Category: Book (Page 1 of 2)

The Face of Love

March 26, 2019 / Tom

Painful was the voice of childhood as it screamed from his entrails.

Commitment is like a knife whose blade is sharp and whose point cuts deeply. Treat it with care, avoid it when necessary. When unavoidable, keep the blade at a distance, and never run with the knife unsheathed.

Afraid was the voice of manhood as it echoed in the caverns of his mind.

Fear has shredded you like a hungry bear seeking food after a winter’s slumber. Approach it knowing its nature is never to injure, but in its hunger the frenzy devours whatever it must to survive.

Hopeful is the voice of love cascading through the waterfalls of his soul.

Remember that hand tightly, yet tenderly, holding your own? Remember her eyes as they lovingly turned your walls of stone to dust? Forget what you’ve seen before her. Forget what has hurt you. Discard those weapons you’ve used to keep the heart of love at a distance. Invite that divine serenity into your encampment, and see what words will spring from that union.

A man without his voices can feel lost for the moment. A man ignoring all that he once believed kept him safe trembles in the face of the vanishing-yet-false security. He simply seeks to dive into those eyes and feel that hand again. He feels lost yet not forgotten, afraid yet filled with courage, needy yet secure in his own space. Confusion tells the tale of some wondrous, pending transformation. It is now, in this light, that his shell can become a most dangerous place. He just wants to be warmed in her arms, yet he feels bitter cold at the height of a beautiful Spring morn.

The onslaught continues.

Loud is the voice of memory, shaking both the flesh and the heart of a warrior who’s left his sword and shield out beyond the gates of his Thermopylae. He feels naked, unarmed and unprotected as he faces the hoards of his despair, the very beasts who are sure to trample him in the mud beneath his feet.

His dreams pierce like a spear pressed firmly against his chest, a crimson teardrop runs freely down his skin. The ground is fertile with such tears, and there he has found a willow tree whose branches caress his heart as the winds shred the last veil adorning his tired soul. Love is the sweetest refreshment, yet his chalice has been blown to where the Sun shall kiss the Sea, that place where the sand cleanses his feet and the waves are poisonous to his lips. Still, he would gulp the ocean dry to have both her cup and his wine on the same table, in the same place they both call home.

The demons advance, and he reaches for his sword. He’s left it back there, beyond the gates. He reaches for his shield, and remembers his sword leans up against it. In their absence he will face the hoards with no means of offense or defense. Fists clenched and with a will wavering yet strong, he braces for battle. In a moment of insecurity he closes his eyes to die with a vision of his choosing. There, in the darkness of his final fear, glimmers a beaming image imprinted somewhere beyond his grasp. On the clouds of heaven he sees her, the image of his beloved smiling with eyes that changed everything. He is ready to surrender and meet her there, somewhere beyond the walls of eternity where all angels go to rest.

Suddenly, the ground once shaking calms. The sound of the hoards pouring from unmoored ships just beyond the breaking waves goes silent. The air once choked with dust from the hooves and feet of suffering, settles. All that is left standing is a man, alone in the sand, tears spilling down his face cleansing the dirt from his skin. Naked, alone, yet clothed in the truest togetherness he has ever known, the man has seen something he was certain few have ever seen before.

He has seen the Face of Love.

Though others would torment him in his smile, smile he would. Though others would not understand the depth of his soul, he would bathe in the deepest parts he could find. Though others would not seek the wounds that led him toward the smile saw during his moment of surrender, he has blessed every scar. The willow tree that had sprouted despite the salts of his despair knew something even he did not. The willow knew his depth, his healing, and the blessing of his smile. In return he just wanted her near, a blessed reflection of the truth he had spent a lifetime uncovering; the embodiment of the promise made through him at the moment of his conception.

“Please, come back,” he said to the image flying East as it rose to greet him.

“I will,” came the reply.

“Now…” his voice trailing off in the absence of a will to demand anything of her.

