The End of the Zealot (pt 1, possibly)

zeal

[zēl]

NOUN

1. great energy or enthusiasm in pursuit of a cause or an objective.

zealot

[ˈzelət]

NOUN

1. a person who is fanatical and uncompromising in pursuit of their religious, political, or other ideals.

...question becomes, 'is that the picture of a zealot?  given the definitions, I would have to answer 'not at this time, no'.  someone else might say, 'yeah, pretty much', depending on the subject matter. but if you were to go back about 20 or 30 years, I'd have answered, "Fuck Yeah, I'm a goddamned zealot, and you need to be one too."

I am being honest, but i'm not close to the core of that change in parameters in my own life at this time.  nowhere near.  but i'm starting, because 'when the student is ready, the teacher will appear', and the student being ready is when the mind is receptive to the ideas espoused that could likely bring about a change. and the student, in this case, is me.  and who is the teacher?

this is what The Journey is all about, though it hasn't seemed that way lately, has it?

okay, so go back with me. I talked about the documentary 'Who Killed Malcolm X', that I watched last week.  it has stayed on my mind, impacted me, and I knew it would. but I didn't know it would take me inside my own soul.  never can really tell with Malcolm, regardless of the time or occasion.  but in brief, the documentary made me question religion, period.  made me question whether any religions have ever had a sincere start, or whether it was they all started out as hustles, by charlatans looking for quick cash and doing seeming miracles to augment their bullshit, until some ZEALOT finally showed through with enough belief to power the engine of the small amount of truth any good hustle needs to be imbued with.  definitely made me wonder that about the Black Muslims, but it was mostly a questioning of all modern religions.  same as watching 'Messiah' had me thinking, but that didn't take me there as deeply.  thing is, Malcolm believed, 150%.  He believed in the ability of their organization to make a positive change in the lives of black people in America.  and he put his entire soul into it, and in the end, the bullshitters and those who profited from the hustle the most set him up to be ostracized, then killed.  and that, sadly, is not a new tale at all.

once upon a time, I was a newcomer in the program.  the fall of '88, to be exact. one year younger than my daughter is now.  I was terrified, ashamed of everything about me and wanted nothing more than one massive high and then to stop breathing forever.  these guys came up on our unit, the Care Unit at Salem Hospital in Salem, Ohio.  they came up to bring us down to a meeting.  i'd been to 12 step meetings before.  been to them with my father, as a guest, a dumb fat kid scarfing donuts and choking on thick cigarette smoke.  i'd been there as an occupant as well, Al-Anon, Alateen, Alatot, all those good offshoots of AA that my father took myself and my immediately older and younger brother to.  so we could 'understand', I guess would be the goal.  but understand what?  my father turning out to be a drunk?  didn't even honestly know he was at that point.  it was being forced into proximity with a bunch of white kids, being asked to talk about things that shame and guilt had already taught us we weren't going to talk about.  they didn't last long, either.  how could they?  there was no grounds for change if there's no dialog and no honesty.  at this point, I realize that I was destined for Cocaine Anonymous, because the 12 Steps were instilled in me like sleeper cell agents, just waiting to be activated.

and in '88, they were.  and I met Johnny, my sponsor to be.  and I met so many other people, some whom I considered friends, some whom I came to consider loathsome creatures.  but one and all, recovering addicts who had far more on the ball than I felt I ever would. but Johnny...ah, different creature.  enthralled me.  a black man who was articulate, commanding, assured, clean, successful, decisive, empowered, powerful.  and he came to my room after my first meeting, and he sat and talked to me, and he looked at my drawings.  and he made me feel, as a fat, ugly, unloved 20 year old nigger from Youngstown, Ohio, that maybe there was some worth to me.  maybe...there was purpose.  how much more did it need to take?

I didn't believe in the people for long, because they turned out to be just as hurtful as the ones from my school days.  but I believed in Jehovah, I trusted Johnnie to have my best interest at heart, and I believed the Steps would help me be someone who could help other people. and I put 150% of myself into that, more into being a help than I put into not gaining the weight back that smoking cocaine had taken off me, more than I put into getting a good further education and getting into a good career, more than I put into learning (at that time) how to be a better brother, better son, better friend, better man.  I was a spoiled brat with an active, caring mind and a core of pure shame.  after 2 years, I was back up to around what I weigh now, I guess, and I ended up in treatment, at Parkside in Gahanna, Ohio, for eating disorder treatment.  but I still helped addicts and alcoholics, and I went deeper, and I didn't lose my ZEAL.  yeah, these are truths.  and I can say with no real hesitation, this is when I became a Zealot.

gonna do some more of this tomorrow.