Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...

I'm going through a very dark period right now. What brought this on was a discussion I was having with another friend regarding transcendental meditation and the different levels and planes of existence. He said that of the material, astral, and causal planes, we tend to draw either the good or the bad out of the universe, depending entirely on what we project outward.

Through what little study I've done in comparative religion, I know that Christianity considers man inherently sinful and says we can only achieve righteousness through god. I know that Islam says that man is inherently good, but is despoiled by outside influences and must therefore reject the evil in the world. I know that Judeaism says that man is neither good nor evil, but must choose righteousness consciously. I've always held closest to that last perception.

I've always had a lot of friends who've brought out either the best or the worst in me. Lately I've been remembering the second type.

I had a friend once who was a lot like me. He loved his family very deeply. His loyalty was unfaltering. His sense of humor was unflappable. He was a big ole redneck with a strong sense of justice. He liked women and whiskey and he was tough as nails. In fact, he was the last guy to hand me my ass in a fight. Needless to say we got along famously.

One day we were sitting in a take out place waiting for our pizzas to get ready and he asked me if I had ever killed somebody. I answered him honestly and told him,"Not directly." Something really seemed to be bothering him, so I told him to spill it.

"Can you keep a secret?" I told him I could. He then went on to relate to me how two years ago his mom was seeing this one guy. He was a real prince too, he beat her and got drunk a lot. His mom kept telling him not ot do anything, but one time he beat her to within an inch of her life. He couldn't let that pass.

So one day he walked up to the ass-hole's car with his 9mm at his side. Without pause or precursor he put two into the side of his head. The cops thought it was an attempted carjacking and closed the case. He told me what it felt like. He told me what it looked like and how it smelled when certain flecks hits the hot upholstery and started to bake. I was not there when it happened, but I knew exactly how he felt. He told me how it got to him at times, but that he'd do it again if he had to.

I couldn't blame him. I know that there have been times where I've wanted to kill and could justify doing it. Its not as difficult as some people might think. When someone is so vile to your loved one they cease being human. They are beasts walking upright. No different than shooting a rabid wolf.

Like him, I have had both the inclination and the opportunity. Unlike him, I have simply chosen not to. I can't say exactly what has held me back. but then I've always been perhaps too sympatico.

During a darker period of my life I had a room-mate who was both a gang-member and a satanist. This made for some interesting night-time discussions. He decribed organizing the death of some enemies and seemed like he was always for his own violent demise to come. I once tore another (usually docile) friend off him just before he would've killed the satanist. The satanist didn't even put up the pretense of a fight. He just stared into his attacker's eyes. I knew immediately why he did it and it was my first clue to understanding him. He didn't care if he died or not, but if he was going to, he wanted his eyes to haunt and torment his killer.

I asked him once why he believed as he did. For an hour and a half he described to me what his life was like. He said his life was cursed. He described to me the constant pain that afflicted him since he was young and how every time he fell asleep it felt like dying. He described to me how he saw disembodied spirits arise and torment the living when he slept. He described the ghosts of the men he killed stalking him, waiting for his turn to fall. He told me how he could wrap himself in seven blankets and still be chilled to the bone. Throughout all this I listened. I didn't say a word. Though I had never experienced these things for myself, I knew exactly how he felt.

In the end it always comes down to a choice between hate or love, lonliness or syncronisity, fear or faith. I was friends with both of them because I recognized myself in them. I know when faced with the same decisions I would be tempted and would be quite capable of making the same decisions. I am just as dark a beast as those two. I've just chosen the high road more often than not. What scares me is that I'm not strong enough to say I always will when it counts. That's what scares me.