What you feel is life, what you live is another story.

Author: Tom (Page 67 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/".

A Snapshot of Eternity

 

I sat there, under the glowing street light waiting.  A few flying insects buzzed past me as I sat, reminding me that I was there and time was not truly standing as still as it appeared.  She was near, she was coming, and soon I would see if my Soul was being honest with me.  I would know true love.

She was coming from a distance all the way to see me.  Our hearts were drawn together through time and space and the moment was coming when the realization of a lifetime would be condensed into one “big bang” moment.  A universe would be created then, in this space, and an entire reality formed in one single spark of love.  We had felt it from our conversations, known it through our voices and seen it through our words but soon would be the physical manifestation of a lifetime of longing.  I would hold her, kiss her, and know her in ways created for mere mortals to know certain Divinity.

Soon, the love I’ve never known before would create a love I’ve never known before.  I would climb mountains I never knew I could climb, and experience things I have never experience before.  I would be taken to the edge of the cliff and dropped into a waiting pool of…

Love.

I’ll Stand By You

 
I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
I won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you
 
Take me into your darkest hour
And I’ll never desert you
I’ll stand by you
 

 

 

So the song goes.  A beautiful expression of true love, a woman vowing her allegiance to her man.  Equally beautiful is the man seems to have suggested a need for such help, for such devotion.  His Angel has responded, and now he can heal without fear that she is abandoning him or judging him as so many others have throughout his life.  He can focus knowing that his love is by his side, and will not leave regardless of the circumstance.

Wow.  And yes, I am projecting.  I know that, no emails need be sent to show me that wonderful light.  So what, I’m a man who would love to have a woman who would stand by me regardless of the circumstance.  Because I have been one who has not wanted it, and has pushed it away vehemently, I realize the beauty of wanting it.  Maybe even to someday have it.

I also wonder if the singer is singing it to herself.  What a better gift to oneself than to know you will never desert you.  Yes, I’ve deserted myself many times over my life.  I’ve abandoned my intuition, my beliefs, my values and my inner truth many times.  I’ve left the love I feel within me at the door and acted like a moron in the quest of a security that could never exist anywhere but within me.  I’ve clung to the cliff when all I wanted to do was jump off of it.

So, part of having someone standing by you is living in the knowledge that you are that someone too.  You stand by you, you walk with you into your darkest hour.  You sing love songs to you, and you adore the person you are.  Someday, with a little luck and a lot of passion, the person you are in love with will stand by you too.

Don’t give up, never give up.  Know with some practice that there will always be one person who will stand by you no matter what, and that is you.  You are that special.  As for that other person you’d love to share your life with?  Well, that person is out there waiting for you.  What you are searching for is searching for you.  It will come.  Somewhere there is someone wishing they had another person standing by them, and one day your paths will cross.

Be vulnerable.  Be open.  And when those paths cross for Pete’s sake embrace the moment.

 

So the Dream Goes (Where you find Hope)

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Soften
And ride the wave back to me
Release
So that I fit into your arms again
Let go
So that my fingers can slide between your own
 
Fall 
So that I may catch you
Let me fall
Into your waiting arms
Come
So that I may see that you are real.
 
So the dream goes
The happiest parts of me are revealed
I can laugh, I can sing
I can hear your voice in everything
So the dream goes
The sunrise actually means something
I go back to then and remember when
I can feel your head on my shoulder again.
 
Know
That it’s not in me to let go
Feel
This beating heart is not forever
Time
Is but a gift for us to squander.
 
Believe
That I will never let you down
Rely
And I’ll be standing by your side
Surrender
We will never lose again.
 
So the dream goes
We make love under the moon
I know why I can fly
Carried by love’s holy sigh
So the dream goes
I become more than me
It’s true, who knew
The best of me is not in you.
 

The Truth ↔ Continues

To wander through this life without ever really discovering who you are is a sin.  Pain allows you to see it clearly if you simply stop focusing on the pain and find what it reveals.  Imagine falling asleep in such despair only to find your dreams are within you.  You can hear your lover’s voice again, you can see her clearly nestled against you.  She loves you so much, with such a truth and strength that lets you know you will never walk alone.

