Author: Tom (Page 66 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/".

When I See You Smile

November 1, 2012 / Tom

Do you know the beauty exposed to the world when you smile?

I know you do. You have to. There’s no way that kind of bomb goes off and you can’t feel it.

For me the shock wave is magnificent. It bowls me over, knocks me to me knees and then lifts me up again. Yeah, I feel it.

It may take somewhere around 26 muscles for you to smile, but it really only takes one for me to feel. That muscle beats loudly in my chest at the very thought of you, a testament to the power of a connection formed not today, not yesterday, but perhaps a million lifetimes ago in an entirely different place. Whenever it was formed, it lives strongly in that smile and in my heart’s response. Those things are the Soul we share reminding us of who we are and where we’ve been. We may not remember the details, but to that Soul those details are meaningless if the face of the bound itself.

I bet you have bowled me over, knocked me to my knees and lifted me up again an infinite number of times since we’ve known on another. I may only remember a relatively few of them and only the most recent, but I have a strong suspicion that I’ve fallen over and over again for the simple pleasure of seeing you smile. Maybe I’m remembering. Maybe I’ve never forgotten. Maybe you were always there.

I guess it doesn’t matter. What matters is you are coming, and I will again be knocked to my knees and picked up again. Yeah, I smile at the very thought…

And Now We Stand

October 26, 2012 / Tom

“A man must learn to kneel before he can learn to rise.”

I have knelt, and tasted bitterness from the puddles at my feet. Now, I rise, and drink from the golden chalice blessed upon the altar of love. Drink with me, Lover, and know the taste born in all eternity. Sip from the cup that offers so much promise and you will know our truth, and the two of us will become drunk in the throes of very thing that gave us life.

Rise with me and gaze upon the horizon. See tomorrow through the eyes of love, and taste this moment in that sweet fruit we both crave. I kiss the slight trickle of juice as it escapes your lips, tasting what you taste, knowing what you know. We then look into each other’s eyes, and without words the oath of a million lifetimes is once again spoken. Fall into my waiting arms as I fall into yours, and together let’s stand tall in this, our space, our place of Heaven.

From that moment we met we knew. In the mind we fought, in the slavery of ideas we tossed and turned in the roughest of seas. Now, from this moment we stand, I vow that I shall make love to you forever, each moment a testament to the eternal spring within us. Our minds will challenge us, our bodies will defy us, and our voices will call out to empty shadows in darkened rooms. Yet we, that magical bond between you and me, will not waver again. Our hearts bound to remember this moment even as it passes, our Souls taking the lead even when the voices shout their loudest.

We stand. Together. We lean on each other. Our true selves are known nowhere else but here, in this place where two Souls found each other, love each other, and speak a truth no one else can hear. We comfort one another, and stand in the shadows together. We face our monsters in the dark alone no longer and defeat them all we shall, arm-in-arm, together.

You were there when I had fallen into the mud. You were there as I tasted the stench of the puddles that stung at the wounds in my flesh. You were there as I rose, as I stumbled, as I rose again. Now, you are here as I stand tall, healing quickly, ready to move beyond this field into the life we were destined to have. Ready to dance, ready to love, ready to share this enormous gift. Ready to give it all to you.

I don’t pretend to know it all. I know Now, this moment, and the truth of it. That truth courses through my veins. You course through my veins, into my heart, out through my breath and back into the best part of me all over again. Yes, it is beautiful, and I know it for all of its magnificence.

My testament of gratitude is simple, yet Divine. To be true to the incredible lightness of Love that I now float upon. Like the River I now find myself surrendered to, it carries me to places I’ve never seen and never known. When I’m afraid, I will reach for you my Lover, and you will remind me of the safety of this place. When I fight, you will remind me that it is me that I am fighting, but you I am fighting for. When I shout, you will put your finger to my lips and kiss my face gently reminding me that it’s a ghost I’m chasing. This I know, and this I will do for you.

So thank you, and take me for all I am and all I will ever be.

♥

Three Weeks…Or so (Poem)

October 25, 2012 / Tom

It’s been three weeks

Or so…

Since the bomb went off

Since the ocean waves destroyed my little village

My safe haven

That place I called “home”.