Silence.

He closed his eyes tightly again, praying for a return to the beauty that saw the weaponless man victorious in battle. There she was, as if she was standing before him, teasing him in the darkness with a light he wanted to be eternal. His tears flowed when she smiled and the thirst returned as he bent to kiss her. He was there, wherever she was, home. They were there, wherever they stood together, safe at last.

The Heart That Bleeds (My book of inspired loving poetry) Now Available on Amazon

February 12, 2019 / Tom

A beautiful compilation of poetry that celebrates the love of the soul before and after that soul meets itself in another. Available in both paperback and eBook formats

https://amzn.to/2SxwVQz

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.“

Languished (rough draft)

November 7, 2018 / Tom

He sits in silent stillness, the muck around him spinning his mind into oblivion. The beast screams at him, he can feel its spittle searing into his soul. Ignoring it is not an option. The room he is in is like a crypt, and his soul is ready to die.

“Why?” is the only word he can muster. The only other sound is of his heart breaking. What was once certain is now shaking him to the core. He just falls to pieces, the shards of his soul mixing with the swill beneath him.

“Forgive me, I know not what I’ve done.”

He wants to cry, but has no strength. Dry sobs shake the air around him like pebbles dropped into a still lake. He wants to be better, he wants to be stronger but there is nothing left for him to give. This portion of his heart he’s given to others and now they are free to beat him to death with it.

He reaches out, wanting to trust in a response yet is met with empty silence as the familiar waves of pain pours over him. Wretched though he is, he tries to stand. He has lost the only footing he had ever asked for, and now stumbles into the darkness beyond.

This is the plight of those who love. Loving too hard, or not enough, or too simply, or too complicated. The lover looks in the mirror, “who am I to love you so? An overwhelming drip am I, sad to the heart I love the most. I am just not worthy.”

Sad, tear-stained eyes look down at the churning cauldron beneath him. His feet have grown accustomed to this fire, so much so he can’t even feel the skin peeling from his bones. He just wants to touch her face one more time, just once more time…please Lord just one more time…

Another unanswered prayer. Fuck the gods who turn their backs to him now. His heart, once beating rays of light into all he touched, now lies dormant like a stone at the bottom of an ocean. There is nothing here for him now. “Fuck you,” he says to the reddened sky above.

“Stand up.”

Startled, he looks around. Through the waves of heat there appears nothing, and through the waves of pain he sees only the barren landscape before him.

“I said, stand up.”

“I must be going crazy,” the lover says unto himself.

“That you are. Now, stand up.”

“Please, whoever you are, leave me alone. I have nothing left here, and deserve nothing but the end. Let me go, I need to do this.”

“If you have nothing here than that is what you have to lose? Now, stand up.“

He stood. Memories of times past, happy times, flooded his mind. The laughs and smiles only seemed to darken his mood beyond the impossible place he seemed to be. He realized that he never deserved those moments. His life was to be cursed into a living hell until, mercifully, it ended.

“Fine, now can you leave me the fuck alone?”

“We’ve only just started. You have a long way to go, but go you will. You’ve taken the first step simply by standing. The next step is exactly that. Take a step.”

“No. I want it to end right here. Now. Please, just leave me to it. I am just so fucking tired.”

“Yeah, we’ve been watching you. Remember that moment in your room as a child? That was us. We promised you we’d return, and here we are. You may not be able to end the pain, but you can end its hold on you. Now, please, we beg of you…put one foot in front of the other.”

Numbness dulled his heart, pain the only thing he could feel. He had come here to die, and die he would. He couldn’t ever remember that night in his room.

“No. I’m done. Please, let me go.”

He slipped the rope around his neck, anchored to the playground gym near his home. He tightened the knot, and sank to his knees, determined that nothing would stop him.

Suddenly, images of his children playing here flooded his mind. He could hear them laughing and shouting to one another. Yet, still, his heart remained numb. It occurred to him that his children would never be able to play here again.

