It’s grass that always reminds me. That and skin. My cousin was a couple years older than I was in the summer of my 11th year. He had been blind since birth. He had acclimated himself quite well to the sighted world. He got around with one of those white canes with the red tip. I remember thinking how cool that was, that he could get around almost anywhere with that thing and I could trip on a sheet of paper. He lived in Pittsburgh when we were living in Tennessee. He came to visit that summer with his mother, just months after his father had left them for another woman, never to be seen or heard from again. My parents had been separated since I was about nine or so, and I understood his pain. I related to this boy in ways I never thought possible. He seemed to know me, having never met me. He taught me things about myself. Taught me to appreciate the simple things.
The apartment complex we lived in at that time was a large facility surrounding a nine acre lake. There was fishing and a small beach with sand at the north end of the complex. We took walks to that beach almost everyday, just to get away from our parents who always seemed to be talking about adult stuff and didn’t want us around much. It was on one of these trips to the beach that he taught me such a valuable lesson.
We had settled down near the boat docks, just sitting in the sun, listening to the water wash up on the boards and the mallards chasing each other around the lake. He asked me what they looked like. I told him of the deep browns and the green streak in their feathers. I tried very hard to tell him about their eyes, that always seemed to be following us. I just couldn’t find the right words. I couldn’t explain exactly what I was seeing. He told me it was okay. He understood that I just couldn’t see. I looked at him with a quizzical look. What did he mean? I am the one with sight, how could I not see?
He got up from the dock and walked over to the sand. I got up and hurried after him, the sand always being difficult for him to maneuver around in, always causing his footing to be unsure. I reached for his arm to guide him, but he jerked me away. He told me to follow him to the edge of the water. We sat down just where the washing of the water stopped in the sand, our feet being washed by the edge of the water, our backsides sitting on dry sand. He told me to close my eyes. He asked me to reach back and grab a handful of sand and allow it to slowly drain from my hand through my fingers. When I was done, he told me to do it again, but this time to tell him exactly what I felt. I followed his instructions, honestly intrigued by the process he had me taking.
The first time with the sand in my hand, I tried very hard to think of the things I would say the second time through. He must have sensed what I was doing, because he told me to stop thinking so much and just feel. “Do it again and don’t say a word. Don’t think, just fell.” So, I did it again. I emptied my mind as best as I could and allowed myself to feel. He then told me to do it again and tell him what I feel. As the sand started to slide through my fingers, I told him that it felt like warm ants trying desperately to get out of the hold I had them in. He said that was good. Now, to grab a handful of sand from in front of me, the wet sand at my feet. I closed my eyes again. I reached for the sand and tried to let it filter through my fingers. Small amounts dropped, but most of the clotted sand stayed in my hand. I told him that it felt like holding the sense of cool in my hand. It was like holding something that desperately wanted to be something, but needed some assistance to be. Good, he said. Now, take your hand and run it through the water and tell me what you feel. I closed my eyes and leaned forward to lower my hand into the water. I flexed my fingers back and forth and tried desperately to think of something other than wet. He asked me what I felt. I told him that it just felt like water, but unclean water. There was a sense of life to it. I could feel the heaviness of the invisible particles of algae and other senses of what has fish jumping and ducks sticking their heads in the water.
He seemed pleased. He explained to me that he was happy with his life, but he did miss actually seeing things. He had to rely on others to tell him the description of things he could only hear or feel. He explained that a lot of times, their descriptions fell short of what his mind could imagine. He said that touch was an amazing way of opening our minds to things that our eyes miss. He told me that we take for granted that what we see is really all there is to what is in the world. But, that touch is really where the true description lies. He also told me that if I allowed my mind to stay open when I touched things, that I could see things in my mind that my eyes could never put into focus. And that with that kind of attention, we would create memories that would live within us forever. He sensed that he had lost me a bit. At this age, it was hard to follow something so deep. He tapped my shoulder and told me to take him to the grass of the park just beyond the beach. We sat down in the sun and he told me to close my eyes and to run my hands over the grass, slowly and tell him what I felt. I told him that I had felt grass before, but he told me that I had never felt it like this. He told me to open my palms and spread my fingers. He told me to lightly glide my hands over the grass and allow my mind to only think about what I was feeling. I did what I was told.
My first sense was the warmth. The sun had warmed the tips of the grass in it’s afternoon glare. I never thought of heat or cold when it came to grass, it just was. My next sense was feeling the way the blades were turned towards the light and warmth of the sun. The blades felt stiff and seemed to fight my hands to get back into the light. I could sense the moisture just beneath the grass, lying low to the ground. The moisture from the rain of the morning trapped under the blades for feeding. I realized that I had never felt anything quite like this. Warmth at the top, cool and moist underneath. I opened my eyes to see him smiling at me.
“Now you can see. Tell me again about the mallards.”
I told him they were like winged children, flying from place to place, with no real purpose other than to play or eat. They seemed to be putting on a show for us, swimming in the lake, chasing each other and just having fun. I told him that I was jealous of them, there was no divorce in that lake. There was no anger, no adult talk. I told him that I could only dream of flying and I could almost feel the air that must flow through their feathers. And the way the water washed off their back made it seem that nothing bad could ever touch them.
He was smiling.
I sat there feeling quite proud of myself. He told me that I was only just starting to learn, but if I allowed myself to keep trying, I would find all kinds of interesting feelings right at the tip of my fingers. He said that the coolest thing that he could do is determine looks by touching someone’s face. But, that it wasn’t just physical things he could sense, but he could feel what the person was feeling. He turned towards me and asked if he could touch my face. I have to say, that at this pre-teen age, I found this kind of weird, but I agreed, afraid of hurting his feelings.
He turned towards me further and reached his hands up to my face. He told me to close my eyes so he didn’t poke me and he started at my forehead. He slowly ran his fingers down my face, pausing for seconds every few inches. I could see his eyes behind the glasses twitching back and forth like someone trying to see the whole world at one time. As he got to my chin, he ran his fingers around the sides of my face and down below my ears to my neck.
He dropped his hands and just sat there for a moment. He told me that I was fair skinned, freckled. I asked him how he could know that. He said that he could feel the pattern of the freckles in my skin. He said that I had deep brows, eyes that sat back in my head making them appear very deep. Almost sad. He told me that my jaw told him that I was strong, probably stronger than I realized. He said that the angle of my neck told him that I had a hard time looking up, to see the world in front of me all the time.
I didn’t know what to say. He told me that he could sense my sadness without touching me, but he had to feel it to confirm it. He said that he sensed I was carrying a great secret that I was afraid to tell, but that I wouldn’t find relief until I allowed others to help me.
That scared me more than he could know. More than anyone would know for a very long time.
He told me that he needed me to understand one thing. That he would never forget me. That he would always know me, if he saw me a hundred years later, he could feel my face and know it was me. He said that touch with a open mind was like tattooing an image to a mind. He kept all those images locked away in his imagination and pulled them out when he needed them. He told me that if I tried really hard, I could do this, too.
I have never forgotten that moment on the beach. I have spent a lifetime trying to acquire his gift. I think in some instances, I have found it. I can identify things by touch, without ever seeing them. I spent a lifetime creating sound with my hands, allowing the sense of touch to guide me on how to control sound. I have tried very hard to capture moments that seem important to me with touch.
It has created a touchy feely sense in me. I love hugs…from almost anyone. That feeling of warmth reminds me of so many things, but mostly that I am alive and that I am loved. Holding hands as always been important to me and I find myself very jealous of those couple that practice that act in public. It’s the most simple, but most intimate touch that we possess. I remember the cool touch of my stepson’s face as I tried to comfort him while he was so very sick…just to get him to relax and sleep. I remember the feeling of wrapping my fingers around the leather of a baseball as I relayed it into the infield after pulling it from my glove in one fluid motion (with maybe just a hitch). I remember the disturbingly horrible feeling of carrying the casket of my great-grandmother, born less than a decade after Lincoln was shot, who sat with me in my youth and taught me so very much about where we had come from and what we needed to be thankful for, no matter how little we had. I remember the touch of the hand of the first girl in junior high school who told me she loved me like no other and wanted to be my girlfriend forever. I remember the feeling of my niece’s tears on my chest as I held her as she cried from the skinned knee she received falling off her bike as I was teaching her to ride on hot summer day. I remember the cold feeling of the rails on the hospital bed that I laid in while they wheeled me into a surgical room to remove the tumor from my body.
I had been told for years that my desire to touch, to store my memories, was irritating, annoying. I was told that it was almost creepy. I have discovered that isn’t quite true. Because of that, my fingers have recently created many tattoos in my mind. They have felt a hand in their’s. They have felt the quiver underneath skin. And they have recorded them all. I can close my eyes and recall them with ease. And by doing so, and recalling the feeling of someone’s fingers touching me, I start to remember that I am alive, that I am loved. And with that, I realize that I have been blessed with a gift from the blind that most of us never receive.
I must remember to someday thank that cousin. It’s been many years since I have seen him, not quite a hundred. But, one thing I know for sure, with the touch of my face, he and I will be sitting in the sun, on a beach , in the grass in a summer so long ago. And he will know me.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
A Mother's Love
Confirmation was given to me today on just who and what I am. She attacked with vengeance, with a sense of purpose. And she did her job well. She always has. The truth in her words cut like a knife, slicing through the last bit of fight I had left in me. She is very good at sensing weakness, finding the spot most tender. And she rips into it like a butcher. Her follow through is exact. I think it may have been my inability to answer her initial questions with a certainty that brought about this “loving” attack. She knows me. She knows that if I had something concrete to say, I would say it…if only to shut her up. I could have lied, but I am not good at that.
Her ignorance in her judgment is irrelevant. It’s the bits of truth in her lies that do the damage. She has known me since birth. She knows where the scars are. And she starts there. Weakening the defenses until I lost the strength to fight any longer. She knows the buttons to push to send me falling. She has tried for years to make this day happen and filled herself with frustration when it didn’t show itself. She saw the opening today. She saw the chance to end what she has always called my “dry mission”. That was when she went in for the kill. She informed me, not for the first time, of just how weak she believed I was. She told me that I have nothing to offer to anyone that really pays attention. She informed me that I have lived my life as a dreamer, always leading with his heart, only to end up alone. She told me that is where I deserved to be, because I always want more than I can ever expect from anyone. And that I am to stupid to see the writing on the wall. I have no ability to see when I am being played with. And that anyone looking at the situation would have to ask just what I thought I was doing in it. Her greatest weapon is the way she knows just when to stop, to walk away, and leave you just barely hanging on to the last shred of dignity you have left. There are times when that is enough to hold onto and pull yourself slowly back out of the pain, back to your feet. There are times when it’s not quite enough. This is one of those times.
It’s amazing, her timing. The facts that she could not possibly know contribute to the damage. My insecurity over a situation. Although, well know here to a point, she is in the dark. I have kept her that way just for this reason. My feelings that I am not all that I need to be are known to her, just not in the situation that she started her attack with. I have kept her at a distance for a long time, knowing her ability to do this to me. I have held up the space of four streets as a wall of protection. I visit when I have to and only then. I don’t call. She spent a lifetime doing her damage. I vowed that I would never let it happen again. I let myself down.
She witnessed something yesterday morning, without my knowledge. I didn’t know about it until yesterday afternoon when I visited to move some things around for her. A quick question about who it was and what the situation was about, was just enough for her to load up her guns overnight. She made her opinions known today. She did her best to rip away at the determination that I had to make a dream a reality. She told to look her in the face and tell her that I wasn’t in love with the person. I just stared at her. I didn’t want to share that with her. She didn’t deserve to know that much. She saw my hesitation and literally smiled. She found the biggest soft spot of all. And she went at it with all she had. She told me that I was going to be hurt. That there was no future in something like this. I don’t believe her. I don’t want to believe her. And she sensed that. She continued. She told me of the ending before the it was written. She said it would end like all the others. It would cause me to self-destruct. That I would endu up lost and angry at the world. She told me what I would do when it happened. She pushed this idea that there would only be one place that I would end up. And it appears that she may very well be right.
I will not blame her for what is about to happen. I never do. It is my weakness. My inability to realize that this will cure nothing. But, it’s a foregone conclusion. As they say, it is written.
Her ignorance in her judgment is irrelevant. It’s the bits of truth in her lies that do the damage. She has known me since birth. She knows where the scars are. And she starts there. Weakening the defenses until I lost the strength to fight any longer. She knows the buttons to push to send me falling. She has tried for years to make this day happen and filled herself with frustration when it didn’t show itself. She saw the opening today. She saw the chance to end what she has always called my “dry mission”. That was when she went in for the kill. She informed me, not for the first time, of just how weak she believed I was. She told me that I have nothing to offer to anyone that really pays attention. She informed me that I have lived my life as a dreamer, always leading with his heart, only to end up alone. She told me that is where I deserved to be, because I always want more than I can ever expect from anyone. And that I am to stupid to see the writing on the wall. I have no ability to see when I am being played with. And that anyone looking at the situation would have to ask just what I thought I was doing in it. Her greatest weapon is the way she knows just when to stop, to walk away, and leave you just barely hanging on to the last shred of dignity you have left. There are times when that is enough to hold onto and pull yourself slowly back out of the pain, back to your feet. There are times when it’s not quite enough. This is one of those times.
It’s amazing, her timing. The facts that she could not possibly know contribute to the damage. My insecurity over a situation. Although, well know here to a point, she is in the dark. I have kept her that way just for this reason. My feelings that I am not all that I need to be are known to her, just not in the situation that she started her attack with. I have kept her at a distance for a long time, knowing her ability to do this to me. I have held up the space of four streets as a wall of protection. I visit when I have to and only then. I don’t call. She spent a lifetime doing her damage. I vowed that I would never let it happen again. I let myself down.
She witnessed something yesterday morning, without my knowledge. I didn’t know about it until yesterday afternoon when I visited to move some things around for her. A quick question about who it was and what the situation was about, was just enough for her to load up her guns overnight. She made her opinions known today. She did her best to rip away at the determination that I had to make a dream a reality. She told to look her in the face and tell her that I wasn’t in love with the person. I just stared at her. I didn’t want to share that with her. She didn’t deserve to know that much. She saw my hesitation and literally smiled. She found the biggest soft spot of all. And she went at it with all she had. She told me that I was going to be hurt. That there was no future in something like this. I don’t believe her. I don’t want to believe her. And she sensed that. She continued. She told me of the ending before the it was written. She said it would end like all the others. It would cause me to self-destruct. That I would endu up lost and angry at the world. She told me what I would do when it happened. She pushed this idea that there would only be one place that I would end up. And it appears that she may very well be right.
I will not blame her for what is about to happen. I never do. It is my weakness. My inability to realize that this will cure nothing. But, it’s a foregone conclusion. As they say, it is written.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Remembering my place in all this
There are moments that sneak up on us. We are never really sure just how they came about…the cause. It just happens. We have epiphanies. These moments that come to us in quiet segments. We find a kernel of thought percolating in our brains. And it brews into a full fledged thought. This has happened to me in the last day or so.
