Category: Short Stories (Page 35 of 46)

Liberation from Fear

August 10, 2013 / Tom

He had felt the sting of her absence and he had felt the pain of the distance between them yet, for the Wandering Man, he felt no greater pain than that of her departure. The end had not yet come for them, but even so he could feel the numbness in his chest and smell the stench of such discovery as if it had already happened. For him, now, it only seemed a matter of time.

Their love was, after all, a risk; a roll of the dice to which the odds were so heavily stacked against them. The footprints they left in the sand behind them were the divergent paths of separate lives that had intersected for brief moments of blistering passion, left cooled by the fear of guilt and the surrender to false comfort. To one there was a hope of truth whispering a soft song, to the other there was the liar of fear shouting loudly enough to drown out the music.

When fear sets in crimes of passion are often mitigated by the punishment of the mind. When hope becomes nothing more than a discomfort it is hope that dies. When love becomes that thing beyond our reach it is often happiness we leave behind. We have become masters of fantasy, one that would turn the sweet nectar of love sour and the bitterness of servitude to our liking. We live a lie, and then we hate ourselves for it even as we search for a truth we hate ourselves for finding. We are the most well conditioned of beasts, and we are the most indentured servants to fear, paying off the debt those before us have passed on.

It is said that there comes a moment with the prisoner begins to love his chains. It can also be said that there comes a moment when the prisoner begins to fear his liberation. Who does shackle you my dear? Who does bind you to the Earth with chains when your wings so much desire to fly?

Why must we compound the debt of our parents or of our neighbors by living their lie as well? Who created the monsters in your closet, or the shadows in the corners of your mind? Who sets them free to run amok in our lives? Who hides the torch that slays the dark beasts of minds in order to make them real?

Another firm footfall in the sand and behold, there is only one set of footprints there. I would rather die a thousand deaths in this deserted place than live a life in bondage as your neighbor. I would rather die a hard death as I crash to the ground than to have lived in fear of flight. I would rather die than to have never felt the wind rush through my soul, or never have tasted the sunlight upon my lips. Fear, let me go. Fear, let me be. Fear, say goodbye to this Wanderer as I set my compass to whichever direction I may go heading for a truth to which I may give my life.

If I must be alone in this journey, I accept my solitude. If I must be hated for my liberation, I accept my punishment. If I must continue to bleed to be released from these shackles and chains I accept the pain. In my heart I feel my purpose never so clearly. It is not to be loved. It is not to love. It is to acknowledge my freedom and take my liberation as a result of that understanding. There is love there, flowing naturally as the rain from a summer’s cloud.

Freedom is not liberation. Freedom is the knowing you can be liberated. Liberation is the act of exercising your freedom, of living that truth so vehemently that you awaken from the dream and find peace so abundantly that war becomes obsolete. Freedom is the knowing you can fly. Liberation is the flying.

The ground becomes a resting place and nothing more, the sky is where you roam. Gravity is what reminds you of the beauty of your liberation. Stillness becomes a beautiful activity. You begin to know fear as something you once felt, that liar who was once your Master but who is now a silent student.

So tell me, was the ride worth it? Did you feel the air briefly rush over you as you flew with me high in the sky, looking down on those clouds you have become so accustom to seeing above? Did you love the clarity of the bluest of skies even as you sought the murkiness of a clouded pool of mud on which to force a landing? I wish nothing more, I seek nothing less. That is love.

I will now rest my head to sleep. I will awaken on my earthen table to read the promise on the stone now covering my tomb. My tomb is the dream, the illusion of fear to which I have become enslaved. The written promise is of freedom, and in the rolling back of the stone I embark on my tale of liberation. You need not go with me, you need not sacrifice your bread for the promise of starvation. Yet you will not die of hunger if you do, for a wise man once said in a story written long ago that “man cannot live on bread alone.” Your body may feel hunger, and your mind may scream in the agony of fear, but out there, in that wonderland of liberation there is nothing you will ever need even as all your needs are met.

Peace.

It is Coming, It is Here.

July 16, 2013 / Tom

I am clearing space in my life. I’m not sure for what, but I am sure that for some reason I am making room in my life for something that is not currently present in it. So, I go dutifully about my business instinctively, much like a bird making a nest or a wolf creating a den, without knowing what is coming or when it will arrive.