“Fuck. What the fucking fuck!” he shouted into empty air. “You aren’t going to beat me. No, I’m doing this and you can’t stop me.”

He tore the rope down, gathering it into the backpack he had stored it in.

“I’ll show you.”

He began walking, the steel-toed boots he’d worn “just in case” he needed the weight shuffling along a thin layer of snow. He would find that place, and it would be the last thing he would ever do. He’d show them all. He was done with this place, his own failure, and being unloved a lifetime over.

He came to a tree. The strongest branch was too high, and he hadn’t enough rope. He moved on, and found another tree, but no limbs strong enough to hold him. Then he found the perfect tree, but the road it was on was too heavily traveled. He kept walking in the cold night air. On and on he walked, each step met with an angry shout at the gods who had never heard him.

Suddenly, he was in front of his house. Through the windows he could see her folding clothes, and his kids playing in their room. He fell to his knees and sobbed, finally feeling a lifetime of pain pouring out of him.

“I want to live. Please let me live. I want to be happy. I want to find love. I want to be the man I always thought I could be.”

“Well, then, stand up.“

He took handfuls of snow and covered his swollen face, trying to hide his misery from his children. He walked in, and heard “Daddy!” coming from the other room and the sounds of feet running toward him. He grabbed those little souls with every ounce of strength he could muster. When he had left this home he felt nothing, but now he felt everything.

“Daddy, are you OK?” said his little girl.

“Yes, honey. I’m fine. Your daddy is fine.” His memory was returning.

The New Tortoise and Hare Story

November 7, 2018 / Tom

We’ve all heard the story of the tortoise and the hare. We’ve heard how overconfidence defeats even the most able (the hare), and how just working within yourself can lead to great things (the tortoise). It’s a wonderful story.

But what happens if neither the tortoise nor the hare cares about winning? What happens if both just want to arrive at the finish line together enjoying the journey they’ve taken to arrive?

I’d say that’s an even more amazing story.

Confidence would have no place in this new story. A desire to prove something would neither be necessary nor appropriate. It would just be a story of two beings who had found each other, enjoying the journey and each step they shared along the way. Both would have their own story prior to the arriving at the starting line, but that would change the moment the starting pistol sounded. From that moment on, two individuals would work together to achieve their common objective. utilizing their pasts toward a great future in each present moment step they made.

Sometimes the hare, in his natural state, would want to sprint faster than the tortoise. The tortoise, in her natural state of careful slowness, would sometimes need the pace slowed. Both would accommodate the other, sometimes one slowing down and sometimes one speeding up. In this state of love and awareness, neither would need this to be a victory, yet both would be victorious when crossing the finish line as long as they crossed it together.

A shared victory is the one where lovers arrive at the same time, in a way that honors both the love they share and the commitment to the heart within them. A warrior’s true victory is one he achieves in love, the one he achieves in both honoring himself and the love who stands beside him.

Yes, I am working on this new version of the classic. I want to make this a love story, one where differences can both be honored and celebrated in the love that the “race” represents. It becomes less of a race and more of a journey, one honoring love despite differences.

It will be available soon, and I will post about it when it is ready.

Sometimes, Let’s Just Play (A dialog on effort, play and the present moment)

November 5, 2018 / Tom

“We sense your fatigue. We see you are tired. What is going on?”

There are moments made just for who we are.

In my life, there seems to have always been so much “work”. Everything wonderful seems to come with some bonded belief that work must be part of the mix. We want, it’s time to work. We need, more work. We hurt. Guess what time it is? Yes, it’s time again to work.

Sometimes, I just don’t want to work anymore. I’ve been working on myself for so long I tend to forget the time when I could just play. I want to kiss you in the moment. I want to walk with you in another. I want to play in the rain, get muddy, and laugh until my sides hurt. I want to hear about your day, hug you until my arms grow tired.

