Author: Tom (Page 2 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/".

The Hand of Love

January 2, 2022 / Tom

I thought I heard her in my ear,
“My love, relax for I am here,”
But alas I woke and knew it wrong,
For there was nothing but the Siren’s song.

The minute my feet found the floor,
I turned to where she was before,
The devil laughed and then he spoke,
“She was gone before your heart awoke.”

Lost once where oceans know,
The mountains, that’s where I must go,
Her notes I find where Sirens dwell,
The valleys can bring pain as well.

Do not trust what Siren’s sing,
Or the feeling that their song shall bring,
Steer your ship away from shore,
Or find her death as those before.

Instead head up and touch the sky,
Watch the birds as they fly by,
Hold the one that wants you near,
Forget the rest who disappear.

Then when the final curtain’s drawn,
And your sands of time are nearly gone,
The hand you hold you’re worthy of,
The hand you hold is that of love.

Today, I admit I love you.

December 26, 2021 / Tom

Today, I admit I love you. In that love I feel sadness, and in that sadness I feel love.

No bullshit. I love you with all my heart and I always will.

I can feel it most in my aloneness, when there is nothing left to distract me. Perhaps that is why I seek out distractions. Distractions allow me an escape from the ache of missing you.

I’ve accepted my place in your life as I’ve accepted your place in mine. I will always strive to grow and become a better man in honor of the times I’ve failed you.

Now, I bend my knee in thanks that I will forever be a man better than I was but never as good as I will be. That’s what love does, and that is what Being in love can create.

Transformation.

I may never kiss your lips again. Your shoulder may never again find its way on my chest. Yet I will rise knowing I love you, and vow today to further rid myself of the demons that drove us apart. My body will get stronger and my mind more resolved to its mission as my heart opens further to accept the gifts that life has offered. If I seek to change I must do so in love even if the beast growls its song of survival.

You may not be beside me in my final moments but be sure of this. I will etch your name on that last heart beat, and your name will be echoing in my eternity.I admit I love you in every ray of love that shines from within me.

Today I wander in love not to be lost in the sadness of your absence, but to be found in the truth of what will always be.

The Sounds of Everything

October 4, 2021 / Tom

A sigh, a gasp, a rush of something wonderful. It could be all that we live for and all that we die for. Or it could be nothing at all. Only time will tell, so just sit with me a minute as I tell you this story.

In the modern age of love, we are all jaded and duped just as we are hopeful and persistent. A man seeking her is on a vision quest of sorts. It is a quest desiring a truth in a love so potent that he puts the neck of all he fears into the noose of total strangers. He risks all he desires on the whims of those who know so little of truth or love just to find the one who has mastered a bit of both. He is willing to cut his way through the high briers of discontent in order to find the sweet oasis he has only seen in his heart.

The grunts of his efforts are among the sounds of everything.

Amidst the toils of his labor he finds the scent of something wonderful. He cannot describe its sweetness nor can he attest to its reality. What he does is promise to follow it, to honor it, and kneel down to its source . Among the stench of refuse he sets his intention to bear. He is seeking that one sweet fragrance in the hopes that she, too, has been seeking him.

The flesh of his hands are torn away by his labor, and his feet are bloodied by the thorns he’s left discarded in his wake. Yet still he is undeterred, needing to prove to himself that the journey is worth the price. He sings a song of hope that radiates his truth throughout the field in which he labors. He dances to music only he can hear, and in the notes there resides a prayer that she may hear it to.

The song he sings is among his sounds of everything.

He nears the realization of his truth. Suddenly there is a clearing and the sigh escapes his chest. He sheaths his sword and walks toward a lone flower standing stoically along a river. He bows in reverence and kneels in her honor. She has touched him beyond his flesh and has reached into places few have ever seen.

His voice remains silent but in his heart a steadfast oath. He shall not pluck this flower from her roots. Instead, he will honor her and protect her, keeping her safe from storms and drought alike. He would suffer in her suffering, grow old as she aged, laugh in her laughter and find peace in her embrace. The scars on his hands and feet were just the price he paid to get to her, and he willingly paid the price to never leave.

His oath was among his sounds of everything.

The warrior who walks the path of truth to uncover the story of his heart bears the wounds and joys of a great journey. He stumbles and falls and drags himself through shit-filled mud just to lay with her on the banks of some great river. She may honor him in return or send him to the his field of labor, but either is a risk worth taking. Saddened though he may be, defeated though he may seem, quitting is a word left to weaker men. This man growls, curses and then sets himself to work.

