I have this habit of posting inspirational messages to myself when I’m in a good mood: Putting up a plaque in the hallway emblazoned with a famous saying; plastering my bathroom mirror with affirmations; push-pinning my corkboard to death. The steam from my showers licks at the adhesive in the tape and the affirmation or life goal eventually falls away. Maybe then it’s time for a new message. Sometimes, though, I get angry that my life doesn’t live up to the affirmation and I throw the message away.
Having a hard time meeting your soulmate? Well, then, maybe rip to shreds the fortune from the cookie you have in your wallet. You know, the one that says: Good fortune in love as well as a better position. Tired of those pesky rejection letters coming back from publishers in the mail every week? Then throw the index card in the toilet that says: Trust your process. You are being lead. There are no accidents. Even though the toilet doesn’t like index cards and throws it back up.
But of all the things that tick me off when reality doesn’t meet expectations, none does so more regularly than the Serenity Prayer:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change the things I can
And the wisdom to know the difference.
And it’s always in flowing script and centered in my mind, smelling like Potpourri. If it’s anything one does not want to hear when things are going badly, it’s that acceptance is the answer. To hell with serenity when I’m angry, which is when I need it most. Why doesn’t God give me another prayer when things aren’t going well, a prayer like—
Meet my expectations.
Now
RIGHT NOW.
Of all the items I ever threw away in a grand mal tantrum, none did I toss into the can more regularly than the serenity prayer, which was inscribed on a wooden, postcard-sized plaque hanging in my bathroom, the plaque with all the food stains on it. And then, after I’d gotten over my little rebellion, I’d fish the plaque out of the trash and hang it back up again. Every time I threw the plaque out, I was practicing the opposite of the prayers’ meaning. And when I hung it back up, I’d be in acceptance again, or at least resignation, which is a lousy imitation of acceptance.
One afternoon I had finally had enough. I hadn’t been sleeping well. My dream of becoming a world-famous screenwriter hadn’t quite worked out. I was once again out of a relationship. I’d spent two hours in my car fighting traffic. I couldn’t find work. I was alone, depressed, and, well, I was constipated. I was late getting ready for a late day job interview for a job I didn’t really want and I cut myself shaving. It was a bleeder. I saw that damn plaque and decided it needed to be broken over my knee. But it would not break. So I grabbed a handsaw from the laundry room and sawed it in half. In the garbage it went. Good riddance. No amount of tape or glue would save acceptance now. From now on, it was going to be power and control. I never told anyone I did this horrible thing. I figured they’d think I was against God or out of my mind with rage or something. But you don’t think about me, do you?
Days passed, and I was finally able to look at the nail where the Serenity Prayer had hung on my bathroom wall without feeling guilty for killing off all that brotherhood and peace of mind. Weeks went by.
The whole event passed out of awareness. I gradually became more hostile with telemarketers and that pimply-faced high school kid who always got my McDonald’s order wrong at 11:00 p.m. My birthday approached. I didn’t feel like a party this year. I was 41 and didn’t want to be reminded. Then my friend Nini called. She was very secretive about what she wanted. She needed to see me for 15 seconds, she said. 15 seconds? What can you possibly do in life in 15 seconds? Don’t think dirty now.
Last time we talked, she needed immigration advice. That would take more than 15 seconds. Maybe she wanted to kiss me, or, shoot me, or serve me with a subpoena. That was all I could guess at. So, I met Nini at the Old Orchard Mall in Skokie, Illinois. She opened her trunk and pulled this package out, about the size of a big mirror. It was a birthday present. And very heavy. I unwrapped it. It was the biggest Serenity Prayer I ever saw, and it was in needlepoint, with an oak frame and an oak tree flourishing behind the words, all done up in green matting and covered in glass. But even though it was in needlepoint, the words were the same. Even though the frame was varnished, and the shape was different than my old, sawed-in-half plaque, the meaning was still the same. It told me to let go and, as Michael Jordan used to say, take what the defense gives and let the game to come to me. It told me to act to change the things I could, and not to worry about the rest. And it said that it may take some time and experience to learn when to act, and when to lay back.
I hugged Nini, took her gift home and hung it in the little potty room next to my kitchen. I hung it on the wall above the toilet. It was so big and woody and glassy, that my toilet would never be able to digest it. And I couldn’t break it over my leg without shattering my knee. It wouldn’t fit into my garbage can. If I tried to saw it in half, I’d cut my hand to pieces. You can’t saw glass. So, I guess that’s one of the things I can’t change. I guess God knew what He was doing. Did He and Nini have an emergency session about me or something?
When I don’t hear something important the first time around, the Universe just shouts louder. I didn’t want to see the Serenity Prayer when it was small, so the type just got bigger. About 20 times bigger. The message I don’t want to hear will keep repeating until I receive it. I tried to change that message but couldn’t. So now I have a little fragment of the wisdom to know the difference. Every time I go to take a pee, I get a little more of that message.
The serenity to accept the things I couldn’t change and the courage to change things I could came to me in the form of a gift; wrapped, with a bow, the whole works. I guess the truth is indestructible.
© 2022 by Michael C. Just
Mike’s novel, The Dirt: The Journey of a Mystic Cowboy, is available in softcover or eBook formats through Amazon.
You can purchase the book through this website. Or go straight to amazon at https://www.amazon.com/s?k=the+dirt+journey+of+a+mystic+cowboy&crid=1S40Q4BXSUWJ6&sprefix=the+dirt%3A+journey+of+a+m%2Caps%2C180&ref=nb_sb_ss_i_1_23
Mike’s other titles, including The Crippy, The Mind Altar, and Canyon Calls, are available through this website or through Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B002
Four of his short stories have recently been published online:
Lies, Ltd. has been published by The Mystery Tribune @ Lies, Ltd.: Literary Short Fiction by Michael C. Just (mysterytribune.com)
The Obligate Carnivore has been published by the Scarlet Leaf Review @ Category: MICHAEL JUST – SCARLET LEAF REVIEW
I See You, Too has been published by the 96th of October @ I See You, Too – 96th of October
Offload, a short story about a man who can heal any disease, is now live and can be read at The Worlds Within at Offload – The Worlds Within