I just, at times, want the work to end. For a little while, anyway. I don’t want to feel like the work I happen to do is my identity.

What is wrong with just waking up and playing, sending us off to our jobs with a certain ache and a great memory? Yeah…that’s the life.

“You got it! We’ve been leading you here. Don’t make the work your life! Make your life the work!”

Is there any more drudgery than the pain that comes right before the “work” needs to begin? Is there any reason for the pain other than the need for work? Why not just live fulfilled, find happiness, jump into love and bask in the glow of both your successes and your mistakes? Must we always eat a lemon before indulging in that sweet, fine chocolate?

“There are no mistakes save one. Not following your heart. Slavery to fear is the only mistake we make.”

Well, I’m not afraid. Find a sword that’s been tempered in hell and see if it fears the battles it was forged to endure. No, fear is not my issue. Not living is. Not squeezing every precious second out of this life, not loving in every fucking last moment.

“The present moment is gone before you even realize it’s here. Everything you perceive has already happened, it’s the past before you see it. The Sunrise is eight minutes old before you see it. That touch has already happened before your brain can sense it. Those goose bumps happen now as a result of something in the past, and both are creating something amazing for the future.

That kiss? Well it happened before you actually did it. You’ve thought about it a million times before it comes. When it comes, it’s already past. The present moment is always a mixture of the past and present creating a future.”

Exactly. I get it.

“Don’t get us wrong. You always need to prepare for a race, you can’t just show up at the starting line and think the event will be enjoyable. You really must prepare.

If you are running with someone, then train with them. Run with them. Swim with them. Dance with them. That way, when the going gets tough during the event, you already know how to lean on each other. Leaning on someone is an inevitability you are finally learning. Just don’t make it an addiction.”

How sweet. Needing someone, but only when you need them.

“How will I know when it is time to lean?”

“For now, it’s when you can’t breathe. Or when your proverbial leg cramps. Or when you feel faint. Learn to lean on someone you trust, and let them lean on you. Trust me, you’l know when you need to lean. The real trick is learning who to lean on.”

I laugh at the suggestion. There are some, but few, I’d feel that comfortable with and even fewer I believe have the desire to pull it off.

“We know what you are thinking. We get it.”

“Fucking being human. Why on earth would any higher being want to experience this nonsense?”

“Well, who said anything about earth? That’s for another time, just know that you have something here. Don’t take this stuff so seriously all of the time. If someone isn’t with you, well let them fall behind. If they want to, they will catch up. If they don’t, you just keep playing.”

I chuckle again.

“If something isn’t going your way, you have two options. One, you can leave it behind. Two, you can be patient. There is no wrong answer here. Everybody has a right to their happiness. The only part of the equation we can’t help you with is how long you are willing to wait for it.

That answer may not be the same for different experiences. Just trust your intuition. It’s never lied to you and never led you astray.”

“How do I know which situation demands which answer if my core has no answer?”

“Let us give you an example. Would you wait in a long line for a roller coaster you could not see but heard would be great?”

“Probably not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I wouldn’t even be sure there was a roller coaster there. I know there is a line, but people can be fickle. I want to live, not wait in line for something I don’t know exists.”

“There you have it. You’ve employed the lessons of your past together with your feelings of the present to formulate an intention for the future. Now, what do you do with that intention to live?

“I find a roller coaster that both feels fun and I can see exists.”

“YES! See, we come to a conclusion of this discussion with something wonderful. You can love so much, but it starts with you. Use what you know, what you feel, and what you’ve learned to set the table for a happy tomorrow. That will, in turn, make you happy today.”

“Interesting.”

“And one more thing, if we may. You need to redefine the ‘present moment’.”

“That’s a little presumptuous of me, isn’t it?”

“Ha! Now way. We’ve already shown the present moment as others have defined it for you just doesn’t exist. If it doesn’t exist, perhaps it is nothing more than snake oil sold to the masses.”

“Okay. Then how should it be defined?”

