Parallel Proof
Parallel Proof
011 - What Bugs Me
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Episode 11 - What Bugs Me, explores a pet peeve of Bruce's along with the guilt of not doing enough or anything at all.
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Parallel Proof Episode 11: What Bugs Me
So, I have a few pet peeves in my life that really get me fired up. In the top 5 of irritating instances that put me a touch on edge is one “M” word that makes my skin crawl. There I could be, here is a common occurrence, sitting outside on the back porch, at dusk, surrounding air starting to cool down finally, enjoying some relaxation and downtime trying to decompress. I’m sipping my DOM B&B on the rocks in a highball,
oh and a shout out to former President George W. Bush for the drink suggestion. If you are listening, Sir, thank you.
Anyway, B&B in my hand, up to my lips, and all of a sudden, out of nowhere, I either hear the most menacing sound flirting with my eardrum, or the most subtle introduction to my body becoming a smorgasbord. That “M” word that gives me the shivers, strikes a sudden shift in my demeanor, and ruins the calm inexplicably. Listen, I could be a contestant on the show Naked and Afraid all day. I’m not shy. Bring it on. But the moment I am laying there nude at night, and one mosquito, yeah, that’s the “M” word, when that tiny, frightening, intimidating flying vampire makes its presence known, when hundreds of those terrifying blood thirsty pack of wild insects use me as an aircraft carrier / cafeteria line, I’m tapping out. Send me home, I quit. The first one I encounter outside my home, inside I go. And God forbid I lay in bed with the lights off and one of those mosquitos hovers over my eardrum sounding like the devil himself morphed into a 5-milligram terrorist with wings. Yes, I have an electric shock tennis racket hidden under my bed, lights get turned on, and I’m swinging like Novak Djokovic. I hate mosquitos.
Additionally, another thorn in my side of staying rational, a personal vexation of mine is one that is absolutely maddening. I suppose I understand why God created this disgusting creature. I’m sure it has its purposes in life, but one thing I do know, it’s gross and flagrantly dirty. I can’t stand flies. Sure, go ahead and lick the dog ----- piled in my backyard, and please, come over and land on my hamburger, and lap away with that filthy, villainous, impure tongue. For those that are with me on this one, side note, buy a plastic gun called the Bug-a-Salt. It is by far the greatest gift I’ve ever received. Google it. Purchase it. You’re welcome.
This is episode 11: What Bugs Me
You realize it is going to be a difficult dispatched call to complete, when the moment you exit your patrol vehicle, your olfactory nerve sends a vile signal to your brain. My sense of smell just went into overload. It is a classic heatwave of a summer day in Sacramento, and there I am, still probably about 100 feet downwind of the apartment complex getting blasted with an unholy aroma permeating the air. The fire department is already standing by waiting for the police to declare the scene safe to enter. The police are called to enter first for initial observations and to clear the residence of any suspects, witnesses, victims. Whatever.
As I am walking up to the one-story complex, I make contact with a fire captain a few steps away from the short walkway leading to the front door of this apartment. The captain offers me a cigar and or Vicks VapoRub to smear under my nose above my top lip. He reminds me that the smell of cigar is exceptionally good at masking odors, and the VapoRub can help as well. I am shaking my head with anticipation of what’s next as he lets out a chuckle, and points to the large picture window of the home. I roll my eyes at him and shift them over to the window where, I can see hundreds and hundreds of flies waltzing on the inside of the glass. Licking, mating, pacing around like putrid little caged animals. This is going to be a complete nightmare. In a moment of insanity, I decline the cigar and the Vicks, open the door, and enter into the unknown. Of course, the moment I step foot inside, my face gets sideswiped by a fly, and all I can think about is, where the hell has that tongue been? I am moments from finding out. The smell inside this festering hot box was a pungent, rancid, rotten odor that caused me to dry-heave at the impending decomposition. I pass through the front living room, past the typical rectangle shaped cramped apartment kitchen, and as I turn the corner, I observe a scene imbedded in my memory forever.
Let me take breather here for a second. I’ll get back to what I saw in a few.
It strikes me as interesting how every written word in the Bible is meant for all. Even the odd descriptions, like, describing John the Baptist and how he would eat locust. Mmmm, Yummm. But, for someone, what you consume, and not necessarily food, defines who you are, so those words may just hit them like a lightning bolt. Likewise, I read something that, after I viewed the words, didn’t mean much at the time. I’d skim past it not really even giving it half a second thought. Until the above story boldly entered my world, Proverbs chapter 6, and in particular, verse 6 slipped away fairly easily. Solomon writes warnings against lack of good sense and foolishness. He pens some words on, I suppose, parchment, giving instructions, that, if you have been ensnared by your own words, if you have fallen into your neighbor’s hands, if you have struck a pledge with someone you shouldn’t have, feel pinned down, or your life has been put up as a ransom, he says to humble yourself, allow no sleep to the eyes, and to free yourself. Solomon trails that with, “Go to the ant, you sluggard, consider its ways and be wise.” Ummm, seems odd.
