Category: Essays (Page 1 of 3)

Something of a Dream

January 3, 2022 / Tom

She was there. She was right there, and I let her go.

She is something of a dream. Strong. Beautiful. Perfect for me in every way. Yet when it came time to let her in, I let her go. I shrank from all I knew of her into a cocoon of helpless thoughts, and I ran from an embrace that felt so much like home.

I’ve wondered why. In the time since then I’ve had ample opportunity to quell my thoughts and explore my apprehension. I’ve had time to wander around my stupidity and remove the dead parts that clogged my stream of truth. I look at myself from then and cannot believe what I had done.

What is left? An opportunity to learn. I can watch from a distance as others dine at our table. I can understand what quakes inside of me when I hope for just one more chance. Now, I know what I lost and know that I will not soon make that mistake again.

Dreams sometimes can turn into nightmares. My hope is that nightmares can also turn into dreams.

I won’t pressure her. I can’t. Instead I can hold her in my heart and hope for the best for her. Sometime in our moments I grew to love her and in that moment all I wanted was what made her smile.

My hope is that she finds love, ecstasy, and a companionship she deserves. If she doesn’t, I’ll be here understanding that while I am a fool, I’m not the type of fool who fucks up twice.

In that way, perhaps I can be something of a dream to her, too.

A Notion of Twin Flames (Elephant Journal)

October 4, 2021 / Tom

The Notion of Twin Flames Uniting

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Awareness of Pain

September 22, 2021 / Tom

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

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

What if we took a different path?

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

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

Pain Points

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

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

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

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

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

Not Fixing the Lie

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

“Just come clean,” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

Support, But Follow the Prime Directive

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

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

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

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

Finding My Brother

September 16, 2021 / Tom

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not all catharsis is so painful.

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

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

Finding my brother.

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

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

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

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

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

Tommy, I found him!

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

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

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

The Struggle Afterward

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

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

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

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

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

September 14, 2021 / Tom

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

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

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

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

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

The poem goes on.

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

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

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

The trouble is, you think you have time.

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

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

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

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

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

A Conversation with the Wolf (A Four Agreements Saga)

August 12, 2021 / Tom

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” I replied, “I am weak.”

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

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

“I don’t believe you.”

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

“Of course not,” I replied.

“Then what is it you want?”

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

“What are you afraid of?”

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

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

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

“I don’t know what to do once I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only I had listened…

April 21, 2020 / Tom

Here’s what I can say to those who are protesting public health measures put in place to protect our economy, our people and our community. I say it in love since that is, right now, all I have to offer. No data will convince you. No science will sway you. Perhaps love is the way to your salvation.

Right now, you feel fine. It’s easy to protest things that oppose your ideas of freedom, of capitalism, and of ideology. It’s always easy to adhere to a principle when it’s not being challenged. It’s easy to be strong when you don’t really need to be.

Perhaps soon, your recklessness will catch up with you. You may feel a tickle in your throat or an ache in your body. “It’s no big deal,” you will say to yourself. You may, if you are one who can admit making a mistake, put yourself in quarantine to protect those you love or you may continue your recklessness and ensure those around you that “it’s no big deal.”

Perhaps that cough and ache get worse, and maybe your fever starts to spike. You’ve felt this before, it’s no big deal. You’ve always recovered in the past with some antibiotics and rest. You call your doctor, who says you are showing signs of coronavirus. He says quarantine at home. He tells you that there is no treatment, that antibiotics don’t work with this virus. You’ll just have to ride it out and hope it doesn’t get worse.

And no, there is no test that they can give you. You aren’t sick enough to warrant a test.

That angers you. You have the right to know what you have. Ah, they remind you, this is a serious pandemic, and everything has changed. There are just not nearly enough tests to go around. Sorry, but you aren’t rich enough, famous enough, or athletic enough to warrant being bumped to the front of the line. Athletes, CEOs and celebrities are being tested. You? You’re just an average American who must be near death to be given a test.

Still, you’re the brave one. Invincible, you might believe. It’s all going to be OK.