“The present moment should be redefined as the moment you were born until the moment you die. That way, when you live “for the moment” you are living for you life, taking the past into the present to create a future. This does not mean judging things by the past, it simply means understanding that you like roller coasters, but may not like the particular one you are getting on. However, in the knowledge that you like roller coasters, you can set an intention for the future to ride them. Then, you can save your money, take a trip, and ride them.

It’s like training for a race, using last week’s numbers to understand what you need to do on this run in order to accomplish what you want during the race. The past is not your enemy, and the future certainly does exist.”

“The future exists? That’s not what I’ve been taught.”

“It certainly does exist. However, it is so remarkable that it allows you to change it before it happens. The future that exists may have you living until you are 90, but is so well-intentioned that if you live unhealthily that it may change that outcome. Death doesn’t even change the future.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Of course not. It still exists, just not with you in it as you are now. Your potential, your dreams, all terminate with you death. The future does not. The only time the future does not exist is when the Universe no longer exists, just as the past did not exist before the Universe exploded into life. As long as life exists, so will the future.”

“Got it. That’s a lot to think about. I need to rest now.”

Round Peg, Round Hole (A Conversation at the Altar Stone)

November 4, 2018 / Tom

Sometimes we walk forever just to find that one spot we can all home.

So, I’ve walked. I’ve walked a hundred million miles, sometimes wearing shoes that will never fit and sometimes wearing no shoes at all. Life, for me, is a varying degree of shelter and openness, of solitude and a deep desire for my soul’s companion.

“What do I need to do?” I ask the Ether. “Teach me.”

I am gifted with a vision. In it, I am there, in front of a board with a single round hole. In my hand is a single, green peg. It is obvious that the peg was made for the hole, of that I had no question in my mind.

“Now, put the peg in the hole,” they said. I did as instructed.

I could feel resistance. The resistance became unnatural, surprising, and I began to feel upset at the two not going together as expected. I began to push harder, to which there was an equal increase in the resistance.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “This is supposed to be easy.”

“So you’d think. However, what is all of this ‘supposed’? Who said it was supposed to be easy?”

“They seem to be perfect for one another. It should just fit. It should take no work at all.”

“Again, so you’d think. However, what is making it harder is your expectation. You expect it to be easy, and at the first feeling of unexpected resistance you begin to push harder. In reality, you are creating your own resistance, and that is increasing the work needed to make what should fit, fit.

Try it again, this time let go of what you believe should happen and just do your part. Have little concern for what the other should be doing.”

I reinserted the peg, this time having no idea what would happen nor any attachment to the outcome. The peg slid in easy, exposing the perfection of the union.

“See. What is meant to be takes little work. There is always effort involved, but little work.”

“What’s the difference?” I asked.

“Effort is natural. When flowers bloom, that is an effort. The Sun rising is an effort. Leaves changing colors is an effort. However, it isn’t work. Effort is natural and in the flow of truth, work is something that takes us away from our truth and into the real of expectations. Effort is your putting the peg in the hole, work is forcing it in. Things fit, naturally with no work. That’s when you know you’re in flow.”

I thought about that for a moment. I understood the point, but questions arose as to its practicality

“But how do I just let go of everything like that? I have wants, needs, desires…”

“Yes, you do. Imagine how boring your experience of being human would be if you didn’t! Effort is in accepting those human things when work would involve repressing them. The real question must be, how do those things serve you?”

“I am not sure.”

“They allow you to be human. You are, after all, a human. The spirit you now and love, the very thing you feel flowing through you right now, is what is having the experience through you. We want you to have this experience. We need you to.

Consider this. You are so loved, just as you are. If your humanity is causing no harm, and is an expression of the love within you, you must let it guide you. It may create pain in your existence, but it will serve you. Trust us, trust it, and trust that part of you that knows it.”

My mind took me back to moments when I refused myself, when I denied those things that I knew to be true. I was reminded of the suffering that resulted.