His growl is among his sounds of everything. His everything is a flower remaining to be found.

A Notion of Twin Flames (Elephant Journal)

October 4, 2021 / Tom

The Notion of Twin Flames Uniting

Recently, I was asked by Elephant Journal to revisit an article I’d written for them a few years ago. The article was about Twin Flames meeting, and was based on an actual event in my life. EJ had asked me to revise it to fit a tighter word count, and I was happy to oblige.

As I read the article a few times and tried to edit, I became acutely aware that it was impossible to shorten. There was only one way to accurately tell that story and it demanded much more attention. The rewrite must be less about that story and more about the lessons learned from the experience.

Each experience I’ve had in my life has brought me to a point of understanding. Such experiences have brought me a strength and resilience I’ve needed as I’ve aged, and an understanding of my own capacity to love and, if necessary, to lose. I have learned to value the light of good relationships, to not run from companionship, and to appreciate every moment of joy brought into this life. They have also taught me the value of bringing the Four Agreements into my relationships. I am real with others and expect others to be real with me.

“This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell, my blessing season this in thee!” ~Polonius in Hamlet

I must be true to myself so that I may be true to all others. It’s a lesson learned hard over the decades of my life and one I have learned well.

I hope you ready the article, share it, and comment on how a similar experience has permeated your life.

The Awareness of Pain

September 22, 2021 / Tom

“I do not need fixing,” she said as she handing me the keys to a toolbox.
“I do not need help,” she said as she heaped her burdens in my barrow.
“Please trust me,” she said as spoke words of deceit.
“Please love me,” she said as she pushed me away.

There are many ways we lose touch with our truest self. We often surrender our honor to the ghosts of pain past and in the truest sense of the word “loss”, we turn the past loss of trust and love into a future act of horrid retribution. We hurt those who have nothing to do with the wounds we want to share with them.

What if we took a different path?

Let’s just remember times when we’ve reacted to something our lover has done not because of who they are, but because of what we’ve experienced in the past? Remember those angry words that came flowing from our mouths like polluted waters over a dam? Do you remember how you could not stop them?

I am sure we all do, and can pinpoint that moment when we wished we could put those worms back in the can. Let’s then imagine if we had the discipline and the awareness not to open the can to begin with.

Pain Points

We all have pain points floating around our systems. We all have asteroids flying around our space ready to destroy even the most beautiful creations. There is one difference between the metaphor I’ve used and the natural world. We are in control of our asteroids. We can protect those creations we hold most dear.

It’s hard work at times and we can’t always be successful. Yet we can strive to always be well above the Mendoza line in our efforts. We can’t always bat 1000, but we can certainly come close with practice. Best yet, the more we practice the closer we can come to perfection and when we do fail we’ll find we rarely strike out.

Take, for instance, the last relationship I tried. I knew my partner was lying and it made me angry. Rather than spew my anger right at her I contained it and sat with it a while. That did not mean I acted like everything was fine (I’m a really bad actor), but it meant that while I processed my emotions I wanted to focus solely on those emotions. I got quiet and focused.

She kept pressing me, and I kept responding that I would talk to her about it in a few minutes. There was so much there in the lie, it was not just about the lie itself. While I won’t get into the details surrounding the bullshit, the bullshit was there and I needed to address it.

(Disclaimer. When I say I know she was lying, I honestly knew she was. There was no guesswork here.)

Not Fixing the Lie

After a breath, I told her that I did not believe her story and the reasons why. She sat there dumbfounded, not because I thought she was lying, but because she thought she did such a great job of packaging the bullshit.

“Just come clean,” I said.

“I’m not discussing this. In fact, I’m going home.”

“Me too. I’m sorry I drove here for this nonsense.”

We parted ways, and that was that. I was not about to invest any time in “fixing” the lie or the cause behind it. No part of me wanted to carry that burden, and no part of me wanted to be with someone I could not trust. She was free to walk her path and me, mine.

Five days later the official breakup came. I’m pretty sure she’s making peace with her demons insomuch as allowing them to rule the roost. That is no longer my concern.

It truly is not my job to fix you. In words I’ve used often after being told once I was someone’s pet project, “I’m not a pipe and you’re no plumber.”

Support, But Follow the Prime Directive

Those of us who use to watch Star Trek will know the Prime Directive. That General Order One stated that no Star Fleet personnel could interfere with the natural development of a species or civilization. They could protect and support said species, but they could not interfere with the natural development of that species.