I wonder if I’ve always done this and am now simply aware of it, or if this is something new. I wonder as I watch the fruit fall from the tree of my life if it soon will be my time to ripen. In the silence of my breath I wonder quietly if I am the fruit at all, or simply discovering that I am, instead, the roots of the tree deeply connected with the Earth around me. Am I feeling the Earth as part of me now in a way that has never been? Or am I realizing that I am the Earth; Her streams, Her mountains, Her valleys, Her oceans and Her deserts?

I feel the sky in my stillness. Am I no longer just the blossom, or the fruit, or the tree or its roots, or the Earth but also the sky? I feel myself as the breeze, the clouds, the raindrops, and the starry night sky. I feel lighting come from my fingertips, and heat from my eyes. I feel the Sun burning from my heart and the moon from my Soul.

I feel as if I am the Sun. Just being me, destructive and life-giving, loving to some and painful to others. All I can do is burn, in the way I was created, in the way I have become, and light the sky for some while burning the ground for others.

I sit here for a while, enjoying the warm light from within, the stars surrounding me, the emptiness engulfing me. In the green-hued mist of my stillness I feel it all, and I remember. Yes, I remember it all. From seed to sapling, from sapling to tree, from tree to fruit, from fruit to root, from root to Earth, from Earth to sky, from sky to Sun, from Sun to here. I feel the Universe blanketing me, surrounding me in full emptiness and beautiful aloneness. I can’t feel any separation here, only truth that I am all of it. The sounds of silence tempered by the beating drums of eternal heartbeats fill my Soul with the rhythm of life, and I realize I am.

Now I return as that entirety sinks into that tiny Being we call “me” once again. I realize now that I am no longer just rooted in the Earth, but in everything I am. I love the scorched ground on which my light has shined just as I find joy in the lush meadows that would not ever have existed without me. I walk with a smile in the cracked creek beds that have dried in my presence and swim happily in the oceans teeming with life just because I am. I can make no apologies for either, for you are the creator of your own judgments on the matter. I can only be and let everything fall where it may.

Yeah. I am instinctually creating space in my life. Something is coming. I don’t know what, and I don’t know when, but I can see clearly in my steadfast foundation that when it arrives I will be ready. I can’t make excuses, I can’t make words to describe what it is, but I feel it all around me as I bask in the light I was created to shine. I feel the puzzle fitting nicely into place. I feel the warmth and cold with equal love, and I feel the day and the night blanket me with equal care. It is coming. It is here.

A Million Times Before

July 10, 2013 / Tom

It was like it was a million times before. He would dream of her, feeling her presence in some darkened place at some other time. He could not comprehend the waves of ecstatic energy that washed over him in the midst of his sleep, and he could not forget the pleasure of her touch as the pureness of their union reached them both in the deepest parts of their Being. He would be there, enjoying this love, basking in its sweat, swimming in its essence and wanting nothing more than its eternity.

She would look at him with eyes and kiss him with lips he could not see as she whispered words unspoken into his unfilled heart. He’d stir with a certain pleasure and begin to reach for her with a very human anticipation. In that moment the stillness would erupt into a blinding white light, and he would hear her scream his name as the light washed away the darkness, and that reality was replaced by a new, more human one.

Awakened, he’d open his eyes and look. There was nothing but empty space and crumbled sheets where he would swear he could still feel her. There was no sweat, and he could no longer taste her lips on his own. He’d sigh that sigh that could not be stopped, and would then fall into the stillness that had opened his heart up to so much more.

He was alone but not lonely, wanting but not needing. In the green-hued light of his stilled mind he could feel that presence that had defined his dream. He wanted her, he sought her, and until that feeling would rise up within him in her presence he would not, he could not, stop. Seasons would come and seasons would go, but he knew that one day he would gently hold her face in his strong hands, kiss her lips, and whisper the simple words, “I’ve been waiting” into her ear as their bodies responded to destiny. There, the light within them would explode, and they’d find themselves in a darkened room blinded but never seeing so clearly.

In that night he would dream as he had a million times before. In the darkness all around him he could feel her there, in this place at this time. He would feel the waves of ecstatic energy wash over him, and he would know them as old friends and ride them to their destination. He would feel the pleasure of her touch as the pureness of their union reminded him of their journey; touching them in the deepest parts of their Being.

