How Do You Like Them Fucking Apples?

How the fuck did an apple have me crying on a Sunday night?

“Most men live lives of quiet desperation.”

“You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.

Last November, I set an intention for my life moving forward. It was simple, poetic almost. I was done being a boy. I wanted to grow into a man.

On November 10th, I typed the words out and hit publish—

“Walk the Hero’s Journey And Embrace My Masculine Core.”

Little did I know what I had asked the universe and its maker.

It is precisely 5 months from the date that I now write this. My life is entirely different from what it was then. I thought I had a plan. But the ask from the universe was bigger than the roadmap that I had built.

Last month, I got paid 3/4 of my original financial goal (You can do the math). Physically, I’m bigger than ever, and feeling better than ever. I have the privilege of supporting my family. 2 weeks back, my baby dog gave birth to 7 beautiful puppies.

That was the definition of having “made it,” right? I’m climbing the ladder of life faster than the majority of people, right? I’m supposed to be happy, or so I was told.

I just bawled my eyes out for 30 minutes before I sat down to write this. With no trigger. I just broke down into tears, devastated, with no problem or reason in sight. I’m tired. I feel ground down like black pepper in a mortar, every day is the pestle.

Every day is suffering. Being alive is painful, miserable. I get cold still, I shake like a leaf in my room still. I get hungry, and angry at the people I swore to protect the most.

I’m subject to temptations, they still flirt with me. At this point, I’m their bitch lol. The voices of the thing that sits on my left shoulder are louder than ever.

I’ve built so much in the last 5 months. But, instead of being proud, I’m more scared than ever. I have more to lose now.

The money I got last month? I don’t know what to make of it. People treat you differently because of it. The asks don’t stop.

I’m in the best shape of my life but I can’t stand to see the sight of my love handles. I catch glimpses of shame and anger when I look in the mirror.

My dog gave birth to 7 pups, 2 died within 72 hours of being alive. Oh, and a friend decided to kill himself the next day.

Buddha got one thing damn straight— consciousness is suffering. And the big, thick book I’m reading says we got here because of an apple. Fuck that apple.

Easter came and went, but something nudged me today to read a verse from the Bible — A morbid scene from a little while before Jesus died on the cross.

A thin memory sliver of something Jesus says that I found apt today. A quick Google search gave me the verse— Mathew 26: 36, the events at Gethsemane. Why the fuck was I reading this on the day of Easter?

He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.”

Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”

A God falls to his knees and begs may his suffering be taken from him. He is anguished to know what is coming. But, here’s what sticks out— Yet not as I will, but as you will.

Full submission unto the will of God, regardless of the suffering. Full submission unto the will of God, knowing you are going to be betrayed, tortured, crucified, and killed.

Every day I know that suffering awaits me. Every day we all bear a cross, climbing up Cavalry, to our deaths. What we don’t know is what comes after.

The only thing that makes sense through all this suffering is faith. The faith in the plan, not knowing what “And on the third day he rose again,” would be for us. Faith in full submission to the plan.

It cannot be rationalized. But, to me right now, it’s the tiny fire that needs kindling and looking after. Today, I submit.

Today, I cry.

And today, I pray.

“My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”

Today is the celebration of the mystery that transcends the suffering of Christ. It is the celebration of faith in the resurrection— Not just for Christ, but for all of us.

Happy Easter, lads.

You are loved.