Category: Short Stories (Page 7 of 46)

On a Boat (A Vision)

January 30, 2019 / Tom

This morning, a vision.

I was on a ship, a rather large ship, with wood-planked floors and white railings. All the metal on the ship was white, and mixed with the brownish tinge of rust that seemed natural for an older ship. I could even hear the sound of an air horn blasting from above, although it wasn’t loud enough to be disturbing.

I was sitting on a chaise, considering whether or not I should relax in the moment.

The Chief I’ve seen from visions past came to me. He was dressed in fire department station wear, with navy blue pants and black boots, with a navy blue t-shirt with ” FDNY Engine 46″ screen printed on the back. He motioned me to follow him, which I did.

We headed toward the bow of the ship, toward the railing that was on the starboard side. The Chief stopped and mentioned me toward a form standing by the railing, looking out to sea.

You were dressed in a white dress, that had navy blue designs on it. Those designs varied, some were crescent moons, some were stars and flowers, and some were mountain shapes that seemed to randomly dot your dress. Your hair moved slightly in the breeze, and as I neared you turned to me and smiled, gently patting railing next to you. I turned to say a thank you to the Chief, but he was gone.

I took my place next to you along the railing and turned to look at you. Your eyes were beautiful as always, and your smile lit up my heart. Tears formed in my eyes, and I could feel them making their way down my cheek. You put your hand on mine in comfort, and leaned in to kiss one of my tears.

We turned together to look out to sea. The water was black and very calm despite the motion of the ship. The water’s calmness was broken only by whales and dolphins playing next to the ship, both exhaling geysers of mist as they broke the surface. They were swimming calmly next to us, and seemed to be protecting us as we moved through the sea.

There were mountains out by the horizon. They were tall and dark, their darkness highlighted by the white snow that capped their peaks. Their image reflected in the black sea, disturbed only by the ripples made by the whales and dolphins swimming by our side.

There we stood, the two of us, your hand over mine, my hand on the railing. Our bodies were close, so close that I could feel your warmth and the touch of your hair as it tickled my shoulder in the breeze. We said nothing. We didn’t have to. All the communication that was needed was in our touch, the sight of the sea and the mountains before us, and the feeling as if nature herself was protecting us as we sailed through life together. Beyond the ship on which we traveled we were protected by the Universe, and on the deck we were protected by each other.

Suddenly, we could see what appeared to be a small fire in the distance by the base of one of the mountains. It burned a bright orange, almost as if the Sun has found a place to sit on the Earth. As it burned, a bluish smoke rose toward the sky and over the mountains. It seemed to be like a compass needle pointing in a certain direction.

We looked at each other and smiled. You shook your head as if to say “yes, I know” and squeezed my hand three times in acknowledgement. We then turned toward the fire and the mountains, and it seemed as if we both knew where we should go.

I give thanks to the spirits that guide me, and have shown themselves to me in the most glorious ways I have ever experienced. I am not exactly sure why I am blessed now, but there is certainly a sense of peace and calm that permeates my existence as a result of these visits. I have also asked permission to share these, and while I am sure there are some I will not share there are also some I will.

Peace.

The Tree of Love

January 29, 2019 / Tom

I can almost see your footprints in the snow. I can almost hear our winter wonderland packing beneath each footfall. We walk, sometimes silently and sometimes telling great stories; sometimes apart and sometimes nestled in a warm embrace. We can share a quiet introspection or laugh loudly with the words that echo in the snow, either is fine with souls who have set forth on some great journey and who honor that journey in each and every step.

I can almost see you standing on the ridge. Along the journey there have been moments where you were unsure and I’ve led the way. There have been times when uncertainty rankled my mind, and you pointed out the trail that lay before us. Together we have made it here, to this ridge. You gaze out to eternity as I marvel at your strength, your power, and the love you shine through every pore of your existence.

I can almost hear the chants of those dancing around a Great Fire, and see us sitting before its glow. I see your face, beautiful in the orange flicker of the Fire. I feel your hand in mine as your head falls on my shoulder. I kiss your crown, feeling the warmth of the fire radiate from your skin.