I will say that it really isn’t based on actions of the last few days. It really was the accumulation of realizations. It was seeing things a little clearer than I had. I had allowed myself to take a act of passion and make it the end all, be all. And amazing as it is, it’s not that. It’s not all I want. And it’s not about physical acts. It’s actually far removed from that. It’s more about an understanding. It’s about the complete faith that you are as important to someone as they are to you.
I have struggled with this for weeks. I thought it came to a head a week or so ago. I was wrong. It came to a head last night. I discovered that I was placed in the background in a situation that I should be out front. Taking cooking (my passion) into account, we tend to put the main course on the front burner. The reason is that it is the most important part of the meal. The salad can be limp as long as the entrée is still amazing. So, the backburner is left for vegetables or soup. Those things that are important when we want them to be, but if they are left out of the meal because they burn or become too much trouble, it’s really no sweat. I am not saying that I am not important to her. I am not the vegetable of the meal. But, there are times that I have felt that way. And that is what is needed to be cleared up before we can move forward together or apart.
I don’t belong on the backburner. Not for anyone. No matter how I feel about them. No matter how they feel about me. I am better than this. I am worth more than this.
It’s a difficult position to find yourself in. To have these things make you think that you are less than. To have the thought that you deserve to be in this position. It’s wrong. But, because we desire that which puts us here, we try very hard to ignore the pain. The problem is that the pain is never going to let you go. It’s going to find that quiet moment, when you are feeling lonely and it’s going to attack you. It’s going to beat on you until you can’t take anymore.
And I just can’t take it anymore.
So, I have put my foot down. I have asked for a resolution. I have demanded an answer that isn’t “I don’t know.” And, that is the worst sentence I have heard in a while. I just can’t hear it anymore. So, I have demanded something else. Bad or good. Happy or sad. I need another answer. Not just for having a chance to find a way to move on if I need to, but to just know why. I need to know that. I need to understand it.
What has made this situation so intolerable is the fact that it feels like it reinforces the voices in my head that tell me that I am not worth the chance to be happy. I am not worth the attention of anyone. That voice, belonging to one person, has been in my head for over a year. There have been moments when it has faded to a whisper. And there are other moments, like now…when it’s screaming it’s heart out. I don’t like it. I have tried so hard to get rid of it. I know the only way for it to disappear. I know what it would take. But, up to this point, it has been asking too much.
What I wanted…what I needed…was completeness. A cementing of understanding of what things were. A coming to terms with just what we were becoming. The issue has been that I have seen further than she. I have been able to see the greatness in the chance we could take. I know two things to be true. One, I have never felt this way about anyone in my life. Two, I would do anything for her. Anything to make her happy. Even step aside.
I was finally asked what I wanted. What I needed. My response? For this person to be 100% behind what we were becoming or to let me go. That’s it. That is all I need. No more, no less. For weeks, I have believed that this was too much to ask for. I believed that by asking for this, I would shred what little there was to make this a reality. So, I didn’t dare. I didn’t want it to end. I still don’t want it to end. I cherish this. I am enamored of this. But, it has to grow. It has to become. Or it’s just not real. And I can’t live with what is not real. I have done that for way too long. I have struggled to make sense of all that has happened. I was concerned that any attention I had received was out of pity. I hate pity. I hate it with a passion. I don’t mind compassion. That is a gift. Pity is feeling sorry for…and I just can’t have that. Less than. Pity is buried in less than. I am not less than. I need no pity.
So, here I sit. Waiting for the response. It won’t be a long wait. I have set a timetable. That may have been wrong. But, it just came to me. You see, when it did, I didn’t think there was a chance in hell of any further discussions on this situation taking place. I thought we were done. I had made it clear that I wasn’t happy with the way things were and I received silence. And I understand that. I understand it completely. But, I also knew that if I was going to hear anything, it would be when some events were finished. So, I patiently waited. And in the moment of hedging, I made a demand. And I set a timetable. And when I did, I was scared. I thought I had pushed too much. Demanded too much too quickly. And then I realized the time that had passed. I realized all the words that had been said. I realized all the simple acts of love that had been expressed. And I knew that I had not made a mistake. I had not done anything I shouldn’t have.
If there is a lesson to be learned here, it is this. There are people and situations in our lives that we should do everything in our power to fight for. That we should try as hard as possible to do everything we can to make them the best parts of our lives. But, what can happen in those moments is that we forget to fight for ourselves. We lose ourselves in what we desire…what we feel we need. And in doing that, we treat ourselves as less than. We give ourselves the “I don’t know”s. We should never do it. We hope we never will. But, we do. Because our emotions and our hearts run away with us. But, when push comes to shove…when all is said and done…we are left with ourselves. Always with ourselves. And we need to remember that how we handle things in our lives, the way we project ourselves…will wear on us for a very long time after the situations have past. We owe it to ourselves to keep ourselves safely aware of what is real. To do otherwise, is a sin of the heart. A sin of the soul.
We are never less than.
I will say that it really isn’t based on actions of the last few days. It really was the accumulation of realizations. It was seeing things a little clearer than I had. I had allowed myself to take a act of passion and make it the end all, be all. And amazing as it is, it’s not that. It’s not all I want. And it’s not about physical acts. It’s actually far removed from that. It’s more about an understanding. It’s about the complete faith that you are as important to someone as they are to you.
I have struggled with this for weeks. I thought it came to a head a week or so ago. I was wrong. It came to a head last night. I discovered that I was placed in the background in a situation that I should be out front. Taking cooking (my passion) into account, we tend to put the main course on the front burner. The reason is that it is the most important part of the meal. The salad can be limp as long as the entrée is still amazing. So, the backburner is left for vegetables or soup. Those things that are important when we want them to be, but if they are left out of the meal because they burn or become too much trouble, it’s really no sweat. I am not saying that I am not important to her. I am not the vegetable of the meal. But, there are times that I have felt that way. And that is what is needed to be cleared up before we can move forward together or apart.
I don’t belong on the backburner. Not for anyone. No matter how I feel about them. No matter how they feel about me. I am better than this. I am worth more than this.
It’s a difficult position to find yourself in. To have these things make you think that you are less than. To have the thought that you deserve to be in this position. It’s wrong. But, because we desire that which puts us here, we try very hard to ignore the pain. The problem is that the pain is never going to let you go. It’s going to find that quiet moment, when you are feeling lonely and it’s going to attack you. It’s going to beat on you until you can’t take anymore.
And I just can’t take it anymore.
So, I have put my foot down. I have asked for a resolution. I have demanded an answer that isn’t “I don’t know.” And, that is the worst sentence I have heard in a while. I just can’t hear it anymore. So, I have demanded something else. Bad or good. Happy or sad. I need another answer. Not just for having a chance to find a way to move on if I need to, but to just know why. I need to know that. I need to understand it.
What has made this situation so intolerable is the fact that it feels like it reinforces the voices in my head that tell me that I am not worth the chance to be happy. I am not worth the attention of anyone. That voice, belonging to one person, has been in my head for over a year. There have been moments when it has faded to a whisper. And there are other moments, like now…when it’s screaming it’s heart out. I don’t like it. I have tried so hard to get rid of it. I know the only way for it to disappear. I know what it would take. But, up to this point, it has been asking too much.
What I wanted…what I needed…was completeness. A cementing of understanding of what things were. A coming to terms with just what we were becoming. The issue has been that I have seen further than she. I have been able to see the greatness in the chance we could take. I know two things to be true. One, I have never felt this way about anyone in my life. Two, I would do anything for her. Anything to make her happy. Even step aside.
I was finally asked what I wanted. What I needed. My response? For this person to be 100% behind what we were becoming or to let me go. That’s it. That is all I need. No more, no less. For weeks, I have believed that this was too much to ask for. I believed that by asking for this, I would shred what little there was to make this a reality. So, I didn’t dare. I didn’t want it to end. I still don’t want it to end. I cherish this. I am enamored of this. But, it has to grow. It has to become. Or it’s just not real. And I can’t live with what is not real. I have done that for way too long. I have struggled to make sense of all that has happened. I was concerned that any attention I had received was out of pity. I hate pity. I hate it with a passion. I don’t mind compassion. That is a gift. Pity is feeling sorry for…and I just can’t have that. Less than. Pity is buried in less than. I am not less than. I need no pity.
So, here I sit. Waiting for the response. It won’t be a long wait. I have set a timetable. That may have been wrong. But, it just came to me. You see, when it did, I didn’t think there was a chance in hell of any further discussions on this situation taking place. I thought we were done. I had made it clear that I wasn’t happy with the way things were and I received silence. And I understand that. I understand it completely. But, I also knew that if I was going to hear anything, it would be when some events were finished. So, I patiently waited. And in the moment of hedging, I made a demand. And I set a timetable. And when I did, I was scared. I thought I had pushed too much. Demanded too much too quickly. And then I realized the time that had passed. I realized all the words that had been said. I realized all the simple acts of love that had been expressed. And I knew that I had not made a mistake. I had not done anything I shouldn’t have.
If there is a lesson to be learned here, it is this. There are people and situations in our lives that we should do everything in our power to fight for. That we should try as hard as possible to do everything we can to make them the best parts of our lives. But, what can happen in those moments is that we forget to fight for ourselves. We lose ourselves in what we desire…what we feel we need. And in doing that, we treat ourselves as less than. We give ourselves the “I don’t know”s. We should never do it. We hope we never will. But, we do. Because our emotions and our hearts run away with us. But, when push comes to shove…when all is said and done…we are left with ourselves. Always with ourselves. And we need to remember that how we handle things in our lives, the way we project ourselves…will wear on us for a very long time after the situations have past. We owe it to ourselves to keep ourselves safely aware of what is real. To do otherwise, is a sin of the heart. A sin of the soul.
We are never less than.
Friday, September 24, 2010
This thing called God's Plan
With the fear of a lightening strike in the back of my mind, I broach the subject of God. Have to admit, not been on the best friend level with the man (or woman, as you see fit…but, if so…hard to explain that Father thing) lately. He has had me wondering about things in His world lately. I always thought that He didn’t really pay much attention, but I am starting to think that He does more then I want to admit and that maybe, He is having more fun then He would care to admit. Not fun in that he enjoys seeing His people suffer, just the sheer entertainment value…whether it be sadness or joy…I think He may be sitting back watching the show more than we realize.
I grew up in a house that wasn’t real church going. Any religious education I received, I got on my own by either attending church with friends and their families or by reading on my own. When I grew up, there really wasn’t as much access to plain language bibles as there are now. So, the confusion was deep. So, I read a lot of books about God and religion that were available in the library. I have always been an avid reader, reading at a college level before I was in junior high school. Not brain power, just luck of the draw for a love for words. Those books taught me a great deal and have had a huge effect on the way I see things now. I want you to understand, I don’t believe that I am absolutely right. I just believe that what I believe is comfortable to me. It’s my ego and it’s size that has me sharing it with you.
One of the most prominent statements in these books was the idea of “God’s Plan”. The idea being that God has some divine plan for all of us and that things are sort of mapped out for all of our lives. This idea has always confused me. The thought that no matter how much control we believe we have, that everything is already mapped out. I have come to decide that it has to be a misconception. I have my own (as if you had any doubt) idea of all this. I am not one that believes that God has his hands in our everyday lives to the point that everything we do is directed by him. Free will has it’s purpose. God does not decide what shampoo I use. God does not decide which shirt I wear to work. If He did, I wish He would iron some of them for me. I don’t think that he sits around heaven worried about whether or not I have had too much starch at lunch. If He does, I am really going to be disappointed in Him. I would rather that He focus more on Darfur or Somalia. Or maybe the starving, homeless people right here in the great U.S of A. Not sit around worried about my cholesterol level.
What I think is that God has moments ready for us. Specific and defined moments. But, those moments change due to decisions of free will in the past. For instance, if He decided that we would fall and break our leg at the Jersey shore some weekend and that Friday our car dies and we never make it to the shore, whatever lesson was to be learned from breaking our leg is lost. So, you see, God’s plan has to have many revisions. Free will has to allow for them.
I am also disappointed with the thought of a mapped out plan. I can’t believe that there is no point to the minds we have and their ability to make decisions. God explained in His book just how special we are. The whole idea of Hell is with the understanding of a war of angels with God over our importance to him. We have to be unique. And with that comes the responsibility of being intelligent creatures that have the ability to make a difference in the world because we truly want to and not because we were destined. It is my honest belief that the last man destined for anything was nailed to a cross. Understand what I mean. Take someone like Martin Luther King, Jr. He fought incredible odds to do what he believed was right for all mankind. He stood in front of a crowd of people in West Memphis practically predicting his own death the next day. But, he did it anyway. To say that he never had a choice would take away the incredible test of will that he must have went through. And it would diminish his legacy. I want to believe that he did all of it because he felt he needed to, not because he had to.
With that in mind, you may start to see my problem with the idea of “God’s Plan”. Those words tend to be used when something bad happens to us. It seems that we tend to take credit for the good things that happen to us, but the bad things just must be part of the plan. “It just must be God’s Plan for you.” Really? It was God’s Plan that my wife decided that raising her kids was all I was good for and when it was done, I no longer had a use? It was God’s Plan that my friend needed to die in a hospital during a stay for a treatment that was supposed to give him more time? It was God’s plan that I should find myself wanting something I very well may never have in my life? That was his plan? Or is it that we only think we can actually learn something from the bad things that happen to us, so we contribute those learning moments to God?
I am starting to realize that God’s Plan isn’t always going to be the plan we would like. But, it is not without reason, not without purpose. We just have to take the time to see them. For me, it has taken about 16 months. And even now I sit here not really sure I understand it all. But, I am trying. I know that my free will has contributed to it. But, I think that my free will has been manipulated by God’s handy work in setting his plans in motion. The decisions were mine to make. But, the choices given, He very well may have had a hand in. Maybe other factors, too.
Lets take for instance the first thing I can think of. The death of my friend. I have struggled with this, as you all that read these things know, for over a month now. I am getting better. I have made the choice to let it go. To move on. But, it wasn’t a easy choice. The thing with grief is, that as sad and upsetting as it is, it starts to become like a pair of old sweats…comfortable, warm, fuzzy, and kind of inviting. As much as we know we should discard it, we just can’t find the heart to do it. If my friend’s death was part of some kind of plan, it has taken me a long time to figure it out. But, I have. The fact that this disease was going to kill him was a forgone conclusion. It was the when that was at question. Why now? Well, if we are talking about the lessons for me, I think I have them.
