Author: Tom (Page 14 of 71)

Tom is a stroke survivor, a seeker, a meditator, a veteran firefighter and rescue tech, a motivational speaker, a poet, and a blogger (new site) & author. He is also the father of three and as their student and teacher, has found applying spiritual practices to all aspects of life provides a vast amount of possibility and abundance. Tom has discovered that true forgiveness is the key to a pure heart, and a pure heart can lead us to wondrous experiences.

You can also connect with tom on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Tomgwriter55/".

I Know Truth (A Poem)

February 11, 2019 / Tom

I run in fields,
See the butterflies as painted in a picture,
They call to me,
Then laugh at me,
And push me far away.

I see the sunrise,
The bright star piercing through my soul,
First warming me,
Then burning my tempered, weathered skin,
Where dust is I shall return.

I speak your name,
I hear it echo in the caverns,
An unrequited song to my own ears,
Through snow and muck I run to you,
A tear cleansing my dusty face.

Distant paths have led to here and now,
Suffering, my great sculptor,
Though tired I may be,
I’ve spent forever for this moment,
Enduring just to stand beside you in the unfolding.

I beg life to leave me smiling for once,
Have I not earned this moment in the Sun?
Have I not paid the price to see her bloom?
Surely I have chiseled away the stone
That kept me from my truest self.

Though fog today hides the mountains from my eyes,
I see them clearly in my heart,
I climbed them once just for my own view,
I climbed them again just to reach the top,
Now I climb them just to get to you.

There we dance around the fire,
Kindled by the wisdom of our union,
Unique though we are we are so much the same,
I know you in the caverns of my Being,
I know you in the orange flicker of that flame.

I know myself through years of understanding,
I know love through years of soulful solitude,
I now know something else in the depth of our communion,
In the sweetness of your voice,
In the waves of passion gifted me in your touch.

I know truth.

Truth granted me in your sacred arrival,
Blessed through my own falling and rising,
Rising and falling,
In silence and in the chaos of this mind,
Seen now in the flowering stillness of soulful love.

Though conflicted I may seem to be,
In battles waged between heart and mind,
I know some sweet remembrances in this lifetime,
In those conflicts waged I know this certain difference,
Love now has its due on this battlefield.

So take my hand,
The hand you’ve known for many lifetimes,
The hand that will always support you,
Even though you stand completely on your own,
Oh, love, the marigold blooms on her own even while dancing in the breeze.

Like two pieces of one big puzzle,
Know our union will not need change you,
But will certainly help complete the picture.
Like the wind helps the flower share her fragrance,
And the flower shares moonlight in her glow.

So blessed I am,
To know truth in the way I say your name,
To know truth in the way you whisper mine.
I now sleep, waiting for the new day,
When I run in fields not afraid of butterflies.

~TG

The Night Sky

February 8, 2019 / Tom

I can sit in my moments of darkened glory, wishing it all away. I can wish for the absolute erasure of pain bodies collected over the years. I can hope for a clean slate where the moments of yesterday all dissolve into the glorious daylight of today. I can wish to never, ever, hear those demons laughing in my direction again.

But why would I? Why would I wish to forget those beatings that made me an idiot and a wise man all at the same time? Why would I wish to forget the darkness of my suffering? Why would I hope to lose the lessons learned as I fell blind and uncertain of survival in a bed far from my children, my home, my precious island sands? Why would I dishonor the death and destruction I have witnessed and the finality those things have shown me? These things have been gifts and rather than see them as weapons I can use against myself and others I now see them as tools I can use to till vast fields. I can create fertile soil and plant beautiful flowers knowing full well that those seeds will need to survive their own night before their glorious blooming.

They are a part of me. They represent insane setbacks and painful falls but they also prove glorious victories and wondrous risings. Those moments, both the falling and the rising, represent the worst and best of life and the worst and best of me. In the worst these moments attest to the darkness of humanity. In the best these moments represent that remarkable persistence and greatness of a heart that just wanted to live.

