-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. You’d 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, it’s a lifestyle. To even fewer, it’s the
only way to go. Falling bricks couldn’t 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 isn’t an art, by the way. It’s just a noun. It means, roughly, “something
that happens that can lead to a variety of choices.” I’m not Webster so I don’t
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. Jealousy’s 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 it’s
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.
There’s no way back. No
matter how clean you get it’s 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. We’re
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