Then, perhaps, it gets hard to breathe as your fever spikes. You can’t seem to catch your breath. Few things scare people like not being able to breathe, and here you are, the bravery beginning to falter, the invincibility beginning to wane. The feverish chills course through your body as your panic increases. If only you had been smarter…

You miss your family. They are not able to come see you. If you die, you will die alone. There will be no memorial, no chance at good-byes, no final moments you share. Your final moments were spent convincing others of your bravery while convincing yourself of your invincibility. Now, the illusion is gone as you face your own mortality.

If only I had listened…

Have I infected my children? My spouse? My friends? Time will tell if you are the one they point to as a reason for their suffering, their loss, their pain. Perhaps you all will learn a lesson. If it is not too late.

You wonder how you are going to pay for all this care you are receiving. Will your family be bankrupt as a result of your illness? How will they survive if you do not? How will they survive even if you do?

It’s gotten so hard to breathe. The doctors, all bundled up in their protective gear, come to tell you the bad news. You will need a ventilator to live. They will sedate you, put you in a drug-induced coma, so that you don’t gag on the tube they are about to put down your throat. You want to be strong and brave again, but all you can do is look around you. Is this the last thing you will ever see?

I want to touch my children, tell them how much I love them. I want one last kiss with my spouse…

Those things will have to wait, and as you quickly fade asleep you wonder if they’ll ever come.

If only I had listened….

The Threat of Our Lives

March 25, 2020 / Tom

I heard a rumor. I heard we need to be locked inside. Why, I could not tell you, but its what I heard.

I don’t see any threat lurking outside my door. There isn’t a man with a gun or some foreign army dropping from the sky. In fact everything looks still; the stillest I’ve seen things look in my life. I see neighbors helping neighbors. There are couples holding hands and laughing as they walk their dogs down the street. They are laughing and enjoying each other in ways I’ve never noticed. Perhaps the distractions of convenience were the threat everyone is talking about? People certainly seem closer to each other now that they’ve become less distracted. It can’t be that bad.

One can’t help but notice how quiet the streets seem. I look out at the major thoroughfare and notice there aren’t that many cars. I’ve heard from many that the air is cleaner, that fewer cars driving to work and school and for their Sunday drives has cleaned up the air. Perhaps air pollution was the threat everyone is talking about? Certainly the cleaner air is safer for us all. Yeah, that could be it.

Not in my town, however. Someone told me that our air quality is still pretty low. According to what the science says, it has something to do with those fracking sites that dot our neighborhoods and the gasses they put out into our air. Maybe those wells are the threat we all need to run and hide from? Certainly breathing in those gasses can’t be good for any of us. Yeah, maybe that’s it.

An email just arrived from my local supermarket. Apparently they are running short on plastic bags and we all run the risk of not having plastic to put our groceries in. Would I happen to have reusable bags to bring instead? I smile. Of course I do. Maybe now I’ll see a lot less plastic bags floating everywhere I look. Perhaps we will not have those hard-to-recycle-easy-to-find-in-the-ocean bags not killing wildlife in the near future. Maybe those bags where the threat? Could be a possibility.

I have been, as many of my neighbors have been, working from home lately. Seems my employer didn’t really need me at the office. I can do everything right from the place I live, and I can still do it pretty well. Now, imagine if we invested in working remotely wherever possible? I wouldn’t have to drive to work every day. Perhaps that air that has gotten cleaner would stay clean. Maybe there’d be a lot less car accidents. Perhaps our cars would last longer. Maybe, just maybe, we could be a lot more productive and a lot less miserable in traffic? Perhaps outdated work methods are the threat? It’s worth considering.

Someone just told me that the waterways of Venice and many other areas are the cleanest they’ve been in recent history. I’ve heard nature is recovering some lost territory, getting closer to shorelines and coming up rivers they haven’t been in ages. I wonder what kept them away, and what they saw as a threat they needed to quarantine from? I wonder what is different now that rivers and streams and oceans are becoming cleaner. Maybe it’s the same thing that threatens the planet? It has to be worth discussing.