Yes, you laugh, you stand straighter, you fly in your dreams.  Your soul speaks to you there, it lets you know what you need to know in order to find faith.  Some faith.  In some thing.

I found faith in me in this moment.  It will be tested as I walk alone through the dark pathways of my mind.  It will be shaken as time unfolds this destiny.  Yet I know, actually I still think, I am loved but it’s becoming more clear.  In my dreams I know it, not just because of her hand in mine or her body suggesting nothing else is possible, but because I know it.  Period.  I am loved because I love myself.  Or at least I am beginning to.

This is not to say that she doesn’t matter.  This is not to say that the tears rolling down my cheeks aren’t real.  It is to say that because I know what love feels like with her that I know I want to feel that for me.  Yes, I want to love me.

Imagine that no matter what I do I can still accept me.

Imagine not hating myself.

Imagine knowing I am good enough to hold your attention.

Imagine riding on the train of our lives together and being secure enough to simply tell you, “I want you next to me…” and knowing you will come.  That there is no test, there is only love.

I can imagine all of those things, and I want them.  I will have them.  The little boy is loved, this young man is loved, I am loved.  By me.  And then hopefully, by you.

The phone rings.

Yes, it is a gift to hear your voice.  I asked and I received.  

Love can show itself when you need it most.  It has and I accept.  When the ebb and flow of the mind tosses you around like a goldfish in the sea it is love, trust, that gets you to the shore if it is the shoreline that you seek.  It will also have you crashing into the rocks if it is the rocks you seek.  Whatever you ask for you receive, and whatever you seek you will find.

So now I love that little boy in me, the one who never felt it from anywhere, and I say, “come with me buddy, let’s go get a workout in.”  I won’t reject him again as so many others have.  He will feel a love unending.  He will feel acceptance that has no bounds.  He did nothing wrong.  He is awesome.  He is greatness personified.

Yes, as I type that the release is tremendous.  Tears flow like a waterfall.  Cries come from somewhere within me.  I realize I hurt there more than anywhere.  That poor boy, he is beautiful, kind, loving, funny and did nothing wrong.  He didn’t deserve anything he got.  Now, he is being loved for the first time in any memory.

That little boy smiles and laughs with excitement at the suggestion.  You love me he says…yes I do I reply.  He hugs me and I hug him.  Tightly.  We aren’t letting go.  I am sorry I let you down he says.  Tears are my reply.  I’m sorry I wasn’t better he says.  You were great is my answer.  You were strong.  You didn’t fail.  You won’t fail.  He sobs like I’ve never seen another human being sob.  I wanted to be perfect he says.  I wanted to make them happy, make you happy.  Why didn’t anyone love me?  What did I do?  Nothing I say.  You did nothing.  They did it.  It was them, not you.  Don’t own what they did, give it back to them.  Wrap it in a nice box with nice paper and give it back to them.  It’s theirs.  Not ours.  We have each other, you and I.  And we are perfect.

I start to sob uncontrollably.  Yes, I love this little boy.  I love me.  We may have to delay our trip to the gym…swollen, bloodshot eyes don’t necessarily go over well in a public setting.  For now, I will just hold me and love me and begin the process of giving back what is not mine and claiming what is.  Me and this little boy are ready.  Turning around and taking a step is still taking a step forward.

We have found each other here among the tears and the tattered remains of what was.  We feel strong, and know that we have much to be grateful for.  The river that Love set in motion beckons us, and we are ready to dive in.  We look at each other squarely in the eyes.  I ask, what shall we name this place?

Hope is his reply.  So, Hope it is.

Agony 10-11-12

 
 
I feel it…
Right now
In my chest
In my eyes
As the tears begin to spill again.
 
Brave face…
Lost soul
Feeling lost
Alone and rejected
As my feet are kicked from under me.
 
The rope…
It stares 
It whispers
Reminds me peace is coming
If not now then someday soon.
 
I wait…
I  pray
I call her name
Silence is the only reply
So I sit, and cry, and wonder why.

In A Moment of Complete Despair

 
I can sit
And wait
For the call that is never coming.