He would stay there, enjoying this love, basking in its sweat while swimming in it essence and wanting nothing more than its eternity.And like a million times before he would be awakened, but this time there would be no light, no scream, and no empty space. This time, his eyes would open to see her face directly above his, her hands on his face, her eyes glued to his. She would then bend to his mouth and kiss him deeply. She would move her body closer to him until she was on top of him as his hands began to lightly caress her back.

There the dull, aching fire within him would explode and he would feel it as he had a million times before. There he would know. The search for her had ended. He had not paused, and he had not quit. He had stayed true to the unknown course and remained steadfast to the commitment that he would not stop until this fire had been lit by two hands, one his and one hers. As her hand gently caressed the fire she had lit within him, their lips parted as she brought her own to his ear and whispered,

“I’ve been waiting too.”

In that wonderful union between Life and Love there is one simple truth among a host of lies. We cannot settle. When we do we find we suffer while closing ourselves off to infinite possibilities that surround us. Find that feeling, that fire within us and love it. Cherish it. And be it, allowing it consume the lies; those notions, thoughts and beliefs of others that we often use to define us. Learn to trust what you feel in the purest places you visit within yourself. Understand your suffering as a path that can either lead you to your promised land or to an endless loop that only ends when you choose something greater.

Do not fall in love with the body alone. Do not fall in love with the mind alone. Do not fall in love with the spirit alone. Wait and be patient. Somewhere at some time you are destined to meet a torch-bearer that lights the fires within you, all of you. Be there and be present when she comes. Know yourself so that you can know others. Be yourself so others can be themselves. Be impeccable with your word and refuse to take things personally. Focus on the love, focus on the feeling, and accept it as you give it. Expect perfection even in the imperfections.

Don’t be afraid to be her torch-bearer too. Stand tall knowing that you were meant for her as well. Be yourself, and let her fall in love with the truth of you. Do not pretend, but trust her to know what she wants. Then let go, and let the truth set your fire free.

And, yes, I’ll be waiting.

The Choice to Love

July 4, 2013 / Tom

In the sultry silence I lay, my heart pounding while my breath simply tries to catch up with the rest of me. There you are, a silhouette of my dreams made real in an instant. A bundle of womanhood; one of doubt, insecurity and unlimited while yet unrealized power.

An unheard sigh escapes my lips.

I study the beads of sweat on your forehead glistening in the moonlight and I know. I know that our time to part is soon, and I will be watching the sun rise over one ocean while you watch it set over another. The gap that closed between us while our skin melted into holy unity may not widen, but the distance will make the exercise impossible. I reach out to you and grasp your hand, knowing that when I see the sun again, my hand will be empty and my eyes absent of the beauty that I now see.

Suddenly the clock becomes our Master, and the seconds become our enemy. With each tick our distance widens, and with each fall of the hands our moment fades. I’ve never liked the worship of time, yet here I am kneeling before it as if it were my King while rueing the moment when it commands my life, my moment, and my reality all end.

I close my eyes, focusing on that hand in mine rather than on the one whose sound I hate. I feel the breath that brings me the scent of you, and I hear the rhythm of your heart that brings me peace in this, the only moment that matters. I can feel the hunger rise up within me again, and can sense the thirst regain its foothold in my mind. I can feel your hand touch me there, everywhere, and I know that the clock has not yet defeated us. I smile as my hand returns your favor, and our lips touch again.

The only good that comes from a love story untold is that we become more aware of it. We may choose not to listen, but it will only scream louder until we can no longer ignore its presence. Our choices, our dreams, our realities, all combine into one ménage that creates the very chapters of our lives. We either choose love or fear, both being a perfect choice that will only serve to highlight the beauty of the love within and around us. We will either choose the joy of love or the misery of fear while enjoying the experience that either choice provides.

For me, the short focus on the end of this moment has brought me back here, to its present, to the woman who is about to surround me and let me in. There is nothing more beautiful than the expression of love in our lives. There is nothing more powerful than a thirst for love. There is nothing stronger than the hunger we feel for one another, and there is nothing more necessary that the physical expression of that simple truth we call love. So, I choose to heal myself here, inside this woman surrounded by the embrace I so desire, and to bask here in this eternity.

Why Do You Love Me?

June 27, 2013 / Tom

“Why do you love me?” he heard her whisper in the night. He closed his eyes, a tear forming sure to stain his pillow.