It’s been three weeks

Or so…

Since the torrent of tears rained down

Staining the very ground we walked on

That little spot

Where Heaven met the Earth.

And now through the mud and muck

Comes a flower

Seeding the barren landscape with hope

Bringing color to the darkened mind

A spark of light

That has ignited a raging inferno.

Those three weeks

Or so…

Expanded a Universe from an atom to infinity

Changing time and space as it grew

Transformation

From deep pain to unbridled understanding.

Such pain have I inflicted

In those three weeks, or so

Water cannot pretend to be such hardened stone

For long

Until the cracks appear and the drops spill forth

And the tears define who we have become.

No more…I say, I shout to Heaven above

I dig my heels into soil of a different type

Soil that suits me better

The soil of Love on which I stand

A bit taller…a bit straighter…
A bit more knowing who I am.

Now, to shine.

For it’s been three weeks

Or so…

Since the clouds came and rained on my insanity

Now, the Sun has returned

And I will not let it go again.

Why Does It Feel Good to Enter a Woman? {Mature}

October 25, 2012 / Tom

Hey guys, do you want to know why it feels so good to enter a woman?

Nope. It’s not that. That’s your high school penis talking. It’s that type of boys’ locker room bullshit that has us falling in the mud as men. It’s why we can find ourselves, years after we began our journey, still spinning our wheels almost at the exact place we started. So stop living in the past and start honoring the man you are now. It’s time we start listening to the women in our lives.

Scary thought, I know. Most of us guys aren’t taught to listen. It’s time we start to learn. It’s difficult and it goes against our grain, but if we don’t a whole world of possibilities just passes us by. We lose far more than we gain by being the “men” we were taught to be, and I am one who is sick of losing.

So, what’s the answer? Why does it feel so good to enter a woman? (drum roll please)…

Wait for it…

It’s coming (sometimes too soon)…

And…

Well, not to be a party-pooper with some metaphysical stuff, but the reason it feels so good to enter a woman is because, in actuality, she is entering us (Collective groans from the audience expecting a micro-porn instead). Seriously, next time you go to rock the van with your woman, slow down. Just as you go to enter her, really slow down. Pay attention to every nanosecond, every small moment as you take your time fully connecting. See how you feel. Recognize it. Listen.

There, in that place, you will feel it. As that part of you slides into her (hopefully, if you’ve done your part, it slides with little effort) you will recognize the truth of what I am saying. While you are entering her she is, in fact, entering you.

Entering your heart. Your soul. Your entire Being. She fills you up, and takes you places you’ve never been. You both ride the wave, and you both end up exhausted mounds of flesh on the shore. In the end, though, you will say to whatever Universe you talk to in your moments alone, “damn, that Tom sure knows what he is talking about. I need to buy his book.”

Remember that sentiment. The book is coming, and your business is appreciated. However, the most pressing business at hand is to understand that sex is not just something you do to get off, it is something you to do experience a gift you cannot experience otherwise. Love. God. Whatever you call it.

When I see that picture of God as an old man with a rod in his hand, I often think that God isn’t the old man at all. God is the rod. The old man simply knows how to use it, and for that knowledge he gets painted all over the world and is worshiped beyond measure. So, learn how to use the rod and be worshiped. Not by the world, but by YOUR world. Her. The woman. The one who shows you who you are when no one else can.

That’s what real intimacy brings you. Not only does it bring you connection and love, it also brings you the best sex you’ve ever had.

Peace.

:( And I want to growl {MATURE}

October 24, 2012 / Tom

This can’t be about me. It can’t be anything about me. But it is. I can’t help it. I’m the artist; I’m the painter, the sculptor, the magician. I can’t release this unless I make it about me.

I look around at the shambles that is my apartment. I haven’t cleaned in far too long. There’s that last load of laundry waiting to be folded, the unmade bed, the stuff that needs to be put away. I’ve gotta buckle down and get this shit cleaned. I chuckle disgustingly at the metaphor. This place is a lot like my life. Disheveled, unkempt, chaotic.