I’ve been going for hikes and trail runs. I stay away from people because, after all, I heard there is a threat out there. I have to keep a distance from others or I can face getting sick and dying. Yet I see more people out in nature than I’m used to. It’s a good thing nature gives us plenty of space to roam so I can still keep a distance and not have to lock myself in a box. I can’t help be amazed at how many people are outside with their families, walking, laughing, enjoying the cleaner air. Amazingly, there seems a lot less trash floating around even with the larger numbers of people. Maybe it’s the lack of trash bags. Or maybe its the fact that people are starting to like things cleaner. One can only hope.

They tell us it is a virus that is the threat to our world. It’s hard to imagine that something I can’t see, or smell, or feel, or taste can be so threatening to the planet. Especially when I see so many good things happening in spite of this virus. Neighbors helping neighbors. Couples holding hands and laughing with their dogs. People out in nature and not trashing her. Waterways getting cleaner. After all, I can see my friendly neighbors and those happy couples. I can smell the cleaner air. I can feel the good intentions of others, and I can taste the cleaner water I drink. Am I really more at risk today than I’ve ever been?

I do know is that people are dying because of this threat. That saddens me just as the death of people from air and water pollution does. I’m saddened by forced quarantines but not more than I am by the voluntary quarantines we’ve been placing ourselves in. I’m saddened by the threat of this virus, but not more saddened than I am by the threat of our trash, our pollution, and the distractions we create from each other. We’ve quarantined ourselves from ourselves, and lost touch with the very thing that makes us unique. Maybe we needed something to teach us what the real threat is and that after this virus subsides, we can put some effort into ending that threat. Perhaps that threat is Us.

If it is a threat to our planet it is certainly a threat to each of us. We are a major part of this wonderful Earth and once we realize that the greatest threat we face is not just an external virus but the virus of our thinking, perhaps we can find a cure and a vaccine for that as well.

I honor the moments of my life of which I have little control. I’ve learned to use those as opportunities to discover the best of myself. I cannot end this virus, or the threat it presents to those I love and those I’ve never met. What I can do, however, is use it as a way to discover something I did not know before and to use that discovery to better my life. That way, if I survive, it will not be a waste of life and loss.

Perhaps in that way the threat is not a threat at all. Perhaps it is just a lesson.

The Great Opportunity Before Us

March 17, 2020 / Tom

I did not sleep well last night. There is so much to worry about and so much to fear that I experienced what has become a rare instance of horribly mindless dread and anxiety. It’s been years since I’ve experienced this.

This morning, I awoke groggy but determined. I meditated on my experience last night, fully realizing that it served no real purpose other than to make me groggy. Something had to change, but what was it?

Me.

We have a choice in these times of adversity, and those choices are a reflection of who we are. Are we the hoarder or the sharer? The chrysalis or the butterfly? The cub or the lion?

Neither is wrong, just a reflection of who we are in the moment.

We have a great opportunity in this adversity we have no choice but to face. We can reconnect with community in an impactful way or we can remain in a secular shell that has little bearing on the day. We can take no more than we need or take resources away from our neighbor. Either way, the choices we make in this moment of adversity will speak candidly of who we are and speak in a way that echoes for some time to come.

I believe the Universe has given us this moment as an opportunity to define, or redefine, who we are. It has given us a chance to reconnect with not only our neighbor but also the grand vision of who we want to be. For me, I’ve been able to reconnect with that part of me that loves other people, who seeks to protect them and help them whenever they ask. I’ve also been able to continue to fan the flames within me that burn for health, life and happiness.

History has not been kind to us lately. In a horribly decisive climate we have been embroiled in battles over character, leadership, and philosophy. Today, however, the challenge must be to overcome such things as a community of humans Being, a community of supportive individuals who neither run from our collective responsibility nor cede the power of individual awareness. Our challenge, in my opinion, is to find our common philosophy and build (or rebuild) our communities based on it.

