Cody, yet another point within our alignment. Your words are reverberating around the inside of my heart as I type this.
I too have a brother in the system in CA. I'm the eldest, and he's the middle boy. And, I should clarify, he's been on the street since '16, and usually gets picked up once or twice per year. Something I don't often speak on either, out of respect for his privacy and choices, and a lack of desire for the "pity" people pour on when they find out.
Back In July of '22, he got kicked out of his 10th rehab program just one day before graduating. He could have cleared years worth of countless petty charges that addicts accrue in their quest for a hit. And when he called me, off his tits in a Savers where he was stealing clothes, he told me all sorts of things, called me expletives, and I could immediately tell this relapse was different.
I could feel the shame in his voice as he cursed me. I could feel his sorrow in a way that only a brother could. And I cried for him as I forgave him, turning to the gym and a set of 30lb dumbbells for relief, before calling home to tell the tribe about his turn.
So, since July, I'd been wondering where he was. And then around Christmas of last year, when he'd normally get sloppy and get picked up, he remained off the radar. So my family started calling me to ask if I'd heard anything from him, since I'm always the first recipient of his calls, and the bringer of news to our family. And I've come to accept this position as part of my own journey. Why wouldn't it be me? It's an honor, really.
He remained silent though, and in January, I had to confront the real possibility that he might be dead. Perhaps buried under the tent of someone he stole drugs from, or buried in a back yard after a deal went bad. But instead of letting those thoughts grow legs, I prayed, just like I did on that mountain, and asked for an answer.
And then three days later, a girl he went to high school with found him on the street, and contacted my sister. So I got my answer. He told Bri that he was on the run, and he was facing 3 years in prison if they caught him. I know how greatly that scared him.
Then only 5 days ago, he turned up on the inmate finder I check every day. And I found myself swimming in that weird feeling of relief yet again. To know he's alive, and detoxing on at least a concrete "bed" with a toilet near by. It's an odd relief to say the least. I feel him in my heart now, and I wonder if he feels me too.
I just spoke with another dear friend this afternoon who has a brother in the same position. And I told him something similar to how you laid out your Jester analogy.
I see him as the same. A soul who came to earth specifically to eat himself alive. The tragic element to the comedy of existence. Who, in the process, has helped me to become what I am, and to become someone who helps lead my family in my own way. And in his strange, amphetamine-laced way, he's brought healing to our family.
So how could I judge him for being unapologetically himself? He's the hardest working man in Silicon Valley when he's out, because he's always high. His job is unorthodox, sure, but man... he's good at it, and he always gets what he craves in each moment of desire. I imagine he could be the CEO of a multi-national corporation with that type of drive when he learns to focus it on something productive, instead of the destruction of the past 7.5 years.
When you said, "Maybe other people listening right now are experiencing this against the grain part of society." -- Ha, that's me, brother. Why wouldn't it be, right? Perfect.
Perhaps we should talk about brothers tomorrow. I know it would be good for me.
Thank you for sharing this. I'm glad you followed your inspiration on this one, because you have served me greatly in your truth.
I remember his cheshire smile as he'd sneak away to steal and eat dog food from the bins in the garage. And how my mother would yell at him, "BRENDAN, YOU ARE NOT A DOG". hahahhaha. He and Al laugh together on this one.
And to avoid writing a novel here, I'll finish by saying, what you said about archetypes and becoming resonated deeply. I feel at this time we are learning how to nurture each soul who society chews up and spits out, on individual level. How each person has their own individualized needs, and how we leave the ones who don't fit the mold behind.
Lord knows how we've all tried to help in our own ways. But I've found the only way that works for me is to give him my compassion when he calls, and to deeply listen, no matter how nasty he can be when he's on one.
I've seen glimpses of his light shine through, and now I simply imagine the how beautiful it will feel to hug him again one day. And to say, "i'm proud of you and all you've accomplished, brother. I love you, dude."
Yet, on Monday, I'll still need to call 4 different police departments to see who picked him up this time. I'll have to get another redacted police report to clear my own name, since that one time he used it as an alias forever entwined me with his antics and incarcerations.
Honestly, it's kind of funny to be sitting in my studio, 2000 miles away, looking at my own name on a website which says I'm currently sitting in a cell in CA. I mean, why wouldn't it?
Man, I know we’re talking soon but I just want to set a response in stone here. I’m so happy for both of us that I put this out and you were inspired to share your story with me. I guess we just have to strap in and fully accept that we met for a reason.
I don’t talk about Al at all unless it’s relevant to a conversation and I trust that it’s the right thing to do. Like you I’m sure, I’ve even felt shame and embarrassment about him. Especially growing up in Long Island where everything has a certain gloss, a comfortable conformity. I thought bringing up my brother would make people judge me, or become uneasy by it.
You said it perfectly. My family prospered too, by having someone like him. My younger brothers and I had an anti-hero to avoid the same pitfalls, knowing full well how our bad behaviors might impact others--his way, gave us so many gifts.
And now, it continues to give. Being the second oldest allowed me to step into a leadership role early on that I had the opportunity to practice despite the forced dynamics of rigid family structure. I cursed god back then for it, “why do I have to pretend like the most mature and stable force in my family. It’s not my job!” It was all there for me to remember that I AM that force regardless of circumstance.
It makes me think of the beautiful nature of this team based game we call life. I’m remembering who I am because of Al’s nature. He’s a part of the A team. It all falls apart without The Jester. It’s a thankless job in this material world, but higher up it is applauded by the unknowable.
I laugh with you and this newfound clarity, brother!