I’m lost most of the time. I switch between the loving Being that I used to know before and the cold, angry slob that I believe saved me from so much bullshit. I don’t know who I am or what the fuck I’m doing here. I have this one light I see in the wilderness of mess swirling around me and most of the time I fuck with that to the point it nearly goes out. My kids love me beyond reason, even though most of the time I can’t figure out why besides the fact they were born to me. They are untouchable to me, but even as I play the role of good dad I don’t feel like I am anything close. I lose my patience, I judge. I demand and I tell them how I would do it. Christ, I even know that is my fucking ego talking. I give my kids the best of me. I let them do things, make choices, and figure stuff out on their own. They love me because I love them, unconditionally and without question. I want them to grow, be strong, and be able to leave me someday without fear and without the self-doubt that has plagued me my entire life.

So, why do I think I am bad? Fuck if I know. Probably because that is what I was taught, and it is a painful experience to leave behind. You’d think I’d want to run from it as fast as I could, but when that thought has been a guiding force in your life you learn to use it and make it work. Soon, you forget how to make anything else work.

Fuck it. I’m pissed at me. I know better. I’ve seen better. I’ve done better. I am better. I just fucking want to growl.

Then there is her, that anonymous moniker I give to the woman I love. That light in the wilderness I keep trying to find ways to extinguish. That wonderful bundle of energy that I simply can’t seem to live without. Yeah, her. She’s real and a dream, and she gives my heart a reason to sing while showing me she is not the cause. I wait for her…I want her…I love her.

I can’t be all bad, because she loves me too. We’ve sailed some rough seas, as two passionate and independent people try to mix their luggage and lives into some semblance of a puzzle that fits together. This isn’t as easy as it sounds given our situations, but we try. I often lose sight of her in the shit-hole of my mind as the dark forest closes in and I block out the light. Yet, she’s still there, trying hard to shine and guide me while I kick and scream and pretend not to see her. Sometimes I think I am just a fucking moron, giving up those parts of me that sing for those parts of me that bite, gnaw and then shit out their dinner.

I’ll debate for about an hour on whether or not I should post this. I don’t want a pity party or a compliment debate. I simply want to vent, tell this truth as I see it, and get it the fuck out of me before it eats me away from the inside out. I don’t want to hear a thing from anyone, I simply want to vomit, purge and leave the good stuff that’s left to its own devices. Please, allow me that dignity even if I don’t often feel I deserve it.

See, I am not broken. Actually, I fixed. Fixed to the point that I know what’s broken. Aware to the darkness because of one bright light that refuses to fade. To what I owe this light I will never be able to know, or describe, or repay. What I do know in this moment is that I need to stop being a whiny baby and start being her man, a man she can be proud of and a man that she can look to with respect, honor and a raging lust to which I will gladly succumb.

So this canvas I’ve just painted is the continuance of a love story that began with a simple statement of a simple truth that led two people into each other’s arms. It’s the journey of truth that took the deep fires of passion into a cold desert to melt the icicles that had formed around my heart. These last two weeks have been torturous hell for two people who love each other deeply but walked away in order to get here. I nearly lost the fire for good, and in my attempts to numb the pain I nearly lost the light as well. I’m not strong enough to leave love behind, and I’m not strong enough to cast aside the feeling that I get when she’s in my arms, kissing me, talking to me, guiding me. I’m not strong enough to let this go, and I’m not strong enough to move on.

I take that back. Of course I’m strong enough. I’m strong enough to stay right where I belong. I’m strong enough to hold onto the feeling I get when she’s in my arms even during the long moments apart. I’m strong enough to grasp this bolt of lightning and never let it go. I’m strong enough to say I’m sorry when I am, and strong enough to look at myself in the mirror and know what I want to do. I’m also strong enough to do it.

I truly have no clue what I am doing right now. I just know I need to do it. I want to growl but for a different reason. She knows what I mean. All lovers know what I mean. I tell you what. If you are lucky enough to have your love near you, go make love to her. Take her in your arms and kiss her passionately. Rub her, touch her, make her tingle. Kiss her everywhere, and don’t stop until she begs you to. Then make love to her like you mean it, like she deserves it, and like God Herself tells you to. Don’t stop until you can’t breathe and can’t move another muscle. Then, fall together into that clichéd heap on the bed and don’t move until the Sun reminds you that you can do it all over again. Then do it. Don’t stop…ever.

