Category: Short Stories (Page 14 of 46)

“Come to me here, now,” I say to the ether. Bewildered, I stand alone on the precipice. Confused, I rise to meet the day as my hopes touch the horizon, and my dreams fall silent in repose. It all feels so real, even as the truth falls off me like raindrops from my flesh. Certain, I turn to walk toward a destiny of which I have no idea.

The beast in me growls at the subtle hints of darkness that try to invade my morning light. I dare those demons to rise up and challenge my soul, a snarl lighting up my smile as the shards of doubt fall away from my weathered flesh. Fuck with me at your peril, come at me to your demise. I dare you.

There are moments in which we are tested. I’ve grown tired of shields and armor, and have cast them aside to take on the wits and sinew of challenges near and far from my heart. The weight of security is burdensome to me. I’d rather face the test with truth and raw power, daring it to beat me where I stand. If I lose, I will humbly kneel to the lesson I have learned. If I win, I will stand tall with the same humility and honor the scars of battle with the wisdom they’ve provided. Either way, a student as I shall find a way to survive and live to learn another day.

There is a loneliness to such knowledge and a solitude to the truth a warrior discovers. In the silence there echoes a song of truth, and in the noise a dampening of the bullshit much of time heaps upon the mind. Soon, the lines of life blur and fade to nothingness, as life becomes the practice, and truth becomes the way. In the chest of such a warrior there beats a story of persistence. The once bent and weary seeker soon sits tall and straight in his own silence. The once weak and desperate now walk strong and determined. The practice no longer is meant to get them somewhere, for the strong have arrived already. Where they go from this place remains to be seen, but they no longer worry about the destination and choose to, instead, focus on the journey.

There is no truth where the Sun rises. The only truth is in the light that warms my face. There is no reality in the stars that guide my way. The only reality is in the footfalls I choose to get me there. What is gone is gone, and what is to be will be. All I have is this heart, this mind, and the wisdom the book of life has written within me.

Forgetful though I am, I remember. A man though I be, I am divinely powerful beyond all imagination. Separate though I seem, I am fully connected to all that is, all that was, and all that will ever be. I care not for the stories of those weakened by the need for ghosts. I care only for the steely gaze of a soft heart, and the touch of love that caresses the sweat of labor from my brow and offers a soft pat on my ass to remind me that it remains beside me. I care not for the story or the dream, but for the taste of your lips on mine and the song of pleasure that pours from your soul when it can take no more, but wants it all.

I go now, onward to whatever destiny this day shall provide to learn the lessons meant to be taught. “Come to me here, now,” I will say to the ether, awaiting a reply.  I will touch the horizon and the confusion will end. I will dream so loudly as to shake the very edges of the Universe. Then, I will know that I have lived well, to the purpose that pours from within me. Then, I will speak your name and you will believe that I am.

Love.

Much of what we hear is just a shadowy echo of our mind, limiting us within the walls of our own fear and keeping us chained to the reminders of security we’ve created along the way. So secure we believe we are, with heavy chains binding us to the illusion of solid ground, that we never quite break the radius of deceit we’ve limited ourselves to. We never get to experience the fullness of this life as we have relegated ourselves to tawdry visions of life that fail the meaning of our purpose, and leave us struggling for one last breath at the end of a life hardly lived. That one last breath will not come even as the regrets pour in. Both are sure to fade in the finality of what is, what was, and what could have been.

Why limit ourselves to safety? Rather, life is lived in the rush of excitement that chances we take provide. Push the pace, ride the wave, and dispel the notion that you were meant to be limited in your repose. Stand tall knowing you are a life to be lived, a moment to be equally cherished in the glow of sunshine and the emptiness of darkness. You are, completely, in the right place at the right time regardless of how frightening your surroundings are. Embrace the moment, for there is not a balloon that expands resting on its laurels. Be brave, even in your uncertainty, knowing that you are never alone even in your darkest hours.

We all have a choice to either cower in the face of our life or growl in intense response. We are all presented with opportunities to show the Universe who we are. There has never been a lion who hasn’t first sulked in his own cowardice, but yet he rises in his own experience to live a life of majesty. Surely in his brash youth he stumbles, but in the wisdom of his experience he expands and, thus, rises. His survival depends on it, and the lion always fulfills his destiny.