A Chief came before us like a shadow before the fire. He smiled as he handed you a pipe, mentioning for us both to smoke it. As we did, he touched our face lightly and though in front of the fire it was as if the fire was reflected in his eyes. His smile warmed us and we exhaled, the smoke uniting in the night before offering itself up to the sky. He took the pipe from us, bowed in our presence, and vanished into the darkness just beyond the fire.

Suddenly, we appeared as two ice sculptures carved through many winters of many lifetimes together. The Great Fire warmed us, and in its spring our melting formed one puddle on the Earth. The chants of our Elders intensified as the crackling of the Fire grew louder, our puddle vibrated with the energy of gratitude and the blessings being bestowed. The dark canvas of the night, painted in the dim orange of the Fire, now revealed many Elders holding hands and bowing their heads in honor.

The Chief who had shared the pipe spoke in a language unfamiliar but easily understood. He shared a story of two cardinals who had to fly into many strong winds, through many lifetimes, to finally land on the same branch. Their journey had them question the branch, but their perch held strong. What was destined could not be avoided, and what was happening was surely destined. When they flew in directions sometimes different and sometimes the same, it was the branch that would always hold firm upon their return. The branch was offered by the Tree of Love, and it would be the home they returned to for the rest of their lives.

The Chief paused, and bent to the Earth. There, he drew an ∞ on the ground before the fire. He then mentioned it was his time to leave us.

The Elders turned to go, and the chants subsided as the Fire grew dim. In the silence we could hear the wolves howling in the distance as the stars revealed themselves in the darkness. We held each other, still warm from the night, knowing that while nothing was different everything had changed. Love always present was given its due and in that sprouting a new Tree of Love was planted by our meeting, fed by the songs of our Elders, warmed by the Fire of our souls and watered by the melting of our winter.

I give thanks for the visions I am granted, and for the ability to describe them with my words. I give thanks for the muse that inspires me daily, who lights my Great Fire, and who points me in the direction of my path when I feel I’ve lost it. Such love, born in Spirit and thus so inspired, can only honored and cherished.

Peace.

Parting, Again (A love letter)

January 22, 2019 / Tom

My Love,

Don’t leave me too quickly, or be too long in return. Kiss me softly under the gray skies of Winter. Promise me the warm embrace of Spring in all that you say it offers, the unpushed flower unfolding, the loving discussions of what will be. What more do we need to make real this truth we whisper our oaths to? What gods must rise from the depths to snare for us the beast that keeps us quiet? Where must our feet fall to leave our imprint on the Earth if not to awaken the very soul of Her as you make your way to heights unmatched? What views must we find from which we speak our oaths to one another, to God, and to the Mother who has blessed us both with life and blessed wonder?

I seek not much from this tortured plain but to rise above it. I must scratch and claw at the hard-packed trail beneath my feet just to get a glimpse of Heaven. Not two days ago you sat on Her ridge, gazing out through those Pearly Gates, your soul screaming in victory at the undertaking. Words poured from your soul, words you could only guess at their meaning, that brought tears from my heart. As you read that prose to me the glorious trembles in my soul rattled my truth like a saber in its scabbard begging to be unsheathed.

The truth, you are it. You leave my space and once again the sadness pours from my heart like a torrent. Parting with you is such an unnatural act, one I have no desire to engage in and one that can leave me wandering aimlessly in words that flow effortlessly from my fingers. I pray that Venus end my torment but she laughs at me. I beseech Cupid to true his arrow to the center of my heart, but he too laughs and then shows me the bleeding wound he has already left there. I seek comfort in the rising Sun but there is none to be had, only these words that flow, I can only hope, directly to your thirsty lips.

