The Beauty That Lies Beneath our Demons

“I do it because it’s hard. Because it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And because it never ends. Every day presents me with a series of problems that I spend the rest of the day thinking about how I might solve — or at least chip away at. Next day same. And the day after that.” Anthony Bourdain, SWEEP THE LEG JOHHNY, Oct 9, 2015, Medium
Prior to reading Anthony Bourdain’s Medium article “SWEEP THE LEG JOHNNY” I just thought Bourdain was one of the cool television personality with a job I can only dream of. Then this piece comes out about his love for Jiu-Jitsu and like everyone I meet, when I find out they do Jiu-Jitsu the child in my brain says, “Did we just become best friends?”
And of course. We became best friends (he never knew it obviously). I liked all of his Instagram post and continued to watch all the episodes of Parts Unknown and No Reservations.
At the ripe old age of 38 years old, I’ve long given up looking up to heroes and definitely lost hope in having idols. I was an adult after all so instead, I started having mentors because the military told us to have them.
So I had my mentors I was fortunate to have through the military (not assigned thank gawd) The rest I have discovered through listening to podcasts within the last few years of my life and one television personality, Anthony Bourdain.
Watching Bourdain travel off the beaten path made me reminisce of my own personal travels. I travelled as he did, to embrace what people and their culture had to offer. As Bourdain would, I valued an honest conversation. I cherished the moments when a perfect stranger opens up their home to you and make you a meal. And in doing so letting you in to a part of their life, I lived for those moments.
Bourdain put aside his judgements in every part of world he visited as did I. To fully understand humanity we have to take the people, their city and their culture at face value. You have to see the beauty in ugly. You have to see beauty in poverty. That beauty is in the people that live in that environment. In having nothing you learn to value what is important. They know the importance of every grain of rice consumed moreover in each grain of rice shared.
In reflecting back in my life, I have come to realize that I have been fortunate to have live a life right out of a movie. I have had the opportunity to travel to remote parts of the world where the amenities were bare, but enjoyed every bit of it. In the same lifetime I have been able to walk the streets of Paris from the Louvre to the Eiffel Tower from the morning into the afternoon. Then get lost in the back country of Belgium later that evening only to end up a few hours later partying, drinking a pint, and eating waffles in the streets of Amsterdam.
These are experience I would not have ever imagined when as a child back when I would have to shit on newspapers because we did not have a running toilet. Having to experience this was by far the best gift of perspective one can get.
So, with that gift of perspective I’ve been able to go through life with “No Reservations”. I have had the chance break bread, drink tea and smoke hookahs with Egyptians, Indians, Iraqi’s, Afghanis, and Kuwaiti’s. Passed the hookah around without hesitation. In these parts of the world, we don’t get our own smoking tip. Like the communion cup at church, our lips touched the same cup. But in this instance, I do not remember anyone caring to wipe the tip before taking a puff.
In that Bourdain way, I knew to embrace the culture that I was embedded in. Without doing so I would not have had the opportunity to eat the freshest goat I have ever eaten in Parwan Province, Afghanistan. Or drink sake from a glass jar filled with Habu Snake in random alley bar of Okinawa Japan.
With such an amazing life to reflect on, I often wonder why it’s hard to get out of the depths of my own demons. I’ve put myself in Bourdain’s shoes and reflected as if I was him before I started to judge him for loosing his own battle within himself.
We are human after all. Flawed in our marvelous glory. I remember hearing from a podcast that we appreciate art but don’t care to look where it originates from. The beauty of Van Gough came from a man that had the balls and lunacy to cut his own ear. Fast forward to the late 80’s when all the world marveled of beautiful destruction that Mike Tyson’s brought in the boxing ring. Yes, boxing is artistry live. And the destruction that Mike Tyson brought to his opponents was living art.
We cheer them on for the glory they achieve and shunned them for the monster that lies beneath, Even though it is that madness that created what we deemed beautiful and masterful.
Bourdain has said in Kitchen Confidential “I had field experience, a vocabulary and a criminal mind. I was a danger to myself and others.” One does not walk through the gutters of humanity and make it through the other side without repercussions. As much as we can compartmentalize, we become the product of our environment. And no matter how far we’ve come, it never erases the paths and the steps we’ve taken. And the stragglers, the hitchhikers and the demons that take part in our persona, whether we like to admit or not becomes a part of who we are; The Angle and The Demon that we speak of OR often times speak to within our own psyche to rationalize our action is in fact one and the same.
I’m not even going to pretend to know what demons Bourdain lived with, however I am familiar in the manner he conducted himself on camera to conceal whatever internal battles he had.
With the camera’s “On” he was charismatic, engaging and a great conversationalist. I, on the other hand do not have a camera crew around me however, I would have to turn on “Abby” my persona to the world when I walk out of my office for a few hours of the day at work. One weekend a month I would stay in character for 10–12 hours a day. Then that dreaded Monday would come when all the people leave me and my energy, my endorphins and smiles would come crashing down.
And then when I would have to travel for work by myself and then meet up with coworkers, I would be forced to stay in character a little longer. Then at the end of the day I would dread having to retreat into my hotel room in full isolation. It is these hours of solitude where it becomes difficult to escape my demons of anxiety, anger, hopelessness and depression. In these eight hours or so of isolation, my demons come and I have no place to hide.
It is that place I assume Bourdain lost his battle. It is that place I am afraid to go. I put on a brave face when my wife would tell me that she would sleep with the kiddos in their room so that I can have a good nights rest. Truth of it all, I don’t.
When I heard of Bourdain suicide, it hit me hard. Even though I have never met him I had felt a bond with him. Maybe because at least an hour or two a week I would watch his shows. Observe how he interacted, and listened intently in how he expressed himself in his soliloquies. And I imagined back in my travels doing the same thing. It’s crazy having a kinship to a person that I have never met. Probably a side-effect of having strong empathy in people when I hear their stories. That strength of empathy has been a gift and a curse.
It is that empathy that gives me the opportunity to understand the people I come across. However, it is also the curse where that pain I absorb from their experiences that lingers.
So now let circle back to this beautiful painting by Justin Bua. When I first saw it. I was deathly afraid of it. It brought emotions I was not ready to face. I had shame of wanting to put up a painting of man that took their own life for fear of the judgement from people that would see it in my own household.
To my relief, the opportunity to acquire it was gone until one day by chance I see Justin Bua post a picture of it on his Instagram and said. Last one, hit me up on DM for price. With a reluctancy I messaged him to ask how much it was. I replied back, with a no thank you.
As much as I would love to purchased it, it was way beyond a price point I could afford. And to my relief, I had thought this piece and my opportunity to own it was gone forever and I would not have to explain to anyone why it meant so much to me to have it.
Then to my surprise I get a message back from Justin Bua asking if I did Jiu-Jitsu. He apparently glossed over my page (Stalker… kidding). Then he said, “Damn I can never turn away a fellow jiujitsu brother. What can you afford for the Bourdain my friend?”
It wasn't much, despite it all. Bua did not hesitate and said the piece was mine. I didn't know what to say but thank you.
As I stated earlier it’s amazing to have a sense of kinship to someone you have never met. And through two artist and art of Jiu-Jitsu a kinship connected us three. As a result of it, one piece of art I knew I had to have, but was scared to have was now mine. In doing so I was able to face my demons today. Draw strengths from them. To face them, and see the beauty that lies beneath.
