Pacing the Cage

It is a troubled addict who checks in today. A troubled addict and a trapped addict. Sometimes it just feels like the walls are closing in. Less and less room to maneuver. And the walls close in. Close in. Close in.

As Smashng Pumpkins would say:

"Despite all my rage, I'm still just a rat in a cage."



A caged rat. And the addict paces back and forth. Looking at the walls of the cage. Back and forth the addict paces. Is there a way out?



PACING THE CAGE

I've proven who I am so many times
The magnetic strip's worn thin
And each time I was someone else
And every one was taken in
Powers chatter in high places
Stir up eddies in the dust of rage
Set me to pacing the cage

I never knew what you all wanted
So I gave you everything
All that I could pillage
All the spells that I could sing
It's as if the thing were written
In the constitution of the age
Sooner or later you'll wind up
Pacing the cage

Sometimes the best map will not guide you
You can't see what's round the bend
Sometimes the road leads through dark places
Sometimes the darkness is your friend
Today these eyes scan bleached-out land
For the coming of the outbound stage
Pacing the cage
Pacing the cage

---Bruce Cockburn, "Pacing the Cage" (Charity of Night, 1996).


The addict came home from a family outing on Saturday. While the outing was good, the addict needed some space, a chance to sit down and catch his thoughts. But on this occasion, there was no such space. The addict tried the front porch -- already in use by the addict's oldest stepchild. The addict tried his bedroom -- stepchild 2 had taken residence to watch some television. Suddenly the addict's family (including six children -- three step and three bilogical) seemed very big and the addict's home seemed very small. No room for a reflecting and recovering addict!

The addict turned to one last outlet; he threw himself into a project. Less than two minutes into the project he was offered unsolicited help by the "BBB" (his Beautiful and Bewitching Beloved). Unsolicited help was more than the addict could stand on this beautiful family-oriented weekend. And so the addict did what the addict does best--throw up walls and seek isolation. The addict grabbed a book, got in the car, and left the house. All without saying a word to anyone.


Goodbye cruel world,
I'm leaving you today.
Goodbye,
Goodbye,
Goodbye.
Goodbye, all you people,
There's nothing you can say
To make me change my mind.
Goodbye.

--Pink Floyd, "Goodbye Cruel World" (The Wall)


And now the addict feeles like the walls are closing in. The addict is trapped in silence and isolation with no one to reach out to. The addict is trapped in a cage of his own making. And now the addict paces. Pace. Pace. Pace.


Stop!
I wanna go home
Take off this uniform
And leave the show.
But I'm waiting in this cell
Because I have to know.
Have I been guilty all this time?

--Pink Floyd, "Stop" (The Wall)


The evidence before the court is
Incontrivertable, there's no need for
The jury to retire.

In all my years of judging
I have never heard before
Of someone more deserving
Of the full penalty of law.

Since, my friend, you have revealed your
Deepest fear,
I sentence you to be exposed before
Your peers.

Tear down the WALL!

---Pink Floyd, "Trial" (The Wall)


How can the addict escape the cage? Must an addict pace forever? Is the only way out through total isolation? Can an addict have a family? Does the addict really have to tear down the walls?