I love you because I do. I love you because the Universe showed me the way to you. I love you because my heart beats your name, my mind drowns in your eyes, my soul feels yours even when we are miles apart.

I love you because I have no choice. I didn’t ask to love you. I didn’t need to love you, but I love you just the same. My arms aren’t filled unless you’re in them, and my thirst is not quenched unless you are the drink.

I love you because I feel comfort in being out of my comfort zone with you by my side. I love you because every cell of my body responds to your touch, to your look, to the way you move and the way you sound. I love you because something, somewhere, directed me to you. It was my soul, and you are its mate.

Through the paths we have taken to one another I have loved you. I’ve played in comfortable places among comfortable people until I had no choice but to leave there to come to you here. I battled the gods themselves and faced the raging storms of hell until, one day, the clouds parted and your eyes met mine. I waited, impatiently, for you until that shock from my heart announced your arrival.

I know you are scared, my sweet Angel. I know you feel the pangs of fear and the dread of a journey of which no arrival is guaranteed. But I promise you this. When the demons come I will stand strong with you at my back and you will be protected. When the brimstone comes raining from the sky I will shield you until each storm passes. When the swine and malcontent arrive, I will fight them, and when the battles are over and the storm clouds are gone I will hold your face, look into your eyes, and you will know why I love you.

It is the Sunrise

June 12, 2013 / Tom

There is a vile moment in your experience when you realize, for the first time, that she is not the woman you thought she was. The antidote for that poison is the awesome realization that you are not the man she thinks you are. The smile that crests your lips is the Sunrise.

There is that sickening moment when you realize that the one you’ve trusted most knows your every weakness, and is suddenly allied with those parts of you. There is relief in that beautiful moment when you realize that your weakness has always been your greatest strength. The tear that trails down your face is the Sunrise.

There are those moments when you miss the ones you love and you’d give anything for one more hug, one more kiss, one more “I love you.” There is comfort found when the ones who love you hug you tightly, kiss you with joy, and scream to the listening world “I love you!” That comfort is the Sunrise.

There are those moments when you look back at certain times in your life filled with sadness and despair and begin to feel them again. There is joy when you return to this moment and find it was all worth it. That joy is the Sunrise.

There are those moments when you are filled with anger and your thoughts are focused on vengeance and retribution. You find strength when your breath returns and the gates of your heart open widely to let the love return. That strength is the Sunrise.

There are moments when you feel so lost that you are not certain you will ever find your way again. Find peace in the moment you realize just how found you are. That peace is the Sunrise.

Before every Sunrise comes the darkest part of night. Don’t wake up for the Sunrise, wake up for the darkest part that makes the Sunrise explode into your soul. Feel the coldest part of night before the warm light touches your skin. Know the dead silence of night before you hear the songbirds of the brand new day. There is so much beauty in those places we think are oh so ugly.

And the beauty we find? Well, that is the Sunrise.

Peace.

I. Love. Just. Being. Me

June 5, 2013 / Tom

There was once an ideal so great it seemed indestructible to me. It stood tall in the landscape of my life, and dominated my horizons even in those moments when I felt small and cold in its shadow. I measured my worth in its presence, often wondering if I could ever stand as tall as the person who had dominated my life.

Ultimately, I failed her and her me. It is remarkable what one can discover when the velo di amore is lifted from the eyes and replaced with la nebbia di avidità.

That is often where we find ourselves when a great promise becomes a lost ideal. I found myself a rudderless vessel unsure of each footstep and lost in an abyss of yesterdays, tossing and turning in a vast sea of uncertainty often sailing against the winds of my own heart. The very moment when you watch everything you once cherished and idolized become consistent with everything you wanted to remove from your life is the very moment when the ideal is lost, and often the very moment when you realize your life is no longer the dream you once held dear.

I had no idea what I was in for in that holy instant when the rains came and the flood waters descended upon my world. The walls closed in on me, and my heart sank into the black depths of despair. Gone are those who said you were their son. Gone are those who only hours before had said they loved you. Gone are those who called you brother, and gone is the one who promised you an eternity.

Everything goes. Everything vanishes. Everything returns to the dust on which it was built. Your life ends, or so you think.