You sit, and stare.  You stare at the television, and watch shows you could never repeat the content of.  You read chapters of a book, but couldn’t recite a single word on any of those pages.  You laugh, but you are not sure at what.  You so want to give in, to give up, and you utter a prayer to whatever God you know to make it all go away.  You need her to call you, to tell you that it will be alright…I’m just angry right now…I love you.

But nothing.  You…I…me…just sit and stare at the nothingness that is around you.  The emptiness in your heart suggests that all of this is wrong, that what is right is her talking to you and laughing with you.  The hand in yours, the arm around your neck, the eyes staring into you in ecstatic joy are all you want to know.  You want the rest of it, the argument, the points, the protestations of something you don’t even care about to just fucking disappear.

Yet it won’t.  It never will.

The darkness
Sheds me of the light
And now I just cry…empty and alone.

No, it never will.  It will haunt you like few other demons have.  Had it not all felt so perfect in those moments of love this moment would not be so absent of hope.  You can hear her voice in the back of your mind and you just wish you could cry.  Yet you can’t even muster another tear.  The front you put on to the world suggests you are fine, but the reality is that you are dark and you are cold.  Love is the most painful experience in your world when it no longer applies to your present, when it has left you cold and dangling from a ledge you have no certainty of escaping.

So you dangle, and you stare, and you wish it could all be different.

She seems happy.  You can take some solace in that.  She has not found the darkness and is not sharing in the cold.  You find a smile creeping from your lips at the thought, she is fine and will be.  You would bear this cross for her if just to know that your final gift to her was joy.  It’s all you ever wanted to give her, and even when you failed you wanted to do so much more.  If this, the joy she has in finally being rid of you, is the final gift you provide then the pain itself is worth it.

The phone rings
You jump, hoping…
But alas you sink in disappointment.

Hope falls to the floor like broken glass.  Shards of it cut at your skin on their way down, and you bleed clear, salty blood from the little nicks.  You feel the pins-and-needles of where those shards of hope have scarred you, and sink into the floor further than the Earth would ordinarily allow.  Even the Earth gives way to your grief, and you are grateful for Her not resisting you in this, your moment of despair.

It will get better…it has to.

The voice reminds me
You’ve been here before
And look at the gift you got for surviving.

It is here, now, that you live your moment of despair.  True, gone is the light that once gave you such beauty, but alive in you is the desire that fuels who you are.  In this moment you are sucking the dust of a hundred lifetimes as she leaves your life, but you will, someday, use those arms that have picked you up before to again respond to the calling.  You will feel the strength in your shoulders return.  You will know your heart beat again.  You will come to your knees and your legs will do their job.

No, those eyes will not grace yours again.  Those hands will not grasp for you, wanting and needing you ever again.  Those lips will not breathe life into your soul.  She has made her choice and you now must make yours.  You are love, you are strength, you are the man someone will embrace.  Yours is a soul someone will not be able to envision ever living without.  The lessons you have learned will make you smile, and once again you will laugh in the dance of Divinity.  You will heal, and you will know what it is to feel again.  So bask in this, your moment of despair, and remember it wisely.

Never forget this moment even as you seek to never relive it again.

δ

State of Confusion

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
From the tired mind:
 
I know I am not worth it
You have better things to do
Better people to struggle with
Or to not struggle at all.
 
This is just too much
For love is a fleeting thing
Like a butterfly that has tired of a flower
Or a bird scared from its perch.
 
The song stops
The sun sets
The leaves change and wilt away
And to dust we all return.
 
Yet the glow of knowing I am better than this
And deserve more
Should get more
Permeates this tired mind.
 
I know I will do the work
And cross the finish line with or without her
Her loss if she goes
Her loss if she walks away.
 
I don’t need to beg
Or to get her friends’ permission
To be who I am
When she looks into my eyes and sees the truth.
 
No, I just need to keep loving
And this fear will end soon enough
If she goes, she goes
The void will remind me of where she once resided.
 
Yes, I love her
And her rejection stings me to my bones
Yes I need her
And her lack of need in me has taken me apart.
 
From the unsure heart:
 
You are destined to be alone
And to have your unworthiness proven
For someone you valued beyond words
Has turned her back and walked away.
 
