Total Pageviews

Monday, September 10, 2012

The Councelor

Thank You

Time to write.  Hello, Dark Orchestra. It's good to see you again.  The steam from my tea swirls with an orange glow from the little candle I light before I type.  A light that I cannot write without.  A feeling that goes hand in hand with pulling out your stomach and throwing your guts against the wall.  A feeling which you had no idea was there in the first place.  Music, tea, coffee, and now this flickering light are not just mood setters, but necessities.  Dark is good, black is comforting, the night time is my peace from war. The light piercing under the door makes me glad I am in this dark office, and not out in the normal chaos we call life.  This is when I am most alive, right now with you, on this dark fucken stage that echos my thoughts to the second story where the skeletons play our life's soundtrack.  A smokey mirror that reminds me where I came from, and what still lies inside me.  A stage full of beds where monsters play chess.  A place where vodka tears fall from our eyes while we watch home videos.  Hand prints on our faces from "I wish I could do it over" moments.  Play time with thousands of airless footballs.  Incomplete puzzles leading back to middle school.  Something as simple as asking her to dance, but never committing. Or as powerful as losing a friend you loved so dearly.  Scattered splashes of beer stain the black stage floor while reaching out for your ankles, screaming to stay, and to never leave the party.  A glass house is what surrounds this orchestra, a fragile reminder of what lies outside those doors.  Who we truly are, and what we are capable of doing.  A scary thought that explains why we volunteer ourselves to this slave labor we call weightlifting. 

Slam this bar with pride young man.  Kick the weights 'til your toes bleed.  Smear your bloody hands all over the platform.  Cover your face with chalk as you cover your face from crying.  Let it out! This is not weightlifting! This is counseling!  Come on kid, slam this bar, go ahead, it's ok, let it rip!  Fuck your old counselor, and guess what, fuck you.  Yea, I said it. It's time for someone to break down that over sensitive wall you have built around yourself.  It's time to learn how to break balls and break these weights.  Break your bad thoughts and your self doubt.  Break your meth pipe and that bottle you have in your hand.  It's time to break you down to build you back up.  Just like Shankle did to me. Now it's my turn to fuck you up, and make a man out of you. It's the weight's turn. Everything else failed.... right?  Now it's time for these weights to fall upon your back only for you to stand stronger.  Get beat down, go through the pain, bleed, fight, cry, bath in your own self pity, go ahead, get it out of the way.  Your new role model is you and this bar. Nothing else. I don't care about your other dreams, shut up and lift.  Lift this weight while lifting your head high, higher, higher, fucken higher! Good, now drop the weight just like your father dropped you!  Slam this bar 'til you puke all over yourself.  Get the demon out, smash your fucken head against the wall until you taste your blood dripping down your face.  Learn how to love your own blood, learn how to love yourself.  Find yourself by beating yourself.  Find you while you break this bar. Yes! THAT'S IT!   Now grab this violin and play with the skeletons on the second floor.  You will play music you never knew you could young man, I promise.  Raise your hands and become you.  You are you and you love it. Lift this weight the same way you are going to lift life. Smash this weight the same way you are going to smash your demons. No one will understand you better than this bar.  No one will support you more than this sport.  No one will be more truthful than these weights.  Nobody loves you more than you.  You young man, welcome to the Dark Orchestra, welcome to your new life. 

Welcome to Strength not weakness.  Welcome to more bad days than good days, and learning to deal with bad days to get to good days.  Welcome to a bad day meaning good, and not just a wasted bad day you call yourself.  Take this step away from yourself, and enter the no comfort zones.  A house of pain, a bed of nightmares, but a life of achiving.  A life full of team mates you can now call brothers.  A coach you can now call a father figure.  A support group that will never let you fall, but will always let you fail, for failing is apart of this sport, apart of life.  Your old veiw on failing has now changed forever.  Failing is good, its real, its the best advice you could ever recieve.  A wise man named Adam Hall once said, "I am the greatest contracter in the world, and I love it".  This changed my life forever.  Thank you Adam for your always motivating words and actions.  Thank you Shankle for breaking me down to build me up.  Thank you coach for not only being my coach, but fulfilling another role I need so desperatly.  Thank you mom for etending all my soccer and football games. Thank you Jim for the values you taught me. Thank you Lexy for being happy. Thank you to my lovely Wife for saving me and loving me.  Thank you Dark Orchestra for giving me a home.    Thank you for readin this. 

Second Story Skeletons 2016


  1. Good shit. Bleed life dry. Be able to say, when you are an old man, i went hard once.

    Whatwould you rather have onyour deathbed? Perfect knees at 80, or the memory of putting major weight over your head?

  2. I feel like I say this all the time but this might be my favorite post....