I felt as if I was helpless, alone, and that I’d been left hanging in a place of which I had never been, in a way in which I had never experienced. I cried tears so salty that they dried my body of its substance, and sobbed so loudly that I had stirred the gods from their deepest slumber. I searched for reasons, and although I was told why from her, I realized that nothing I had ever believed in was real. I soon lost my sense of who I was and what I was doing.

It is, however, a moment of great opportunity. Some of us seek distractions and support from religion, others seek the same in substances. I simply wanted to watch and to learn. I wanted to seek out the illusions I had constructed in my life and end them. I wanted to suffer in order to end my suffering. I wasn’t going to find my joy in a Bible, or in a bottle; no I would have to find my joy in a place few of us journey into deeply in a way I had never tried before.

That is what I had decided to do. Search. Watch. Learn. Most of all I worked hard at not interfering with the process. Soon I began to see patterns that failed to serve me at my highest place. I saw my consistent need to blame myself for the failures. I saw the mistakes I made in not standing up for who I was and what I wanted in my life. I saw the error of not loving myself, and in not simply accepting my fears, my desires, my needs and my loves as wonderful manifestations of who I am. I allowed myself to be suckered into living a lie; her lie, their lie, and my lie. I followed my heart that said “I love you” without testing the waters in her mind to see if they were too shallow, too cold, or simply not aged enough to dive into. I allowed myself to believe her lie, and soon began living it as if I owned it. Worse, I began admitting to it as if it had really happened.

I began seeing the pedestal I had constructed to place her and them on. That pedestal was a dangerous construct, it puts others in a place of being worshipped unjustly while placing me in a place of worshipping others unfairly. I failed to see my worth, my value and my sense of divinity. It was no wonder I couldn’t see them for who they were.

Mere dust. Nothing more.

There came a time, though, when the proverbial flood waters receded and my ark came to rest on a mountaintop. The rainbows appeared and I let my cargo go free to wander those places I had never seen. It is there that the veil itself begins to unravel, and it is there that the pedestals crumble and the dust blows away. I began to see less with my heart and more with my mind all the while beginning to see it all with something I once searched for but had never truly found.

That part I was always seeking was, truly, that part that was always seeking me.

I began to see that there is truly nothing more valuable to a human Being as the relation I have with my Self. I began to see the things I once held so dear as nothing more than illusions. I began to let go of those swirling dust-devils I once held as gods upon a pedestal and they, in turn, began revealing their truth. I was never what I was told I was, and I was never what I wanted to be. Because I wanted to be it so badly I believed it so easily. In the end the lie was revealed, as was the truth. There is only I, and I am beautiful in every way.

They are just people, and not always just people. They are having their own experience as they have every right, and I have no real need to interfere with that which does not interfere with me. I don’t need their love to feel love, and I don’t need their acceptance to feel accepted. That was a losing proposition that I started years ago, and the faux me could never live up to the ideal that the real me had never agreed to.

So, now all I promise is me…in the flesh and in the spirit without pretense and without some false sense of what you want. You will either love me or not, and I don’t pretend to be able to make that choice for you. I love me, sincerely and without hesitation, as a man with perfect faults and incredible potential. I love what I am doing right now; taking a whirlwind of feelings, translating them into words, and sharing them with anyone who has the fortune of reading them. I love exploring parts of me that were once oppressed and hidden living up to ideals not mine and am often ecstatic about what I find in the process. I love jumping out of proverbial airplanes and free-falling, often unsure if the parachute I packed will ever open even while being sure that I was the one who packed it and no one else. I love being alone when I want, in great company when I can, and in exploring the liberation I’ve found in the broken shackles that now lay littering the place where the pedestals once stood. I. Love. Just. Being. Me.

Period.

I love writing about what I want to write about without worrying about being censored by someone who doesn’t accept me and who will never defend what she can’t accept.

I love that I am no longer afraid.

I love that I can experience this life in the way I wish to experience it without caring about the judgment of others.

I love that I no longer see the “old me” as bad because I no longer see the old me at all.

I love that I can now live in the present moment whenever I choose, undaunted by the desires of others to resign me to the box they created years ago.

I love that I can explore my journey while looking in the rearview mirror, unafraid of the judgments some will place on my experience, and without needing their approval.

I love the fact that sometimes I am deeply saddened by missing those I once called “family” even as I am extremely happy in the knowing of the love I have for them.

I love my children and the relationship I am forging with them. I love that they love me, and that I am acutely aware of the awesome miracles that they create in so many moments, in so many ways.

