In my varied traipses through life, I have, time and time again, found the following, figurative analogy, to be true: When a person becomes addicted to a mind altering substance (aka: illicit drugs and some not so illicit, yet rendering the same effect), the Devil can walk away. His job is done, the drugs take over. The job being the mission to destroy. But before the diabolical being has the freedom to relinquish its prey to the, master of wreckage, a dance occurs. The Lucifer Waltz. This is where Lucifer has the lead, but only if his partner is a willing follower. Like any waltz, there is an objective to the act. And through a good leader of dance (which the Devil is), the second partner will receive the intended result because of the effortless guiding of the leader. Thus, with poise and purpose, the victim of the waltz is lead through the steps to get there. There being addiction. Once there, it seems to me, the Devil walks away.
Since last October the world of narcotics has entered our life. Yes, my son is a cancer patient. Yes, he has an unfortunate affliction of unidentifiable pain (unidentifiable meaning, the brain is registering a severity of infliction yet the body is functioning without harm–not an uncommon occurrence post a disruption to the brain as he has suffered by the removal of his brain tumor). Yet with the introduction of pain management, into his life, the dance began.
These past four months my husband, my daughter, and myself (friends and extended family included) have been watching on the side lines while our beloved has been swept from one side of the room to the other, whirling and twirling in many directions. All of them pointing downward. And of course this dance came in a prettier package than one found on the street, for it has the seal of approval from the echelon of the medical community. Fancier clothes, same waltz!
My son needs help to be sure. Yet help has come with too high a price…fear. Fear our beloved will not awake. Fear our beloved will lose all hope. Fear our beloved will be taken away and a drone of a human left in his stead. Fear the music will end and he will not be left standing.
I have shared my concerns with my son, we all have. Thankfully, he has been given an insane amount of strength…strength for life. He has heard the cries of his family. The overwhelmingly loud cries of his failing body, and has stepped off the dance floor.
Are narcotics still present in our lives? Yes, though not to the same degree. Yet for a while there it seemed the Devil was gaining in its efforts to no longer take issue with my son. But it is the fool, for my son stopped the music while the dance was in progress. And for now, the intense amount of familial stress has subsided. We are abandoning our posts as spectators, nay judges…nay, survivors of the dance. We are returned to other things: dreaming, working, exercising, loving, sharing. No longer ‘white knuckling’, but living.
Previous to October, if someone asked me if I would like to pray, my answer was always a question, “Oh, did I stop?” Meaning, I am so accustomed to being in constant communication with Father G-d that I would only stop talking to Him, in order to have a conversation with someone else. Yet only just a few weeks ago I had to enact a practice of beginning each day with prayer. An act which required reminders and an effort to remember. But I ask you, “Is it any wonder my prayers were silenced for a spell?” After all, can anyone hear their own thoughts when Cacophony is orchestra leader to the ‘Lucifer Waltz’?!
Note: I do not claim to understand the power of addiction, nor its infliction on any one person. I have not the education to claim any real knowledge on the subject. It is only my experience, as a witness to the demise of life and the role drug addiction has played in the cause of destruction, of which I write in this post. My heart is heavy for those who are no longer dancing.
living in loss and gratitude 
The Noise