An excerpt from;
(Working title) "Dancing with the devil, cheating death and
spirituality", The story of a recovering cancer survivor.
FOREWORD
Experience can be put
into millions of the most detailed words possible, and even the most astute
reader will be hard-fought to truly grasp the work. This is the challenge that
many an author take on, in many different genres. Perhaps this is why, right
off the bat I’m going to say, this is not a self help book. This is by no means
a guide to enlightenment, because all of the above attempts would come from a
place that isn’t real, and if I’m going to write, to be an artist, I am going
to stick to my artistic values. Believing in something and actually standing
for it are two totally different things. That, I believe is a major theme in
this book. BELIEF. On the darkest of days, and the stormiest of nights, when all
the odds are stacked heavily against you, yet you still believe. That heart
that comes alive and says, “I’m stronger than this! This which stands before me
will be defeated!” That is one the
acquired “skills” that kept me alive.
Boys, who eventually mature into young men, learn from their father’s. Most of the population grows up, well guided by two parental figures. If that is you, you are one of the lucky ones. That doesn’t mean to close the book and move on from it. There are many other experiences, or lessons, that I’ve had to live through. It is my hope that some teenager won’t have to feel the pain that I felt, because I was foolish and misguided. It took me until recently to cope with this fact, by digging down deep, really deep. Through mediation I was able to reach a spiritual conclusion, a true revelation, of sorts. My father has been here teaching me the entire time, except he has no choice, but to teach me through experience. It’s the eternal blessing of having to learn the hard way. Once the hard way sticks, it was done the hard way, it sticks for good. The hard way is something scary to many people in this world, I truly believe the human race would rather, and has been taking, the easy way out, in, through and around every problem in recent history. The curse, however, of the hard way is, it’s the hard way. It is not for the faint of heart. The hard way is for those who seek true living, as well as spiritual satisfaction out of this lifetime.
I was told a handful of
times, from the handful of respectable people, mostly family and very close
friends, but sometimes random people who I will meet in a bar, after only
giving them a taste of my story. It is the latter who made me think twice. That
maybe my story, or a book formulated from it is something we need in the
increasingly difficult times we are living in. There are so many global issues
at this point. I feel we are at a climactic point in history. This gave me
reason to believe that much of the well written literature of this time will be
well read, year, decades and centuries from now. After all, they say the
biggest perk of being a writer isn’t the cars, apartments, not even overall
satisfaction. It is the immortal status that comes with being a great writer.
Maybe I will never reach that point, but I sure as hell will die trying!
This goes back to books
as part of culture. I’d like to consider myself more cultured than most, so
from what I can understand about “American culture”, not the whole melting pot
theory of American culture, which is, in my opinion true. However, I would
guess that only a few American’s choose to look past anything that is placed
directly in their face. Like directly, right, pressed up against their face.
See, I know this to be true, because I’ve lived the in the negative end of the cultural
spectrum in “American Culture”. Better known to most as drugs, crime, money,
poverty and inflated egos. All of which are survival tools. They are all
inspired by and designed from a warped sense of reality. However, when masses
of people decide to follow this “warped sense of reality”, it becomes a
reality. This is what most people don’t understand about the ghetto, and the
struggle. The struggle isn’t, what do I want for breakfast. It’s how am I going
to get breakfast. That higher growing up, can either make you or break you. I
was using the most basic of needs as an example. It really is a hunger for
more.
On the dusty end of the
coin, at that point, I always found a few words, every time, it was one of my life’s
only constants’. “Stand up when you
fall. Prepare to fall, but plan to fall better better.” I always dug through
the rubble to find the silver lining. Once I did, I always located a spiritual
gift, which I would have never noticed without tragedy and rubble. This mental practice is most definitely the only
positive quality that stuck with me through the drug use. It is, hands down,
what kept me alive. I’ve had a survivalist instinct since I was very young. Probably
because I always felt like I never had that father figure, to turn to for
protection. It became a habit, well, more of a mind state, which predated my
father’s death.
This also goes for writing;
I used to get yelled at and given negative feedback for, silently, penning
stories on the margins of my books. It wasn’t ADD, either, because I was
focused on a task. This is a skill that should have been encouraged. Instead, I
realize as I write this, negative feedback from teachers at a young,
impressionable age, which is one of the main reasons why it was hard for me to
write later in life. It is methods like this that make me question the school
systems value. It also led me to me a long held feeling: We need a nearly
complete overhaul of the school system, especially the way that we treat
students who have A.D.D., which is, in my opinion, so often misdiagnosed. My principal
at Holy Rosary, in Staten Island, truly believed I was mentally ill. Long story
short, I was asked, or told, to take an assessment test. I tested 8th
grade level in Math and 13th
grade in Reading/English.
I am admitting now,
selfishly, that I’m also writing this book to prove that I can write something
I perceived as good enough. This is because, I truly believe it was all of that
negative feedback that caused me to wait so long to hone my skill. We must
encourage our children to be artists, if it is truly in their souls. I know
most parents cringe at the thought of their son or daughter becoming an artist.
That is a long lived flaw in many American families, along with constantly
reminding their children about being “realistic” with their goals and
aspirations. This leads to poor self confidence, and costs many a young entrepreneur,
from starting his billion dollar tech start up. I shouldn’t have to feel like
these keys are foreign, like an amateur pianist. In time, I will be performing
concertos and writing many symphonies across many different mediums. Thanks to
my higher power, most negative words are no longer part of my vocabulary. Gone
from in my mind. My viewpoint has changed during this past year on my skills,
not just as a writer, but in life as a whole has changed, dramatically.
Through circumstance, choice and destiny, my
skill-set was one of the only things that I was able to salvage from my past
life. In fact, it only became more powerful! I was left a painter of penned
art, as well as a businessman with artistic instinct. After all, business is an
art. Making it all worth it was the blessing of a blank slate. Something that
scares most artists, I used to be one, but after dancing with death (Or the
Devil, either way), cheating it and surviving cancer. All of this came to a
head in very late 2013, but really took hold at the start of this year, 2014. This
is the story of that year, with a little spice and boiled to bubble at the
perfect temperature.
This book was written
for anyone who has been through, going through some TEMPORARY hard time. Hard
time’s are like storms, they always pass! This too shall pass! It’s also for
those young hustlers and grinders seeking inspiration, or for someone going
through health or drug issues. I have been gifted with a new lease on life in more
ways than one in 2014, or in 2 days, better known as last year. In 2015 that
lease will be paid back in full, with interest. I’ve seen enough silver lining
in nearly dying over a handful of times, that I can remember. I’ve seen more
than enough shine in my soul to light the way through others. I learned that
after surviving my battle with stage 3
Brain Cancer. Because I was homeless, I have a level of gratefullness, unknown
to most. I appreciate a warm, pull out mattress. A hot shower, whenever I
please.
I am
what doesn’t kill you makes me stronger. I am you. I am we. I am not heroin. I
am not cancer. I am not homeless. My
name is Michael Cooper, and I won’t be defined by my past.
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