Even ordinary life is packed with challenges. Many of us wrestle with the struggles of feeling trapped. We spar with the ideas of conforming to what social media or the Jones’ down the street demand what real worth appears to look like. Your life doesn’t feel your own. You are living for someone else or someone else’s suggestion of how you should walk your journey through life. Maybe words slipping past your teeth have got you caught up in a prison that feels hopeless. You may have done one thing that set off some start of a possible chain reaction of regret. That’s life and experienced by all of us in countless ways. It can be rough and challenging, but that doesn’t disqualify us or excuse us from what we are supposed to do. Even during the trials of life, we are mandated. But that isn’t the part that stuck with me the most. What happens to be glaring to me is when Solomon follows all of the above with, “Go to the ant, you sluggard, consider its ways and be wise.”
I remember when I was young, I had this makeshift wooden box on a shelf in my bedroom that, when you pull out a slider that had a hole in it, it would drop out a gumball into your hand. I didn’t fill it with gumballs, but I had stuffed it with lemonheads, those sour candies I loved so much. Well, I had forgotten about that box and what it contained, and one day, I noticed it hiding behind some stacked books and decided to remove the wooden lid. Inside, seething, were these large black ants having their way with my beloved candies. It startled me and grossed me out at the same time.
And back to my original story.
As I turned the corner, there she was, a mid-40s blonde woman laying supine in the guest bathroom. On her back with her head away from me and her feet closest to me. The exhaust fan, which expelled the stink out of the apartment and around the outside perimeter was running, along with the lights which brightly accentuated the body and the goings on. I don’t think I can accurately describe this scene, but I will give it my best shot. This woman had underlying medical issues and had collapsed, and died, about 3 weeks prior to my arrival. Her body lay there, deceased, for 21 days. The only clothes she was wearing was a white tank top pulled up a bit. Nothing else. Now, try and picture this one. Her exposed skin appeared dry and shriveled. The tips of her fingers blackened as she was starting to mummify. But the most staggering and disturbing sight were the 2 areas on her that originally would have been the warmest parts of her recently expired self. Those 2 spots being her open mouth and the area between her legs. At first glance, it almost appeared she was alive with movement that confounded my thinking. And then I squinted, focused, and froze. Her gaping mouth, including eye sockets, and the now cavernous reproductive system between her legs, had, all I can describe it as, piles, mounds, thousands and thousands of maggots eating, squirming, and waiting to mutate into the dreaded flies I loathe. Steven King himself couldn’t have imagined a more horrific spectacle than what I was beholding. Also disconcerting and dramatic, was the amount of ant trails leading from all directions to the corpse. Tiny ants by the thousands making their way to and from, consuming the death so obviously apparent. Ants, working individually, and as an army, to feed themselves and rid the world of this sad occurrence.
This parallel may seem obscure to some of you, and I don’t claim to be a biblical scholar, but this podcast is my journey, it’s about my interpretations, and what speaks to me. It may resonate with a few of you, but let this remind you to make the word personal to you, and discover your own synchrony.
So the parallel. What bugs me is the knowing I’m called to make a difference around me, and quite often not doing enough, or anything at all. I fall asleep at the wheel sometimes, and let other distractions choke out the mission declared for me. I lay my head on a pillow at night with purpose unfulfilled. You will hear me say this, and you have in other episodes, that all of us are called, in some way, to some degree, to those a part of our world. There are times when what’s around us is negativity, death of good intentions, a dying of dreams, or a destruction of potential, maybe in yourself, possibly in people you know, and it goes unnoticed. Everyone going about their business with mankind struggling and in need of a savior. The ant searches tirelessly, and when it bumps into something worthwhile, it assesses, goes and solicits help, and returns with the full force and determination of like-minded insects, with the commission to devour the misplaced, the dead, and eradicate it for the good of all.
I was told to consider the ant. After reading, I now reconsider my own self. I am going to ask myself these questions and you can listen in to what I’m battling personally. Am I doing enough? In my particular wilderness of life, have I stopped searching for people not doing well? Those near death, not physically, but hurting mentally, spiritually, or socially, do I notice them? Am I using my gifts given, and strength from God to help eradicate the bad? Or have I fallen asleep? Solomon says to wake up! Don’t allow the sleep, the sluggishness. Don’t be lulled into the missing out of helping deal with someone’s mind or spirit collapsing. There may be individuals in close proximity who are dying to have someone, like you, like me, with all our failings in tow, dying to have you find them, evaluate them, and begin to aid in the removal of the death being grappled with. A life constricting chokehold. Humanity immersed in self-doubt, self-destruction, self-pity, and low self-worth. Humble yourself because that could be you, or is you. Someone has to discover the hurting and the lost and aid in saving them. Work tirelessly within the confines of your talents, and surround yourself with the potency of a community in agreement with you. We are all in this search and rescue expedition together. What bugs me is I don’t do enough. I want to do more. I desire to forage through the distractions, and the comfort, to find the wounded or disoriented, and with God’s leading, even though I am not anywhere near perfect, assist in saving the lives of the demised, or those in deaths handshake. Wake up and free yourself to be all that God has created you to be. Just, consider the ant, someone reminded me. It seeks. It finds. The ant fulfills its intention, by taking on the death. It bothers me that I’m not doing that.
Thank you to those who have contacted me interested in me sharing their stories, or being a guest on this podcast. I will be getting to you soon. Please share this with anyone you feel might enjoy it. We are all in this race together, to make an impact. Be safe, start your search, and I will see you here next week.