Gone
It’s just too much for her to bear
The cross too heavy has splintered on the ground
Where she dropped it, unforgiving in the end.
 
You deserve this
You have always deserved this
Each scar upon your aging skin
A reminder of just what you deserve.
 
Grow cold, my friend
For better to be a stone weathered by the sand
Than an Angel drowning in the sea
Whose wings were clipped by an arrow shot long ago.
 
But wait, you don’t deserve this
You deserve compassion and acceptance
As you work to end the pain
And heal the wounds you never created.
 
You should feel unrestrained love
As you give of yourself in the midst of uncertainty 
She should be extending her hand in love
Not rejecting yours in the anger that feeds your reaction.
 
Hold true, it’s coming
You future is upon you now
Your love will be rewarded
And your past will fade into a distant memory.
 
To that little boy:
 
Do not be sorry
But allow me to love you
Now…then…beyond these tears
As we go back in time to heal the present.
 
Do not feel guilty
For the pain you have endured 
Is not that cause of the pain this man feels
It is necessary on the pathway to greatness.
 
She left him
As he struggled to heal the wounds
Caused by those who should own the agony
As he leaves it all behind.
 
You are perfect
My little me…perfect beyond words
Endure, be strong, you are loved
Even if not by the object of your affection.
 
Do not take ownership of what they do to you
Or what they show you
Let them keep the pain all upon themselves
As you move into the world beyond their hell.
 
To the knowing Soul:
 
Heal me, and make it right
Allow the light to enter
Right where that bandaged place resides
And let it shine beyond.
 
Let this pain subside
So that I can feel the rightness
Out of the wrongness
And know that I am real.
 
And worthy.
 
And loved.
 
And love.
 
Give me strength to accept another
And lose memory of the love lost forever
Let the sting of rejection heal
And the passion once again return to these weary bones.
 
φ

Through the Veiled Glass Door

The Veiled Door

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Φ
 
Through the Veiled Glass Door
I see her…
As a painting of the Divine
She speaks to me through time and space
Issuing a prayer to some part of me
That part of me
That can never blink…
…or doubt
…or fear.
 
Through the Veiled Glass Door
I see her…
Like a running stream to a thirsty man
I am nourished instantly
While wanting something more
Much more
From the journey that created this thirst to begin with
Each step…
…to her.
 
My hand reaches out to the Veiled Glass Door
I want her…
Like a happy child chasing a butterfly
Just to marvel at its beauty
The door slowly opens as she stirs 
I am close…
So close…
My eyes fixed on the angel in front of me
I bend my lips to her cup to drink.
 
On the other side of the Veiled Glass Door
I have her…
Heaven sets upon us like a clear blue sky
The sunlight announces itself through the breaks in her hair
Sets her face aglow
The beauty that steals my breath from my lungs
Now shares the heart beating within my body
And the tears from my soul
And is all I could ever ask for.
 
 Ω

Lies

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Left adrift upon the ocean
Curse the tide…fighting for the shore
In windy hell the storm clouds rain
Can’t offer something more
 
Seek the mountain through the valley
Ride the sky that you adore
Crash and burn in time…the mountainside
Falling through the door.
 
Words of concern roll into the ether
Her reply…bitter to the taste
He swallowed down the pill she gave to him
He’s a big, big waste.
 
Shadows in the open
Mark the time he hit the strings 
Found the music out of tune…he played
Heard the lies in everything
 
For certain paid the Devil
Looked into what she said
Found that he could not trust a thing
The song echoes in his head.
 
Wicked is the ocean
Adrift like he was before
Silently the winds of hell they came
And pushed him to the floor.

If Only You Were Here

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
A pink-hued sky announces the end
Of yet another day
The empty seat, the empty bed
What is there left to say?
To you…if only you were here.
 
We’ve walked here before
I see your footprints in the sand
I’d set the world on fire
If that was your demand
If only…if only you were here.
 
I sit here watching time
As I sit here wishing you were here
With your hand meshed in mine
There’d be nothing I could fear
If only…if only…you were here.
 