I’ve learned to approach relationships in the same way. I will offer unbridaled support to my partner, friend and loved one, but I will not interfere with their natural development. They can be influenced by me naturally, and me them, but direct interference is not offered.

Of course both Captains Kirk and Pircard had to make weighty decisions on appropriate violations of the Prime Directive. That usually meant the protection of life, and that is a meaningful exception. I will not stand by and watch you die and I may remove myself from your orbit to protect myself from your behavior, but I will always try as hard as I can to support you without interfering in your development.

That part isn’t always easy. After all, we as humans know it all, and we want the world to know we know it all. Sometimes playing dumb, however, is the smartest part about us.

Finding My Brother

September 16, 2021 / Tom

He lived but a day, but a day he lived.

Largely forgotten by his clan, the only memories of him became a weapon. Countless lies became his story, although he had never uttered a single word. His only misdeed seemed to have been his birth, and his memory became fuel to a burning torch. It was a torch used quite painfully.

In his single day of life, he became something he would have never wanted to be. Despite all of the potential blessed to him upon his conception, his day was to be used in ways likely unthinkable to his soul. He deserved so much better.

Despite all of this, he existed as innocently as a human can exist. He was my brother. His name was Steven Paul Evans. I bet even most of my closest family have never heard his name and those who have haven’t spoken it in decades. I wonder if this is a blessing or a curse.

A disclaimer. The purpose of this writing is not to vilify anyone, living or dead. I am writing this to heal, to mend a wound caused by deceit and weaponized love.

On September 12, after my sister’s memorial service, I decided to go on a bit of a cathartic journey, first stopping by my mother’s grave to tell her, and remind myself, that all was forgiven. I spoke words of absolute truth to her memory, and left a piece of regret behind. No, we would not mend our brokenness in this lifetime. I will mend my own, hers would be left to eternity.

I stopped by several family members who have left us, speaking similar silent words of regret and forgiveness when warranted, a “hello” and “I miss you” to all. Memories flooded my soul, and I accepted them in equal measure. I offered my love even if they were not so deserving. My love is mine to give, and I decide who gets it. Forgiveness, to me, opens to door to a much freer exercise of will. It destroys the basket hiding the light. It liberates all things.

Not all catharsis is so painful.

There were moments of levity in this walkabout. I remembered my paternal grandmother-by-marriage (who I considered my grandmother regardless) and her laugh. I stopped by to say hello to her as well, touching her place in my soul with the warmness and kindness she always seemed to offer. The memory of her driving, of her cooking, and of so many other things blessed me with a smile.

There were many moments that were similar reminders that for all the pain of my life, there were great moments of joy, laughter and love. I want to honor each equally as I live my remaining days. My life has had wonderful moments as well as dark ones, and each must be honored with the same attention. In fact, I use the light to heal the darkness and the darkness to bring the light to life.

Finding my brother.

Part of what was on my “need to do” list was find my brother’s grave. It has bothered me for a long time that he was always utterly alone, forgotten by his people and his memory contorted and disfigured. It was important to me that he was no longer forgotten or alone. The narrative needed to change.

I am not one who believes in the afterlife. It’s not that I don’t believe in it, or think it nonsense. I just have no idea if it exists, cannot prove its existence, so I focus on what I can prove. This life must be lived, and if I want to live it to the fullest I cannot be distracted by what may, or may not, exist once it is over.

So in my vision of life, my brother must not be forgotten. He may never know the love of his older sibling but I know it, and I plan to let it roam free.

I scoured the internet often looking for any record of him. Finally, on the “Find a Grave” page, I was able to not only find what cemetery where he was buried but also a location and a picture of his tombstone. It seemed like finding him would be easy, but the cemetery had no map. It turned out not be be as easy as I thought.

Fortunately a dear soul, Bonnie, lived nearby. I can’t overstate how much her kindness and support have meant. Some things are priceless, and she is one of those things. She came over to help, and I admit if felt wonderful not to have to do this alone.

Tommy, I found him!

It took us some time to find him, but when she called out that she had my heart skipped a beat. Soon I was standing beside him, wondering what he looked like in his Day of Life. I stood there just feeling whatever it was that I was there to feel. I mourned him as well as myself, detesting the lies I once believed and promising that he would never again be forgotten or used, and that he would never again be without a brother to remember him.

After a bit, we walked away. I could not help thinking about all the life I’ve wasted and all the potential he would never get to realize. Still, a large part of me felt healed and committed to honoring the brother I never knew. He will be seen each chance I have to see him. He will be remembered each day I think of him.