The first involves a plan God must have started for me a little over a year ago. I found myself in a situation that had determined that my usefulness was at an end in my marriage. I was not only no longer wanted, I was no longer needed. That is harder to take then no longer being loved. To find out that you were merely a tool for someone else’s agenda is tough to accept. And when your usefulness is done, into the trash heap you go. For months after, I lived very quietly, keeping to myself and trying to figure out the benefit that this plan of God’s had for me. This began my relationship issue with Him. Because, I really couldn’t see the reasoning. I really couldn’t find the purpose. What I felt God was saying to me is that, you have now become what you so most wanted to avoid. A failure. Alone. Forgotten. And it only cost you everything. My anger with that knew no bounds. I was angry and bitter and I didn’t care who knew it.
During these months, I returned to church. I desperately wanted answers. I listened every Sunday. I tried so hard to hear Him. I felt deaf. I just couldn’t hear the voice that would tell my why all this had happened. Why was I no longer good enough? Why was I left alone? Why was I still here? What purpose did I serve? Nothing. Not a sound. My anger grew. And everything inside of me closed down. I saw nothing. I heard nothing. I looked for nothing.
And then it found me.
I have written a lot about “her”. I won’t bore you with it now. Only to say, that at some point, I saw her. I say that it found me. What I mean by that, is that because I wasn’t looking, it came to me on it’s own. This feeling. I will have to say that I fought it off hard. I didn’t want to notice her. I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t want to feel anything. I tell you honestly, I really didn’t want to fall for anyone, ever again. The pain of losing is just too damn much. I struggled with telling her my feelings for weeks because of this kind of pain. I just didn’t want to risk it. I didn’t want to put myself out there again. Sometimes, what we want isn’t always what we get. Thank God (ironically)!
The lesson that has come from this is that I do feel something. I feel more than I ever thought possible. I feel more than I ever have in my life. The reason? Because of what happened. Because, of the depth of the anger I had felt for being discarded. I felt worthless. I don’t feel worthless now. I felt unloved. I don’t feel unloved now. I felt as if no one could see me. I feel seen. And the reward from this lesson is that I appreciate it all so much more than if it would have happened without all the bad things that got me here. I appreciate the fact that I can feel and show how I feel. That I have the courage to say it. But, mostly…I am in awe of the fact that someone feels that way for me. When I felt so lost, I was found. Apparently God’s plan was for me to find myself in a position to either stand up and say the words that needed to be said to inform this person of my feelings or to walk away silent and never try. By doing that, I would have continued with the anger. Free will. The choices were given…his plan was to have me go through all I went through to give me the choice. And I made it.
What does this have to do with the death of my friend? Well, first, he wasn’t the first friend of mine that had died recently. I am not sure of the plan for the earlier death. I am not sure that I even felt as much pain then as I did this time. Not that I loved him any less, he was my friend. But, at the time…the time of shutdown…I just didn’t allow myself to feel anything. I grieved, but from a distance. I get the feeling that God saw that and said to Himself; “Oh no, that just won’t do.”
I have started to realize just how important the things in the last few months that have happened have been to each other. What I mean is, one without the other wouldn’t have had the same results. I don’t think that it was an accident that I couldn’t hold back my feelings any longer than I did. The timing is too perfect. It allowed a month or so of the knowledge to be out before He decided that my friend had to come home to Him. Why? I think, as I have said before, it was to make sure that someone was here to save me. That someone was here to show me that I was loved. That someone cared. I have become aware that a lot of people do. Really do. I will be honest, before all this, I didn’t see it as clearly as I do now. But, I do now…and that has to be part of the plan. It had to be a big part of it. I also think that my friend’s death and the frustration, anger, grief, and confusion that came after were also a big part of the plan. Because, what it did was take me to the lowest part of myself. I seriously considered drinking again. I was closer than anyone realizes. And, that would have been a disappointment I would never have gotten over. After sixteen years of abstaining, I think the failure would have been more than I could bare. One thing…one person kept me from doing it. So, you see…again…God’s plan. To make sure someone was here to give a me reason not to destroy all that I had accomplished.
Once that crisis of will power had passed, I realized just how proud I should be in my strength. People have jumped off the wagon for a lot less reasons. The reason they do, the reason I considered it…was to be numb. To not feel anything, if only for a little while. But, in doing that…I know for sure I would have lost everything. I would have lost her. I would have lost my job. I would have lost me. So, I hung on to my commitment to her with both hands and I fought off the urge…a painful fight, but I won. And I grew stronger.
The other thing that came from this horrible tragedy is that I showed a part of myself that I rarely had in the past. I showed my heart. Not just these feelings I had for this special person. I showed my ability to show the parts of myself that I tended to hide all my life. Some things that occurred in my life had taught me to never show weakness. Never show fear. Never show heartache. I would shutdown. I would go numb. Even before my problems with a vodka bottle, I learned ways to shutdown. I would take those moments of the most pain and use them as an excuse to disappear within myself. Never let anyone close. Never anyone see me weak. This situation didn’t allow for that. I tried to. I tried desperately to do that. I just couldn’t. I came close. But, something…or should I say…someone kept pulling me back. She saw me at my worst. She saw me angry. She saw me crying. She saw me completely unable to cope. And she didn’t run away. In doing that, she proved to me that not all the things in my life are destined for loss. Because, if what she saw didn’t chase her away, I couldn’t think that anything would. And I started to heal.
But, God’s plan can be a funny one. Yep, a real laugh riot. In growing stronger, I started to really get a good look at what I had become. Moody. Needy. Whining. And an absolute spineless little man. I started to see that I had allowed myself to shed my pride. And at what cost? For what gain? I really looked at that hard. And it made me angry. Not at anyone other than myself. It’s not that I didn’t mean all that I had said and done for weeks. It was how I did it. It was the perception that I was giving that upset me. My anger caused me to react. And when I did, when I finally stood up for myself. Things changed. I think the reason is that at that moment I started to let go. I let go of the grief. I let go of the desire to drink. I let go of the wanting something at any cost. Because, in the end…we have only ourselves to account to. And I needed to take stock. And when I did, I really didn’t like what I saw. I had to fight back my fear, fight back the idea of what could happen…and take a stand. And because I did, I got me back. Because I did, I showed that I valued myself. That I believed, for the first time in a very long time, that I deserved more. And I demanded it. And since that day, since that moment, God’s plan has come clearer to me.
If there is such a thing, I believe that he had to have me come full circle and maybe another half. I had to go from the very bottom to a very high point, just to appreciate just how special this high point was. But, He needed me to see that I was strong enough to not only ask for help, but help myself. I had to see that I had value. I had to see that I made a difference. Because, even the point was so very high, I didn’t think it really made a difference to anyone but me. Since fighting off the effects of grief, I have come to see that I do. But, not only to the one person I was most concerned about, but to others. And that touched my heart. That lifted me up. And it placed me in a place that I am comfortable with. It put me in a place that allowed me to stand up for me, to say what I needed, what I wanted, and not to accept less…from anyone. Not everyone will like it. But, maybe they have their own plans to deal with. That’s not for me to say.
I know that all this may seem without a point. I normally write with some intention in mind of a conclusion or at the very least, some message. I think the reason that it’s not clear here is that this plan I am on isn’t quite over with. Events over the last few days have made that clear to me. I am starting to realize that if you ever decide that the Man is done with you, you are going to miss something important. So, I am closely paying attention, to every little thing. Every word…every act…every single thing I see and hear. And I can tell you, in doing that, I am learning a lot. Not just about myself, but about the motives of others. About their true value to me. I spent a month seeking the comfort of those that didn’t always have my best interest at heart. I tried very hard to have theirs. But, their actions recently has spoken to me in ways I really didn’t think they could. I have learned to be careful who I trust. Be careful who you call your friend. Be careful just how much you are willing to share. And be careful of just who you think really cares about what is important to you. Again, God’s plan. Because, what people can teach us is not only just how valuable those that are close to us really are, but just how damaging others can be. For what purpose? I am not sure I have figured that out yet. I am not sure I want to, to be honest. I think it would really be too ugly to look at.
I guess the real conclusion would be that I would have to say that I have forgiven God. I am not sure, as human beings, we are allowed that. But, it’s sort of how I look at it. I know there are some that may say that forgiveness should only be given to those who have done wrong and that God can’t do wrong. If that is true, explain the housefly. Explain the armadillo. Explain George W. Bush. Okay, that last one is a trick question…we all know satan was responsible for that one. But, the point is, even God admitted he made a mistake. Remember the flood? Okay, we weren’t there, but you do remember the story. And at the end…reason for the rainbows? It’s his promise that he will never do that again. Why? Because it was a mistake. People say, that with people, God makes no mistakes. Okay…on the short list…Hitler, Manson, Polpot, Gingus Khan, Miley Cyrus. Okay, again..the last one was just for me. But, you get the point.
I think the idea of God making mistakes is something that I have believed in for a long time, thinking that I was one of them. There is a lot of reasons for that. Not much of which I really want to disclose here. But, I did spend a lot of years thinking that God may have stacked the deck for me. But, what I am learning is that really it was the deal He was given, too. He couldn’t have known my parents free will would cause our broken family. He couldn’t have known that my wife’s free will would cause her to discard me. He couldn’t have known that the death of friends would effect me so deeply. And he couldn’t have known that this beautiful woman would be standing here ready to catch me if and when I fell. So, the deck may have been stacked, but He dealt the cards as gently as He could and still get the message across.
And the message, you ask? Well, it’s only His greatest plan of all. The one that He always said was the most important. The one and only one that really matters.
Love! His. Ours. Theirs.
I grew up in a house that wasn’t real church going. Any religious education I received, I got on my own by either attending church with friends and their families or by reading on my own. When I grew up, there really wasn’t as much access to plain language bibles as there are now. So, the confusion was deep. So, I read a lot of books about God and religion that were available in the library. I have always been an avid reader, reading at a college level before I was in junior high school. Not brain power, just luck of the draw for a love for words. Those books taught me a great deal and have had a huge effect on the way I see things now. I want you to understand, I don’t believe that I am absolutely right. I just believe that what I believe is comfortable to me. It’s my ego and it’s size that has me sharing it with you.
One of the most prominent statements in these books was the idea of “God’s Plan”. The idea being that God has some divine plan for all of us and that things are sort of mapped out for all of our lives. This idea has always confused me. The thought that no matter how much control we believe we have, that everything is already mapped out. I have come to decide that it has to be a misconception. I have my own (as if you had any doubt) idea of all this. I am not one that believes that God has his hands in our everyday lives to the point that everything we do is directed by him. Free will has it’s purpose. God does not decide what shampoo I use. God does not decide which shirt I wear to work. If He did, I wish He would iron some of them for me. I don’t think that he sits around heaven worried about whether or not I have had too much starch at lunch. If He does, I am really going to be disappointed in Him. I would rather that He focus more on Darfur or Somalia. Or maybe the starving, homeless people right here in the great U.S of A. Not sit around worried about my cholesterol level.
What I think is that God has moments ready for us. Specific and defined moments. But, those moments change due to decisions of free will in the past. For instance, if He decided that we would fall and break our leg at the Jersey shore some weekend and that Friday our car dies and we never make it to the shore, whatever lesson was to be learned from breaking our leg is lost. So, you see, God’s plan has to have many revisions. Free will has to allow for them.
I am also disappointed with the thought of a mapped out plan. I can’t believe that there is no point to the minds we have and their ability to make decisions. God explained in His book just how special we are. The whole idea of Hell is with the understanding of a war of angels with God over our importance to him. We have to be unique. And with that comes the responsibility of being intelligent creatures that have the ability to make a difference in the world because we truly want to and not because we were destined. It is my honest belief that the last man destined for anything was nailed to a cross. Understand what I mean. Take someone like Martin Luther King, Jr. He fought incredible odds to do what he believed was right for all mankind. He stood in front of a crowd of people in West Memphis practically predicting his own death the next day. But, he did it anyway. To say that he never had a choice would take away the incredible test of will that he must have went through. And it would diminish his legacy. I want to believe that he did all of it because he felt he needed to, not because he had to.
With that in mind, you may start to see my problem with the idea of “God’s Plan”. Those words tend to be used when something bad happens to us. It seems that we tend to take credit for the good things that happen to us, but the bad things just must be part of the plan. “It just must be God’s Plan for you.” Really? It was God’s Plan that my wife decided that raising her kids was all I was good for and when it was done, I no longer had a use? It was God’s Plan that my friend needed to die in a hospital during a stay for a treatment that was supposed to give him more time? It was God’s plan that I should find myself wanting something I very well may never have in my life? That was his plan? Or is it that we only think we can actually learn something from the bad things that happen to us, so we contribute those learning moments to God?
I am starting to realize that God’s Plan isn’t always going to be the plan we would like. But, it is not without reason, not without purpose. We just have to take the time to see them. For me, it has taken about 16 months. And even now I sit here not really sure I understand it all. But, I am trying. I know that my free will has contributed to it. But, I think that my free will has been manipulated by God’s handy work in setting his plans in motion. The decisions were mine to make. But, the choices given, He very well may have had a hand in. Maybe other factors, too.
Lets take for instance the first thing I can think of. The death of my friend. I have struggled with this, as you all that read these things know, for over a month now. I am getting better. I have made the choice to let it go. To move on. But, it wasn’t a easy choice. The thing with grief is, that as sad and upsetting as it is, it starts to become like a pair of old sweats…comfortable, warm, fuzzy, and kind of inviting. As much as we know we should discard it, we just can’t find the heart to do it. If my friend’s death was part of some kind of plan, it has taken me a long time to figure it out. But, I have. The fact that this disease was going to kill him was a forgone conclusion. It was the when that was at question. Why now? Well, if we are talking about the lessons for me, I think I have them.
The first involves a plan God must have started for me a little over a year ago. I found myself in a situation that had determined that my usefulness was at an end in my marriage. I was not only no longer wanted, I was no longer needed. That is harder to take then no longer being loved. To find out that you were merely a tool for someone else’s agenda is tough to accept. And when your usefulness is done, into the trash heap you go. For months after, I lived very quietly, keeping to myself and trying to figure out the benefit that this plan of God’s had for me. This began my relationship issue with Him. Because, I really couldn’t see the reasoning. I really couldn’t find the purpose. What I felt God was saying to me is that, you have now become what you so most wanted to avoid. A failure. Alone. Forgotten. And it only cost you everything. My anger with that knew no bounds. I was angry and bitter and I didn’t care who knew it.
During these months, I returned to church. I desperately wanted answers. I listened every Sunday. I tried so hard to hear Him. I felt deaf. I just couldn’t hear the voice that would tell my why all this had happened. Why was I no longer good enough? Why was I left alone? Why was I still here? What purpose did I serve? Nothing. Not a sound. My anger grew. And everything inside of me closed down. I saw nothing. I heard nothing. I looked for nothing.
And then it found me.