I love the friends I have discovered, both new and old alike. I love seeing the world with them, and in having our experiences together when the present themselves.

I love that I can be alone for days without worry and without despair.

I. Love. Just. Being. Me

Oh yeah, I said that already. Oh well, I hope to say it many more times before my time here is through. After all, there is no better proof that I love myself then in my ability to love you even if I can’t be “with” you. I love the fucking rain. I love the humidity. I love the cool breeze now lightly caressing my back through my open sliding-glass door. I love my cat who is now rubbing her body on my leg. I love the other one who is watching to see if I’ll pet his sister (they are competitive that way).

I love the fact that I am pro-peace and not anti-war. I love the fact that my oldest wants me to teach her meditation. I love the fact that I love.

And, of course, I. Love. Just. Being. Me.

As you can see, the experience of suffering can be a great friend. Losing something you love can also be a wonderful experience. Seeing what others are doing while also seeing who they are can be a wonderful experience. You soon see that they are just like you, having an experience, and even if you don’t like how you feel in what they are doing you can always find love for them because they are just like you. Even if they pretend to be better.

Take care of yourself and let them go. Those who don’t serve your purpose will drop away like rotting fruit from the tree to serve another purpose. Remember, that fruit is only rotting to you, to others that fruit will be a deserved feast, a welcome meal.

In the end what will only be real is the love you have for you. In the end, the only reality you will have is that you are a wonderful part of the Universe designed to manifest Its beauty. Adore yourself, and become your best friend.

Peace.

If You Can’t Take It With You, It Doesn’t Mattter

May 29, 2013 / Tom

I have been fortunate in my life to have been challenged by many people along the way. This story is an example of such a challenge.

This is a conversation I had with a conservative Christian woman who was slightly older than I am. It began as a group conversation about the checkered history of Christianity, to which I was offering factual accounts of atrocities created during that history.

The woman walked up to me afterward and said, “I’d really like to continue our conversation. You kind of peeved me a little bit.”

I’m pretty used to that reaction, so it no longer offends me. “How so? If I may ask.”

“Well, you seem to quickly point out the evils of Christianity, but you don’t mention that all religions have such issues in their history. Why not talk about that?”

Without wanting to get into a much deeper discussions of why it seems all religions have such a tortured past, I stuck to the subject at hand.

“I don’t believe that’s true. I don’t seem to remember much history of Buddhist atrocities, or of Buddhism’s evil side. I haven’t read where there were Buddhist inquisitions, or Buddhist crusades, or forced subjugation of people by Buddhists. It may be there, but have you ever heard of any?”

“No, I haven’t. But give it time, Buddhism isn’t that old.”

I kind of blinked strangely at that comment, and she must have seen it.

“Right?” she added.

“Actually, it may surprise you to find out that Buddhism is about 500 years older than Christianity. And it’s killed far fewer people. In fact, the vast majority of people who have died because of Buddhism have died because their Buddhist.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“Check it out if you want, but I think you’ll find it’s true.”

“Ok, so let’s go with that. I can also say with some certainty that Buddhism doesn’t contribute to society. At least Christianity does that.”

“Can I ask you some questions,” I went on. ” and would you answer honestly? Keep in mind that I am not asking questions to compare Buddhism to Christianity, but rather want to see if Buddhism contributes to society.”

“Yes, ok, go ahead.”

So, I asked her how many people Buddhist monks have murdered, or of people who have been murdered in the name of Buddhism.

She replied, “none to my knowledge.”

Then I asked how many nations Tibet has invaded.

She said “none.”

So I then asked her how many Buddhists the Dali Lama has ordered to attack non-believers.

She said “none to my knowledge.”

“Then haven’t Buddhists contributed something to society? Isn’t peace something we all can contribute?”

It appeared she had no choice but to say “I guess so.”

Not satisfied with this end, she then started with the clarifiers. You know, the “contributions I mean are jobs, money, income, wealth, prosperity.”

“Can you take money with you to heaven when you die?” I replied.

“No.”

“Can you take your house, your car, or your TV with you when you die?”

“No.”

“Can you take any part of your wealth with you when you pass on?”

“Nope.”

“Can you take peace with you?”

“Yes, I hope so.”

“Then isn’t the very thing that Buddhist monks contribute to society the ONLY thing you can take with you to heaven?”