What I do, I do not know. I should have mastered this already. It should be easier to watch you ride off toward your destiny, except I am your destiny and you are heading in the opposite direction. I want to further simplify this life and transform this journey into one devoted to nothing but creation. I wish to wake up beside you if only just to gaze upon your form in the dim morning light. Then I wish to tell the story of that day that began with so much love vast oceans could not contain it; a day that ends as it began with a kiss and your stoic man gazing lovingly at your form while you searched for my hand beneath the covers. There, those oceans will flow onto our bodies as we dance to our Divine music, and recite poetry that has no words, only intention. We so love…

Ah, those visions of eternity that ring truth upon the bells in our chests! We walk our dog upon the streets of this village, reciting stories of the first time we sat on that spot, ate at that place, slept at that Inn along the way. Our gait will be slower then, but our intentions just a pure as when we could run at full speed on hardened pavement. You will sit on that Left-hand chair as you did the first time we ventured here, and I will look at you with the same love and care as I did that first time and I will be reminded of the great fortune I have had just to have had these walks with you, this life with you, and the moments we have created on our journey. There is so much to create, my love, and we are the very ones who can create it.

For now, I will dim the lights in our space until you fill it once again, and light a candle in your honor beside the altar of my heart. I will say a prayer that echoes in the empty chamber that is reserved for you and look toward the sky through the windows that adorn our cathedral. I will ask each star for your safe return and beg of God the chance to know old age with you, my beloved, my soul’s mate, my heart’s spoken truth.

Safe travels, my beloved. My heart goes with you.

Your Love

Because I Love You

January 19, 2019 / Tom

My Love,

Today, a milestone of sorts. We, you and I, share in this moment that has so many special meanings. Those meanings will remain private between us as we bathe in them together. As it will be, as it is, and as it shall be.

There is some light meant for only us to share as we cuddle under the blankets gazing at the same beautiful fire. It is a fire that we’ve danced around and gazed upon many times in our lifetimes together, warming our souls and hearts as the music we create kicks the dust up from under our feet. We hear the drumbeats in our touch and find the rhythm in our hearts, often reminded that we’ve been here before in some way, at some time. True lovers such as we are not meant for the ordinary. Rather, we create the extraordinary in our actions, our deeds, and the dances we share under the moonlight beside a fire meant only for us.

In truth, my Love, you are the great song. The song I’ve heard in my distant youthful challenges. The song I’ve heard in my withering strength, in my despair, in my darkness. It is a song that’s inspired me to rise when all has seemed lost, and begged me to find a fire so we could share a glance together, a moment where everything was right and the world was in its right place. I did not know you, but I loved you then. I could not hear you, but I heard you then. I could not see you, but I knew that you existed. Imagine, a faith so strong as to find a way to survive despite not knowing why. If you can, then you can imagine you, to me.

Then imagine the moment you slowly walked through those doors into my life. Imagine the moment of complete awe, of complete uncertainty in the certainty. Imagine me, a man sculpted to be your lover from the moment he was born suddenly embracing the very love his soul had always promised him existed. Overwhelmed I was, but I was made for the task.

Now, we are here, finally together beside the fire of our love, nestled tightly beneath the blanket of our embrace. Though we’ve discovered the truth of love we share, we have yet to fully grasp the reality of our union and what the ripples we have sent through the Universe. The words we pen and the stories we tell are but one of many that we have yet to discover and who have yet to reveal the beauty they birth. The beauty will be in their realization, my love, and I look forward to each discovery we share.

It is, on this day when we honor our first moments when the love between us sprouted, that I honor all of those things. Because I love you, because I remember you from a place where no memory exists, I honor you as a natural flow of my existence. I love you as I must, in honor of the soul you are, wanting nothing more than to love you in the only way I know how.

With Pure Truth,

Your Love

The Sun Within Me

January 16, 2019 / Tom

My Love,

With each passing moment I am reminded of things. Special things. Things that embolden me. Things that enlighten me. Things that cause me to rise when rising seems impossible, and drive me onward when it seems I have no strength left to give.

I am reminded of what is within me. My soul seems like an evening sky, a darkened canvas full of space and time and remnants of moments past filled with promise of what is to come. I can sit in my present moment and look at the vast expanse of my soul, seeing stars that twinkled eons ago and things falling through the shroud of security around my heart. Like streaks of light those pebbles fall, and in wondrous moments of awe my eyes capture them and hold them dear even if only for a second.