I truly doubt that my desire to live could have been expressed without the threats to my life that enlightened it. I believe that the great love I have flowing inside of me would not have been as seen had it not been for the enormity of fear and desolation that caused me to pull it out of my dormant heart. I see both as two sides of life’s powerful pendulum, and as that pendulum swung uninhibited from the extreme darkness it could only return to an extreme light. As is true with any pendulum it drags with it bits of one experience into the other as it moves, often bringing bits of darkness into my light and bits of light into my darkness.

Those bits of light often provide me focus when my soulful night arrives. I often feel cold and alone in that darkness until my heart’s eyes adjust to my surroundings and the stars, those little bits of light dragged into my night, come into view. Then my proverbial ship rights itself and the loving navigator within me can set his sights on a destination truer to my heart.

Isn’t it the master sailor who has experienced the roughest seas? I may carry with me the trauma of harsh storms even onto the calm waters but I will appreciate that calmness. I’ve learned valuable lessons in cyclones caused by lies and fear and although I can still feel the now subtle rocking of my soul’s hull in the calmest seas, it is the calmness that I see. It is her hand on my chest that I feel despite the shaking of my mindquakes. It is love’s caress I know even when the demons begin their laughter. It is the sight of a smile from those I love that emboldens me even in the memory of my blindness. It is walking in life’s domain that enriches me even as the memory of my body being frozen to a hospital bed reminds me of its frailty.

Perhaps I am fortunate to have darkness serve as the canvas on which I allow love to paint its masterpiece. There is nothing like that blackened space to allow the colors of love to jump right out of the scene. I was a child who could not decide for himself what experiences were gifted him. Today, however, I am a man who has lived with scars on his heart and healed with a passion flowing through his veins. I cannot run from darkness when it creeps into my daylight. I face it, embrace it and let the experience flow as the pendulum of life swings. I then accept that darkness and ask it what it must teach me. Being the teacher that it is the darkness stays with me until I have learned the lesson. Then it fades as the pendulum swings toward daylight. I’ve found the darkness simply cannot stay long in the face of a rising Sun.

I cannot apologize, in good conscience, for the passion and the strength that have provided me with not only survival but the awareness of the lessons that have blessed my life. I cannot be honest and apologize for the feelings that course within me as the pendulum swings, nor can I love purely if not accepted fully as it swings in either direction. However, as the master of my ship I can change my focus from the dark skies to the divine suns that dot that canvas. My work is in allowing the dark sky to do its thing while I never, ever, forget the stars that are a gift as well.

“Got a mind full of questions and a teacher in my soul, and so it goes.“

A Man With Hands in His Pockets

February 5, 2019 / Tom

To wit, a man who sees his future before him yet stands idly, hands in his pockets feeling he owes an explanation. He wants to scream to the night sky but knows the futility of such an attempt. He wants to beg for something not yet made real but understands that nothing he can say will raise the flower from its seed. He meanders about the paved circles of his mind looking for some hard dirt on which to run.

Nothing.

Perhaps he offers too much, lays too much of his heart on the altar of hope to deserve a just reply from those gods. Perhaps his words have become stale to the ears with whom he speaks. Perhaps the futility is his only because he offers a future he alone can see. He cannot turn the water in his cup to wine, and he cannot wish away the seconds until the promised land touches his feet. Perhaps then silence should be his answer. Even the most loving eyes miss the light only in the throes of darkness, and the sweet non-taste of air is missed most in the sunken depth of nothingness.

To the soul wearer of my heart, an empty stare is offered in return for my glances. To the stars that hide behind time and space, I beg you don’t burn out before you twinkle in this sky. The dawn is coming and then nothing of this will matter. The dreams will end and the day will begin while the ears starve for your voice and the heart bleeds a name uninterested in its story. It’s the way of things until the spring flows soak the driest earth and the white-capped mountains transform into the greenish hue of renewal. Even then no songs from the sky are promised and the man with his hands in his pockets will be standing where he always has, hoping for a miracle to arrive.