We are faced with a similar choice but because we are led to believe our survival often depends on a lack of boldness, that the pain of limiting life is somehow less than the pain of jumping into the ether, we often fail to live in order to be alive. We often survive at the expense of a vigorous life where anything, and everything, is possible. We may live longer, yet we often fail to have really lived at all.

I seek life. I seek the rush of energy I feel when I take a chance. I seek the growl that involuntarily rolls from my chest in the face of challenge. I seek the scars, the wounds, the triumphs and the wisdom that comes with trying, failing, trying again, and making it happen.

There are so many things I just cannot understand.

And that is ok. It isn’t my job to understand them. They are “out there” beyond my grasp, and that is where they belong. I have no reason to own them or make them mine. All I am responsible for is right in here.

So, how does that lack of understanding of things out there change things in here? That is, for me, the importance of the experience. The significance of any experience I have is found in the energy it exposes within me, as well as the perspective I’ve chosen in seeing it.

The challenge is neither to change the things I don’t understand to suit me nor is it to actually understand them. All I need do is understand what external things do to the internal me, and either change how I see them or accept the fact that they are not for me.

In the twilight morning hours,
The beginning of the day,
The stars I used to find my path,
Slowly fade away.

In their absence a bewildered man,
Can curse the reasons why,
Or he can honor the star that's left,
That lights the daytime sky.

That’s where the beauty of wisdom lies. People, all people, have an unalienable right to be who they wish to be. For me, it’s about focus. Do I continue to focus on those nouns (people, places, things) that expose my own negative reactions, or should I focus more on those nouns that inspire positive adjectives in my soul? Beautiful. Happy. Peaceful. That answer, of course, depends on me.

In my time in the fire service, I met many firefighters. I would say, “we can hate each other and love each other at the same time.” There were many I was diametrically opposed to. Some were racists. Some were misogynists. Some were just assholes (as I am sure I was to them). We may not get along one bit in life, but when the sirens echoed and the bell rang, we loved each other. We’d go into some of the most dangerous conditions inspired by one cause; to help someone who needed us. We could find a common bond even in a vast sea of differences. This experience has taught me that commonality was possible even between completely opposing forces.

In the Yin Yang, there is commonality where they meet. There is a commonality between night and day. The stars that vanish are still there, we simply can’t see them in the illusion that is the blue sky. The Sun still exists even when absent, and shines brightly even in the harshest daytime storm. How do I know? Well, its existence can be proven by the fact that I can see the clouds, the rains, and the effects of the winds as they swirl around me.

As with everything, I have the power of choice in my own experience. That’s how we create the experience, after all. The trueness of the Universe within us allows us the opportunity to create the experience by how we choose to see the experience in both duration and effect. We are truly more than two dates on our tombstone at the end. Even if forgotten, our ripples live on eternally.

Unfortunately, many of us meander through this existence without really knowing who we are, what we truly feel. We aren’t taught to develop the connection with self (Self) necessary to truly trust our instincts, to actually understand how we feel when the myriad of reactions inundate our minds. Our reactions are often nothing more than “the surface of things” and certainly isn’t where the voice of our Self resides. Those reactions are often voices instilled in us by our parents, our caregivers, our neighbors, our friends and our society. In that installation, we often lose sight of our own voice as it gets buried in the muck others heap on us. In the end, there is no tombstone marking the burial of our truest Voice, only the wreckage and debris we leave behind in not hearing it, or trusting it.

Trust. Let go. Let God. Be happy. Fuck it.

Sound advice. It’s not my own, mind you, but it works for me. I meditate to not only hear that voice but give it an outlet to find me when it needs to. I’ve connected so strongly to it that when the opportunity to move to Colorado presented itself, I took it despite having no idea where I would work. I just knew the voice I’ve always heard when here, and the voice that shouted at me “go” when the opportunity arose. I had, I felt, no choice but to trust things would work out. So far, they have.

Equally important to me is the experience I’ve had when only hearing the voice others have given me. I’ve found misery, disaster, suffering, and a usual negative outcome in trying to please a voice not my own. This holds true if I follow both action or attitude, especially when my own Voice tries to speak to me in opposition. I’ve never done well when ignoring my own voice, although I’ve certainly found value in the attempt.