“I get it. I must trust myself in order to create the life experience I want to have.”

“Exactly. Your Love isn’t in love with you because of some idea of you. Love sees you as you are, and needs you to be exactly that. Your lives are joined, always have been. The lessons have been learned, and now you are a part of each other’s path, of each other’s lesson, of each other’s experience. You’ve been tested, and you know your truth. She sees your truth, and loves you for it. You owe her that truth because she will grow in your truth, and you will grow in hers. You are no longer meant to go it alone, even in those moments when you enjoy your solitude. For both of you, there will always be a returning home, regardless of the moments you spend outside of it. We’ve kept you apart until that moment when you needed each other, to be in each other’s presence. That time has come.”

“Ok. Thank you.”

“No need. We are not done yet. There is more to come. This a time of enormous growth for you both. We will not forsake you, we will be here for you. Such is the power of your union.

Just remember. Round hole, round peg. There is no need for resistance. You will, however, experience it. Both of you will. When you do, turn to each other. That’s the beauty of your meeting. There is no need, other than choice, to go it alone. Try it.”

“I will. You’ve given me much to think about.”

“Don’t. Your thinking about it is meaningless. Feel it. Try it. Confide in her. She’s ready. Trust this process, and the instincts we’ve blessed you with.”

“Ok. It’s been a great walk.”

“Yes, it has.”

The Mask (A Nightmare)

November 2, 2018 / Tom

From the end, there was such a beginning.

I was sitting on the bottom of a clear pool just enjoying the serenity and weightlessness. The way the waves painted sunlight where I sat added to the moment, and the slight pressure of my surroundings did little to change the moment. Peace. Love. Energy.

In my right hand there was an air mask. The mask was similar to the mask I wore as a firefighter. That mask had kept me alive more than once, helped me help others, and protected me in moments of great peril. Most of us in the fire service take great care of the masks we use because, usually, not doing so could mean our demise.

I could feel the air tightening in my chest as time wore on. I felt no fear in this, as I knew I had the mask to rely on should I push it too far. I could hear my heart beating louder, acting like the second-hand on a clock and keeping time with growing discomfort in my chest. More beats, the tightness growing with each one.

Finally, I began to struggle. Even as tightness grew, I wanted to go onward as I always had, expecting the discomfort and struggle to serve as a lesson. More discomfort, and my heartbeats grew louder until I simply could take no more.

Just as I was ready to ascend, I began to put the mask on my face. My ascent would have to be fast, and I trusted my legs to propel me fast enough, with the mask on, to the surface. I could almost feel the sunlight on my face, and her sweet embrace as I laughed and tried to catch my breath. Life on the bottom was life all around. What awaited me on the surface was nothing short of heaven.

I grabbed the straps of the mask like I had a million times before, and moved it to my face. To my horror I realized that the mask was not attached to anything! I had the mask, but I had no air, no lifeline to the heaven that awaited me!

I let out a muffled shout, inaudible to all including me. I bent my legs, my feet firmly on the bottom, trusting they were strong enough to get me to air. As I pushed, the earth beneath me gave way, and all my strength seemed to do was move what once appears steady. I had no speed to reach the surface, and I knew I was in trouble.

Time seemed to stand still as I fought with all my might to get to her, to the surface. I kicked my legs hard, my arms pulling at water with all of their might. My throat felt as if it would explode, my chest aching beyond all description. The surface seemed within reach, but never seemed to get any closer. I began to panic, something I never seem to do.

I finally broke through the surface, and she was there. Her beautiful smile suddenly changed when she realized I was in trouble. I floated on the surface, trying to breathe, but my body would not respond. I tried to tell her I loved her, but my words failed me and I knew she couldn’t hear them anyway in her shouting. I could see the Sun looking down on me but could not feel its warmth.