It is the nature of things that the winter’s snows will arrive despite the prayers of souls seeking love in the sunshine. The gods do not heed the desires of such souls. They only know the singularity of their whims, desires, and fears. The frosty touch of Winter fears the sweet caress of Spring and no prayers, no honorable gestures shadowed in the light of love will change a thing. Winter will tremble at the sight of Her thawing, and Spring will quake in the thought of Summer’s arrival. The man will stand to look at this thing and that thing with fears of his own. Fears of an unrealized season in the unrelenting onslaught of time. A man who has a relationship with his mortality will watch the days fly by, powerless to stop them and helpless in begging others not to waste them. The dumpsters of our lives are filled with days wasted and dreams broken in the finality of breath and in the never-ending quest for just one more.

In the end, the man will just stuff his hands in his pockets, caressing sweet notes of love and hope left tucked neatly within. The tear that falls will land helplessly on the dust of his boots, stained with miles of trails walked in solitude yet dotted with what-could-have-beens and promises he always kept sacred. Perhaps in this version of the end, the man will know his age mirrored in the hopelessness of his solitude and he will just lay down somewhere and breathe his last. Some will read the notes left in his pockets and wonder how he could have possibly ended up here. Others will know the instant they read them.

He says goodnight to no one in particular and the echo replies mockingly in his mind. He knows that he needs nothing more at this moment. There is no one left to hear his blessings, so he departs the day with a dream in hand, hand in his pockets, and love flowing freely from his heart.

The Silly Man

February 5, 2019 / Tom

Behold, a silly man
Talking and walking in the mud
Wishing away the voices that haunt him
I know, talking to oneself is surely vain.

Yet there is hope
In this silly man,
Lost he is in the forays of his heart renewed,
Sunken treasure lays deep within his soul.

One cannot reason away the butterflies
He sees in the remnants of an unseen wave,
Gone and forgotten is he when he goes silent,
Never known to have risen beyond his means.

Yet there is sweet rebirth for this silly man,
Love forever squishing between his toes,
The sound of waves pounding just beneath the waterline,
Her hand touches him right there.

Remember when this silly man,
Had forgotten what to do?
He lost himself in the end of time,
Uncertain and begotten in the trenches.

What laughter spills from his thirsty lips?
His kindred walks intently across the room.
He smiles, my god he loves this vision so,
Forever lost as his ship crashes on the rocks of love.

Near drowning, he stumbles on the shores,
Like a drunken fighter who’s fought one too many rounds,
He stumbles, falls, his laugher echoes to the sea,
His kindred walks intently across the room.

His mind feels weak as he tries to rise once again,
Time, where did it all decide to go?
He calls out to her, there is thunder down the river,
Is she hears him he knows naught as his eyes close against the tide.

In a dream, he no longer seems so silly,
She runs to him, her longing dragging on the floor,
He catches her and there is hope within the palm leaves,
“Look” he says at two sets of footprints in the sand.

It is lost on those so ready and so tempted,
The cost of watching as the sands of time flow by,
But for the silly man, may he always keep her laughing,
Even as his kindred walks intently across the room.

Happy Monday!

February 4, 2019 / Tom

What if today, right now, we stopped what we’ve been doing? What if we halted our traditional Monday practice, dead in its tracks, and did something new?

What if you just sat for one second and dreamed of what you’d be doing if you had followed your passion? What would that look like? Who would you be? What would you be doing? Would Monday be then what it is to you now?

What if we threw caution to the wind — gave ourselves to love, to hope, to potential and to possibility? What if the affirmations we’ve grown aaccustomedto reading and citing actually became a statement of intention instead of graffiti on the walls? What if we aimed to be next to our heart’s mate, recognizing the gift and breath of life in each act of surrender until, finally, the Divine in me actually bowed to the Divine in you? More importantly, what if our Divinity recognized itself in the eyes of our beloved to the point where It bowed not just to Itself in each other, but the very core of It in ourselves?

Namaste.

I am a man who certainly understands my own mortality. I understand yours as well. Some may say I overstate our end, that I focus on it a bit too much. I say I just understand it and the very finite amount of time I have to live this life. I want to cherish each moment and not waste one drop of the sweet juice of life. I don’t want to spill this drink on the ground. Wasting such nectar on soil that cannot taste its wonder, cannot enjoy or savor its sweetness, seems to be throwing away an oasis in the desert. When you are dying of thirst, and in most of our cases that thirst is for life itself, every drop of juice is precious. I simply have no desire to wait until I am dying of thirst to recognize the preciousness of life. Nor do I wish to wait until my final breath to recognize my own potential.