Now, it is time for me to enjoy this wonderful day, and sit in contemplation on the many things I don’t understand. I’ll be ok with not understanding them until I’m not. Then we’ll see.

I am…serious.

What if I just dropped everything and came to you? You know, dropped the veils, dropped the uncertainty, dropped the crazed notion that life is somehow safer this way? Let’s be a torch united, and burn those fucking veils to the ashes there were meant to be. Let’s forget this safe place we like to dream about and jump forever into the midst of unsafety and let’s become notorious!

What if I simply proved that these words I share are nothing compared to the truth behind them? They are but minuscule, small, compared to the reality that stirs within me. There is in here the raw power of a divine sea, where the waves are restrained not by some act of strength by me, but by an act of mercy towards me. The tranquil sounds of love belay a raging torrent of passion where there is no respite from the truth. Each moment I hide, each moment I hold back, each moment I am apart from you is an offering of love to the most beautiful soul I’ve ever felt. I am besieged by desire and hope, pure truth and moments of intense fantasy all at the very same time. What a beautiful discomfort this is, this delightful torture a man who wishes to scream your name from the mountaintops must hold sacred in his torturous oath of silence.

What if we simply fell? Fell in love. Fell into each other. Fell into eternity. You know, like two thawing cubes of ice suddenly transformed into one puddle on the floor? Yes, that. We find ourselves in the sweat pooled to form one outline of passion on the bed we shared, in the salty taste of a morning-after kiss. I never want your taste to leave my lips, and I want my skin beneath your nails. I want to feel that marks on my skin left by the holy union we both know must come. Together we fall, and in doing so there are no clouds that could hold us. No heaven shall exist for me where you are not, forever shall I be tied to the moment you fell, and finally caught up with me.

What if we found our eternity? Imagine the notion of forever without a vow that is based on something more solid than a stroke of some man’s pen. Renewed in each moment is love two souls have found, and precious is the way those rare gems are honored and kept in a way few can hold. Each kiss a testament to our unique and destined connection. Each embrace becomes a story of its own written under the auspices of truth two people share. Each moan and sweet arrival sings a renewal of vows proven unnecessary between two kindreds. What would heaven be if not an eternal echo of this love?

This is what we both have been looking for. This is what we have lived and died for. We’ve both succumbed to the weight of the crosses we’ve shouldered along the way, and risen to stand tall among the dusty remnants of lives we once considered ours. We’ve given up only to find renewed strength in our endeavors. We’ve struck out on paths unfamiliar and easily criticized, only to find ourselves right where we belong. We are, if nothing else, blessed to have found each other. Do we dare, now, let this sweet juice spill without first quenching our thirst? Pass me your chalice, for I wish to take a sip.

Or two.

Or three.

Or more.

Or more. I like the sound of that one. Many more. Millions and millions more. One sip for each star in the sky. Perhaps then I will find some solace from my thirst for you.

Perhaps I am but a dreamer. I don’t think so. I think I read your mind and your heart, and spill that truth we share all over the fields we dream of playing in. I think together we see the flowers sprouting and see the potential of such wonderful blooming in that field, and we only need to let our sweat rain down upon this fertile soil to unlock the secret of its loving potential.

Until then, at that moment when we tear away the shrouds we use to hide the inevitable, I remain in your steadfast seeker asking what if in every breath, in every intention, and in every way until you finally answer. That future awaits us both.

This is no mistake, no fluke, no common misconception.

What this is, is beautiful, a mixture of experience and desire born from a lifetime of seeking what we have discovered. At the moment when two hearts hewn from a search divine meet somewhere, that which was becomes that which is, and that which is turns into that which can become. True, conscious love draws two, conscious souls toward one another in an outward burst of pure energy and that which could becomes that which is, and that which is becomes that which always was.

The cycle becomes complete. The pieces fit. Fear loses its grip on the heart, and wings are spread to catch the open air. Lovers, you and I, fly forever bound to a truth we’ve felt but remained undiscovered. In the beauty of your eyes, and in mine that beholds them, the discovery has been made, a layer peeled, a veil dropped into the fire. May we stand naked in the orange flicker of our union, hand in hand, lips to lips, and chest to chest. May our hungry hands devour each other, pulling us closer until we’ve squeezed out every ounce of space between us. May there be no gap, even as we dance to different songs in different ways as a celebration of love’s sweet liberation. May our sweat mix in pools beneath us each and every time we honor the gods that brought us together, a truth we can taste in eternity.