Make love to her with your eyes, with your hands, with every word that you whisper into her Soul. I know that hard part is remembering, but try. Give it every bit of energy you’d normally put into proving you are the man. I promise you, you aren’t “the man” without her. She completes you. She makes the world revolve and the Sun rise. You’re just a lost boy in the dark woods looking for a light to guide you home. She will if you let her, if she is your Lover, so just fucking put down the script and improvise a wonderful life with her.

I had better remember that if I am blessed with that chance. I will kick my own ass if I don’t.

The Gift of You (The Beach and the Ocean)

October 19, 2012 / Tom

“Touch me there, my love, and discover a truth worth finding” ~Tom Grasso

Sometimes he was like an island beach, and she was like an enormous ocean. He would hold on to his fears and she to hers. She’d be consumed by her identity of independence, of power, of depth and he his identity of pain, experience and a fascination with the destiny that left him here, as this island, longing for the sea. Both were so consumed by who they were that they failed to realize what happened when they touched at that place we call the “shoreline.” There, the ocean and the beach become one, and it is there that the greatest magic in the Universe turns water into a bit of sand and sand into a bit of water.

There is not much magic being the beach or the ocean. All it takes is an illusion and a desire to put that illusion above all others. Yes, we often put the illusion of who we are above the reality of who we are. We so identify with our waves, with our dunes, with our depth and with our coarseness that we neglect the wonderful experience occurring where the two meet. We are so dependent on the dream that we often tell ourselves that we love the dream and in the process destroy a dream far greater. We even suggest that there is nothing else as important to our existence as our identities and that we are done experiencing this existence beyond the boundaries we have created for ourselves.

There are times when I am so in love with being the beach or the ocean that I can not truly experience the shoreline. I will be so attached to the hot sand or the water’s depth that I will never fully know the experience of the place were the depths cool the sands, and the sands warm the water. If I hold fast to this notion, I will never see how much I love the ocean, or the beach, and I will never fully get to know that beauty that I AM.

We forget that many times the real strength, power and depth aren’t just found in the illusions of who we are, but in the ability to allow ourselves to enjoy the shoreline outside the box of who we think we are. It takes real courage and strength to give ourselves to another, to become the Lover, when we have created the idea of strength in only ourselves. It’s easy to pretend to have strength in separation when we find comfort there. It’s comforting to dream about truth in the separateness of I from you, of him from her, of me from us when that is what we have created. It takes no real courage to stand on your own two feet and stare the Universe in the eye when that is who you think you are. The real courage comes from stepping off the sand into the mud, of rising out of the depths into the that place that is neither water nor sand but a bit of both. We step out of our box into the wet sand and often feel fear we want to run from. It gives us great comfort to hide in our secure box and somehow suggest that it takes remarkable strength to be there.

We are free to experience this existence in the way we want. Free will, the beauty and the bane of the human experience, is the sole mechanism by which we convert our ideas and thoughts into a tangible reality. We can lie to ourselves that we have no shame there even as we put the proverbial fig leaf on our most private of areas and hide ourselves from one another. We are free to profess our strength and our power and our independence even as we display none of it. We cater to fear, some of which shows itself as unreasonable anger and some of which shows itself as unbending inconsideration. Other times that fear is demonstrated as pain, the sand suffering in not meeting the water, and the ocean suffering in not meeting the sand. So we attach ourselves to what we know…pain, fear, or some other false sense of security. We all seem to relive our chosen stories when we simply fear walking from the beach to test the waters where the waves kiss our sandy feet.

A chosen few seem to find great pleasure at the shoreline. They take a great risk in giving themselves to their Lover, but with that risk often comes great reward. There is Heaven in that place where Lovers meet, a certain paradise fraught with undertows, riptides and strong currents. Heaven can certainly become hell from time to time, but to those who brave their minds and their fears to walk in the surf ecstasy is the answer to the challenges of their humanity. Because they speak a language only their Lover can understand, those souls indulge their fears and find solace in one another. They learn to not only give to each other, but to take from each other. They can still be who they are as individuals, but they also find that the line where they meet one another is a place where they find a source of great strength both inside and outside of themselves. See, the shoreline doesn’t just exist where two souls meet, it is also the place inside ourselves were our fears meet our love, where our minds, hearts and souls all mesh into an undeniable passion for another person.

