Sometimes you have to die in order to live again.
There are all sorts of analogies for this; perhaps best known is the lowly caterpillar’s transformation into a cocoon, and then miraculously into a soaring butterfly. A “resurrection, of sorts.”
You’ve probably heard all the cliches.
But after the utter devastation and chaos of the past year, and the pain I’ve caused so many, the metaphors don’t really hold up.
Rather, the caterpillar seems like a shamed and vanquished creature. The cocoon seems more like a coffin, and as for soaring, well, that’s reserved for ones who haven’t made certain mistakes—or at least—for the ones who manage to hide them.
Then I died and went to heaven Austin.
And now I see dead people everywhere.
A city whose motto is “Keep Austin Weird” doesn’t freak out about a sixth sense. Hell, for all they know, there may be a seventh.
A city of people just like…me.
And they see me.
And they are not afraid to admit it.
Only real life stuff in the ATX. Unlike the bible belt where most everyone sees only people who look just like them, this city is independent enough to damn co-dependence to hell—or even worse—to Dallas or Colorado Springs.
This is a city where songs have endings with minor chords, and lyrics that don’t attempt to conjur up happy endings in three verses or less, nor blogs that promise how to solve life’s problems in five easy steps.
Austin has enough angst for the world, so the smug easy answers of melodrama don’t play very well here. To paraphrase the ballad of Jed Clampett, “Blues that is, Stevie Ray, soul to soul.”
This is a city where the business suits called “Dellionaires” rub shoulders (literally) with the birthday suits of “Hippie Hollow.”
Where else in the country would you find a beloved cross-dressing homeless transvestite named Leslie finish second in the mayoral race, become an advocate for the homeless, and have a day (Mar. 8) set aside in his honor?
I died and went to Austin last August and Leslie died and went somewhere else five months previous.
I wonder where he went? Austin is a hard act to follow.
If I happen to be lucky enough to split heaven (or hell) wide open, I really hope my home will be next to Leslie’s.
Somehow, even though I don’t think the boss of either heaven or hell will be upset (or surprised) we’re there, those people formerly known as my friends probably won’t be rushing up to welcome us there.
Not that they are bad, you see…it’s just that most of them haven’t died yet.
14 responses to “I Died And Went To…Austin”
Randy, I “died” in 1997 in Nashville, TN. Failed marriage. Failed job. No identity. No hope. And then a coathanger on the square in downtown Lebanon, TN changed everything.
I became a writer after that. A real writer. One free to serve ideas and stories rather than be enslaved to other’s expectations.
I see two worlds. One clothed in image, traditions and expectations. And another inhabited by those of us who either walked away or were kicked of the stage. It’s like Shakespeare’s Hamlet vs. Stoppard’s Rosencrantz & Gildenstern Are Dead.
God sure seems to favor the unlikely. The outcast. The invisible. The ignored.
That’s where miracles happen!
Wow, Keith. Wow! “One free to serve ideas and stories rather than be enslaved to other’s expectations.” Thanks for this. From the depths of my heart. Thanks.