Shadows began to form all around me. I could not recognize the faces, but somehow believed I knew them. They grabbed me, and started dragging me to shore, telling my beloved a lie I have uttered more times than I care to remember.

“Don’t worry. He’s going to be fine.”

I wanted to reach for her, but she was too far away. I wanted to tell them all to get away from me so that I could hold her hand. Nothing came from me until, finally, the darkness came. I stared at her as the night fell until, there was nothing left to see.

In my dream, sleep came. In my reality, I was awakened with a jolt. I sat up on my bed trying to calm my heart and to catch my breath. Sweet, beautiful breath, how I do not take you for granted!

It was 3:13 am on my watch. I just sat there breathing, looking for heaven. She was there, somewhere, and I found her in my heart.

Love Dialog (Working Title)

October 31, 2018 / Tom

In the moment of torment, I write. But I also write in the moment of bliss.

Which moment is this? Sometimes they are the same.

Love has come to me. It has come to me in the most beautiful way I know. Deeply spiritual, it reminds me of something strange in it familiarity. I’ve known this Love before, just not in this lifetime.

Dear God, help me remember. Help me understand. Help me get out of my own way.

Oh, Tom. You beautiful soul. You are a Being simply being human. What you focus on is your business. You are the master of your experience, now get to experiencing. Do not abdicate control of your ship to the currents without a fight. You have not been created to surrender to your mind unless you choose to. It’s all perfect, we have prepared you for this each and every day of your life. Now, it is up to you to decide which port you sail to; the one where fear resides or the one where you found Love.

How do I decide? I feel so confused.

You are there already, you just don’t know it yet. You made this choice long ago, even before your birth. You are conflicted because of what has happened since you made the choice. Those distractions are what are torturing you now. You think about changing your mind, but your mind is the problem. You cannot change your heart, you can only break it through the mental stones you through at it. Is that what you’ve spent your life struggling for? To break your own heart with stones on which past images are painted?

No. I am afraid.

Afraid of what, my love? Afraid of what may happen? Silly, isn’t it. Look at what is happening. The sea is calm where you are. The Sun is shining. The gulls are singing across your bow and the ship is seaworthy. You have nourishment. You are loved. What are you afraid of?

I don’t know…

Oh, you know alright. You begin being afraid by being afraid to admit it.

It’s hard…

I don’t get it. It’s hard to let it out and easier to keep it in? See stones in your mind, those painted with the past, serve two purposed. First, you throw them at your heart and often break it in the process. Second, you build walls with them. You think you are safe behind them when, in reality, you are in more danger there than anywhere outside of them.

How so?

What infests within those walls can kill you. They can eat you alive. They can infect you. Sure, there is danger outside of those walls, but it pales in comparison to the danger that lurks inside of it. The whole reason those walls were built is an infestation. You were built to run wild in the forest, and sail wildly on the sea. You were not created to hide behind walls of any kind, so living contrary to your purpose will be the end of you.

I understand.

So, what are you afraid of?

Come on, you can do it…

I paused for a long breath. Sometimes crossing a threshold of a door you’ve kept closed for a lifetime is harder than just staying in the room you’ve rotted away in. Yet, I’ve never been able to do things the easy way.

Tommy, are you still with us?

Yes.

Trust us. We know what we are doing.

Fine. I am afraid of the pain. I am afraid of the sadness. I am afraid of not being good enough, of failing the one I love, of being discarded, of not being strong enough. I’m afraid I may not survive. I’m afraid I may crumble. I’m afraid of dying unloved. I’m afraid of fucking losing my heart. I’m afraid, ok? Nothing scares me but this.

But you have felt this way before, right? When you were a firefighter?

Yes, I trained hard because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to save someone. I was afraid of failing them and the ones that love them. There was a difference though. I didn’t put them in their situation. I didn’t cause the problem.

But you were there to save them, no?

Yes.

And when you couldn’t?

It broke me up inside. I would apologize to nothing each and every time. I would hide my sorrow, but I it would affect me to my core. I would try to figure out what I could have done differently to save them.