That passion is beautiful. That love is Divine. That expression of human fear creates such a wonderful manifestation of human potential in love. Take a chance if you will. Express it freely if you can. Give in to it if you are able. Even while we are fine in being alone and even as we love who we are, there is a certain wonderfulness in offering yourself completely to another being who is doing the same. Trust is the result. Faith is the byproduct. You are a gift, and it would be such a shame not to offer that gift to someone who would do the same for you and to someone who breathes you in with each breath, and who lives to be by your side.

Live this truth and find a foothold in the ocean tide where fear can’t last for long and faith abounds in the gift of love, companionship and of who you are.

The Short Story of a Simple Truth

October 18, 2012 / Tom

He just knew.

If anyone asked him why he was in love with her, he simply replied “I just am.” If someone asked him how he was able to deal with the distance between them he would reply, “I just do.” When his friends wondered how he could deal with the weeks between seeing her he simply shrugged and said, “I just can.”

His replies had become simple over the years. When they began he would describe elaborately to all who would listen how much he loved this woman. He’d demonstrate his loyalty for all who would watch, and he would get into long discussions describing his love for her when he was challenged. There was no doubt in anyone he knew that he loved her, and that he was her man, and he liked it that way.

He had mellowed over the years. Soon the distance between them would close, and the time between visits would be nil. They had been committed to each other for a number of years now, and the years had converted what were rough seas into calm waters. She had healed him and, in some respects, they had healed each other. Now this man and this woman walked together in ways many would never know, many times simply to be with each other in a moment that would become eternity.

His once elaborate protestations of love were his truth. He had never known such passion for another human being. He felt something when he saw her. He knew all he need to know when he was with her. He needed nothing when in her arms and asked for nothing in their moments of passion. He felt her in every breath and saw her in the beauty all around him. In their moments apart, he could feel her hold him in the pink-hued clouds of a summer sunset. He could hear her whisper to him in the sounds of a running stream. He would smile at the thought of seeing this or that with her, and would vow to bring her to these places in their moments together. He wanted her to see his world and to know him through these things. Once she was there with him he could revisit these places in her absence and remember.

Once he feared. He feared her and in giving himself to her. He fought her, and she fought him right back. He tested her, and she refused to accept the test. She was not them, she was beautiful and smart and everything he needed. The nightmares and demon-voices would warn him and he would react, and she would fight him hard. He hated those voices, and he hated the terrors they brought to him. He knew the truth, and he wanted to believe.

Then he resolved to embrace the truth and own it. He stood firm and fought back against the onslaught of fear and insecurity. This time instead of fighting him, she was fighting next to him, like a warrior princess alongside her prince standing with their backs against the wall ready to win or die trying. It was in this battle that they found each other, and where that unbreakable bond of trust and love was made whole. He learned he could trust and have faith in her without question and she learned of his incredible strength and resolve in love despite facing the haunting face of his own demons.

When the dust settled they were standing there, hand in hand with their lips embracing each other tenderly. There they found freedom, and there she taught him more than he had ever learned. He proved to her the depth of his love for her, and for her that meant the world. He would never steal from her who she was but would instead stand guard and protect her without question. He would not control her, he would fiercely protect her independence. He would never need ask her for a thing, for she would freely give of herself to the man she loved without worry and without question. The Yin and the Yang met there, where they stood, and that was enough for the Universe to sing loudly.

From then on, when someone asked him why he was in love with her, he would simply reply “I just am.” When someone asked him how he dealt with the distance between them, he simply replied “I just do.” When someone asked him how could deal with the weeks that spanned between their moments together he simply replied, “I just can.” They were simple answers, particularly for this man so known for his elaborate responses.

