I've been thinking a lot about Brian Ferry since seeing Laurel Canyon. I only remember hearing part of one song by Mr. Suave...or perhaps it was Roxy Music, but it reminded me about some really glorious feelings I haven't experienced in a while. I believe I can say, pretty comfortably, that Roxy Music is the best music I've ever heard.
Now, I'm not saying there wasn't - or isn't - better music out there.
I'm just saying that in my life, no music, no matter how amazing, has ever done for me what Roxy Music did for me when I first heard it. And Roxy Music always brings me back to the place I was back then. It was so many moons ago and I was just beginning to discover a seriously deep and rich place I could go in my life - in my head, in my heart, in my soul - a place that had little to do with the life I'd known or the limited world around me.
I always felt a deep red when I heard Roxy Music. Something close to a blood red, but without any brightness or shine. A profound, intense enveloping red...a red so rich you could fall into it and be swallowed whole. A red into which you could just disappear.
Today's a red day. My thoughts are somewhere spinning deep inside of my soul. The silliness of the day is passing me by and all I can see is the sun radiating if I look up. If I look down, all I sense is an array of ideas and feelings...all of which are most probably connected in some way. I'm letting them brew. Letting them steep. Letting them work themselves into something that might guide me later on.
Today I'm going to visit the folks I used to work with. And I'm not sure how I'm feeling.
Some of those folks, I see quite regularly. A few have officially become part of my chosen family....those in my life I see as much as my real family wishes I would see them. Others, I haven't seen since I left Hell, Inc.,last September. But we just called it hell. No "Inc" necessary. Incorporated or not, it was officially - and unofficially - the worst place on, above or below earth.
It wasn't the people. The people were the best.
It was the company. (That's a nice way of saying the head of the company).
The company was based on everything evil: greed, malice, revenge, hostility, hatred, intolerance and basic negativity on a massive scale.
The sad part was that the folks who worked there weren't just great, they were sisters and brothers in spirit. By necessity. The only way to survive in that environment was to bond with each other and seek comfort in the fact that other reasonable and rational people also understood that what was going on was absolutely insane.
I would have seen some of those folks more often since last September, but personal relationships were treated with the utmost suspicion in hell. So, for a long time, we all spoke through designated individuals. We were together in spirit, but waiting until the coast was clear.
It would be easier if I had seen some of these folks before today. While six months may not seem like a long time in the scheme of things, it's been a significant six months in my life. I've certainly crossed over to a place much different from where I was when I worked there. I've crossed over to freedom.
I used to think I understood the concept of victimization. I had read all about abusive relationships and found them quite interesting. I thought I could see how someone would be influenced by another to the point that his or her own self-worth and self-concept was completely in that person's hands.
I had met women who believed it when their husbands told them they were useless. And they came to believe they were useless. I definitely had more than one friend who believed it when his father told him he was stupid. Those friends ultimately lived their lives with the mistaken belief that they truly were stupid. No accumulation of graduate degrees or successes could advance them beyond that belief.
Yes. I thought I had a pretty good grasp of victimization.
But I didn't really get it until I left hell.
For it was only after I left hell that I got to spend more time in the real world. And people in the real world thought I was pretty neat. Some thought I was smart. Some thought I had good instincts. Some thought I was capable. others thought I was marketable. There were even people in the real world who wanted me to come work for them.
It was funny because all the time I was in hell, I had been led to believe, through constant disparagement, that I was shit. I'm not saying I wasn't complimented and rewarded, but each affirmation was really a dig.
I was provided greater and greater responsibility not because I earned it, but because I needed to be doing more. I was promoted not because I had earned it, but because I needed to be motivated. And when I resigned, I was offered more money to stay - not because I was worth it, but because that's what they'd have to pay someone anyway if they advertised for my job.
While in hell, I knew I was good at what I did. But I didn't know it deep down. Deep down, I was starting to believe the bad press coming from the top.
Luckily I got out before it was too late to think that getting out was possible.
But today I'm going back to visit the people who aren't out yet.
They'll tell me their plans for getting out. And I'll urge them to make it happen sooner rather than later.
They'll tell me how good I look and I'll smile at them, confirming that I owe everything good to my freedom.
Hopefully they'll want to look the way I look.
Hopefully they're still capable of at least wondering if looking so happy is still possible for them.