You have shown me a great love within me, a love that lights that sky and changes things completely. The warm rays of light draw your name on my skin as the the black sky turns to blue, and life around me seems to jump with desire to live. I take my steps now seeing so much around me in this light, and I bask in the renewal of promise as each foot falls loving on ground made solid in knowing you.

The days pass mostly without you beside me, yet you are within me. I feel you when I touch the great mountain stones along the trail. I know you when I see the vastness of a world before me as I stand on the ridges of my journey. I’ve walked our beaches alone knowing you’d be there with me one day, and as forlorn as that aloneness may seem there is a lightness to knowing your presence exists somewhere where no foot can fall, no finger can touch, and no words will ever need be spoken.

I feel that one day I will not need to speak so much, or write so many words. The best stories of my life are yet to come, and they shall not be written with words but through my fingertips drawing lightly on your skin. The best truths of my life are yet to be spoken, but they shall not come through words but with my hand on your heart and my lips pressed against your own. The truest things I have ever done are yet to come, an extension of the truths I share with you now, and they will be a testament to this light I’ve found inside me. The light that whispers your name. The light that guides my way. The light whose gravity pulls me toward the greatest space I’ve ever stood in my life.

Before I met you, I knew you. Before I knew you, I felt you. But love you? There was no time before I loved you. I loved you the moment the Universe was created. That great explosion of truth sparked the moment when the light began to shine, and the dark sky knew its first breaking dawn. So blessed am I to have seen the Day in your embrace. So blessed am I to have been a student at that heart of your truth.

I will now seek you in my silence and kiss you there. Feel it, my love, and wait for the moment when our bodies can feel the truth of what we know.

Your Love.

The Alchemist in Me

January 12, 2019 / Tom

What should I think? I try to think like all the others, overlooking things and turning them into nothing much. I try to shrug off certain things, things that used to be no big deal, nothing much, too little to care about.

But I can’t. I’ve lived in the shallow end of pools both big and small. I’ve tried to create nothing out of something, seeing wonders I’d pretend were ordinary. Once I could pretend snowy mountains and ocean sunrises inspired no great emotion in me. I thought that normal, and in that time and space of my life I just wanted to be “normal”.

Yet there is an alchemist in me. Something that wants to appreciate the things of this life that inspire me, both great and small. It could be just a word from my love, or a planet visible in the night sky, or a shooting star, or even just the way a calm lake can mirror the great artistry around it.

The little things that may be lead to some are gold in my heart. The way your eyes light up when you smile. The way your hair looks when you wake up in the morning. The way you look all curled up on the sofa, gray blanket hugging your form.

It could be something as small as the way you put on chapstick, or enter a room like a wondrous tornado on a mission. Perhaps it is in how I like finding your hair clips laying around, or even the way you load the dishwasher.

It could be the bigger things. The way you love those around you. Maybe it is the delicious way you cook a meal, and the warmth I feel as I take in every bite. Then there is the way I feel when your head finds its way to my chest, or your fingers snake around my own.

Life can’t get much bigger than all of these things. Trust me, when a man has starved for the air he breathes he never takes any breath, big or small, for granted. He wants them all. He even wants those moments between breaths because they remind him of absence he has known. Especially when he knows the next breath is coming.

There is a wonder to such an appreciation. I have also learned to appreciate the absence of things big and small. That absence reminds me of the beauty of their return. It allows me to flow in the appreciation of things I love, of things I pray never leave for long.

So, on this day I sit in appreciation for the experience of things big and small, and for the alchemist in me that creates great waves of gratitude, appreciation, and attention to all things of love big and small. Yes, it matters. Yes, it always will.

Realize

January 9, 2019 / Tom

My love,

We all face moments when we are weakened, unsure and anxious. We are humans Being human, and no matter what practice of spirit we will always be led back to our humanity. It is there we find our purpose for being.

Yet as creators of our lives allow my heart to open to yours, and share with you a truth that changes everything. Allow me, your soul’s mate, to balance out our humanity with the truth of the Divine love we share. There will be plenty of moments meant for single sets of footprints in the sand. Those moments, however, often highlight the beauty of two pairs, walking side-by-side, even during the storms that will come.