Oh Jonathan. I’m humbled to tears. This road is so filled with utter sadness and despair. Your words are so encouraging. “Dying through great failure and the collapse of our own personal salvation projects (often the repeated failure) is truly the only way we move deeper into spiritual wisdom and the true FREEDOM of the gospel. It’s no surprise that the Western Christian mind, always looking for a hero, thinks that those who experience great loss, failure or death, are not “qualified” for spiritual leadership. ”
Thanks from the depths of who I am,
Randy
Thanks for this reminder of the truth that Teresa of Avila phrased this way: “It’s heaven all the way to Heaven and hell all the way to Hell.” Her encouragement was, the best sign of where we are headed is in what we find in our experience today, regardless of our circumstances. I’m so glad that you are experiencing heaven in Austin. Your desciption sounds like a place that I’d like to live forever! It’s interesting that many of the people who would measure themselves as “mature Christians” can only see hell around them in society, in people, in media, in religion, in government. (I have a feeling that they would have the same ability to critique the CITY OF GOD with the same level of self importance)
Dying through great failure and the collapse of our own personal salvation projects (often the repeated failure) is truly the only way we move deeper into spiritual wisdom and the true FREEDOM of the gospel. It’s no surprise that the Western Christian mind, always looking for a hero, thinks that those who experience great loss, failure or death, are not “qualified” for spiritual leadership. To our own detriment we miss the true witness of the life and ministry of Jesus Christ which is, “the way down is the way up.” We do our best to romanticize our perception of spiritual icons; John of the Cross, Saint Francis, Paul the Apostle, Henri Nouwen, Martin Luther King Jr., Jesus of Nazareth, and somehow believe they achieved great spiritual awareness without great loss, the perception of failure and death. None would be trusted leaders, “qulaified for ministry” by the standards of many Christian institutions today. They are just too risky, they might be great people but what if it got out that they… where have their “real” successes been? (many only realized AFTER their physical death). As western-minded Christians we choose to overlook the need for loss, the downward path, in the search for our role-models. But it doesn’t change the fact that consistantly, those people who are universally admired walked this path. “Normally a job, fortune or reputation has to be lost, a death has to be suffered, a house has to be flooded or a disease has to be endured. The pattern is so clear that one has to work rather hard, or be intellectually lazy, to miss the lesson.” (Falling Upward, Richard Rohr)
Randy, I am honored to say, you ARE one of my role-models. You have always been steps ahead of me yet willing to wait long enough to look my way, take my hand and point out the beauty of this journey reminding me to see THE ARTIST in the art of our lives; in the light and in the dark.
About 7 years ago…I died too. It was one of the most terrifying and freeing things I’ve ever done. I have a tattoo of a phoenix on my leg to remind me of the place where I totally lost and found my mind. It also reminds me of the rebirth that comes when I decide to set fire to the things that aren’t really me.
I’m finding now that dying will probably be a recurring theme in the rest of my life. Escaping the facade I built for the first 35 years of life fully immersed in the Southern Baptist way is not easy. The masks of codependence invade me again after a time.
But it is encouraging when others that know my failures find it safe enough to share their own with me. I’m thinking that is the way that life should be. Not a program to fix me or them. A discussion. Not a ‘yes’ or ‘no’…but sometimes a questioning ‘hell if I know?!’. Honesty. Something I rarely saw in church.
Unfortunately, haven’t left the Bible belt yet. I have the great responsibility of raising my young kids…with an ex that lives here (you can guess at least one of my failures). I do look forward to the time when I can. The air seems so thick here.
I also anticipate the day when I soar again. I haven’t quite found that yet. The shame is too heavy.
May you find your soar-worthy wings in Austin.
David,
I’m humbled by your honesty. Thanks so much…and may you SOAR as well.
Randy, I was saddened after reading this post. Then I had an imaginary conversarion where I encouraged you. (Don’t worry, I didn’t answer any of my questions.) Then I was inspired to share this poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay:
FIRST FIG
My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends–
It gives a lovely light!
You are such an encourager!!!
Thanks, Paul.
I guess what dying to leave again means to me is like a point of recollection in life, where you figure out how else you can do things in life to get better results and accomplish your dreams. Thanks for this wonderful article.
Beautiful. Thanks so much for joining the conversation, Jenna.
Craig’s words speak to me as well, Randy. Yesterday we put our home on the market…and are moving to Austin! (And we’re not even dead yet!) But we are seeking more Life…and anticipating a new wave of His Design upon us! Why is God doing some rather cool and ridiculous things in Austin….and it fits into “weird?” That sounds so refreshing to us….and I would wish that for you!
Wow!!! Please call me when you get here and let’s get together! Thanks, Dan. Also, if you don’t have a realtor yet in Austin, mine was incredible. Be happy to recommend her!
“there is new life to be lived, things to be brushed off and beautiful strokes to be stroked from a new view.” Thanks, Craig. What powerful (and encouraging) words.
Maybe my friend, you, have just left the wilderness and are experiencing a plot of land full of promise.. and it is good, and there is new life to be lived, things to be brushed off and beautiful strokes to be stroked from a new view.