Things must change if I wish to fulfill not only my own visions but also quench my thirst for life. I have dedicated myself to living the life I so desire, in a way I desire it, so that when I breathe my last I have no regrets, no inhibitions, and no wishes for things to be different. I want to look into her eyes and know I’ve loved her to my fullest, that I’ve given a part of myself fully to the endeavor of love, to the demands of life, in the fulfillment of my own passions and zest for life.

In that respect, this Monday is unlike any other in recent memory. I’ve seen the future in visions, tasted the potential as it swirled in a chalice before me and I want it. My heart is vibrating with the knowledge that this is possible. My soul screams, this is not only possible, but necessary. My Being sings, you’ve been prepared, now get to it. My mind is rife with fear, with uncertainty, but my heart is steadfast in its determination.

My life changes right now. Today. This second. Come with me. Envision your truth and make it real.

If I am to struggle, let me struggle in the realization of my truth not in the quest to meet the definitions of others. If I am to work hard, let it be while I bathe in my own passion so that I may swim to a shore of my own choosing. If I am to spill my guts to the world, let it be as a light for whomever is in need of a torch along their path. Let it be my passion that lights the way so that I am never lost again.

In the stillness of a humid Florida morning, I was blessed with a vision. I know it to be a true destination if I choose the path to it. Of course, I will have to walk the path, face its challenges, climb its fallen rocks and stumble on its scree to arrive, but arrive I will. I am done waiting, wanting, wishing and hoping. I now begin doing.

I hope you share with the world what you envision in your passion, and what you dream to be while basking in that glow even if it is not yet time for you to begin that journey. Walk with me, with us, toward that horizon even if at your own pace. We may not wait up for you, and ask you not to wait up for us, but you will the footprints before you and those you leave behind as inspiration enough.

This is truly exciting. Now, onward to the day!

∞

I Call You By Your Name

February 3, 2019 / Tom

After the dawn, a lovely shower from the night’s rains fall from the stilled palms strewn about our haven. I hear the morning birds singing off in the distance, and wonder what the night held for them. Life continues all around me, even in the moments when my heart does nothing but dream of you. Perhaps that is life for me. If it is I beg the Universe that brought the rains, made way for the morning sun, and gave the birds a voice in the chorus of life to let me live. Let me love. Make this life worth the effort it took to survive.

I close my eyes, not to erase the view that lays before me but to capture it. I wish to ingrain that moment in my heart’s storied pages and not lose it to another. Born a twin to the masterpiece before me is the feeling that inundates my Being. My soul’s sweet rapture, my life’s summit, my surly beach with unending sand and a perfect horizon is realized in the moment when my eyes have opened to the sunrise, and my soul to the harmony of all that stirs around me. There is your name, my love. It seems there has always been your name.

Before I knew your name it had many forms. I once called you “impossible” in honor of that moment when I saw no hope in finding you. I knelt before frozen gods feeling nothing but the cold, never realizing that just beyond their altars there was a warmth. A warmth that was to be my destiny.

I once called you a “dream”. I would find you twirling in my slumber, laughing at the music you heard while your dance shook dandelion seeds from their nests. I could hear the softness of your feet on the hardened ground I trampled on and I wished, I prayed, that one day I would have the rhythm to dance with you. If only I had the courage to meet you where you were.

I once called you “hope”. Through the darkness of my nights, I would pray for your star to rise above my horizon. I would look for you as I navigated my lonely seas, longingly begging for my compass to point me home. When the storms raged I wished to wipe away the clouds to find you way out there, in the distant darkened sky and would pray either for survival or a quick end. When the end seemed near something would ignite within me, and I would feel you, and I would continue on until…

I once called you “possible”. In a life where the impossible was often realized, when life was gifted in the face of certain death,when a left turn meant demise, I would feel the tug of something pulling me to the right. If a breath was possible in the face of drowning, you were possible on any lonely sea. If steps could once again be rooted in this sweet earth after losing the trueness of my footing then you were possible in a world made unreal by life’s insanity. I would find you. Even if not in this lifetime I would honor a promise I made to you hundreds of years ago. I had no choice. It is my destiny.