Once, you were a distant star flickering in the evening sky. Once, you seemed just a figment of some wild fantasy, and the Sun would rise and you’d be gone. Once, you were admired so quietly from afar, and left be as a testament to what seemed so impossible. Now you are in my heart with no other, as we breathe the same air, think the same thoughts, dream the same dreams. Now you are a light I can feel as close as my own heart, and it is as if I am holding the Sun herself as we circle the sky together. What is left to do besides ride this cloud together?

In the moments where there are fears, let love shine. In the moments when the voice of doubt rises, hear my voice above all others. In the moments when you are unsure, hold my hand and feel the ground become sure under our feet. You are not alone, ever, as the love you give is the love you shall receive. Enjoy your moments of solitude knowing I am not that far away. Enjoy your flight in the sky knowing I am soaring, too. Enjoy our moments when we lay, together, sharing our view of heaven and our hopes for days to come.

There, in that space where the interchangeable artist and muse are united, caress my soul as we gently kiss those tender places we have collected on our journey. Bare me your soul and let me kiss you until the Sun rises or sets, whichever may come last. Take me into you, softly and with purpose, and hold me there until the oceans dry and the sky fades to distant memory. You are so loved, and so loved shall you be.

Know, my love, it is true. In moments we are shaky and unsure, we can be sure of one thing. This is no mistake, no fluke, no misconception. What this is, is beautiful.

To the Mysterious Goddess, a heart-filled song.

What language does my heart speak to yours? Can you hear it? Can you feel, in the depths of your soul, the lyrics on which I rest?

Are my dreams but a one way street? Do I sit in active stillness, feeling you, hearing you, sensing your very existence as part of some game my mind plays on itself? Are the promises of a beating heart nothing but idle fantasy; a dream of some heart healed knowing it will surely die alone?

What does the figment of my dream need to do to complete the masterpiece my heart so implores be painted?

To the gods I beg an answer. In mortality only the whisper of a winter’s wind replies.

It’s so easy to give up hope for the brethren I know around me. The insanity of a world gone senile, the lies bantered about like the sullen oaths of a drunken man. Our hearts have been so covered with the concrete of our misgivings that they cannot beat to save themselves. The mind, once crisp with the delight of a child seeing truth for the very first time, dies next. All that is left after our earthly carnage is the shell of flesh meandering about like a zombie; lost and not knowing, helplessly divine yet not knowing its own immeasurable greatness.

I beg for something else. An enlightened soul free from the games of its parents, a strong and courageous warrior free from her bullshit testament of power. She finds her greatest strength when her knees buckle, her greatest power when she freely submits to a truth she not only makes love to, but shares as freely as the breath she exhales. A kindred spirit is she, together we are team unstoppable in the annuls of lives meant for such a purpose. We shall roar together in the windswept plains, and climb each and ever mountain we face in rugged simplicity.

I do not need luxury save the moments I am bathed in your attention. I do not need comfort save the moments I am swaddled in your arms. I do not seek for pleasure outside the whispers you sing to me in the night, in the breaking of the dawn, in the nestling of the Sun at high noon. I need no drink save what is offered me from your chalice, and I need no truth save the testament you offer when your hand takes mine, and off we climb again.

Yes, I sing to you this night, unafraid. There are no demons in the shadows of my mind, and no monsters tucked neatly in the closets of my soul. Either there is courage in you or there isn’t, either there is truth in your veins or nothing we can share.

Soon, another night, another dream. Goodnight, and I will meet you somewhere, sometime, and await your answer.

Peace.

A cloudy morning morphs into a hazy mind, and I sit still staring into the abyss around me. So many things fill that space, so many barriers between my heart and what I truly want from this life.

My thoughts often get cloudy when wondering about my purpose. Sometimes I feel like a wayward ship left helpless, only floating where the purpose of currents and winds shall take me.  I once fought so hard against the flow that I had little energy to see where it had brought me. Distractions are, as they will always be, what the mind sees as saviors saving us from a certain truth.