Part of me wonders if I should be buried next to him; two largely forgotten members of two distinctly different (but the same) clans. I just can’t get there in my mind yet. I still have some living to do.

The Struggle Afterward

The one common feeling that I’ve been struggling with since this past weekend is the feeling of being forgotten. My family has, for the most part, forgotten me. They have no idea who I am or what I’ve done. I am just like my brother but without the tombstone. It saddens me.

My kids are getting older and forgetting me, too. My closest friends, most of whom are back East, haven’t seen me in years. I review the list, and believe most of those I’ve loved in my life have forgotten me. Perhaps it’s just the echo of sadness and depression in all of the loss I’ve felt over the last 30 days, but it is a worthy feeling to contemplate, at least in the short term.

The amazing part about finding my brother is that I was able to discover so much more than just a lost sibling. The death of my sister brought back so many good memories and helped me see those who I have so much love for. The search for my brother allowed me to express who I am in this life, and to be who I choose to be. I cleared away some weeds from tombstones in both the literal and figurative sense, and as a result was able to love in ways I haven’t in some time.

So I shall walk with those lessons for my remaining days, however many of those there are left.

Struggling

September 15, 2021 / Tom

The struggle is real.

I’m struggling to breathe, to find the wide open spaces I once enjoyed.

I’m struggling to understand, to make sense of what is happening around me. Mostly, I’m struggling to grasp what is happening within me.

I’m struggling to deal with selfishness, with greed, with the lack of care we show to one another.

I’m struggling with sadness, with an immeasurable feeling of loneliness and emptiness. I adore my solitude, but struggle with the absence of another within it.

I’m struggling with the lies I’ve been told, with the unending disappointment the destruction of trust brings.

I’m struggling with the absence of meaning. I have to be more than this job, this home, this spot in my life.

I’m struggling with age. My eyes are weakening, my joints ache, my children have all but forgotten me.

I’m struggling with the unending pain.

And now I’m struggling with how to end this story.

An Ode to My Sister (The Line in the Sand)

September 14, 2021 / Tom

I am going to rant here – spill my thoughts as they come and leave them uncensored. Sorry if this rambles, but I don’t think it will.

In the two weeks since my sister’s passing, two quotes have been inundating my mediations. Two quotes that fail to sum up my feelings but come as close as any.

The first is from one of my favorite poets, Rumi. It is derived from the middle verse of his poem, A Great Wagon

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there. ~Rumi

My sister, how I wish I could have met you there! How I wish we could have smelled the fragrance of our happy times, mended broken stems of flowers crushed by our ideas, and tended to the fertile soil of what could have been. How I wish whatever nonsense that kept you there and me here mattered less than the fields were we once played. Sometimes, I guess, when two warriors from the same clan draw lines in the sand, the fields of truth become battlefields. In that battle, some things are just never meant to be.

The poem goes on.

When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase “each other”
doesn’t make any sense.

Thus, we remain forever parted even as we remain forever bound. I guess we had too many words, too many ideas, to surrender to a place where “each other” cannot exist. You and I are at fault for our eternal parting. You and I are at fault for not tending to our field.

The second quote is from Jack Kornfield’s Buddha’s Little Instruction Book.

The trouble is, you think you have time.

This one is always the kicker, always the one we seem to ignore when we need its wisdom the most. I may think I have time, but I also know better. Time is the one commodity I cannot replenish, and all of those things we should have paid attention to can never gain our attention again. The seeds we failed to sow will remain unplanted. The water we neglected to drink will remain in the well. Regret, it seems, will be our legacy. Nancy, we should have known better.

Great wisdom, though, can spring from great tragedy. Where I cannot mend a flower torn apart by a storm, I can plant a new one. I still have breath in me, so I will till the fields where I will both meet the living and the dead. While I have no idea when my end shall come, I still have life in me, so I plan to use that life and the regret I carry in your name to be a good steward of this space.

Perhaps that is the best I can do for you. I can remember our laughter and I can remember our tears. I can see you trying not to laugh at my jokes and I can see the wounds we inflicted on one another. Perhaps the memory of who we were as brother and sister is the field where we will finally meet. Let’s make something good of it. Let’s laugh again.

So it is goodbye, for I don’t give any credence to the “we’ll see each other again” stuff. We had that chance and we blew it. Instead, I will move on, doing my best to not make that mistake again. I will find love and nurture it. I will seek peace and live in it, and when war comes and battles much be waged I will fight hard and then let that shit go.