She again seemed to have no choice but to agree.

“Does it seem strange to you that the very place your faith says you can take peace but not wealth is called “paradise”? Doesn’t it seem ironic to some degree that the Master you believe is the Son of God is also called the ‘Prince of Peace’ and not the ‘Prince of Job Creation’ or the ‘Prince of Sound Finance’?”

She then put her hand on my shoulder, said “thank you” and walked away. I’m not sure what, if any, effect the conversation had on her, but it seemed to confirm in me what I’ve seen since my earliest memory. Peace is the answer, and love is the way to peace.

We all have our own personal Bodhi trees, and for me mine has been the many times I’ve sat simply watching. Watching others. But mostly watching myself. Watching myself in moments of suffering. Watching myself in moments of ecstasy, or regret, or sorrow, or joy. Watching myself when I am challenged and when I am not.

It isn’t easy being a human, or another other physical being on this planet. Yet it can be. We just have to set our sights on that star of Peace and Love and hold our course even when the wild winds blow and the waves try to crack our hulls. We can…

So maybe we need to consider something taught as a matter of life by even the lowliest of Buddhist monks. It we can’t take it with us in our passing it really doesn’t matter. If we can’t hold on to it when we close our eyes for the last time perhaps it isn’t worth holding on to beforehand. Perhaps we have been taught incorrectly, and perhaps each of us, if we listen, can change.

And Now I Write…

May 28, 2013 / Tom

And now I write.

Having been blown away by the solemn wind of something other than this world, I write. Having fallen from a spot on which I’ve stood toward a hazy-blue tale of the unknown, I write. Having found the lost sense of purpose on which my heart does beat, I write.

It’s those eyes. Where have I seen them before? How do I know them? What commands my heart and soul to speak a truth my mind cannot yet fathom? What compass points to my true North which is not heading north at all? I do not think here, for reason has no place at this table. I am lost and found, completely at odds with my thoughts while knowing so certainly that what twists and turns outside my head is right.

To what paradise do I see when falling in those eyes? Only heaven could have pushed me from the cliff on which I’ve clung, and only Love could have gently forced me from the perch on which I’ve stood. I spread my mighty arms and soar through air that I once feared, now knowing the dream I’ve dreamt a million times as a new reality.

To you I fly,

my sweet lullaby,

To tear this mind apart.

And though I try

I can’t deny

That sweet and gentle heart.

And so I write. Onward and endless flow the eternal words from the deepest part of me. Harnessed intentions I see in the moving clouds and hear in the rustling of the leaves that are seldom dormant in my mind. It is a truth. It is the truth, and a purer diamond you will not find in the entirety of our Universe. Hold it. Keep it, and view the world through its perfect eye.

Goodbye, for now, as I will write again when the winds stir me to that hallowed estuary.

Peace.

Lessons Learned in Letting Go

May 25, 2013 / Tom

It felt good to let go, to watch her walk freely into the world on the path she had chosen for herself. Her smile was evidence of a just Universe, her life since then proof of something wonderful. Yes, beautiful things can come from the ugliest of places.

Letting go wasn’t easy for a man who loved her so. Her soul spoke to him in a language he had never heard before but, somehow, easily understood. His heart beat out her name not only in the most silent of moments but also in the middle of the storms they had created together. It was their minds, however, that could not reconcile to the music they were hearing.

He had become a willing student of observation and what he observed in the process of letting go was a formidable truth. He could see the tricks his ego would play on him, the anger his mind would create as a method of self-protection. He could also hear the requests of his heart and feel the pulsing glow of a love that was true from the moment he saw her. The choice, he knew, was his. He could listen to either.

What he believed she had done became irrelevant after a while, replaced by a simple belief that all things spoke a truth all of their own. What had bothered him as their minds battled one another wasn’t her, it was the truth that in the divine trinity of human love their minds simply were not meant for one another in this lifetime. He could love her deeply in his soul without hesitation. He could caress her in his heart for eternity. He could not, however, dance with a mind that was hearing a different song.

She was not wrong. She was not at fault. She was her perfect self whose mind danced to a beat of a song he could not hear. Her dance was perfect even if he could not follow the moves, and it was perfect even if he found it impossible to learn. As the dust swirled around him he lost touch with her soul and could no longer hear her heart beating in his chest and anger filled the vacuum. He was angry with himself, falling to the common ledge of self-loathing and doubt. He filled the void in the only way he knew how, and he could feel his mind and body slowly falling into the ego’s trap of fear. He began to resist everything, and in doing so he began to attract even more things to resist.

