-The Art of Bitterness-

The Act of Bitterness requires the lightest touch of sensitivity on a canvas of fertile emotional ground. Or to say it another way, it is a drop of black dye in the purest lake of water.

It is touched forever. It will never be clean. And no matter how long a time passes by, no matter how clean it ends up looking, there will be the hidden strain of darkness lurking within.

It is closely related to the Art of Recollection; it is what follows after that. Youíd think it would be really close to the Art of Rejection but you would be wrong. Right after the Art of Rejection comes either the Art of Sarcasm, the Art of Creative Suicide, or the Art of Complete Obliviousness. The Art of Complete Obliviousness can follow anything, actually. To some, itís a lifestyle. To even fewer, itís the only way to go. Falling bricks couldnít touch those few.

But enough of that. This is about the Art of Bitterness. This is about the dark strand floating inside all of us.

First comes opportunity. Opportunity isnít an art, by the way. Itís just a noun. It means, roughly, ďsomething that happens that can lead to a variety of choices.Ē Iím not Webster so I donít know where it originates from. But first comes opportunity. Opportunity, like an open door, to invite the elements of chaos and bitterness inside.

For some it can start with a memory.

For some it can start with a belief.

For some it can start with a random flip of a nearby magazine.

For such opportunities, seeds can be planted, brushing in through that open door. Seeds of jealously, seeds of regret, seeds of obsessive love that turned awry.

Second comes growth. Seeds require proper grooming, if but little attention. A second memory perhaps, for water. A bad mood, a bad day, for sunlight. An annoying phone call from some guy selling raffle tickets for some benefit, for fertilizer. After that, just watch it grow. All we need is to believe in this jealously, guilt, slight, complaint, even for just a second, just for a thought, and its flowers grow to a remarkable bloom. Jealousyís flower, for example, is a nice shade of purple.

Finally, thirdly, lastly, Bitterness is born. A black invisible breath inside us, a dark root taken place in your, our minds, coloring our eyes to a light shade of malice and our ears to a variant tone of sarcasm.

Do you believe in the black thread swimming inside all of us right now?

You should, because itís right there.

We are born: pure, simple, clear. A pool of lightness, a pool untouched.

All you have to do is live. All you need is a touch.

All you need is a breathe of real life on you.

Then the door can be opened. Then everything, everything can contaminate your pool.

Thereís no way back. No matter how clean you get itís always inside every part of you. The best you can do is forget. But that only leads to ignorance or obliviousness, and eventually that leads right into Bitterness.

This is just a dream. Weíre only as pure as we let ourselves be. Go ahead, believe that if you want. See what your eyes can see. Believe that you are serene and clean if the moment strikes you to be as such.


Excuse me for that. Just a touch of bitterness hit back there.


By Don Bernal

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