Yet they were elaborate to him. They were very detailed in describing the indescribable. They described the gratitude he had for the gift that was her. They described the salvation he found in a woman so strong that she not only fought him but fought for him. Those simple replies encompassed an eternity of emotion and a never-ending spring of love within him. He couldn’t describe any of this to them, and he felt no need to anymore. Instead, he would hold his tongue and find her. There he would hold her, kiss her, touch her and make love to her in a way that fully described how he felt. Their eyes would speak a language no one else spoke, and their bodies would dance to a song no one else heard. It did not matter to them here in that place where they stood, where they laid, where they danced together in unending ecstasy. They had found each other and they were present in the moment they had created. All else had ceased to exist.

In their lives they had found a short story of a simple truth. Their entirety, their Universe, and the enormity of who they were could be found in three simple words they never failed to speak to each other. “I love you.” Those words righted a world that had once gone mad. Those words solidified a truth that spanned a million moments. Those words rang true for the eternity they described and the Universe they created. They lived it, they breathed it, and it became everything.

♥

Lover’s Lament

October 16, 2012 / Tom

I need you to settle in next to me

Hold my hand

Put your head on my chest

Let your leg drape over mine

As you wipe these tears away.

Tell me it’s all right

That the numbness will end

That the cold shoulder isn’t cold at all

Just waiting for my warmth, my touch

As you bring your body close to me.

Show me that you love me

That you are true, that the rock on which I rest

Isn’t another figment of my imagination.

That you are real

And that you aren’t just another ghost being created by a lie.

Let me feel the sun again

Hear the church bells ring while the songbirds sing their tune.

Let me know some truth

In place of this loneliness, your love

In place of this fear, your steady gaze.

In ignorance the fumes of fear explode

In dismissal the eruption of sadness consumes

The Warrior succumbs to the battles of his mind

He cannot move from his stool

Or stand as the blows rain down upon him.

And so he loves…

Now, then, tomorrow.

And though he struggles alone against the tide

He will stand, eventually

And he will secure Love’s sweet victory.

The Leaf (Poem)

October 16, 2012 / Tom

I’ve done my job

And as the end slowly comes

I will do my job again

And fall lightly to my Home.

I’ve rustled through the breeze

And sang loudly through the winds of change.

I’ve given you shade

When you needed a break from the midday Sun.

You’ve given life to me,

So that I could give life to you, my Tree.

Now the seasons are changing

And it’s time for me to change as well.

I’ve grown old to you

Another spring I shall not know

In your embrace.

You once held me so that I knew I could touch the sky

You once lifted me up so that I could see it all

And held me firm when the storm clouds came.

But now you’re letting go

In your release I cry shades of red

Of yellow and hues somewhere in between.

Where we once held firm against the storm

Now the slightest breeze tears us further apart.

Where I once danced in the Sun

I now wilt and seek refuge.

Where I was once supple

I am now dry and brittle to the touch.

Yet I have done my job.

And I will continue to do my job

As I fall lightly to the Earth

To feed you once again.

Part of me in the decay will spawn another leaf

In another time

In your place, the place I loved to be.

And you will dance in the breeze, and sing a song

October 16, 2012 #1

October 16, 2012 / Tom

Part of this transformation has been experiencing how much I love being around people. People who make me laugh. People who enjoy me. People who can take a joke and give one back. People who search for peace. People who aren’t so busy judging that they can actually sit down and laugh with me and I with them.

Enjoying this fucking place isn’t just about being out in the woods or challenging yourself, it’s about letting those in who want to be there and having fun. It isn’t about fixing each other, none of us is broken. It’s about recognizing just how wonderful we can be for each other and fulfilling that potential. It’s about making breakfast after having an all-nighter with your lover. It’s about finding your woman’s ticklish spots and KISSING them. It’s about ecstasy, loving and being loved. It’s about being a friend and receiving friendship.

So, if your choice is not to love me or be with me, then your choice must be to journey somewhere else. I have people who do that I want to spend time with.

I don’t need you to fix me, I simply need you there belaying the rope so that as I climb this mountain I can count on you to break my fall should I slip. I would do the same for you. You are free to choose your path, choose your footholds and handholds, and I will be there to break your fall should you slip. You will not hit the ground when I’m there .

So, if your choice is to walk away from me or “fix” me, I’d ask you to choose another subject. If your choice is to take turns belaying each other I’d say you found your man. I’ll let you know if I choose not to do the job.Make your choices and own them. (See, I AM a faster learner when I put my mind to it!)