Life had taught him to observe, and it had also taught him the value of experience. He knew he needed this experience even if he could not say why it was necessary. So, he simply went where the currents took him and watched. He could see what was making him unhappy. He could see where the weakness was, and even if he decided not to change his condition in the moment, he was discovering the value of the experience. No tear was wasted, no moment of anger was spent in vain. He knew that one day he would tire of walking in shoes that never seemed to fit on a path that was either too rocky, too narrow or too boring for him to enjoy.

Sadness was created for the experience of joy. Once we experience sadness we understand the value of joy and we can choose which path we wish to take when presented with the option. This expression we call “life” is nothing more than a series of options given to provide us with experience, and we are the Master of our own destiny; the Creator of our own reality. We often fail to realize our own power as Master and Creator, but once we not only realize that power but observe it in action we begin to see the error of blame and judgment. As he began to observe his own dance and how perfect it was, he began to see hers as perfect too. As he began to see the value of his own independence, he began to see the value in hers. As he began to see the perfection of his own needs he began to see the perfection in hers.

What he discovered was probably the greatest discovery of his life up to that point. Letting go is not about forgetting. It is not about anger, or fear, or hatred. It is not about being wrong, or being right. It is about remembering. It is about love. It is about acceptance.

He had discovered that when one finally accepts himself he cannot help but accept others. He had discovered that when one finally loves himself he cannot do anything but love others. It all began to make sense to him finally. The Jesus of the New Testament did not command us to “love one another” for the neighbor’s sake, he did so for our own. He did not “so love the world”, he so loved himself that he could not help but love the world. All of it. Even the tax collectors. If we choose to see God as “Love”, then the Jesus written about certainly was God’s son sent to remind us that we are, too, Love’s children.

It seemed that what Buddha had found was not the rejection of attachments as a path to enlightenment. Instead, we find peace when we accept everything. That’s real love. Forgiveness is not an act of loving someone else despite themselves, it is in loving yourself despite yourself. Self-love is not a sin, it is a wise mastery of everything around you. Self-mastery is not about discipline, it is about acceptance. Forgiveness is nothing more than an act of acceptance, of love, and soon it all becomes one big non-thing.

It all becomes about selfishness. No, not the type your parents warned you about. Instead, this type of selfishness revolves around the focus on self. He had found that when he was happy he had great ability to make others happy. When he was not, he could ruin the best of moods. He began to see himself as the pebble and the universe around him as the lake. He could create ripples, and he could change the Universe around him with one thought translated into one action. He could ruin a field of bluegrass with one dandelion, or he could plant the daisies that brought the world to life. So he began to focus on self, to become more selfish, because his experience and his Universe depended on it. He began to see the meaningless of his human condition even if he wanted to experience it. He could choose which he would experience and which he wouldn’t, and as he began to change his mind, he began to change his world.

There is great strength in each of us, a great power that often goes unrealized in this experience. We don’t just use only 10% of our brain, we also seem to use only 10% of our power and most of that is often wasted on living in the dreams of others. You will begin to see this the moment you decide to be selfish and to take control of who you are and the life experience you are having. The Sun does not have such great power because it is trying to be the moon, and you will never find yourself in the hearts, minds, or opinions of another.

He could remember the moment he had found her soul again. He could feel her heartbeat once more when he closed his eyes and felt the silence all around him. He could see her smile and laughter in his mind’s ear and he knew everything was perfect. It was at this moment that, with a slight exhale, he let go. Not of her, but of that part of him that held on to the egoic ideal of what should have been. As the smile and laughter of hers blended into a smile and laughter of his own, he knew. He had let go of everything in that moment, a moment worth remembering.

If it is true that one cannot add to a cup already full, he was happy for the experience as he emptied his own. Experience is nothing if never exercised, so in letting go he also found the desire to move on. He had smelled the flower whose fragrance would forever remind him of possibility. A wave retreats to make room for another, and he had found the desire to splash in the surf again even if he would enter the water as if for the first time. With that he entered in the direction of the Sun a place greatly affected by the moon knowing that he was exactly where he wanted to be.

Peace.