Cody, yet another point within our alignment. Your words are reverberating around the inside of my heart as I type this.
I too have a brother in the system in CA. I'm the eldest, and he's the middle boy. And, I should clarify, he's been on the street since '16, and usually gets picked up once or twice per year. Something I don't often speak on either, out of respect for his privacy and choices, and a lack of desire for the "pity" people pour on when they find out.
Back In July of '22, he got kicked out of his 10th rehab program just one day before graduating. He could have cleared years worth of countless petty charges that addicts accrue in their quest for a hit. And when he called me, off his tits in a Savers where he was stealing clothes, he told me all sorts of things, called me expletives, and I could immediately tell this relapse was different.
I could feel the shame in his voice as he cursed me. I could feel his sorrow in a way that only a brother could. And I cried for him as I forgave him, turning to the gym and a set of 30lb dumbbells for relief, before calling home to tell the tribe about his turn.
So, since July, I'd been wondering where he was. And then around Christmas of last year, when he'd normally get sloppy and get picked up, he remained off the radar. So my family started calling me to ask if I'd heard anything from him, since I'm always the first recipient of his calls, and the bringer of news to our family. And I've come to accept this position as part of my own journey. Why wouldn't it be me? It's an honor, really.
He remained silent though, and in January, I had to confront the real possibility that he might be dead. Perhaps buried under the tent of someone he stole drugs from, or buried in a back yard after a deal went bad. But instead of letting those thoughts grow legs, I prayed, just like I did on that mountain, and asked for an answer.
And then three days later, a girl he went to high school with found him on the street, and contacted my sister. So I got my answer. He told Bri that he was on the run, and he was facing 3 years in prison if they caught him. I know how greatly that scared him.
Then only 5 days ago, he turned up on the inmate finder I check every day. And I found myself swimming in that weird feeling of relief yet again. To know he's alive, and detoxing on at least a concrete "bed" with a toilet near by. It's an odd relief to say the least. I feel him in my heart now, and I wonder if he feels me too.
I just spoke with another dear friend this afternoon who has a brother in the same position. And I told him something similar to how you laid out your Jester analogy.
I see him as the same. A soul who came to earth specifically to eat himself alive. The tragic element to the comedy of existence. Who, in the process, has helped me to become what I am, and to become someone who helps lead my family in my own way. And in his strange, amphetamine-laced way, he's brought healing to our family.
So how could I judge him for being unapologetically himself? He's the hardest working man in Silicon Valley when he's out, because he's always high. His job is unorthodox, sure, but man... he's good at it, and he always gets what he craves in each moment of desire. I imagine he could be the CEO of a multi-national corporation with that type of drive when he learns to focus it on something productive, instead of the destruction of the past 7.5 years.
When you said, "Maybe other people listening right now are experiencing this against the grain part of society." -- Ha, that's me, brother. Why wouldn't it be, right? Perfect.
Perhaps we should talk about brothers tomorrow. I know it would be good for me.
Thank you for sharing this. I'm glad you followed your inspiration on this one, because you have served me greatly in your truth.
I remember his cheshire smile as he'd sneak away to steal and eat dog food from the bins in the garage. And how my mother would yell at him, "BRENDAN, YOU ARE NOT A DOG". hahahhaha. He and Al laugh together on this one.
And to avoid writing a novel here, I'll finish by saying, what you said about archetypes and becoming resonated deeply. I feel at this time we are learning how to nurture each soul who society chews up and spits out, on individual level. How each person has their own individualized needs, and how we leave the ones who don't fit the mold behind.
Lord knows how we've all tried to help in our own ways. But I've found the only way that works for me is to give him my compassion when he calls, and to deeply listen, no matter how nasty he can be when he's on one.
I've seen glimpses of his light shine through, and now I simply imagine the how beautiful it will feel to hug him again one day. And to say, "i'm proud of you and all you've accomplished, brother. I love you, dude."
Yet, on Monday, I'll still need to call 4 different police departments to see who picked him up this time. I'll have to get another redacted police report to clear my own name, since that one time he used it as an alias forever entwined me with his antics and incarcerations.
Honestly, it's kind of funny to be sitting in my studio, 2000 miles away, looking at my own name on a website which says I'm currently sitting in a cell in CA. I mean, why wouldn't it?
HA! We laugh together.
See you tomorrow.
Man, I know we’re talking soon but I just want to set a response in stone here. I’m so happy for both of us that I put this out and you were inspired to share your story with me. I guess we just have to strap in and fully accept that we met for a reason.
I don’t talk about Al at all unless it’s relevant to a conversation and I trust that it’s the right thing to do. Like you I’m sure, I’ve even felt shame and embarrassment about him. Especially growing up in Long Island where everything has a certain gloss, a comfortable conformity. I thought bringing up my brother would make people judge me, or become uneasy by it.
You said it perfectly. My family prospered too, by having someone like him. My younger brothers and I had an anti-hero to avoid the same pitfalls, knowing full well how our bad behaviors might impact others--his way, gave us so many gifts.
And now, it continues to give. Being the second oldest allowed me to step into a leadership role early on that I had the opportunity to practice despite the forced dynamics of rigid family structure. I cursed god back then for it, “why do I have to pretend like the most mature and stable force in my family. It’s not my job!” It was all there for me to remember that I AM that force regardless of circumstance.
It makes me think of the beautiful nature of this team based game we call life. I’m remembering who I am because of Al’s nature. He’s a part of the A team. It all falls apart without The Jester. It’s a thankless job in this material world, but higher up it is applauded by the unknowable.
I laugh with you and this newfound clarity, brother!