It just occurred to me that greatest sin we can inflict on those we love is drawing that line in the sand. We will always have battles and battlefields, but when we fail to make peace we fail to be worthy warriors. When we fail to find that field that exists outside of right and wrong we fail to be worthy lovers. We must do better, even if that means erasing the lines we’ve drawn once they begin to do harm. The battle cannot last for eternity.

A Conversation with the Wolf (A Four Agreements Saga)

August 12, 2021 / Tom

I’ll never forget the last time I met the wolf. It was the darkest moment of my life, a moment when I had to choose between living and dying, between change or rotting with my demons.

How I got there is a long story, perhaps something more in line with a book than a blog post, but suddenly I was on my knees in the snow, watching my kids play through windows and tear-soaked eyes. I knew then I needed to live, and in order to live I needed to change.

My eyes were swollen with rage and sadness mixing like the salt and water running down my cheeks. I lowered my head to the snow and scooped up handfuls of it, hoping to lessen the swelling. I heard a familiar friend growl at me, and I felt a bit of relief. A growl may instill fear in some, but to me that sound meant survival and strength.

“Look at you,” said the Wolf, “on your knees sobbing, thinking you should die.”

“Yeah,” I replied, “I am weak.”

The Wolf laughed, and I could feel the heat of his breath lift the hairs on the back of my neck.

“It’s the weak ones who continue to stand though they should be on their knees. The strong ones fall to their knees when the time comes because it is only the strong who know they can stand back up again. Weakness is not what drops you to ground. Weakness is what keeps you there.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You will when the time comes for you to stand. Rising is not for the weak or the faint of heart. Only the ones with the guts enough to live and to fight for their lives know what it takes to get back up. Tell me, do you want to kneel in the snow forever?”

“Of course not,” I replied.

“Then what is it you want?”

“I want to be happy. I want to be a good dad. I want to be a partner someone would never want to lose, or I want to be alone. I want to stand tall, proud of who I am, and I want to be healed of everything that has led me to this place. I want not to live, but to be alive.”

“What are you afraid of?”

I thought for a minute or two, or maybe even an hour. Time made no sense to me at the moment, I was lost in thought and had surrendered to contemplation.

“I don’t know actually,” I replied finally. “I only know the pain that got me here. I don’t know any other way to be. I’m a broken boy who grew into a broken man, and I just wish I could end it all.”

“Hhhhmmm,” said the Wolf. “You have two ways to end it all. Kill yourself or change yourself. It seems to me you’ve chosen to change yourself. That choice is the first step in standing back up, and you’ve made it. So stand.”

“I don’t know what to do once I do.”

“Ha! Yes you do. You’re just afraid to admit you know exactly what needs to be done. You know, when I’m hungry I hunt and, when so blessed, I eat. When I’m tired I search for a place to rest and I sleep. When the time calls me I let my voice echo in the wilderness.”

I felt him sit just behind me, quiet for a moment as he searched his soul for something to add.

“It’s actually very easy. You want to be happy, make choices that bring you joy. You want to be a good dad, be a good dad. You want to exude honor and character? Be honorable and committed to your truth. You want to be healed? Then fucking heal.”

“When you are hungry, hunt, even though you know you may not eat. You control what you can, and let things go as they will. If you go to sleep hungry it won’t be for a lack of hunting. Things will not always work the way you want them to, but if you do your best, you have nothing to be sad about.

“When you are around your children, do your best. Teach them well so that they may never end up in the snow like you. They will fall to their knees, teach them to stand. They will be sad, point them to joy. They will fail, teach them that the success is in hunting, not in eating.”

“When your character is tested, be impeccable with your word. State your truth, and honor who you are. Strength is not the only thing you’ll need to be honorable. You will also need courage, and a lot of it. People will leave you. People will fall away, but those that stay are the ones you want around.

“Once you are happy with who you are, do not change who you are for anyone. Let the ones who can’t accept you go. Let the ones who love you and your truth into your heart, for they will build the community that sustains you. If you must be alone, be alone, for you will always be in the company you want to keep when you truly love who you are.”

“Do not assume you know anything other than your truth, which is no assumption at all. Others may have a treacherous path to climb that you may not wish to walk. You have no responsibility to unless it is part of your truth. Others may be mired in fits of disfunction. That is not your responsibility. Just as no one helped you out of your darkness and no one pulled you out of the snow, let them find their own way. You may offer a hand of assistance if your heart leads you to do so, but it should never be forced, abused, or coerced. Adhere to your truth, and let that truth guide you.”