When you feel weakened, know you are my source of strength. See how I see you. Strong. Wise. Brave. Understand the presence you are to the heart that loves you dearly. I don’t think of you as these things because I love you. I love you in part because you are all of those things to me. Know that you will always have a pillar on which to lean and a nook in which to fall should you ever choose to be there.

When you are uncertain, know the firm ground you are to those who love you. Realize that while the world quakes and shakes around us, we have created solid ground where we stand. The ocean’s waters offer no guarantee of calm, but we’ve built a ship that can handle any weather.

When you are anxious, know that you have steady hands to hold you when you need them. Know that our humanity causes a certain amount of chaos, but chaos is often both an opportunity to strengthen and an opportunity to be loved. There is no weakness in falling into a lover’s arms. There is only love there, and in love there is no chaos.

Find my heartbeat and know the sound that holds our truth. Call my name and know that you are not alone even in those moments of solitude. We have built this altar on which we breathe the sacraments of love and pray the truth of our intentions. We are so blessed to stand on such a sacred place.

Your Love.

Calling me Home

January 8, 2019 / Tom

I ask myself this often, “Where am I being led?”

I was led to love her, even when I wasn’t sure I could. I was led to move to mountains even when it seemed impossible. I was led to survive things that I never thought I could.

So I ask myself this today. “Where am I being led?”

The Universe, I am told, always conspires to lead me to where I need to be. If I actually trust the sages who have foretold of such great fortune, should I pay attention to the happenings around me as a greater message than the fear I feel in them? At some point it seems I must put the lessons that experience and sages have offered to the test or risk continuing patterns that have never served me well. That is, after all, why I began consulting those sages to begin with.

So, perhaps I am being led back East. Certain things have happened that seem to suggest that is possible. While I am resisting that, I am also cognizant of the fact that what the Universe wants, it gets. If my purpose is back East, then my purpose must be met. Still, I am holding on to what got me here in the first place and the tremendous growth I’ve experienced since my first climb, my first hike, my first round of acclimating to altitude.

What draws me East is multifaceted. My tribe is there in abundance, and I miss those who have always had a great impact on my life and well-being. There is love. There is familiarity. There is experience.

What keeps me at the mountains’ doorstep is also multifaceted. I have a few souls I consider friends. There is nature, and a culture I’ve grown to love. There is also love here, albeit not as frequent in my presence as I’d like, she is still here occasionally and likely to experience the same type of growth I did. There is family.

My gut and heart are pulling me to where the Sun rises, while my logical mind and intellect are keeping me where the Sun sets. When I sit in meditation I hear the sounds of waves crashing and gulls singing. I feel a hand in mine. I feel life begun anew. I also hear the sounds of a spring thaw rushing down riverbeds longing for the purpose. I hear eagles calling my eyes skyward, and owls whispering in the pre-dawn darkness.

In my prayerful meditations I’ve asked for clarity. This morning a guide I met over the weekend, “Betty”, came to me. I asked her “Which direction should I go?” She replied, “When we first met, where were the mountains?”

“Behind us.”

“Exactly. Now do as I said. It’s time to have fun.”

Betty never said when I was supposed to do this so I figure it may be years ahead of me. Yet perhaps the message was clear. It will be happening. Yes, I met a guide and yes, her name is Betty. More on her at some other point when the time feels right. She also helped me with another challenge this morning. I’m glad I finally met her.

There are so many things about life and the living of it that may mystify, confound and scare us, one of which is a message that guides us into an unknown direction in a time of uncertainty in our lives. These times may present us with moments that end what we know but they may also give birth to moments that will, if we remain conscious during them, become what we know. I guess that is where faith and love come in.

I guess what I feel is that not one lesson, not one seminar, not one meditation matters if we don’t employ what we have learned into action. Wisdom is the application of experience, not the gaining of it. Courage is action in the realm of fear, not the absence of fear. Isn’t the best spiritual practice one of life born in the active stillness of meditation, in the active chaos of living, in the active art of loving someone in the pureness of truth? If I fail to act have I actually learned a thing in my spiritual work?