Then I called you “love”. I waited for you to come down from heaven, stride through the threshold, and hold me in the arms I’ve missed over several lifetimes. Afraid though I was, I could only surrender to the truth of us, the monumental occasion promised to us a forever ago. I was a helpless babe in the winds of the Universe blown into your arms, a sea turtle caught in love’s sweet current who has surrendered to the net you had cast.

Now I call you by name. Sometimes that name is “impossible”, sometimes it is “my dream”. Other times it is “hope”, and in others it is “possible”. But always, no matter what words seems to fit the moment we find ourselves in, “love” is appropriate and honored. You are my great love, and you were all I have risen to discover.

I am here, loving, wanting, your partner until…

Forever.

Nothing But the Truth

February 2, 2019 / Tom

There is a peace within this chaos
A moment to endure, a figure clad in blue,
Flesh exposed to the wonders of my mind.

So blessed is this heart which has endured to this moment,
I hold you in esteem, my love,
For the truth of my survival is now laying in the Light.

I love you, no greater truth can be revealed
Save the essence of my mortal mind perched high above,
Forever should be a theme of our moments in the Sun.

How does man reconcile the gospel in his Soul?
The beauty in the lines of your sacred flesh,
The nuances in the curves of your heart?

I’ll but love this moment as the breeze cools your skin
The raised bumps tell me stories that your mind refuses to disclose,
My god, my love, my every breathing moment belongs with you.

White pillows adorn the bluest sky,
Creatures of the air sing praise to life abounding,
We revel in the glory of this togetherness.

I will dream of the moment when these bodies are not parted,
When fear no longer is a story of our togetherness,
When words can be heard loudly in a whisper…yes!

Until then I will hold you where you’ve always been,
Besides my heartbeat, touching me with misty fingertips
That leaves a trail of crystal running down my face.

For I am this man, loving you forever in my way,
Loving you as I must, like God Herself has commanded
For you are the truth of my existence.

And I know nothing but the truth.

The Orb

February 1, 2019 / Tom

The Orb

There was a familiar tug on my arm as I stood, stuck in awe. You were standing under the willow tree near where I live, holding a bouquet of yellow, burnt-orange and purple flowers. You were, as always, radiantly beautiful, in a blue dress that hugs your form, smiling in the way you do, your eyes lighting up my entire universe.

I am led to you by an unseen force, tugging at my arm and taking me gently to where you stand. I could feel the grass beneath my feet and it feels warm, as if the Sun had taken her time sharing gifts with the ground beneath me. When I arrived next to you, you looked into my eyes like you did when we first met. I could remember the warmth that I had once only imagined become real, and suddenly everything around me became real as I knew nothing would ever be the same again. I was reliving that moment again.

“Don’t be nervous,” you whispered, just as you had back then.

“Are you sure you are ready?” I asked, almost as afraid of the question as I was the answer.

You laughed, and then put your hand on my chest. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are.”

It seemed in that moment as if the blossoms from a million cherry trees suddenly rained from heaven. I watched as the pinkish flowers landed in your hair like snowflakes, dotting your blue dress and adding beautiful to a moment that was already exceedingly beautiful.

I could feel every fear I’d ever felt, every apprehension, every doubt, every insecurity welling up inside of me. You must have felt it too, because you closed your eyes and bowed your head, pressing your hand harder into my chest. I could feel my knees weakening, but it was as if your hand was holding me up. Breath was hard to come by in that moment, but I stood there waiting for it to return as I knew it would. My heart seemed as if it could not beat any faster.

I let out a loud sigh, one that seemed to echo all around us. A breeze blew through the willow tree, and took some of the blossoms with it. I felt a calm come over me, and in that moment you looked up at me with a smile. You removed your hand, and in it was a greenish-white orb.