The Broken Umbrella (Creative Writing Exercise)

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” ~Lao Tzu

It was just a solitary, broken umbrella.  To the casual observer it meant nothing.  It was refuse, trash, and needed to be discarded before the next home game.  It had outlived its usefulness and could no longer serve its purpose.  Soon, it would end up yet another anonymous object at the bottom of a landfill somewhere, decaying for a million years in the land of unwanted things.

Yet it stood there proudly, its bright red color contrasting greatly against the stadium’s somber grey concrete benches.  It had been a couple of weeks since the team’s last home football game, and another was coming up in a few days.  The maintenance crew was busy at work, getting the field ready and the stands prepared for the warm bodies that would give life to this otherwise cold landscape.  Everyone there could see the red umbrella, but no one really noticed it.  That is what happens when something becomes old and broken.  The protector becomes garbage.  The needed becomes discarded.  To many who worked that field on this day that umbrella would become a harbinger of things to come.  They, too, would become discarded when no longer loved, needed, or wanted.  They, too, would be anonymous.  Their bright color would fade into the grayness, and they would be forgotten.

This umbrella had, however, given a gift in its state of disrepair.  It had been protecting a man and woman, lovers, as they sat and talked under the steady rain a few days earlier.  They had been having trouble in their relationship, both feeling as if they had become broken and forgotten to the other.  They both desperately wanted to work it out, to fix what had been broken, but neither would give up their anger.  As the conversation became a debate and the debate became an argument, both began to lose sight of their truth.  Soon, the innuendo became threats and it seemed like all would be lost on that cold, wet October day.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew and the once strong umbrella bent in the middle.  It’s bright red covering folded backwards, and its arms gave way to the pressure.  Both became soaked instantly, but the man and woman stopped their argument as the rain became a torrent.  They began to curse the umbrella and the rain, running for shelter in one of the open doorways that led into the bowels of the stadium.

Once reaching drier climes, the stopped to get their bearings and to regain their senses.  As they wiped raindrops from their faces they looked at each other.  The eyes, those gateway to the soul, met and suddenly the world stopped around them.  Something clicked.  She suddenly was that beautiful woman he fell in love with, and he was that caring man she loved.  Their hands moved in unison as he moved the hair from her eyes, and she wiped some raindrops from his forehead.  Their words stopped, their anger was gone and all that was left was the indescribable force that had brought them together.  The resistance subsided, and they stood, man and woman, lovers again.

“A lot of good this umbrella was,” the man said, looking at the broken thing in his hand.

“You know, it’s been a long time since we’ve danced in the rain,” came her reply.

They looked at each other and smiled.

“Yeah, it’s been too long.  Let’s go,” the man said.  He grabbed her hand and the ran out onto the concrete heading towards the field.  On the way, the man dropped the umbrella along the benches where it would stay until it was picked up by the maintenance crew a few days later.

The sounds of laughter and rain echoed within the walls of the empty stadium as the lovers danced and played in the rain.  After a while their bodies would become cold and they would embrace to get warm.  They both remembered how nicely their bodies fit together, her head on his chest, his arms around her, his hand holding her head tightly to that spot where his heart beat.  It felt so good to remember how right this was.  It felt so good to feel how perfect everything would be when they just leaned on one another.

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.  She, looked up at him, and they kissed like they hadn’t in quite some time.  They held each other in this lover’s pose, remembering all along what made their world work.  This, they remembered, was the Truth.

“Baby, take me home.  I need you,” the woman whispered.

He took her hand again and they began to run to the stadium’s exit leaving their umbrella behind.  In a moment that umbrella had given way, and the two would become one yet again.  As the rain washed away their pain they remembered their love.  Neither would recall what they were arguing about, and neither cared.  Instead, they focused on the love they had rediscovered and the warmth they had given to one another on even the coldest of days.  A gust of wind and a broken umbrella had provided a miracle of sorts, and one that would not be forgotten for the rest of their lives.

Even in breaking there is purpose, and even in getting wet there is hope.  No one would know how important that umbrella was.  It was picked up and put in the dumpster with the garbage but it had served an enormous purpose.  Lovers who would find their eternal purpose that day owed it all to something they would never know and never remember.  As their days became years and their years became decades it all made sense, and the man and woman never forgot to dance in the rain.  And they never bought another umbrella.

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