I have written a lot about “her”. I won’t bore you with it now. Only to say, that at some point, I saw her. I say that it found me. What I mean by that, is that because I wasn’t looking, it came to me on it’s own. This feeling. I will have to say that I fought it off hard. I didn’t want to notice her. I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t want to feel anything. I tell you honestly, I really didn’t want to fall for anyone, ever again. The pain of losing is just too damn much. I struggled with telling her my feelings for weeks because of this kind of pain. I just didn’t want to risk it. I didn’t want to put myself out there again. Sometimes, what we want isn’t always what we get. Thank God (ironically)!
The lesson that has come from this is that I do feel something. I feel more than I ever thought possible. I feel more than I ever have in my life. The reason? Because of what happened. Because, of the depth of the anger I had felt for being discarded. I felt worthless. I don’t feel worthless now. I felt unloved. I don’t feel unloved now. I felt as if no one could see me. I feel seen. And the reward from this lesson is that I appreciate it all so much more than if it would have happened without all the bad things that got me here. I appreciate the fact that I can feel and show how I feel. That I have the courage to say it. But, mostly…I am in awe of the fact that someone feels that way for me. When I felt so lost, I was found. Apparently God’s plan was for me to find myself in a position to either stand up and say the words that needed to be said to inform this person of my feelings or to walk away silent and never try. By doing that, I would have continued with the anger. Free will. The choices were given…his plan was to have me go through all I went through to give me the choice. And I made it.
What does this have to do with the death of my friend? Well, first, he wasn’t the first friend of mine that had died recently. I am not sure of the plan for the earlier death. I am not sure that I even felt as much pain then as I did this time. Not that I loved him any less, he was my friend. But, at the time…the time of shutdown…I just didn’t allow myself to feel anything. I grieved, but from a distance. I get the feeling that God saw that and said to Himself; “Oh no, that just won’t do.”
I have started to realize just how important the things in the last few months that have happened have been to each other. What I mean is, one without the other wouldn’t have had the same results. I don’t think that it was an accident that I couldn’t hold back my feelings any longer than I did. The timing is too perfect. It allowed a month or so of the knowledge to be out before He decided that my friend had to come home to Him. Why? I think, as I have said before, it was to make sure that someone was here to save me. That someone was here to show me that I was loved. That someone cared. I have become aware that a lot of people do. Really do. I will be honest, before all this, I didn’t see it as clearly as I do now. But, I do now…and that has to be part of the plan. It had to be a big part of it. I also think that my friend’s death and the frustration, anger, grief, and confusion that came after were also a big part of the plan. Because, what it did was take me to the lowest part of myself. I seriously considered drinking again. I was closer than anyone realizes. And, that would have been a disappointment I would never have gotten over. After sixteen years of abstaining, I think the failure would have been more than I could bare. One thing…one person kept me from doing it. So, you see…again…God’s plan. To make sure someone was here to give a me reason not to destroy all that I had accomplished.
Once that crisis of will power had passed, I realized just how proud I should be in my strength. People have jumped off the wagon for a lot less reasons. The reason they do, the reason I considered it…was to be numb. To not feel anything, if only for a little while. But, in doing that…I know for sure I would have lost everything. I would have lost her. I would have lost my job. I would have lost me. So, I hung on to my commitment to her with both hands and I fought off the urge…a painful fight, but I won. And I grew stronger.
The other thing that came from this horrible tragedy is that I showed a part of myself that I rarely had in the past. I showed my heart. Not just these feelings I had for this special person. I showed my ability to show the parts of myself that I tended to hide all my life. Some things that occurred in my life had taught me to never show weakness. Never show fear. Never show heartache. I would shutdown. I would go numb. Even before my problems with a vodka bottle, I learned ways to shutdown. I would take those moments of the most pain and use them as an excuse to disappear within myself. Never let anyone close. Never anyone see me weak. This situation didn’t allow for that. I tried to. I tried desperately to do that. I just couldn’t. I came close. But, something…or should I say…someone kept pulling me back. She saw me at my worst. She saw me angry. She saw me crying. She saw me completely unable to cope. And she didn’t run away. In doing that, she proved to me that not all the things in my life are destined for loss. Because, if what she saw didn’t chase her away, I couldn’t think that anything would. And I started to heal.
But, God’s plan can be a funny one. Yep, a real laugh riot. In growing stronger, I started to really get a good look at what I had become. Moody. Needy. Whining. And an absolute spineless little man. I started to see that I had allowed myself to shed my pride. And at what cost? For what gain? I really looked at that hard. And it made me angry. Not at anyone other than myself. It’s not that I didn’t mean all that I had said and done for weeks. It was how I did it. It was the perception that I was giving that upset me. My anger caused me to react. And when I did, when I finally stood up for myself. Things changed. I think the reason is that at that moment I started to let go. I let go of the grief. I let go of the desire to drink. I let go of the wanting something at any cost. Because, in the end…we have only ourselves to account to. And I needed to take stock. And when I did, I really didn’t like what I saw. I had to fight back my fear, fight back the idea of what could happen…and take a stand. And because I did, I got me back. Because I did, I showed that I valued myself. That I believed, for the first time in a very long time, that I deserved more. And I demanded it. And since that day, since that moment, God’s plan has come clearer to me.
If there is such a thing, I believe that he had to have me come full circle and maybe another half. I had to go from the very bottom to a very high point, just to appreciate just how special this high point was. But, He needed me to see that I was strong enough to not only ask for help, but help myself. I had to see that I had value. I had to see that I made a difference. Because, even the point was so very high, I didn’t think it really made a difference to anyone but me. Since fighting off the effects of grief, I have come to see that I do. But, not only to the one person I was most concerned about, but to others. And that touched my heart. That lifted me up. And it placed me in a place that I am comfortable with. It put me in a place that allowed me to stand up for me, to say what I needed, what I wanted, and not to accept less…from anyone. Not everyone will like it. But, maybe they have their own plans to deal with. That’s not for me to say.
I know that all this may seem without a point. I normally write with some intention in mind of a conclusion or at the very least, some message. I think the reason that it’s not clear here is that this plan I am on isn’t quite over with. Events over the last few days have made that clear to me. I am starting to realize that if you ever decide that the Man is done with you, you are going to miss something important. So, I am closely paying attention, to every little thing. Every word…every act…every single thing I see and hear. And I can tell you, in doing that, I am learning a lot. Not just about myself, but about the motives of others. About their true value to me. I spent a month seeking the comfort of those that didn’t always have my best interest at heart. I tried very hard to have theirs. But, their actions recently has spoken to me in ways I really didn’t think they could. I have learned to be careful who I trust. Be careful who you call your friend. Be careful just how much you are willing to share. And be careful of just who you think really cares about what is important to you. Again, God’s plan. Because, what people can teach us is not only just how valuable those that are close to us really are, but just how damaging others can be. For what purpose? I am not sure I have figured that out yet. I am not sure I want to, to be honest. I think it would really be too ugly to look at.
I guess the real conclusion would be that I would have to say that I have forgiven God. I am not sure, as human beings, we are allowed that. But, it’s sort of how I look at it. I know there are some that may say that forgiveness should only be given to those who have done wrong and that God can’t do wrong. If that is true, explain the housefly. Explain the armadillo. Explain George W. Bush. Okay, that last one is a trick question…we all know satan was responsible for that one. But, the point is, even God admitted he made a mistake. Remember the flood? Okay, we weren’t there, but you do remember the story. And at the end…reason for the rainbows? It’s his promise that he will never do that again. Why? Because it was a mistake. People say, that with people, God makes no mistakes. Okay…on the short list…Hitler, Manson, Polpot, Gingus Khan, Miley Cyrus. Okay, again..the last one was just for me. But, you get the point.
I think the idea of God making mistakes is something that I have believed in for a long time, thinking that I was one of them. There is a lot of reasons for that. Not much of which I really want to disclose here. But, I did spend a lot of years thinking that God may have stacked the deck for me. But, what I am learning is that really it was the deal He was given, too. He couldn’t have known my parents free will would cause our broken family. He couldn’t have known that my wife’s free will would cause her to discard me. He couldn’t have known that the death of friends would effect me so deeply. And he couldn’t have known that this beautiful woman would be standing here ready to catch me if and when I fell. So, the deck may have been stacked, but He dealt the cards as gently as He could and still get the message across.
And the message, you ask? Well, it’s only His greatest plan of all. The one that He always said was the most important. The one and only one that really matters.
Love! His. Ours. Theirs.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Deja Vu in Reverse
I went to bed this morning sometime after ten, after sharing something very special to me with someone very special to me. It may seem silly to some, but it was just a concert dvd. It is special to me for two important reasons. One, the artist is Peter Gabriel. I can’t begin to explain the respect and sheer love I have for the man and his music. His gifts have provided me with comfort when there was nothing else. His words have turned my head around when I thought that I was stilled. From his days in Genesis, to the present day solo career, he has never failed to cast an awe on me that has me referring to him…as do his many devote followers…as Saint Peter. The other reason is, that this tour…from 1995...the Secret World Tour…is the last tour that I saw him in person. It is hands down the very best show I have ever seen. And the memory of it, without the dvd, is still strong in my mind.
Once in bed, I laid with a nagging feeling in my system. I tried very hard to ignore it and allow myself to sleep. It just didn’t want to let go. I picked up a book and did my best to occupy my mind with thoughts other than the feeling that something was missing in my understanding. I finally drifted off and slept a deep sleep. For about five hours.
And then it woke me up.
I understand the concept of déjà vu. It is the idea that we find ourselves experiencing a moment and feeling as if we have been there before…in the exact same moment…in the exact same place…with the exact same people…feeling the exact same thing. It happens to all of us. It’s one of those “raise the hair on the back of my neck” kind of things. It unnerves us when it happens, mostly because it almost feels like a ghost coming out of the past to take another swipe at us. We desperately try to tie the moments together. Did we do anything differently? If so, why? Was the outcome different? We rarely get beyond the curious stage. I believe it’s another example of our minds keeping from us things that would just freak us out.
But, what woke me today was something a little different. Is it possible to have déjà vu in reverse? What I mean, is it possible to experience a moment for the first time and get the feeling that it is going to come back to us later, in a similar situation…and be a meaningful experience? I am thinking it’s possible. I am thinking that it may have happened to me.
I remember very clearly going to that concert. Peter was in Philly for two nights. I went both nights. The first night with some close friends. The second night with some die hard fans like myself that I had met in different places, at different times of my life. Both nights are burned into my brain. I remember sitting there unable to take my eyes off the performance. Feeling every word of the lyrics being poured to me as if it were the first time I had heard them. Of course, it wasn’t. Even the new stuff was stored in my memories banks from repeated plays of the current cd. But, there was something about watching that show. I remember leaving the Spectrum both nights thinking that I would never forget what I had seen that weekend. It wasn’t the first time I had seen him perform. But, it was the best I had ever seen him do it. And the music…every part of it…touched my soul in ways I can’t explain. It was two nights in a moment.
Sitting on the couch this morning watching the dvd of the same tour in an Italian city, the reverse déjà vu crept in a bit. The music took me back to those nights in the crowd. That feeling that I was watching and listening to something special, something that would mean so much to me for a very long time, crept back into my brain and nested there. Once the show was over, my guest headed home and I headed to bed. Waking me up was the hatching of the eggs in the nest. The realization of the nagging thoughts exploded into my mind and explained themselves. It was the lyrics. All of them. I sat, fifteen years ago, and watched this man perform lyrics that would explain so much about my present day. And that hair raising feeling took hold.
The show begins with a song called; “Come Talk to Me”.
“I can imagine the moment, breaking out of the silence, all the things that we both might say. And the heart, it will not be denied, til we’re both on the same damn side. All the barriers blown away. I said; please talk to me.”
Have you ever found yourself in a position where you have said all you can say to explain yourself and you are waiting for the return? You just want to hear the heart of someone who means so much. And you know they are scared. You know they are worried about so many things. But, the frustration of seeing them hold on to their true voice because of self created barriers is just maddening. It causes a person to doubt their worth. It causes them to doubt what they see at times. They believe what they feel, the believe that the other person feels it, too. They just know that the unspoken words are tearing into both and all you want to do is be standing there when the flood gates open.
“Steam” is a song that I have found most people don’t understand. It’s a more fast paced song then most of what is normal for Peter…more pop oriented. The lyrics seem strange. He is discussing the attributes of someone…presumed to be a woman…that he is trying desperately to connect with. He is telling her all he knows about her, but little of it is in depth. In the chorus, he says that he needs steam. Steam in this moment is two things…one is heat…the other is the mist, as in a dream, that hides the truth from him.
“Oh yeah, I need steam. Feel the steam around me now. Ah, you’re turning up the heat. I start to dream aloud. See you move your hands and feet. Won’t you step into this cloud of steam. This steam. Give me steam, and how you feel can make it real. Real as anything you’ve seen. Get a life, with this dreamer’s dream.”
He is imploring her to come into the moment with him…into the fog of his dream to make it real.
Peter has used religious images in his songs many times. The early Genesis stuff is covered with it. There are two specific moments of that here. One is a song called, “Blood of Eden”. This song uses the complexity of the first couple to express his own frustrations with life and just how tough it is to hold onto all that means so much.
“At my request, you take me in. In that tenderness, I am floating away. No certainty, nothing to rely on. Holding still, for a moment. What a moment this is. Oh, for a moment of forgetting. A moment of bliss. Heyyyyy. I can hear the distant thunder of a million unheard souls. A million unheard souls. Watch each one reach for creature comforts. For the filling of their holes. In the blood of Eden lie the woman and the man. With the man in the woman and the woman in the man. In the blood of Eden, we wanted the union. Ohh, the union of the woman, the woman and the man.”
This songs is soft, aching in it’s longing for what it knows should be, could be in their “union”. The “unheard souls” is the reference to all those that would come from this first marriage. Their responsibility to all they know seems immense. I know that it may seem to be too much to say that this concept can reflect a situation in the present day. But, I would say that would shortchange our understanding of what we are capable of feeling. If you are in love…if you find yourself completely captured by another…isn’t the responsibility of all that could come a large weight? To think that we can remove the chance for greatness with a slip of the tongue, a stupid act of selfishness, or just a non-action is an awesome responsibility. In a moment, we can take the wrong fruit and banish ourselves from the beauty of the garden we have been lucky to find ourselves in. If only we would have listened to our heart, to our soul, and not thought so much.
The second religious reference in the show comes from a song called “Solsbury Hill”. A song that is in the top five of all time favorites for me. It’s the message that gets me. It’s the meaning behind them that keeps me coming back. They are words that can find you at any point in your life and return you to where you need to be.