“You can now say goodbye to this story,” said a voice from the unseen. “This orb contains all of what your mind has taken and converted to fear. Each and every belief created by events outside of your understanding is there. Each and every story of your demise rests nicely in that ball. Now, do with it as you choose.”

I quickly took it from you.

“This is not yours to carry,” I said. “Thank you for holding it for the time you have. This is my burden, I am sorry if I have shared it with you for too long.”

You bowed your head and took my free hand in your own. You gently kissed it and then hugged it to your face.

“My love, give me a moment,” I said. “I will be right back. Promise you won’t go anywhere.”

You laughed again, and I was reminded how much I love the way your lips look when you are smiling.

“I’ll be here.”

I took a short walk as the breeze picked up. The space around me was filled with cherry blossoms and the sound of wind rushing through the trees. I looked at the orb.

“You’ve been a part of me for so long. I’m not sure if I will miss you, but to be honest I feel a little sad to let you go. It feels like I am losing a piece of me, or even a crutch I’ve used along this journey. I never believed I’d be afraid to let go of my story, of my fears, but here I am trembling at the thought.”

My heart wanted desperately to return to you, to take your hand, and write our own unique story. I knew I could not do that holding on to this orb. What it held was filling up too many pages of our book, leaving very little room for us to write a story of our own.

“Goodbye,” I said as I let the orb go. It was half a prayer and half a statement of intention.

At the moment I let go of the orb, I felt free. I felt weightless. I felt renewed, strong, and certain of my direction. I could see you in the distance, and knew that was where I was always meant to be. It was there I would return. I walked back to your side.

“I’m back, my love. I have given to the ether what I no longer could hold. I’ve made space for you, for us, in the book of our life. I want so much to begin to tell this story, to put our hand to pen to write without fear, without hesitation, and without blurring it with words from my past. I give my life to this story, the one that began in my knowing you existed and one that cannot end in this eternity.”

You looked directly into my eyes.

“I love you, my beautiful man. I need to take a walk of my own. There is more room for us I need to make.”

I looked down and saw an orb of your own held tightly in your hand. Tears welled up in my eyes as I kissed your free hand, knowing what you were about to do.

“I will be here when you return, my beautiful woman. Do what you must. I love you with all of my heart.”

“I love you too. I will be back, I promise.”

You turned and began your walk. My eyes followed you as far as they could, but soon you were enveloped in a sea of cherry blossoms. I sat on the bench, uttered a prayer for your safety, and sent my love to walk with you.

“I will tell you what I told her,” said the unseen. “Of all the healers you have sought, of all the love you have desired, of all the truth you have asked for she is the greatest of them all. It isn’t that she healed you. She led you to only one who could heal you. It isn’t just that she loves you. She led you to the greatest lover you would ever know. It isn’t just that she is the truth. She led you to the greatest truth a heart can find. And you led her to her own salvation. When you find those things within you, you will find them in her touch, in the breeze of Spring, in the glow of a full moon. There will be nowhere they do not exist. That will be the story you both will write in this book that we have given you. The book in which you have cleared the pages for the greatest story of your life.

Now, be patient and be so rewarded.”

A man in love, in real love, will be that patient. Though fidgety at times, I waited. Though uncomfortable, I was as patient as possible. Through the weather and the seasons, I stood steadfastly. It wasn’t the reward I believed I was looking for that gave me such grace. I had already discovered the real reward. It was my love for you, in that great wellspring of truth that flooded my entire life with a new reality. That was the real reward. It was what I learned, what I saw and the expansion of the love that fed that wellspring within me that rewarded and enriched my life with every breath.

Then, a prayer flowed from my heart through the space between us.

“My love, when you release your orb and return to me we will be ready. Pens in hand we will write our names on the first page, and as love flows between us the pages will be filled with prose the Universe provides. Prose we translate. Prose we live to the fullest. Until then, your man awaits your arrival with all he is, and all he will ever be.”

~The end.

We Shall Live (A Poem)

January 30, 2019 / Tom

Know
Please, just know
Please, just know that I am here
Finally here,
Knowing you completely,
Loving what I know,
Wanting more.

