Moods

In the classic western novel, Shane,
the Hero declares:
“Ain’t no one
need be shamed
of being outgunned
by Shane.”

He was not boasting;
Shane was a master gunman.

That’s how I feel about moods:
No one
need be ashamed
of being outgunned
by moods.

Moods are gunslingers
with weapons of mass confusion—
limitless
faces, emotions,
comedies, tragedies.

Exciting my body and mind,
they create endless trash fiction:
heartthrobs and heartbreaks,
glory, disgrace.

Moods conjure voodoo
with phantom projections
that sing, “Woe’s my future
and past. I’m ashamed.”

Moods have an endless supply
of mirrors and cards and tricks.

Or do they?

Let’s look past the mirrors—
Examine the strings
that yank me like puppets
to programmed reactions
from ads and hacks and parties and faiths
peddling fables called facts
and viewpoints as science
just as I lie to myself.

What do I learn
when I strip my moods naked?
They really have only two tricks:
negative or positive excitement creators
of mind-storms that blow away wisdom.

Which means that my moods,
those illusionist gunslingers,
actually have only one trick:
excitement.

Moods excite
and throw me off balance
with counterfeit issues
and “none of my business”
that trick Don Quixote
and make me suppose
I must charge with my lance
or flee from my foes.

Moods detour me
off the great river
and push me down
dead-end dark backwaters.

The flow of God’s beautiful river
goes straight to the mighty ocean.

Moods are the fools
and clowns on the banks,
shouting and waving,
lying and tempting,
the same sucker-punches,
the same fake excitement.

Time to grow up
and face my moods down.
Time to stay cool on the river.

It’s exciting to watch
Excitement
without getting excited…
Because it doesn’t want me to watch—
It wants me to react.
Re-Act
over and over forever, forever.

It takes patience and courage
to stare down my moods;
to not let them bully,
cajole or seduce me,
to just watch their drama
like watching the wall.

But if I can, then you can—
And yes, it feels good.

I do think my teacher
might nod his wise head
when I gaze in the mirror
I nod my head too.

‘Cause I’m getting my gold back—
My time and my focus,
my polestar, my power
had been stolen by moods
and mistakes from their impulsive whims.

But moods, like the weather, are ever-inconstant;
I may never let down my guard to their dangers,
nor ever make light of their wild-west powers.

I’ll always be awed, give all due respect
to those master gunslingers… Moods.

 ~ John