With that in mind I think it is time for me to focus more on my heart and community than on the issues dividing us. I am, frankly, sick of politics and the way that discussion makes me feel toward many of my neighbors in a time of great challenge. I think it is time for us all just to follow our conscience as a reflection of who we are and stop discussing it.

I have my way and you have yours. My mind is not going to be changed by endless banter and neither is yours. Our ways, whether similar or vastly different, reflect on who we are. I no longer want to argue with you when I know I need to work with you to better our community and sustain ourselves during this moment of adversity.

So I will be snoozing those on social media who seek to argue and be divisive, and that includes political candidates. I am not trying to censor anyone but rather just don’t want the energy-zapping negativity in my space during a time when I need the energy to fulfill my vision. I just can’t argue with you about your choices when I am busy working to fulfill my own.

That is how it is going to be for a while. I will take this moment of challenge as a great opportunity to live, in the way I CHOOSE, and be free enough to allow you to do the same.

Peace, and much love to you.

To Be Free

March 4, 2020 / Tom

Sometimes I just want to vanish, to leave everything and forget the world exists. It’s those times I detest what I do, how I do it, and for whom it’s being done. I find myself swirling well outside incarnations of self-pity or remorse and, rather, find myself staring in anger at my lack of control and my lack of self-determination.

Fuck it all. I’ll see you on the other side.

“What,” I ask, “must I do to open my arms freely in my liberation? Is there something beyond this mind-numbing routine of shit that rolls down my brain onto the chair now caressing my ass?” My current hellish and mundane task of sitting in a box and waiting for the clock to turn is too much to bear. I must be free.

I wonder if the horses I pass on the way to my self-imposed incarceration feel the same way. Do they hate the cage they’ve been placed in? Or have they surrendered to their plight of being kept from running free on mountain trails by the barbed wires of enslavement just hoping to be fed again?

Who the fuck knows? What matters is I detest the wire, detest the grass you feed me and hate the fact I need you for the water that keeps me living.

To Be Free

It’s time to disconnect. I need to vanish. It’s time I hop the fence.

I’ve had this thought before. Many times, in fact. It comes in the realization that I’ve done little of what I’ve dreamed. I’ve certainly built wealth for others, but what does a man whose dream it is to write until his fingers grow old do with such a dream? What can a person who can’t stop diving deep within himself do when he just wants to run free? Is there recompense for a man who feels so much pain around him that he can’t escape the pain he feels within him?

Likely no. Escape for those chosen ones remain elusive, even if the door has been left open. We have responsibilities far beyond our selves. There are people who depend on us and who see us for the examples we are. I will not leave them even as I pray for relief. My back is to the wall and my solitude will have to wait until I finally have had enough.

Then I will disconnect. I will vanish. I will destroy this cage.

Numbness

Thoughts that I hold deep within will fall out of me like a raging torrent without much interference. I will finish my novels and publish my essays without much more to do with my days save the things that keep me alive. Truly alive. I will kiss the face of moving streams and touch the dirt that gazes unforgivingly at the houses down below. Then I will write more and try to forget I did anything but create that magic.

I don’t wish to be numb to my fate while surrendering myself to destiny. It’s the numbness that leads me to this place of rage. It is in moments of comfort that I forget what really brings me joy. I can lay silently in the sun, forgetting about the words bouncing within my soul,and let all manner of creation disperse wastefully to the ether. I need discomfort and the numbness. Despite the allusion to the lack of feeling numbness brings, it hurts me to no small measure and drives me mad with boredom.

I need more than just existence and this numbness suggests an existence mundane in all it’s boringness. The numbness that drove me to near death is a curse I wish to exile into hell, and action is the means by which I do the exiling. When my hands grow numb all I need is movement to bring them back to life. I need to move, to create and to bind myself to the winged creatures I envy.

For now, I will seethe in my discomfort and bide my time to liberation. I will crouch low in the tall grass like a lion stalking his prey and when the time is right I will spring forth to end this hunger. The growls will come and will serve as a reminder of what needs to be done. You cannot feed your soul on dreams, and you cannot end the numbness by remaining in the position that made you numb. Complacency feeds nothing. It’s time to move.