How many of us are inundated with signs only to ignore them with the questions those signs are intended to answer? I can only help but thinking that at some point our guides and the Universe will say “enough” and either we lose our gift or are forced to accept it.

Currently, the path forward only involves the action of observation and listening. Then I won’t miss that sign truck pulling in front of me, or that message from Betty reminding me of my purpose forward. Maybe that will keep me from a collision with a fixed object that leaves me k(no)w choice. Amazingly, Over the Hills and Far Away is playing on the radio right now. Thank you, Universe.

Mellow is the man who knows what he’s been missing
Many, many men can’t see the open road

Have a blessed day.

Time (A Love Letter)

January 4, 2019 / Tom

My love,

I dream of moments passed, of those seconds spent drifting off in thoughts of you. That solemn act of wondering as I wander, feeling the newness of hope mixed with the untolled memories of something familiar. Those seconds of dreaming what it would be like to hold you close, to listen to your stories, and hear the words spill from your heart like unending vestiges of excitement. Those words…

“I love you.”

Seconds pass by until they become minutes. Minutes somehow bring with them what once seemed impossible. I feel your arms wrap around me, hear your voice not through wires but through air, and those lips…my God those lips…revive me to a purpose the seconds had suggested were just a dream.

Then, the words.

“I love you.”

The minutes become hours. I watch the clock slowly make its way, teasing me in with deliberateness. I beg it faster in our moments apart, and try to make it slower in those moments when I can feel you. In those times when you are thousands of miles away, I want to find a rope binding East and West and pull it with all my might. Somehow, I just know, I will find the strength to eliminate all the distance between us. I will. I must. I cannot shed this truth from my soul despite the resistance minds will stack against it.

Then, patience. More than I ever thought I could find. I allow it to flow through me, and I settle into prayer that hours turn into days.

Days when we are together. Those days outnumber our days apart when the wires and batteries no longer matter. We find a rhythm in days that have no deadline, no return trip, no attempts to fit everything in. Days were we can walk patiently beside each other, or wait patiently in another space for an arrival not dependent on takeoffs and landings, on boarding passes and security checkpoints. Those days add to the story of our lives, building a book of love to be passed around and shared with a Universe that so eagerly conspired to see it written.

Days where we can climb mountains and take in the views together. Days where we can plant our feet on the Ocean’s sand and marvel at the Sunrise, together. Days were we can just find our space, walk our walks, dream our dreams either together or apart but have it be our choice and not a condition to which we were born.

Days will eventually turn into weeks and weeks into years. In time we will stand together older and look at the horizon. We will remind each other of the seconds we shared, of the minutes that have passed, and the hours that brought us to our space. We will remember our days knowing that we created something wonderful in their passing. We will read the volumes we have written together while basking in the glow of the children who’ve grown in the presence of our Light, and the friends who have perhaps found some peace of their own in the embrace we share.

Those years will eventually become our eternity, my love. In our rest we will have not squandered a moment blessed to us, knowing that love has brought us to a space where our wandering and wondering had transformed into amazement and our amazement into a story for the ages.

There is no doubt, for love has washed it away from me. Love has bound us a book and continued a story the moment our names entered our thoughts, and the second our lips began letting little bits of truth into the ether. The stars have never looked brighter, save when I see them with you.

With love, and the truest intention,

Your love.

I Brake for Turtles

December 28, 2018 / Tom

When I lived down at the New Jersey shore, I’d often visit a place called Corson’s Inlet. I was not only a toll collector on the various bridges that served the county Bridge Commission, but I also liked to take a swim in the bay that was part of the State park. The water was always warmer, and there were always far fewer people there than on the Ocean City beach. If there’s one negative to living at the beach it is the people who flock there every summer. They change everything, and not always for the better.

