La vie de Jouissance

Note: I originally wrote the following as a toast for the Gibbs Thanksgiving get together, but I’ve felt its significance creep up again lately. Tenax Propositi, my friends.

I’d like to impose a toast.

Not to life, the very presence of which we take for granted almost every single day that we possess it. Not to friends, those companions that are patient enough to put up with our ups and downs. Not to love, which can either provide pure and perfect clarity or utterly hopeless opaqueness. Not to family, the combination of all three of the above.

I don’t want to toast to faith or trust or hope or peace or spirituality in any form. I don’t want to toast to happiness or joy or euphoria or jubilation. I don’t want to toast to understanding or empathy or communication or unity.

No, I will not impose this toast for any of those. Instead, on this day of thanks, I want to toast to the things that truly matter the most. I want to toast to alcohol and drug abuse. I want to toast to worry and hopelessness. I want to toast to sleepless nights that make us beg for respite from ourselves. I want to toast to the most extreme forms of mental and emotional torture that every one of us have had to go through. I want to toast to the things that we hate about ourselves that nobody will ever know about. I want to toast to the fear associated with the unknown. I want to toast to that one moment where we honestly don’t know how we’re going to get through the day. I want to toast to the point in time when we ask ourselves if it’s even worth it. Yes, I also want to toast to death, whether it be of mental, physical, or emotional nature.

But most importantly, this toast goes out to the one universally common aspect of all of the above things: they all end. Every one of them, in one way or another, pass. And almost every time that they do, we find more strength, more growth, and more clarity for ourselves than we could have ever possibly imagined.

May we never forget that.

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~ by cptgibbs on February 12, 2010.

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