And?

There was nothing. Nothing I could do. I was helpless. Fuck…helpless.

Like when you were a boy?

Fuck you.

Stay with us here. You’ve got this.

Yes, like when I was a boy.

Do you feel helpless in love?

Sometimes. Sometimes I feel empowered.

What makes the difference?

Another long pause. Courage sometimes needs to be mustered, especially when you’ve known the answer for so long and never wanted to admit it.

Being considered. Or not.

Again, like when you were a boy and a young man?

Yes, exactly like that.

We remember. So, when you are not considered you feel unloved?

I guess so.

Tommy…

Fine, yes.

But you do know that you are always considered?

In my heart I do. In my mind, not so much. I get it though, my mind is breaking my heart, destroying what it knows. Yes, I know I am considered.

If you ever need proof, our Son, remember that you are alive. Every living thing is considered. Every living thing is special. Your creation is a testament of how highly you are considered.

I get it.

People may not consider you. Mostly, it’s because they don’t feel considered themselves. You know that adage saying that in order to love others you need to love yourself? That is true with everything that has to do with your experience. If you believe it, you will project it. Do not worry, your Love considers you. Your Love values you as much as Love values herself.

Ok.

Tommy, do you trust yourself?

Huh?

Do you trust yourself?

Usually. Yes.

We’d suggest that in those moments when you are not trusting your Love and the process, you are not trusting yourself. You are losing faith in you and, in turn, losing faith in Love. Go back to Love. Have faith in yourself in love. Trust yourself in all you’ve done and will do. Don’t let the mind throw stones or build walls, and guess what will happen.

What?

Love in eternity. She’s waiting for you there.

A Lover’s Dilemma

October 3, 2018 / Tom

The moment.

The moment I’m sitting next to you. The moment when your arms are around me and your head rests softly on my chest. The moment I feel your breath on my skin. The moment I taste your lips. The moment I feel your words even before I hear them.

I live for those moments. I long for each in what seems like eternal gaps between them. It is a lover’s dilemma, this man’s silent suffering.

Before you, I knew the purpose to my aloneness. Now, I see no sense to it save the process I’ve come to trust. I look at the empty spaces beside me knowing they are yours. Where once I enjoyed their emptiness now I fill them with our knowing. Where once I sat gazing at nothing all I see is what we are – a promise need never spoken, an eternal gaze at tomorrow.

Before that moment of our first embrace, I understood the value of my solitude. Now I hear the silence as our song, a hymn written through the tears of yesterday breathing life into the possibility we now share. I adored the single set of footprints on the paths I once walked. Now I know they were heading in your direction, longing for the moment when we could share the view.

One day as we sit alongside a stream throwing rocks toward their destiny, our minds will drift back to times before. Before, when our spaces were empty. Before, when our minds would wonder to dreams of moments where we’d be sitting alongside a stream, throwing rocks towards their destiny. Before, when all we could do was hope.

I’ll want to kiss you. Kiss you in honor of all of those moments I begged the empty air for you. Kiss you in memory of all the times the ether would tease me with dreams of you. Kiss you in gratitude for your arrival, and for the moment your lips finally met mine.

Two souls who live in a lover’s dilemma. Suffer as we might in our absence we rejoice with equal vigor in our kiss. Suffer as we will in thoughts of times that passed we shall find bliss in a realization of our moments together. Suffer as we do in times we walk alone we will dance in joy together, as it was always intended to be.

My words, these words, I am blessed to offer as I take the truth of things that swirl around my soul and translate them into the truth of things I share. Blessed am I, a purveyor of divine inspiration, to have found such a muse in you. Blessed am I, a simple man who shoulders the complexities of his mind, to have kissed the lips of my dreams, and held the flesh of my life in arms made strong for the task.

The moment. The moment that is near, the moment that is coming. The moment great stories are birthed from. The moment I saw you.