“When illusion spins her net, I’m never where I want to be. And liberty, she pirouettes when I think that I am free. Watch my empty silhouettes, who close their eyes but still can see. No one taught them etiquette. I will show another me. Today I don’t need a replacement. I’ll show them what the smile on my face meant. My heart going boom, boom, boom. Hey, I said, you can keep my things, He’s come to take me home”
The “He” here is obviously God. Home, is generally thought to be heaven. I disagree. I believe that “home” is this context is referring to a place of peace. A place of well being. The singer speaks of the ridicule he feared and received for what he believes. In this song, you assume it’s his faith that is being judged. But, the listener…at any moment in his or her life, can make it about what they are carrying. We have all been in situations where the opinions and expressions of others on something that is so important to us can be as hurtful as anything we experience. Even for those of us that normally put little weight in the opinions of others find it hard when what we love so much is attacked or even not recognized. I have fought through a lot of these feelings recently. I have allowed them to create doubts in me. I have allowed them to make me act differently and treat others differently. Those are the days that I forget this message. A message I should probably hear every day.
It’s at this time during our viewing this morning that I started to feel the nagging feeling that I was experiencing this reverse déjà vu moment. I laid on the couch sensing, with the subtleness of a lead pipe to the head, this feeling that something important was happening right in front of me…and it was happening right in front of her. I am not sure she noticed. I know that she is aware of just how special this music is to me. But, I don’t know if she sensed that I have experiencing something pretty profound and didn’t really know how to explain. The dvd continued.
“Washing of the Water” is a song that describes a man desperately trying to right his life. He feels lost in a sea of experiences that have left him feeling completely out of control. Not knowing where to turn. And unable to acquire any kind of footing to right himself. He knows that the water doesn’t really want to hurt him, but his inability to control it has him spinning out of control. He senses that he needs to jettison his past in order to move forward. He feels the weight of the voices in his head that have held him down for so long trying desperately to keep him from his true self, his true happiness.
“Letting go, it’s so hard now to get this love untied. So tough to stay with this thing, ‘cause if I follow through, I face what I denied. I get those hooks out of me and I take out the hooks that I sunk deep into your side. Kill that fear of emptiness, loneliness I hide. River, oh river, river running deep. Bring me something that will let me go to sleep. In the washing of the water will you take it all away? Bring me something to take this pain away.”
The pain referred to here isn’t exactly clear. I want to believe it’s the pain of the destruction his past has caused him. The pain of holding on to meaningless feelings and thoughts that no longer have purpose because he felt it was all he had. He holds on tight to the source with “the hooks I sunk deep into your side”, as an anchor to where he believed he not only began, but ended. He realizes that the only way to wash away all that dirties him is to let the hooks go and allow the source to float away in the current of life that is a natural tonic for healing our heart.
That brings us to the closing numbers. The first, “Secret World”, is a cry for equal care in a situation where the singer feels as if he is alone in his effort to carry the weight of the all that means so much to him. He knows they have closets that they hide their hearts in. He has shown his, but feels he is still being denied an understanding of what he thinks he sees. The “Secret World” he refers to is the accumulation of the “luggage” of our lives that we hide the more tender parts of ourselves in, to keep them safe. The problem is that in doing so, we allow them to waste away and if they are not seen…not used…they can be forgotten.
“In this house of make believe, divided in two like Adam and Eve. You put out and I receive. Down by the railway siding, in our secret world we were colliding, with all the places we were hiding love. What was it we were thinking of? Oh, the wheel is turning, spinning round and round. And the house is crumbling, but the stairways sound. With no guilt, no shame, no sorrow, no pain. Whatever it is, we are all the same. Making it up in our secret world. Shaking it up. Breaking it up. Making it up, in our secret world.”
His frustration and anger explodes in the end of the song, telling her that he fears that he has seen things that were not there. The truth is, they were there. But, the luggage kept them locked away. Brief glimpses past the lids held him in place. He is telling her he needs more than just a glimpse.
The show ends with, what is in my opinion, the greatest love song known to man. “In your Eyes” is an explosion of emotion…a joyous celebration of love felt, of love given, of love returned. The singer has reached a moment of complete release of all that has held him back. He has discarded all that has hindered him and is telling the world not only of his love, but the depth of it…the completeness of it. He is coming clean for the first time in his life with, not only for himself, but for anyone that will listen.
“Love, I get so lost sometimes. Days past and this emptiness fills my heart. When I want to run away, I drive off in my car, but whichever way I go, I come back to the place you are. And all my instincts, well they return. And the grande façade, so soon will burn. Without noise. Without my pride, I reach out from the inside. In your eyes, the light, the heat. In your eyes, I am complete. In your eyes, I see the doorway to a thousand churches, your eyes, the resolution of all the fruitless searches. In your eyes, I see the light, the heat, In your eyes, oh, I want to be that complete. I want to touch the heat I see in your eyes.”
I am truly not sure that it gets better than that. I don’t know what else there is to say to anyone to show them what they mean to you. The fact that this is the last song of the show is not an accident of set list. Peter is using this expression of joy to show that through all that he has expressed already…all of the ugliness he has seen…all of the frustration that he has endured….he comes out the other side so completely in love that he compares it to finding “the doorway to a thousand churches”. He is willing to remove the mask that he has lived with forever and show his real self…his real heart. Unashamed. Unwavering in his commitment.
Waking up this afternoon with the realization that what occurred to me 15 years ago was a moment of preview. At the time, I was just out of my first marriage…a mistake that haunted me for a very long time. I was bitter and angry with God and the world. I was sober. But, I was not as humble as my sober brothers and sisters would have liked. I remember sitting through that second night of shows feeling this tapping on my heart…as if it were trying to tell me that I needed not only to listen, not only to hear, but to feel what I was experiencing in this crowded auditorium. Take in every word. Because they were important. Because there was a message there.
I felt the understanding of that tapping this morning. Sitting with an amazing friend, I realized that the words were coming back to me, tapping me…asking me if I remembered that they told me I would be here. I am here. I am standing at the end of the show, all my luggage out…all the washing done, I have turned in the things I no longer need and I am finding peace. I have talked to her and she has talked to me. And I have seen her heart. And because of that, I stand here…screaming to the world…that I get it now. Why it was so important for me to show this to her. Because, I stand here now…telling all…she is here. And in her, I see all that I am. All that I want to be. And all that we can be. I see that this life of looking for peace of mind, heart, and soul is over.
Peter, thank you. For the music. For the talent. And for the tapping on an old, bitter heart in Philly, 15 years ago.
Once in bed, I laid with a nagging feeling in my system. I tried very hard to ignore it and allow myself to sleep. It just didn’t want to let go. I picked up a book and did my best to occupy my mind with thoughts other than the feeling that something was missing in my understanding. I finally drifted off and slept a deep sleep. For about five hours.
And then it woke me up.
I understand the concept of déjà vu. It is the idea that we find ourselves experiencing a moment and feeling as if we have been there before…in the exact same moment…in the exact same place…with the exact same people…feeling the exact same thing. It happens to all of us. It’s one of those “raise the hair on the back of my neck” kind of things. It unnerves us when it happens, mostly because it almost feels like a ghost coming out of the past to take another swipe at us. We desperately try to tie the moments together. Did we do anything differently? If so, why? Was the outcome different? We rarely get beyond the curious stage. I believe it’s another example of our minds keeping from us things that would just freak us out.
But, what woke me today was something a little different. Is it possible to have déjà vu in reverse? What I mean, is it possible to experience a moment for the first time and get the feeling that it is going to come back to us later, in a similar situation…and be a meaningful experience? I am thinking it’s possible. I am thinking that it may have happened to me.
I remember very clearly going to that concert. Peter was in Philly for two nights. I went both nights. The first night with some close friends. The second night with some die hard fans like myself that I had met in different places, at different times of my life. Both nights are burned into my brain. I remember sitting there unable to take my eyes off the performance. Feeling every word of the lyrics being poured to me as if it were the first time I had heard them. Of course, it wasn’t. Even the new stuff was stored in my memories banks from repeated plays of the current cd. But, there was something about watching that show. I remember leaving the Spectrum both nights thinking that I would never forget what I had seen that weekend. It wasn’t the first time I had seen him perform. But, it was the best I had ever seen him do it. And the music…every part of it…touched my soul in ways I can’t explain. It was two nights in a moment.
Sitting on the couch this morning watching the dvd of the same tour in an Italian city, the reverse déjà vu crept in a bit. The music took me back to those nights in the crowd. That feeling that I was watching and listening to something special, something that would mean so much to me for a very long time, crept back into my brain and nested there. Once the show was over, my guest headed home and I headed to bed. Waking me up was the hatching of the eggs in the nest. The realization of the nagging thoughts exploded into my mind and explained themselves. It was the lyrics. All of them. I sat, fifteen years ago, and watched this man perform lyrics that would explain so much about my present day. And that hair raising feeling took hold.
The show begins with a song called; “Come Talk to Me”.
“I can imagine the moment, breaking out of the silence, all the things that we both might say. And the heart, it will not be denied, til we’re both on the same damn side. All the barriers blown away. I said; please talk to me.”
Have you ever found yourself in a position where you have said all you can say to explain yourself and you are waiting for the return? You just want to hear the heart of someone who means so much. And you know they are scared. You know they are worried about so many things. But, the frustration of seeing them hold on to their true voice because of self created barriers is just maddening. It causes a person to doubt their worth. It causes them to doubt what they see at times. They believe what they feel, the believe that the other person feels it, too. They just know that the unspoken words are tearing into both and all you want to do is be standing there when the flood gates open.
“Steam” is a song that I have found most people don’t understand. It’s a more fast paced song then most of what is normal for Peter…more pop oriented. The lyrics seem strange. He is discussing the attributes of someone…presumed to be a woman…that he is trying desperately to connect with. He is telling her all he knows about her, but little of it is in depth. In the chorus, he says that he needs steam. Steam in this moment is two things…one is heat…the other is the mist, as in a dream, that hides the truth from him.
“Oh yeah, I need steam. Feel the steam around me now. Ah, you’re turning up the heat. I start to dream aloud. See you move your hands and feet. Won’t you step into this cloud of steam. This steam. Give me steam, and how you feel can make it real. Real as anything you’ve seen. Get a life, with this dreamer’s dream.”
He is imploring her to come into the moment with him…into the fog of his dream to make it real.
Peter has used religious images in his songs many times. The early Genesis stuff is covered with it. There are two specific moments of that here. One is a song called, “Blood of Eden”. This song uses the complexity of the first couple to express his own frustrations with life and just how tough it is to hold onto all that means so much.
“At my request, you take me in. In that tenderness, I am floating away. No certainty, nothing to rely on. Holding still, for a moment. What a moment this is. Oh, for a moment of forgetting. A moment of bliss. Heyyyyy. I can hear the distant thunder of a million unheard souls. A million unheard souls. Watch each one reach for creature comforts. For the filling of their holes. In the blood of Eden lie the woman and the man. With the man in the woman and the woman in the man. In the blood of Eden, we wanted the union. Ohh, the union of the woman, the woman and the man.”
This songs is soft, aching in it’s longing for what it knows should be, could be in their “union”. The “unheard souls” is the reference to all those that would come from this first marriage. Their responsibility to all they know seems immense. I know that it may seem to be too much to say that this concept can reflect a situation in the present day. But, I would say that would shortchange our understanding of what we are capable of feeling. If you are in love…if you find yourself completely captured by another…isn’t the responsibility of all that could come a large weight? To think that we can remove the chance for greatness with a slip of the tongue, a stupid act of selfishness, or just a non-action is an awesome responsibility. In a moment, we can take the wrong fruit and banish ourselves from the beauty of the garden we have been lucky to find ourselves in. If only we would have listened to our heart, to our soul, and not thought so much.
The second religious reference in the show comes from a song called “Solsbury Hill”. A song that is in the top five of all time favorites for me. It’s the message that gets me. It’s the meaning behind them that keeps me coming back. They are words that can find you at any point in your life and return you to where you need to be.
“When illusion spins her net, I’m never where I want to be. And liberty, she pirouettes when I think that I am free. Watch my empty silhouettes, who close their eyes but still can see. No one taught them etiquette. I will show another me. Today I don’t need a replacement. I’ll show them what the smile on my face meant. My heart going boom, boom, boom. Hey, I said, you can keep my things, He’s come to take me home”
The “He” here is obviously God. Home, is generally thought to be heaven. I disagree. I believe that “home” is this context is referring to a place of peace. A place of well being. The singer speaks of the ridicule he feared and received for what he believes. In this song, you assume it’s his faith that is being judged. But, the listener…at any moment in his or her life, can make it about what they are carrying. We have all been in situations where the opinions and expressions of others on something that is so important to us can be as hurtful as anything we experience. Even for those of us that normally put little weight in the opinions of others find it hard when what we love so much is attacked or even not recognized. I have fought through a lot of these feelings recently. I have allowed them to create doubts in me. I have allowed them to make me act differently and treat others differently. Those are the days that I forget this message. A message I should probably hear every day.
It’s at this time during our viewing this morning that I started to feel the nagging feeling that I was experiencing this reverse déjà vu moment. I laid on the couch sensing, with the subtleness of a lead pipe to the head, this feeling that something important was happening right in front of me…and it was happening right in front of her. I am not sure she noticed. I know that she is aware of just how special this music is to me. But, I don’t know if she sensed that I have experiencing something pretty profound and didn’t really know how to explain. The dvd continued.
“Washing of the Water” is a song that describes a man desperately trying to right his life. He feels lost in a sea of experiences that have left him feeling completely out of control. Not knowing where to turn. And unable to acquire any kind of footing to right himself. He knows that the water doesn’t really want to hurt him, but his inability to control it has him spinning out of control. He senses that he needs to jettison his past in order to move forward. He feels the weight of the voices in his head that have held him down for so long trying desperately to keep him from his true self, his true happiness.
“Letting go, it’s so hard now to get this love untied. So tough to stay with this thing, ‘cause if I follow through, I face what I denied. I get those hooks out of me and I take out the hooks that I sunk deep into your side. Kill that fear of emptiness, loneliness I hide. River, oh river, river running deep. Bring me something that will let me go to sleep. In the washing of the water will you take it all away? Bring me something to take this pain away.”
The pain referred to here isn’t exactly clear. I want to believe it’s the pain of the destruction his past has caused him. The pain of holding on to meaningless feelings and thoughts that no longer have purpose because he felt it was all he had. He holds on tight to the source with “the hooks I sunk deep into your side”, as an anchor to where he believed he not only began, but ended. He realizes that the only way to wash away all that dirties him is to let the hooks go and allow the source to float away in the current of life that is a natural tonic for healing our heart.
That brings us to the closing numbers. The first, “Secret World”, is a cry for equal care in a situation where the singer feels as if he is alone in his effort to carry the weight of the all that means so much to him. He knows they have closets that they hide their hearts in. He has shown his, but feels he is still being denied an understanding of what he thinks he sees. The “Secret World” he refers to is the accumulation of the “luggage” of our lives that we hide the more tender parts of ourselves in, to keep them safe. The problem is that in doing so, we allow them to waste away and if they are not seen…not used…they can be forgotten.