And finally, when you understand your truth and allow it to be your compass, do not take anything personally. You will be tested, so always try your best. Again, the success is not in the eating, but in the hunt, so always do your best to honor your truth, make no assumptions of what you see around you, and provide no target for the stones others throw.”

I breathed a heavy sigh. It wasn’t one of frustration or fatigue, it was one of relief and preparation. I knew what I had to do.

“You always come when things look bleak,” I said. “I honestly hope I never see you again.”

The Wolf shook his head and laughed a deep laugh, one that seemed to go on forever.

“You dumb motherfucker,” he said. “I’ve never left you. I am inside you, dumbass. I am a part of you. I don’t leave and then come back. I don’t just exist when times get at their toughest. I am always there, it’s just that you don’t see me until there is nothing left to see. So, just be clear, I am not going anywhere. Your growl, which will come often, is my growl. You tears are my tears. Your existence is my existence. The path I just laid out is the path you’ve always known but were just too afraid to take. Nothing that happens here is because of me. Everything that exists in your space exists because of you.”

“So, now get to work and stop this nonsense once and for all. We are going to stand, and we are going to walk this path.”

I stood and dusted that now freezing snow off my pants. I looked through the window at my kids, still playing without knowing a thing that had happened just outside those windows. Another big sigh, but this one because I wasn’t sure how I was going to face my soon-to-be-broken family.

Before that sigh ended, though, it turned into a growl. I walked to the front door and entered the house, and then heard my kids running to greet me. I hugged them tight, tighter than I had in months, and nothing has been the same since.

May you find your wolf, and your inner growl. In love and strength…

Good morning, my old friend

August 3, 2021 / Tom

Hello, love, it’s been a while. I can’t remember the last time we spoke, that last moment when your voice whispered in my ear. It seems like forever since my fingertips last caressed you and my soul opened to receive your blessings. I hope that you are well.

I have not felt more absent than I do this very moment. We used to walk together, you and I, leaving footprints in the snow and bathing in waters we left cleansed by our contrition. You were my strength, the growl I needed to get me through, and I have forsaken you for an idea that I somehow, now, deserved to be happy.

I am here now, though. Please, tell me what it is I am to do.

Since we last spoke a lot has changed. A lot that’s new has risen onto my shores as the tides of love bathe me in their mystery. I’ve let go of so much to open my heart to receive these ebbs and flows of existence. I’ve toiled under the threat of insanity to find my course, and shed so much of myself in order to understand who I truly am. I’m tired, but I’m alive. I’m weak, but I am fierce.

All I thought was impossible has come to greet me on this sand. I keep walking, unsure of where it is I am going and uncertain that I am willing to risk much to get there. Alone I can stand where I want and head in any direction I choose. I feel free of baggage save those few tokens of things I’ve kept to remind nw of the most important lessons learned, and I’m not sure I want to bear the weight of much more. My compass is true and my sextant repaired, and I am not sure I want to be lost again to the ridiculous whims of others who embrace their shackles, adore their curses, and pretend to be somewhere they have never visited.

I cannot hide in shadows cast by those who fear the light. I cannot play games with old lovebirds flying around my nest and practice songs who’s luster has left me long ago. I cannot view reminders of dysfunction and despicableness without feeling dysfunctional and despicable. I cannot play with fire without feeling first the scars where I’ve been burned before and wondering if I should be playing with fire at all.

While I will endure for now, I cannot do so forever. Eternity is my destiny, this humanity is what will get me there. It is there I know you are waiting.

So, talk to me. Shout to me stories as you once did. Put your head on my chest and breathe life into my suredness as you have before. Help me find the strength to have my legs again hold firm, and show me that I have not yet ventured outside my prime. Touch the grays that now define me and show me they are not a curse, and that I need not believe those who feel so cursed by age. Show me again that the opinions of those who shall never walk in my feet should matter little, especially if they mean I can’t see beauty when gazing into a mirror.

Run with me in the woods and let me howl with you at the moon. Give me one more moment to hunt under the gaze of the stars, and share our meal with the holy reverence you have taught me. Let us keep each other warm as the snow falls so that when the weak of character run for cover or jump off bridges in their hunger we are still safe in our embrace. Remind me of that growl and let it not be silenced until I close my eyes forever.

I realize now that my happiness need not exclude you from my existence. I trust you above all things, and know better than not to listen. I know you bark when there is danger, bite when there is harm, and dance when there is joy. I have known you forever.

Call out to me, and be clear. I will wait for your arrival.