Even when the storms come I can be left distracted by the waves buffeting me about. I rarely pay homage to the winds, or the crashing thunder, or the waves that bruise my ego. Those things are there to be honored, for they awaken in me the truth of who I am. I often press those wounds just to be reminded that they are there, for no greater gift do they offer than the reminder that it is I who bangs my head against the wall, and it is me who continually puts his heart to the fire, then writing the story that best suits the occasion.

That leads me to this now. The moment where the morning chill arrives, and the divide between us seems so insurmountable.

The lesson is, of course, that this is all my doing. I gaze at the prose on my wall and the symbols I use to remind me that when the winds blow hardest it is not time to hide, it is time to face the storm. The storm is, after all, rarely out there but rather is always in here.

In here. That spot that ceases to be a place, but rather becomes an action. Nouns do not exist in here, only verbs. In here is where vibrations exist in questions asked, and in answers offered. It is like a heaven where everything is action, the observation ceases as a thing, as does the observer, as does the messages that echo from its walls. So it is in here I go, to write a question on my heaven’s walls and to wait for a response.

“I’d like to know….”

Perhaps more a statement than a question, but in here grammar does not exist. Every question and statement has the power of intention behind it, and it is that power that is seen, felt, and understood. The words are irrelevant, only the formless sense of intent is recognized.

What comes is formless and wordless, but I will try to explain in the best way I can while being limited by my human imperfections.

I see a face, her beauty expressed by the waves of surrender that course through my soul. Rose petals flow around her, gracefully surrendering their sweet fragrance as they sacrifice their own existence to her moment. There is a golden thread that I cannot see, yet can feel, between us. I can feel her smile, and her scent, and trust the recognition.

“Yes, I know…”

I want to grab her face and kiss her. A rush of heat fills my serenity. Yet, there is nothing there to grab. There is nothing I need hold on to. There is only her, and me, swirling in a wind of essence. So beautiful is she that I lose all strength, and yet I have never been stronger.

She beckons me forward, and I follow.

There is a mountain whose purple majesty is capped in a beautiful white crown. While no path is made clear I am drawn to its peak, and I need to be there. I hear her voice beg me to follow, yet I cannot see her now. It’s almost as if she is the mountain itself.

I hear her laughing as I make my way up. When I stumble on the loosest rocks, she lifts me. I can feel her help me up, yet still cannot see her. I want to tell her that I should be the one helping her, but she silences me with a “shhhhhh” that sounds like a breeze rustling through the trees. I let go of my ego and stand, and continue upward on our way.

Finally, we are sitting on the summit, gazing at the valley below. There, the vision of small cottages with white smoke billowing from their chimneys meshes with the colorful mixture of snow and earthly life. There are souls keeping warm in their shelter, and I am keeping warm next to mine.  Comfort has never been my way, but this is something different.

An overwhelming feeling of contentment and peace flow over me. There is nothing out there for me. All I have found in the moment is still in here, as much a part of me as I am of it.

“Yes, I know…”

No matter the distance, we are near. No matter the space, we are never empty. No matter the storm, we can always find peace.

I can feel her smile, for she is love recognized by my soul for who she is. I need not see it. It’s always there.

“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.” ~Rumi.

As surely as I am in stillness, I dance and swirl to the truth I know within me. I can see the walls I’ve built, my soulful desire to be challenged. I can hear the rivers of milk and honey just on the other side of one of the walls I’ve built, and can feel the laughter of my lover on the other side of another. I can hear her gasps of ecstasy, and feel my own, just over the traverse. Another Rumi quote comes to me as if written in a gold, neon sign.

“Our task is not to seek for love, but to break down the barriers we have built against it.”

The same can be said for peace. Or abundance. Or health. Or purpose.

Or purpose…

Fuck….yes! The answer I’ve been searching for won’t come from out there. Rather, it is just on the other side of the wall I’ve built against it!

“Yes, I know…”

My eyes have opened, albeit not gently this time. I laugh at myself, and I wonder if she gets it, too. I wonder if our hands will start tearing away at the wall that divides us until, finally, our fingertips touch. Our names are written in the sky in one cloud, in one sky, by one wind. It is up to us to master it, and write the words we wish to see.

Yes, I know…