“In this house of make believe, divided in two like Adam and Eve. You put out and I receive. Down by the railway siding, in our secret world we were colliding, with all the places we were hiding love. What was it we were thinking of? Oh, the wheel is turning, spinning round and round. And the house is crumbling, but the stairways sound. With no guilt, no shame, no sorrow, no pain. Whatever it is, we are all the same. Making it up in our secret world. Shaking it up. Breaking it up. Making it up, in our secret world.”
His frustration and anger explodes in the end of the song, telling her that he fears that he has seen things that were not there. The truth is, they were there. But, the luggage kept them locked away. Brief glimpses past the lids held him in place. He is telling her he needs more than just a glimpse.
The show ends with, what is in my opinion, the greatest love song known to man. “In your Eyes” is an explosion of emotion…a joyous celebration of love felt, of love given, of love returned. The singer has reached a moment of complete release of all that has held him back. He has discarded all that has hindered him and is telling the world not only of his love, but the depth of it…the completeness of it. He is coming clean for the first time in his life with, not only for himself, but for anyone that will listen.
“Love, I get so lost sometimes. Days past and this emptiness fills my heart. When I want to run away, I drive off in my car, but whichever way I go, I come back to the place you are. And all my instincts, well they return. And the grande façade, so soon will burn. Without noise. Without my pride, I reach out from the inside. In your eyes, the light, the heat. In your eyes, I am complete. In your eyes, I see the doorway to a thousand churches, your eyes, the resolution of all the fruitless searches. In your eyes, I see the light, the heat, In your eyes, oh, I want to be that complete. I want to touch the heat I see in your eyes.”
I am truly not sure that it gets better than that. I don’t know what else there is to say to anyone to show them what they mean to you. The fact that this is the last song of the show is not an accident of set list. Peter is using this expression of joy to show that through all that he has expressed already…all of the ugliness he has seen…all of the frustration that he has endured….he comes out the other side so completely in love that he compares it to finding “the doorway to a thousand churches”. He is willing to remove the mask that he has lived with forever and show his real self…his real heart. Unashamed. Unwavering in his commitment.
Waking up this afternoon with the realization that what occurred to me 15 years ago was a moment of preview. At the time, I was just out of my first marriage…a mistake that haunted me for a very long time. I was bitter and angry with God and the world. I was sober. But, I was not as humble as my sober brothers and sisters would have liked. I remember sitting through that second night of shows feeling this tapping on my heart…as if it were trying to tell me that I needed not only to listen, not only to hear, but to feel what I was experiencing in this crowded auditorium. Take in every word. Because they were important. Because there was a message there.
I felt the understanding of that tapping this morning. Sitting with an amazing friend, I realized that the words were coming back to me, tapping me…asking me if I remembered that they told me I would be here. I am here. I am standing at the end of the show, all my luggage out…all the washing done, I have turned in the things I no longer need and I am finding peace. I have talked to her and she has talked to me. And I have seen her heart. And because of that, I stand here…screaming to the world…that I get it now. Why it was so important for me to show this to her. Because, I stand here now…telling all…she is here. And in her, I see all that I am. All that I want to be. And all that we can be. I see that this life of looking for peace of mind, heart, and soul is over.
Peter, thank you. For the music. For the talent. And for the tapping on an old, bitter heart in Philly, 15 years ago.
Monday, September 20, 2010
If Only
Filling the hours without you
Gets harder all the time
I grasp memories to fill the void
Pictures in my mind
It always comes back to one thing
A simple act, a gesture really
That fills my heart with warmth
And allows the moment to pass
I see it in my waking moments
I dream it when I sleep
The sight of it explodes on me
Like fireworks in July
I search for it when you are near
And it never seems to fail
To bring joy to this battered soul
And take my breath away
I only wonder what could be better
Than the sight of it so bright
What could send my heart raising
What could bring such delight
And then it hits me
The idea that could surpass it all
To think that your smile is there
And if only I was the cause
Gets harder all the time
I grasp memories to fill the void
Pictures in my mind
It always comes back to one thing
A simple act, a gesture really
That fills my heart with warmth
And allows the moment to pass
I see it in my waking moments
I dream it when I sleep
The sight of it explodes on me
Like fireworks in July
I search for it when you are near
And it never seems to fail
To bring joy to this battered soul
And take my breath away
I only wonder what could be better
Than the sight of it so bright
What could send my heart raising
What could bring such delight
And then it hits me
The idea that could surpass it all
To think that your smile is there
And if only I was the cause
Working it all out!
I need to begin this with a bit of introduction. I was discussing an author just the other day who’s books have had a big influence on my faith. Now, this is not going to be a discussion on theology. The reason for this explanation will be clear. His name is Frank Peretti. The book that we were discussing is called “This Present Darkness”. The story revolves around a small town, Ashton, that finds itself under siege by the demons at Satan’s disposal. I explained how these demons worked on the townspeople to enslave them in their own shortcomings and insecurities.
For the last day or so, I have thought about this book and it’s plot a great deal. I understand that it is fiction. But, I believe that the last month has proven to me just how possible some of this may be. Sometimes, our truth can be found in the strangest of places. Mine was discovered recently in the thoughts of this book and it’s possibilities in my life.
In the book, the demons that are sent out are specific to the people they attack and the circumstances that they find themselves in. For instance, a woman who is insecure about her marriage is pummeled by the demon known as “Jealousy” and his companion, “Anger”. These attacks, left uncontested, ravage the emotional and mental state of this poor woman until she does things that she never believed herself possible to do. Others in the town are attacked in similar ways, causing a great divide in the faith of the town as well as the peace of mind of those whose faith is strong enough to protect them from these evil minions.
What does this have to do with me?
Well, you see, for the last month, a natural emotion…grief…has opened the door for similar minions to take their best shots at me. I have felt their wrath before in my life. I have even allowed them to beat me on more then occasion. I had thought that I had learned from those situations and had vowed to always be prepared and to never put myself in a position for any kind of surprise attack. We walk through our lives knowing that there will be moments that will test us and that these attacks will come. But, the attacks that we see coming are so much easier to prepare for. Those of us with faith fall back to that as a source of strength. We also try to remember who we are, the strengths that we naturally possess and use them to keep from bending. I had forgotten these.
In my grief, I lost a large part of myself. I lost that part that knew deep inside that I had the ability to get through all this pain and come out the other side intact. The demon of “doubt” surely worked overtime on me. He also brought a friend…”guilt”. My guilt was based on a lot of things. Of being alive. Of not being there when I so desperately needed to be. Of not feeling as if I had done enough to prevent something that I had no way of preventing. And the biggest one of all, the guilt of being so over the top happy about something in my life while my friend was drawing his final breaths. I had an inner struggle that did it’s best to tear down all that I stood for. The battle was on and I was losing.
When those two had weakened me to a significant point, more of their friends joined the fight. “Self pity” clamped it’s talons into my brain and began to destroy the inner voice in my head. It was trying so hard to take away my voice. It turned my words into bitter and ugly statements of my weaknesses. I am ashamed of what occurred here. I am ashamed of what I allowed this little bastard to do to me. I am ashamed of how it affected others.
Weakened even more, “fear” and “bitterness” crept in to finish the job. I became afraid of my ability to believe what I was seeing. I started to think that I was being treated unfairly. I became bitter to the point of wanting to shutdown completely. To return to a state of mind that I had fought so hard to shed not so long ago. I thought that it was my only way out. My only way to protect myself from the pain that I was feeling. I have spent the last month separating myself from those that care about me. I have allowed myself to believe that there had to be some agenda. That I was being made to look foolish.
In a way I was right. There was an agenda. But, it was one of my own making. I was a fool. But, only because of my own actions.
What I had allowed to be forgotten was just what these little hounds of hell where trying so hard to steal from me. Not just my faith in God. Not just my faith in others. But, my faith in myself. In what I believed. In what I felt. In the love that I was carrying in my heart. There is no demon named “love”. “Hate”? Sure. But, not “Love”. Love is their enemy. But, in the weakness of grief, they went after it and tried so very hard to take it from me. And they damn near succeeded.
It was the realization that it was all slipping away that brought me back to myself. It was the recognition that I had allowed these ugly parts of our own human nature to rip me apart enough to make me unrecognizable to those that know me best, that brought me to a moment of awareness. I realized that these “demons” come in all shapes and sizes. They try so very hard to feed your mind and heart with misinformation, negativity, and meaningless drivel that you have a very hard time seeing the truth of the matter. You have a hard time clawing through the foliage of their camouflage to recognize what is real and what is not. I almost got lost. Almost.
I did gain one perspective from all this that I didn’t realize had been lost. I saw my self-worth. I regained a bit of backbone. And in a moment that was as tough as any I have experienced, I stood up for myself and I walked away. I walked just far enough to be seen again. I know that it was painful for all involved, but I know in my heart that it needed to be done. I had to take some sort of stand or I wasn’t going to recover from the damage these demons had done. And I learned a lot from this stand. I learned a great deal about myself. About the strength of my character. And how, in the end, the only person who can really let me down is me.
I know there may be a few of you that have missed a great part of the last couple of paragraphs because you are hung up on one word…love. Yeah, I said it. I will also say that it still lives. And it has been a huge part of the recovery from this attack on my soul then almost anything else. Understand, the fight for it has been tough, but it’s a fight I would go through over and over again because of just how precious it is. There have been those who have doubted. There are those that have tried to tempt me away from it. They have failed. And for that, I stand here, completely captured by all that I feel. And I have no fear. I have no doubt. I am completely full of trust.
In say all this, I need to take this time to apologize those I have shut out. I never meant for it to happen. I value my friendships more than you may realize. I just lost sight of where my true self exists. It lives in my friendships. It lives in those relationships that mean so much to me. I apologize to Rhonda and Shawn, who have done nothing but try to inspire me and show me that nothing in this life is impossible. I apologize to George, who’s unselfish concern for my well being has me ashamed of what little I have given over the last month. I apologize to my room mates, who have had to watch in silence as I have battled through this, unable, at times, to hide my despair. I am sorry. I apologize to Carmen, probably the best friend I have right now, who, in his understated way, has been my biggest supporter and confidant. I apologize to those who have had to work with this human mood swing over the course of the last few weeks. I will try to do much better from now on.
And most importantly, I apologize to you. I apologize for making a difficult situation harder. I know that you have said that it is natural for someone to lose someone so important and have a difficult time dealing with it. I know that you have said that nothing I have done is out of the ordinary. But, I know that isn’t completely true. I know that I have allowed these demons to beat me up pretty good and in so doing, I have shared that pain with you. I never meant for that to happen. I wish I could go back and take it all away. But, there is something that I learned from all this. There is something more important than anything that I have gained from all that has happened these past few weeks. I struggled so hard to work through the grief and fight for something that others had said would never happen. I waged a war within myself to see what would win…faith or surrender. I did as much to tear myself apart as any demon’s work could do.
And you are still here.
And that is not the only reason, but it’s an important reason….of why I am so very…well, you know.
For the last day or so, I have thought about this book and it’s plot a great deal. I understand that it is fiction. But, I believe that the last month has proven to me just how possible some of this may be. Sometimes, our truth can be found in the strangest of places. Mine was discovered recently in the thoughts of this book and it’s possibilities in my life.
In the book, the demons that are sent out are specific to the people they attack and the circumstances that they find themselves in. For instance, a woman who is insecure about her marriage is pummeled by the demon known as “Jealousy” and his companion, “Anger”. These attacks, left uncontested, ravage the emotional and mental state of this poor woman until she does things that she never believed herself possible to do. Others in the town are attacked in similar ways, causing a great divide in the faith of the town as well as the peace of mind of those whose faith is strong enough to protect them from these evil minions.
What does this have to do with me?
Well, you see, for the last month, a natural emotion…grief…has opened the door for similar minions to take their best shots at me. I have felt their wrath before in my life. I have even allowed them to beat me on more then occasion. I had thought that I had learned from those situations and had vowed to always be prepared and to never put myself in a position for any kind of surprise attack. We walk through our lives knowing that there will be moments that will test us and that these attacks will come. But, the attacks that we see coming are so much easier to prepare for. Those of us with faith fall back to that as a source of strength. We also try to remember who we are, the strengths that we naturally possess and use them to keep from bending. I had forgotten these.
In my grief, I lost a large part of myself. I lost that part that knew deep inside that I had the ability to get through all this pain and come out the other side intact. The demon of “doubt” surely worked overtime on me. He also brought a friend…”guilt”. My guilt was based on a lot of things. Of being alive. Of not being there when I so desperately needed to be. Of not feeling as if I had done enough to prevent something that I had no way of preventing. And the biggest one of all, the guilt of being so over the top happy about something in my life while my friend was drawing his final breaths. I had an inner struggle that did it’s best to tear down all that I stood for. The battle was on and I was losing.
When those two had weakened me to a significant point, more of their friends joined the fight. “Self pity” clamped it’s talons into my brain and began to destroy the inner voice in my head. It was trying so hard to take away my voice. It turned my words into bitter and ugly statements of my weaknesses. I am ashamed of what occurred here. I am ashamed of what I allowed this little bastard to do to me. I am ashamed of how it affected others.
Weakened even more, “fear” and “bitterness” crept in to finish the job. I became afraid of my ability to believe what I was seeing. I started to think that I was being treated unfairly. I became bitter to the point of wanting to shutdown completely. To return to a state of mind that I had fought so hard to shed not so long ago. I thought that it was my only way out. My only way to protect myself from the pain that I was feeling. I have spent the last month separating myself from those that care about me. I have allowed myself to believe that there had to be some agenda. That I was being made to look foolish.
In a way I was right. There was an agenda. But, it was one of my own making. I was a fool. But, only because of my own actions.
What I had allowed to be forgotten was just what these little hounds of hell where trying so hard to steal from me. Not just my faith in God. Not just my faith in others. But, my faith in myself. In what I believed. In what I felt. In the love that I was carrying in my heart. There is no demon named “love”. “Hate”? Sure. But, not “Love”. Love is their enemy. But, in the weakness of grief, they went after it and tried so very hard to take it from me. And they damn near succeeded.
It was the realization that it was all slipping away that brought me back to myself. It was the recognition that I had allowed these ugly parts of our own human nature to rip me apart enough to make me unrecognizable to those that know me best, that brought me to a moment of awareness. I realized that these “demons” come in all shapes and sizes. They try so very hard to feed your mind and heart with misinformation, negativity, and meaningless drivel that you have a very hard time seeing the truth of the matter. You have a hard time clawing through the foliage of their camouflage to recognize what is real and what is not. I almost got lost. Almost.
I did gain one perspective from all this that I didn’t realize had been lost. I saw my self-worth. I regained a bit of backbone. And in a moment that was as tough as any I have experienced, I stood up for myself and I walked away. I walked just far enough to be seen again. I know that it was painful for all involved, but I know in my heart that it needed to be done. I had to take some sort of stand or I wasn’t going to recover from the damage these demons had done. And I learned a lot from this stand. I learned a great deal about myself. About the strength of my character. And how, in the end, the only person who can really let me down is me.
