As chairs crashed on walls, tables broke, glass shattered, and fist met flesh Stacy couldn’t hear anything. Somehow her body shut down the sense of sound amidst all of the chaos that was occurring. I guess sound, wasn’t one of the senses at the time that needed to be heightened during this fight or flight moment. Her stomach was knotted and her arms covered her face while her husband did everything he could to drive his fist past her defenses. Maybe it was her screaming that drowned out the rest of the noise around her. The hurling of insults that spewed out of her drunken husbands mouth. The smell of alcohol that seeped from his body only a few inches from hers. Deep down the screams were just harnessing up courage, fueling her fire to finally fight back. Once he got tired of punching face and forearms he took one step back and she pounced, she lost all physical control over her actions and saw only red. Anything and everything became a weapon for her. She swung, kicked, threw, grabbed, scratched and bit every bit of him that her bruised hands could get a hold of. When all was said and done and she had depleted every bit of fire left in her body, she fell to the floor two feet away from where her pummeled husbands lifeless body laid with one open eye and one swollen shut. She gasped for air in between every cry and within minutes a calmness came over her. A sense of clarity. The knowledge that in this chaos that just occurred a reckoning also happened, one that would give her the strength and courage to move on with her life. Stacy learned what she was truly capable of and in this moment she took in a deep breath of calmness and exhaled a lifetime of chaos.

Desperate to feel joy again Heather slid into her shoes, grabbed her jacket and went to the corner to purchase an ounce of Grade A Joy. This was the best joy on the block and fever since her daughter dying Heather has been yearning to feel some sliver of the emotion that left her body once she heard the news of her baby leaving this world. With every step she took down the street towards her dealer she started to remember the warmth, smiles and laughter that came with Joy. She remembered seeing joy in her daughters face and how it was infectious, how it would transfer over to her after hearing her daughter laugh at silly cartoons and jokes during dinner time or bath time. Each memory giving her hope that she could once again feel Joy, with the help of the drug and now with the help of her daughters memories. As she turned the corner she saw her dealer giving out bags of emotions. Sadness to one, Elation to another and Heather took her place in line. One by one people purchased their emotions and went on with their days.

Usually people walk into Church to reflect and try and piece things together in their lives that seem to be out of order. To try and create a balance from chaos within the confines of a beautifully constructed and adorned four walls. Churches breed tranquility, they exude calmness and induce thought. One walks in and sees the statues, the stained glass windows and begin to feel history and realize that their problems aren’t new to the world. They can see the struggles of those that came before them reflected in the art, spoken of in the Bible and felt in the statues. Sometimes, people relate to the images on the windows of saints and martyrs, they see the persecution and begin to understand why they are being persecuted against in their own lives. They see pain in the eyes of the characters in the painting and relate to the artists interpretation and angst. It’s no longer a saying that “Art reflects life” it’s a feeling that resonates deep in their souls. Crisis is inherent to the human condition. It’s timeless and knows no limit or holds itself back from anyone person or group of people. We as a group take comfort in knowing that are struggles are not our own, that someone, somewhere, at sometime has gone through the same things we are going through in our lives. We sleep a little better knowing that we are not alone in our experiences of the world. We can sit and look at a stained glass window in a place of reverence and appreciate the art for what it is while we revere the message it represents.

Laying there helpless, starting to feel the cold settle in on his bones he had only two choices. Do something or become nothing. As he started to prioritize what needed to happen and when they needed to happen so that he could get himself out of this disastrous state, he first needed to address the cold. Thinking while freezing is not conducive to a positive outcome. There’s something about the cold that makes you focus. Whether its the bitter sting that runs through the body every time a breeze blows through that makes the mind focus on the task at hand or the physical effects of the cold on hands, feet, lips and eyes that motivates one to hurry the fuck up and get out of the current situation. The overall sequence of events in order for him to get out of the bottom of the ditch was too much of a burden for his mind to process. So he started to break things down, one step at a time. First, find blankets. Check. Second, look for a trail to start moving up to the top of the hill. Check. Next, find some sort of light. Grabs IPhone that was nestled in his left jean pocket. Finally, take first step toward hill. Done. Step after step, he felt himself fill with hope and warmth as the previously thought insurmountable task became doable with every drudging step up the hill. He wasn’t sure if it was the hope or movement that was starting to warm his body up at this time, but he also really didn’t give a shit either. He was just driven to get to the top of the hill and out of the cold one step at a time.