Mardis Gras

   Mardis Gras, Fat Tuesday, a time for excess and in some cases base debauchery. Our lives mirror this annual cycle for Christians and enjoyed by nonbelievers if only for the excuse to act boorish. It seems to me, from my limited time on Earth, we go through our lives for periods of time unfocused on any self examination, clamoring for instant gratification and ignoring anything beyond our immediate wants and desires. Self reflection is necessary and we should not wait for some reminder to consider self sacrifice and things bigger than us.

   Every failed relationship of mine has mirrored the progression towards Fat Tuesday and the Lenten season. I rock along unconcerned, focused on the meaningless things, forgetting introspection until I reach the point of Mardis Gras, or Fat Tuesday. That day may represent months for me, but I spend it the same way. Awed by gaudy and glitzy things, intoxicated with my own arrogance and oblivious to the world around me, the needs of others, or that others even exist.

   Eventually Fat Tuesday ends and I am left with an emotional hangover as bad as any alcohol fueled illness. I wake up alone, in the gutter of the world trying to remember what happened. I look around at the remnants of the season before, the litter of hurt feelings, unspoken kind words and deeds, and wallow in the ignorance of the existence of anyone else but me. It is then that a price must be paid, a pound of flesh given. The glitz and flash are gone. The happiness and self indulgence are over and an inventory must be taken.

   So here I am on the Ash Wednesday of my life, penitent, broken and ready to sacrifice anything to show that I am worthy, my life has meaning and I am capable of love, that I am capable and worthy of being loved. I am forced to give up something for Lent, something that I need and is dear to me, but isn’t that the purpose of Lent? To show that we can give up some measure of something important, that we can suffer to show our worthiness and after forty days we can get back to living our lives and receiving grace and love. I enjoyed the party and I am ready for the sacrifice, albeit a forced one, but I am resigned to my fate, I have received the sign of the cross on my forehead and forgiven myself as I start over, over 50.