I know there may be a few of you that have missed a great part of the last couple of paragraphs because you are hung up on one word…love. Yeah, I said it. I will also say that it still lives. And it has been a huge part of the recovery from this attack on my soul then almost anything else. Understand, the fight for it has been tough, but it’s a fight I would go through over and over again because of just how precious it is. There have been those who have doubted. There are those that have tried to tempt me away from it. They have failed. And for that, I stand here, completely captured by all that I feel. And I have no fear. I have no doubt. I am completely full of trust.
In say all this, I need to take this time to apologize those I have shut out. I never meant for it to happen. I value my friendships more than you may realize. I just lost sight of where my true self exists. It lives in my friendships. It lives in those relationships that mean so much to me. I apologize to Rhonda and Shawn, who have done nothing but try to inspire me and show me that nothing in this life is impossible. I apologize to George, who’s unselfish concern for my well being has me ashamed of what little I have given over the last month. I apologize to my room mates, who have had to watch in silence as I have battled through this, unable, at times, to hide my despair. I am sorry. I apologize to Carmen, probably the best friend I have right now, who, in his understated way, has been my biggest supporter and confidant. I apologize to those who have had to work with this human mood swing over the course of the last few weeks. I will try to do much better from now on.
And most importantly, I apologize to you. I apologize for making a difficult situation harder. I know that you have said that it is natural for someone to lose someone so important and have a difficult time dealing with it. I know that you have said that nothing I have done is out of the ordinary. But, I know that isn’t completely true. I know that I have allowed these demons to beat me up pretty good and in so doing, I have shared that pain with you. I never meant for that to happen. I wish I could go back and take it all away. But, there is something that I learned from all this. There is something more important than anything that I have gained from all that has happened these past few weeks. I struggled so hard to work through the grief and fight for something that others had said would never happen. I waged a war within myself to see what would win…faith or surrender. I did as much to tear myself apart as any demon’s work could do.
And you are still here.
And that is not the only reason, but it’s an important reason….of why I am so very…well, you know.
Friday, September 10, 2010
One Morning's Conversation with Self
Staring into the steamy mirror, he raises his head and addresses himself.
“Am I losing you, young man?”
“The chances are strong.”
With a hand to each side of the mirror, he reaches out and leans against the wall beyond the sink. Looking up again, he stares long into his own eyes and takes into account all he sees. Glancing from side to side, he spots it.
A simple piece of rubber and twine. Black in color. Not worth more than a few cents at the market, it means the world to him. He takes a deep breath and stifles the sobs that lie just below the surface. He can’t seem to take his eyes away from the simple band.
Looking back into the mirror, he sees the depth of what he feels lying just below the glint in his eyes that he uses to hide the pain. It doesn’t always work and he knows it. It sometimes becomes hard for him to carry all he has. He knows that it’s not the most anyone has ever carried. But, it’s the most he ever has. And sometimes that weight wears on him. And he fails to cover up all that boils just below the surface. It’s those times that the simple band comes into play.
He pops it on his wrist and uses that pain to redirect his mind. It’s a Pavlovian attempt at reminding himself to remember the good in his life. In those moments when the darkness falls so heavy, the band seems to be the only thing that brings the light back. That, and where it came from.
He allows his mind to go back just seven days. A moment of deep grief that had him devastated beyond his ability to understand. He had completely lost the aura of himself in the great nature of his loss. In that moment of loneliness, a special person broke through. She barely said a word, knowing that words were not necessary. She cradled him and held on to him tightly, trying so very hard to remind him that he was still important, that he still had friends who cared so much for him. He normally has a very tough time accepting this kind of attention. He has spent a life time hearing that wasn’t worthy of anything like that. Unwilling to give as much, he rarely received.
“She cares about you, stupid. What more did you expect?”
The answer couldn’t come. It existed, he just couldn’t say them. In times of weakness, he just couldn’t bare them. He lowered his eyes and stared into the sink, his mind traveling back those seven days again.
Hours of comfort helped him more than she will ever realize. As the time for her to leave approached, he feared letting her go. He knew it wasn’t permanent. But, what he was learning is that with all the permanent losses in his life, it was the temporary ones that were hurting him most. And he knew that this one was going to be as hard as any he had ever experienced. She was becoming his lifeline to himself. She probably didn’t realize that she had signed up for the job. No one ever does. But, finding herself there, she rose to the occasion. Her sympathy, grace, and inner beauty had acted as a bandaid, covering the open wound in his heart and gave him hours of peace he didn’t think was possible. He just didn’t want it to end. He just didn’t want to let it go. He feared the silence that the loss of her breathing would provide when she walked out that door. The vacuum that would be created when he could no longer feel her heart beat. When those eyes would no longer be close enough to help him find a way out.
He spotted it on her wrist about an hour or so before she left. He still isn’t sure why he asked. It’s not his way to want to take from anyone. He just couldn’t stop himself.
“Can I have that?”
She quickly agreed. Probably not sure why she was asked. Who would want something that can be bought for a dollar a dozen? He would. It was hers. It was a part of her. He placed it on his wrist and brought his hands to his face to hide the dread in his eyes. Her scent hit him. Filled his senses and lifted his spirit. The band was covered in it. Such a small thing, to have so much.
After she left, he crawled onto the couch for a couple of days. As a matter of fact, except when working, it’s pretty much where he spent all his time. It’s where she had been last. He just kept lying there trying to feel her embrace again. When his heart would swell with sorrow, he would pull on the band and allow it to snap to his skin. The pain would bring his mind back around and give him something to focus on instead of the pain in his soul. Those snaps saved him. Those snaps kept him from being swallowed up in the river of grief that threatened to wash over him. He used it to keep his head above the water. Allowed him the chance to reach deep down and take a cleansing breath. Sometimes it was enough to bring him back to himself. Sometimes it just got his head above the waves.
He placed it on his left wrist. Closest to his heart. He wanted it to be where he could see it when he needed to, but close to his center to feed it with the courage and strength it promised him. A few have asked about it, wondering why he would have it. He doesn’t try to explain. Doesn’t think they would understand. They would make it something that it wasn’t. Some lame attempt to hold onto a dream that was never going come true. He didn’t see it that way. He saw it as the continuation of the comfort she provided her friend. He saw it as a piece of something more beautiful than anything in his life. The friendship that had been born meant more to him than he could ever explain. More than even he was willing to admit to himself in times of longing for her. He knows, in his right mind, he would do nothing to risk it. No matter his heart. No matter the love he carried inside. The friendship was too valuable to put in the pot and risk on the roll of the dice. He still could feel this small, numbered cubes in his hands. And the temptation to throw them was strong. But, he held onto them. Forcing himself to see the bigger picture. Forcing himself to remember what was best. He knew that what he felt was never going to leave him. But, he also knew that he had to carry that on his own. And he would. For her. For her grace. For that, the dice remain stilled. The toss never made.
After many showers, the scent is gone. He just couldn’t remove it. He feels it would be like letting go of the lifeline that keeps him afloat. His thinking is that in using this small piece of her, he won’t apply more pressure to their friendship than it can stand. Although she tells him she won’t let him fall, he doesn’t want to risk the chance that his needs could do anything to destroy what fate has brought to him. He realizes the gift. One that he is grateful for. In this moment, he senses her thoughts…knowing that somewhere…in this moment…she thinks of him. She worries for him. And he feels the emotion start to rise again.
Leaving the bathroom, he snaps the band again. No pain to remove this time. No grief to force back that would allow him to face the day. Simply to remember and feel the warmth again. And with that in his heart, he continues.
“Am I losing you, young man?”
“The chances are strong.”
With a hand to each side of the mirror, he reaches out and leans against the wall beyond the sink. Looking up again, he stares long into his own eyes and takes into account all he sees. Glancing from side to side, he spots it.
A simple piece of rubber and twine. Black in color. Not worth more than a few cents at the market, it means the world to him. He takes a deep breath and stifles the sobs that lie just below the surface. He can’t seem to take his eyes away from the simple band.
Looking back into the mirror, he sees the depth of what he feels lying just below the glint in his eyes that he uses to hide the pain. It doesn’t always work and he knows it. It sometimes becomes hard for him to carry all he has. He knows that it’s not the most anyone has ever carried. But, it’s the most he ever has. And sometimes that weight wears on him. And he fails to cover up all that boils just below the surface. It’s those times that the simple band comes into play.
He pops it on his wrist and uses that pain to redirect his mind. It’s a Pavlovian attempt at reminding himself to remember the good in his life. In those moments when the darkness falls so heavy, the band seems to be the only thing that brings the light back. That, and where it came from.
He allows his mind to go back just seven days. A moment of deep grief that had him devastated beyond his ability to understand. He had completely lost the aura of himself in the great nature of his loss. In that moment of loneliness, a special person broke through. She barely said a word, knowing that words were not necessary. She cradled him and held on to him tightly, trying so very hard to remind him that he was still important, that he still had friends who cared so much for him. He normally has a very tough time accepting this kind of attention. He has spent a life time hearing that wasn’t worthy of anything like that. Unwilling to give as much, he rarely received.
“She cares about you, stupid. What more did you expect?”
The answer couldn’t come. It existed, he just couldn’t say them. In times of weakness, he just couldn’t bare them. He lowered his eyes and stared into the sink, his mind traveling back those seven days again.
Hours of comfort helped him more than she will ever realize. As the time for her to leave approached, he feared letting her go. He knew it wasn’t permanent. But, what he was learning is that with all the permanent losses in his life, it was the temporary ones that were hurting him most. And he knew that this one was going to be as hard as any he had ever experienced. She was becoming his lifeline to himself. She probably didn’t realize that she had signed up for the job. No one ever does. But, finding herself there, she rose to the occasion. Her sympathy, grace, and inner beauty had acted as a bandaid, covering the open wound in his heart and gave him hours of peace he didn’t think was possible. He just didn’t want it to end. He just didn’t want to let it go. He feared the silence that the loss of her breathing would provide when she walked out that door. The vacuum that would be created when he could no longer feel her heart beat. When those eyes would no longer be close enough to help him find a way out.
He spotted it on her wrist about an hour or so before she left. He still isn’t sure why he asked. It’s not his way to want to take from anyone. He just couldn’t stop himself.
“Can I have that?”
She quickly agreed. Probably not sure why she was asked. Who would want something that can be bought for a dollar a dozen? He would. It was hers. It was a part of her. He placed it on his wrist and brought his hands to his face to hide the dread in his eyes. Her scent hit him. Filled his senses and lifted his spirit. The band was covered in it. Such a small thing, to have so much.
After she left, he crawled onto the couch for a couple of days. As a matter of fact, except when working, it’s pretty much where he spent all his time. It’s where she had been last. He just kept lying there trying to feel her embrace again. When his heart would swell with sorrow, he would pull on the band and allow it to snap to his skin. The pain would bring his mind back around and give him something to focus on instead of the pain in his soul. Those snaps saved him. Those snaps kept him from being swallowed up in the river of grief that threatened to wash over him. He used it to keep his head above the water. Allowed him the chance to reach deep down and take a cleansing breath. Sometimes it was enough to bring him back to himself. Sometimes it just got his head above the waves.
He placed it on his left wrist. Closest to his heart. He wanted it to be where he could see it when he needed to, but close to his center to feed it with the courage and strength it promised him. A few have asked about it, wondering why he would have it. He doesn’t try to explain. Doesn’t think they would understand. They would make it something that it wasn’t. Some lame attempt to hold onto a dream that was never going come true. He didn’t see it that way. He saw it as the continuation of the comfort she provided her friend. He saw it as a piece of something more beautiful than anything in his life. The friendship that had been born meant more to him than he could ever explain. More than even he was willing to admit to himself in times of longing for her. He knows, in his right mind, he would do nothing to risk it. No matter his heart. No matter the love he carried inside. The friendship was too valuable to put in the pot and risk on the roll of the dice. He still could feel this small, numbered cubes in his hands. And the temptation to throw them was strong. But, he held onto them. Forcing himself to see the bigger picture. Forcing himself to remember what was best. He knew that what he felt was never going to leave him. But, he also knew that he had to carry that on his own. And he would. For her. For her grace. For that, the dice remain stilled. The toss never made.
After many showers, the scent is gone. He just couldn’t remove it. He feels it would be like letting go of the lifeline that keeps him afloat. His thinking is that in using this small piece of her, he won’t apply more pressure to their friendship than it can stand. Although she tells him she won’t let him fall, he doesn’t want to risk the chance that his needs could do anything to destroy what fate has brought to him. He realizes the gift. One that he is grateful for. In this moment, he senses her thoughts…knowing that somewhere…in this moment…she thinks of him. She worries for him. And he feels the emotion start to rise again.
Leaving the bathroom, he snaps the band again. No pain to remove this time. No grief to force back that would allow him to face the day. Simply to remember and feel the warmth again. And with that in his heart, he continues.
Monday, September 6, 2010
I'll make not a sound
My voice is raw, chords are tired
The sweet notes that have carried me
Are roughened by the strain
Taking into account, the audience of one
To suffer any longer
Would bring only pain
I’ll make not a sound
The lyrics carried hope, vision of a dream
Viewed by only one
Who’s heart could not seem real
The words told all the story
That never seemed to end
If only for a love to steal
I’ll make not a sound
Lessons failed to show, hidden by denial
The trappings of an ego
Making sure to only fail
It calls to me, this siren’s voice
Alarms of warning so strong
The weight about to tip the scale
I’ll make not a sound
So much time wasted, preparing for a stand
To reach out a voice of passion
To allow the courage room to take hold
I follow the strength, but it leaves me here
Left behind is emptiness
It’s touch so familiar and so very cold
Filling me with loneliness
I’ll make not a sound
With no need to look any further, I turn my eyes away
No need to show all this
Through the connection I can’t maintain
When all else can be a rock, they only give me away
Arias pour from them
Their voice as loud as mine
I’ll make not a sound
No need to worry, it will be tucked away
A secret that is ours alone
Will fail to ever see the light of day
While it is my greatest possession, hidden it shall stay
I know you can’t bare the thought
Of all they just might say
So, I’ll make not a sound
The sweet notes that have carried me
Are roughened by the strain
Taking into account, the audience of one
To suffer any longer
Would bring only pain
I’ll make not a sound
The lyrics carried hope, vision of a dream
Viewed by only one
Who’s heart could not seem real
The words told all the story
That never seemed to end
If only for a love to steal
I’ll make not a sound
Lessons failed to show, hidden by denial
The trappings of an ego
Making sure to only fail
It calls to me, this siren’s voice
Alarms of warning so strong
The weight about to tip the scale
I’ll make not a sound
So much time wasted, preparing for a stand
To reach out a voice of passion
To allow the courage room to take hold
I follow the strength, but it leaves me here
Left behind is emptiness
It’s touch so familiar and so very cold
Filling me with loneliness
I’ll make not a sound
With no need to look any further, I turn my eyes away
No need to show all this
Through the connection I can’t maintain
When all else can be a rock, they only give me away
Arias pour from them
Their voice as loud as mine
I’ll make not a sound
No need to worry, it will be tucked away
A secret that is ours alone
Will fail to ever see the light of day
While it is my greatest possession, hidden it shall stay
I know you can’t bare the thought
Of all they just might say
So, I’ll make not a sound
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Discovery
In life, we sometimes focus on our losses more than our gains. These times of negative contemplation tend to occur during great moments of stress. The stress can come from anywhere. And usually they are self created. At least for me. I am a giant fan of worrying over things I cannot control. This is not a virtue. It can be debilitating at times. Taking our mind’s focus away from those positives that present themselves to us everyday.