Feel
Please, just feel,
Please, just feel me next to you
Finally next to you,
Holding you in our space,
No wind strong enough to move me,
I am home.

Do not wonder about some other time
Back then,
Just sit with me and know,
Hold my hand and feel,
What the present moment brings,
Lessons learned two hundred years ago,
We are now.

What do you do with your mate of a hundred lifetimes?
This is the one we have,
Finally, we are here in the now
Sprouting marigolds as we swirl along this trail,
Decades in the making,
Now dance with me, my love
And know your man cannot surrender.

For I see you up on the hills
And I taste you in the salty ocean air,
Warmed by your glow as the Sun shouts above the horizon,
Now run, do not let the sands of time slow you
You cannot stop,
This we know in our vibrations of our cells,
I will catch you when you dive into my arms.

What love is this, the one we rediscover?
Mortality has kept us from this promise once before,
But now, we live
WE LIVE
No chances squandered in the darkness of that yesterday,
We have today,
And we shall live.

∞

On a Boat (A Vision)

January 30, 2019 / Tom

This morning, a vision.

I was on a ship, a rather large ship, with wood-planked floors and white railings. All the metal on the ship was white, and mixed with the brownish tinge of rust that seemed natural for an older ship. I could even hear the sound of an air horn blasting from above, although it wasn’t loud enough to be disturbing.

I was sitting on a chaise, considering whether or not I should relax in the moment.

The Chief I’ve seen from visions past came to me. He was dressed in fire department station wear, with navy blue pants and black boots, with a navy blue t-shirt with ” FDNY Engine 46″ screen printed on the back. He motioned me to follow him, which I did.

We headed toward the bow of the ship, toward the railing that was on the starboard side. The Chief stopped and mentioned me toward a form standing by the railing, looking out to sea.

You were dressed in a white dress, that had navy blue designs on it. Those designs varied, some were crescent moons, some were stars and flowers, and some were mountain shapes that seemed to randomly dot your dress. Your hair moved slightly in the breeze, and as I neared you turned to me and smiled, gently patting railing next to you. I turned to say a thank you to the Chief, but he was gone.

I took my place next to you along the railing and turned to look at you. Your eyes were beautiful as always, and your smile lit up my heart. Tears formed in my eyes, and I could feel them making their way down my cheek. You put your hand on mine in comfort, and leaned in to kiss one of my tears.

We turned together to look out to sea. The water was black and very calm despite the motion of the ship. The water’s calmness was broken only by whales and dolphins playing next to the ship, both exhaling geysers of mist as they broke the surface. They were swimming calmly next to us, and seemed to be protecting us as we moved through the sea.

There were mountains out by the horizon. They were tall and dark, their darkness highlighted by the white snow that capped their peaks. Their image reflected in the black sea, disturbed only by the ripples made by the whales and dolphins swimming by our side.

There we stood, the two of us, your hand over mine, my hand on the railing. Our bodies were close, so close that I could feel your warmth and the touch of your hair as it tickled my shoulder in the breeze. We said nothing. We didn’t have to. All the communication that was needed was in our touch, the sight of the sea and the mountains before us, and the feeling as if nature herself was protecting us as we sailed through life together. Beyond the ship on which we traveled we were protected by the Universe, and on the deck we were protected by each other.

Suddenly, we could see what appeared to be a small fire in the distance by the base of one of the mountains. It burned a bright orange, almost as if the Sun has found a place to sit on the Earth. As it burned, a bluish smoke rose toward the sky and over the mountains. It seemed to be like a compass needle pointing in a certain direction.

We looked at each other and smiled. You shook your head as if to say “yes, I know” and squeezed my hand three times in acknowledgement. We then turned toward the fire and the mountains, and it seemed as if we both knew where we should go.

I give thanks to the spirits that guide me, and have shown themselves to me in the most glorious ways I have ever experienced. I am not exactly sure why I am blessed now, but there is certainly a sense of peace and calm that permeates my existence as a result of these visits. I have also asked permission to share these, and while I am sure there are some I will not share there are also some I will.

Peace.