds of nature?
When you don't hear or feel with your soul anymore?
What would you do, when you realize your soul doesn't have a place to rest?
No seriously, those aren't rhetorical questions!
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