We have all suffered loss of one form or another. It is a foolish person who believes that we will get through this short stay in the here and now without having some form of loss. I have had my few. I have lost a child. I have had my parental position of step-children stripped from me. In the last twelve months, I have lost two very close friends to the evil disease of cancer, of one form or another. I have lost friends who misunderstood my position in the world or due to my misunderstanding of theirs. And my childhood was one of a great many loses, some discussed here and others that I just can’t bear to relate. This all is leaving out the complete devastation of two marriages and a family dynamic that has led us all to a place of non-communication.
In the last few weeks I have been dealing with the most uncomfortable and confusing situation of my life. After dropping my guard and opening up to show my heart, I allowed my hopes and dreams to make an amazing situation very difficult for another person to deal with. I focused on myself. I, trying so very hard not be selfish, thought only of my wants and not the things that were important to another. Add to this, the last two weeks of phone calls and text messages from my oldest friend reporting on his health deterioration and his death this morning. This situation added emotional upheaval to a situation that was on it’s head already. The strain of being pulled in these directions at the same time has taken their toll. And others have suffered for it.
When caught up in these moments, one of the first loses we have is to the understanding that our suffering effects others. From our closest friends, to those that we may not have realized held such concern for us, our daily outward portrait causes concern and strain for all of them. The first lesson I have learned is to make sure to take a moment to thank those we may oversee for their heart reaching out to us. When hearing that someone was concerned, I took a moment yesterday to let her know that I was okay. I hope she knows how much I am in awe of that concern. What I realized is, that without even trying, we touch people’s lives…if only for a moment…and change their aura. Those moments are small miracles…gifts…of basic human emotion…love for another…that we must never take for granted. I have been doing that. I will do my best not to do that again. The problem is, that there are those of us that carry concern and heartfelt attention for all of those in our lives. But, we tend to be the ones who fail to see our own ability to receive the same concern. The same love. We don’t feel we deserve it. So, we never take the time to realize it’s there. When we do that, we shut our those that only have our best interests at heart. The answer is to remember, that in times of stress, sadness, and grief…as long as we have friends, we are never alone. And we should never be.
The honest, unselfish nature of friendship, true friendship has completely blown me away in the last 72 hours or so. It really shined it’s brilliance on me very early this morning. Upon being told the news of my grief, my friend got out of bed and came to me…to comfort me…to remind me that I am not alone…during a very lonely period of time. Didn’t have to be asked. Was never in question. Just came and did what comes naturally. I have no way to repay it. I pray that I will never find my friend in the same position that I was in this morning…and the last few days…but, if they did, I hope they know that I would be there…wherever there would happen to be…without a moment’s hesitation. Not a repayment. Not something owed. Just what I would have to do. In moments of grief, when we tend to want to run away from everyone and everything in our lives, human contact…touch…is most important. To remind us we still feel and that others still feel us. I pray, that as my life continues on, that I will never forget this lesson. I know that I will never forget the gesture. I have made sure that I never will…by taking something that I will keep in a place within my vision as long as it will last. And, every time…every time…I see it in it’s place…I will be reminded that I am loved.
Memories have flooded me the last few days. Twenty-six years is a very long time to gather those memories. Some are brilliant in their happiness and joy. Others are wrenching in their sadness and struggle. Have been fortunate enough to share some of those recently. I have a million of them. But, I know that they may only be special or even interesting to me, because of my place in them. Just know that for every one that can break your heart, Mike and I have dozens that would bring tears of happiness…and in some cases….even envy to your eyes. If we were to arrange to share any words on the markers that will note our final resting places, those words would be; “Together, they lived. They truly lived!” Thanks to phone calls prior to his hospitalization, I had the opportunity to thank my friend for every one of those moments. I can honestly tell you that I would not be the person I am today if not for this man. I would not have experienced a recent return to myself if it wasn’t for his encouragement and belief in me. While hiding his illness from me, he spent hours of his last days on this Earth trying desperately to bring back the friend he used to know, who allowed life to kick him so hard that he stopped seeing the sunlight…the stars. He telepathically grabbed my hand and pulled, placed a hand on my back and shoved, and wrapped his arms around me and comforted me out of the hole I had lived in. And he did it all to save me. He knew, somewhere deep inside, that if I didn’t move…if I didn’t save myself…open up…I would never survive what happened this morning. I believe that part of him did it out of some guilt over a lost relationship so many years ago that he felt he helped destroy. But, the other part was that he knew just how hard I would take this moment when it came and he wanted to make sure that I allowed someone to step in when he wouldn’t be able to do it anymore. I realized this just this morning. Staring at a small black band. I realized all that he did. Like a boy scout, being prepared…and preparing me…for what he knew was coming. In my heart , I know, that somewhere above the stars, my friend saw me in my suffering this morning…wrapped in the love of my friend…and he smiled, the smile of a man who has done what needed to be done…and did it well. The perfect choice.
Twenty-six years, a lifetime for some of you. I guess that can make all this very hard to fathom. Think this way…if your age falls even or less than that number, the only people you could possibly really know that long would be parents and siblings. I am not short changing that relationship. But, for a friendship to endure those years and still be in a place that ours was at a little after four this morning…there has to be a connection that overshadows family commitment. There is a bond… a link that goes unsaid, but is apparent to anyone who has the opportunity to see it in action. I am fifty years old. The chance that I will ever have a relationship in my life that lasts that long are slim. In my life, this is “the” friendship. I know this. I understand it. And I am comfortable with it. I will not measure anything against it, because that would be like trying to compare any light source to the sun. It’s just never going to be a fair fight. But, that does not mean that new friendships…just beginning friendships…can’t be as important…can’t be as touching…can’t be just has healing to our hearts and souls. We only have to have the courage to embrace them…to nurture them….to respect them…and to never fail them. I vow to make sure I work as hard on those relationships as I did on this one. Because, in the end….our friends…our feelings for them…and theirs for us…and those unselfish acts of kindness that we don’t have to think about….that is a true measure of our success.
I am discovering…through loss…and gain…through understanding…and by stepping back…that my success is high. I have been given amazing people in my life that have done their best through random acts of kindness…by making sure I never felt alone…reaching out to me when I was looking for a hand to remind me that I am still here…still alive…and still loved. And, for that, I weep. Today….I weep.
We have all suffered loss of one form or another. It is a foolish person who believes that we will get through this short stay in the here and now without having some form of loss. I have had my few. I have lost a child. I have had my parental position of step-children stripped from me. In the last twelve months, I have lost two very close friends to the evil disease of cancer, of one form or another. I have lost friends who misunderstood my position in the world or due to my misunderstanding of theirs. And my childhood was one of a great many loses, some discussed here and others that I just can’t bear to relate. This all is leaving out the complete devastation of two marriages and a family dynamic that has led us all to a place of non-communication.
In the last few weeks I have been dealing with the most uncomfortable and confusing situation of my life. After dropping my guard and opening up to show my heart, I allowed my hopes and dreams to make an amazing situation very difficult for another person to deal with. I focused on myself. I, trying so very hard not be selfish, thought only of my wants and not the things that were important to another. Add to this, the last two weeks of phone calls and text messages from my oldest friend reporting on his health deterioration and his death this morning. This situation added emotional upheaval to a situation that was on it’s head already. The strain of being pulled in these directions at the same time has taken their toll. And others have suffered for it.
When caught up in these moments, one of the first loses we have is to the understanding that our suffering effects others. From our closest friends, to those that we may not have realized held such concern for us, our daily outward portrait causes concern and strain for all of them. The first lesson I have learned is to make sure to take a moment to thank those we may oversee for their heart reaching out to us. When hearing that someone was concerned, I took a moment yesterday to let her know that I was okay. I hope she knows how much I am in awe of that concern. What I realized is, that without even trying, we touch people’s lives…if only for a moment…and change their aura. Those moments are small miracles…gifts…of basic human emotion…love for another…that we must never take for granted. I have been doing that. I will do my best not to do that again. The problem is, that there are those of us that carry concern and heartfelt attention for all of those in our lives. But, we tend to be the ones who fail to see our own ability to receive the same concern. The same love. We don’t feel we deserve it. So, we never take the time to realize it’s there. When we do that, we shut our those that only have our best interests at heart. The answer is to remember, that in times of stress, sadness, and grief…as long as we have friends, we are never alone. And we should never be.
The honest, unselfish nature of friendship, true friendship has completely blown me away in the last 72 hours or so. It really shined it’s brilliance on me very early this morning. Upon being told the news of my grief, my friend got out of bed and came to me…to comfort me…to remind me that I am not alone…during a very lonely period of time. Didn’t have to be asked. Was never in question. Just came and did what comes naturally. I have no way to repay it. I pray that I will never find my friend in the same position that I was in this morning…and the last few days…but, if they did, I hope they know that I would be there…wherever there would happen to be…without a moment’s hesitation. Not a repayment. Not something owed. Just what I would have to do. In moments of grief, when we tend to want to run away from everyone and everything in our lives, human contact…touch…is most important. To remind us we still feel and that others still feel us. I pray, that as my life continues on, that I will never forget this lesson. I know that I will never forget the gesture. I have made sure that I never will…by taking something that I will keep in a place within my vision as long as it will last. And, every time…every time…I see it in it’s place…I will be reminded that I am loved.
Memories have flooded me the last few days. Twenty-six years is a very long time to gather those memories. Some are brilliant in their happiness and joy. Others are wrenching in their sadness and struggle. Have been fortunate enough to share some of those recently. I have a million of them. But, I know that they may only be special or even interesting to me, because of my place in them. Just know that for every one that can break your heart, Mike and I have dozens that would bring tears of happiness…and in some cases….even envy to your eyes. If we were to arrange to share any words on the markers that will note our final resting places, those words would be; “Together, they lived. They truly lived!” Thanks to phone calls prior to his hospitalization, I had the opportunity to thank my friend for every one of those moments. I can honestly tell you that I would not be the person I am today if not for this man. I would not have experienced a recent return to myself if it wasn’t for his encouragement and belief in me. While hiding his illness from me, he spent hours of his last days on this Earth trying desperately to bring back the friend he used to know, who allowed life to kick him so hard that he stopped seeing the sunlight…the stars. He telepathically grabbed my hand and pulled, placed a hand on my back and shoved, and wrapped his arms around me and comforted me out of the hole I had lived in. And he did it all to save me. He knew, somewhere deep inside, that if I didn’t move…if I didn’t save myself…open up…I would never survive what happened this morning. I believe that part of him did it out of some guilt over a lost relationship so many years ago that he felt he helped destroy. But, the other part was that he knew just how hard I would take this moment when it came and he wanted to make sure that I allowed someone to step in when he wouldn’t be able to do it anymore. I realized this just this morning. Staring at a small black band. I realized all that he did. Like a boy scout, being prepared…and preparing me…for what he knew was coming. In my heart , I know, that somewhere above the stars, my friend saw me in my suffering this morning…wrapped in the love of my friend…and he smiled, the smile of a man who has done what needed to be done…and did it well. The perfect choice.
Twenty-six years, a lifetime for some of you. I guess that can make all this very hard to fathom. Think this way…if your age falls even or less than that number, the only people you could possibly really know that long would be parents and siblings. I am not short changing that relationship. But, for a friendship to endure those years and still be in a place that ours was at a little after four this morning…there has to be a connection that overshadows family commitment. There is a bond… a link that goes unsaid, but is apparent to anyone who has the opportunity to see it in action. I am fifty years old. The chance that I will ever have a relationship in my life that lasts that long are slim. In my life, this is “the” friendship. I know this. I understand it. And I am comfortable with it. I will not measure anything against it, because that would be like trying to compare any light source to the sun. It’s just never going to be a fair fight. But, that does not mean that new friendships…just beginning friendships…can’t be as important…can’t be as touching…can’t be just has healing to our hearts and souls. We only have to have the courage to embrace them…to nurture them….to respect them…and to never fail them. I vow to make sure I work as hard on those relationships as I did on this one. Because, in the end….our friends…our feelings for them…and theirs for us…and those unselfish acts of kindness that we don’t have to think about….that is a true measure of our success.
I am discovering…through loss…and gain…through understanding…and by stepping back…that my success is high. I have been given amazing people in my life that have done their best through random acts of kindness…by making sure I never felt alone…reaching out to me when I was looking for a hand to remind me that I am still here…still alive…and still loved. And, for that, I weep. Today….I weep.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
While waiting for you
While waiting for you
I found myself letting go
Taking a moment to breath
It feels like so long
Since I was able to take a step back
And hear the words that tremble inside me
While waiting for you
I empty my mind of pain and anguish
I let go of the worry
I separate from the cave
And the sun hits my face
The tears of these days dry away
While waiting for you
My heart opens as wide as possible
To take in every moment, every beat
The grief that rages inside
In the deepest parts of me
Gently recede, to allow a moment’s relief
While waiting for you
I understand it all, every word, every deed
I know my heart is not alone
In all it is that I feel
We have wondered of the dance
But, it’s the embrace the stills me
While waiting for you
Fatigue leaves me for just a little while
I want to show you this is not who I am
That the smile you create is really what breaths
And give you a glimpse of what could be
If only for a moment, just a short few moments
I found myself letting go
Taking a moment to breath
It feels like so long
Since I was able to take a step back
And hear the words that tremble inside me
While waiting for you
I empty my mind of pain and anguish
I let go of the worry
I separate from the cave
And the sun hits my face
The tears of these days dry away
While waiting for you
My heart opens as wide as possible
To take in every moment, every beat
The grief that rages inside
In the deepest parts of me
Gently recede, to allow a moment’s relief
While waiting for you
I understand it all, every word, every deed
I know my heart is not alone
In all it is that I feel
We have wondered of the dance
But, it’s the embrace the stills me
While waiting for you
Fatigue leaves me for just a little while
I want to show you this is not who I am
That the smile you create is really what breaths
And give you a glimpse of what could be
If only for a moment, just a short few moments
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