There’s a stretch of road I’d take called, if memory serves me right, Bay Avenue. There were many signs along that stretch of road that would warm drivers about turtles crossing. True to my nature, if I saw a turtle trying to cross the road, I’d stop my car and carry the turtle to the other side. I’d block traffic, not caring how many cars were behind me. The turtle’s life was much more important to me than the impatience of people.

I’d sometimes get called names, and respond with my Jersey salute and a scowl that often would end the conversation. It boggled my mind how people would have a problem with this act. Usually, though, I’d have people stop and thank me for doing it. “Those are my people,” I’d think. My tribe. They get me.

Recently, I was gifted with a metaphoric shirt that says “I brake for turtles”. It has many connotations and all of them make me smile.

My son asked me “Dad, what does that shirt mean? Of course you brake for turtles.”

I sat down next to him, deciding to offer him a bit of life advice in response to his questions. While my daughter learned long ago not to ask such questions (she doesn’t enjoy my explanations), my son is still inquisitive and wants to know about certain things.

“Well, bud, it means several things. I’ll make this quick for you.”

“Ok, Dad.” I knew Fortnight was calling him, so certainly appreciated his patience.

“First, you are braking for turtles right now.”

“I am?” he asked.

“Yep. You are stopping what you are doing to talk to your Dad. That’s a type of braking for turtles. Sometimes braking for turtles has nothing to do with braking for turtles. I’ll explain.”

“Sometimes, bud, we are driving fast in our car. So fast, in fact, that we aren’t noticing the things around us. We may not be seeing the Sun peeking through the reeds, or the way a cloud looks like a heart, or the way nature is doing Her thing all around us. We are so absorbed with getting to where we are going that we miss everything along the way.

Then, out of nowhere, a turtle decides it needs to cross the road. She may have no idea why, she just knows she needs to. So, she starts on her way. She’s scared for whatever reason, but courage rises inside of her and suddenly that first foot hits the asphalt. You both are on the same road, both sharing a destiny of sorts.

Some of us who are focused only on our destination may actually hurt the turtle. Or worse. However, if we are paying attention to the moment we are in we see the turtle, we stop, and we help her along in a way that is true to who we are. Sometimes that may mean picking her up and carrying her to the other side. Other times, it may mean just blocking traffic so she can make her own way.”

“Dad, how you do you know what to do?”

“Well, there is a voice inside you that isn’t in your head. It’s actually in your chest. You can start there. Often times, though, the turtle will tell you. Listen to her, she has most of the answers even if you don’t agree with them all.”

“But don’t people get mad because you stopped traffic?”

“Some of them. But they don’t matter. What matters in that instant is you and the turtle. You are holding space for the turtle, and sometimes that means you will hear voices not from your chest. They will scream at you, call you names, and try to make you do things that aren’t a part of who you are. They aren’t the voice you should be listening to. Remember where I said the voice you should listen to is?”

“Yeah, in your chest.”

“Yep. Your heart will never lie to you. Other voices will almost always lie to you. They are angry and afraid, and fear is a liar. They would hurt the turtle in their fear and anger. And guess what?”

“What?”

“If they hurt the turtle they are hurting you, too.”

“How?”

“Well, whenever those voices cause you to act against the truth of who you are, it hurts you. Trust me son, I’ve left pieces of myself all over the place listening to those voices. They’ve never done a thing but hurt me. My heart, while hurt sometimes, has never lied to me. Trust it and not only will you be fine, but so will the turtle you’ve been given the opportunity to brake for.

You know what else?”

“What?”

“You will be told many lies in your life. People don’t mean to tell you lies, and it may even be true for them. The truth is always within you, right in your chest. Trust that no matter what anyone else tells you. Even me. My truth may not be yours. Make yours the only one you listen to someday.

Son, I’ve often wondered ‘Who am I to disturb the natural order of things?’ Then God reminded me that I AM PART of the natural order of things. When I am true to my heart, true to myself, I am part of Her ebb and flow. I am part of Her great Sea.

Be true to you, your heart, and you will always find happiness even if you are sad first.”

“Thanks Dad.”

“You’re welcome. One other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t ever hesitate to brake for turtles. It’s not just a life you are saving, but you are expressing a beautiful part of who you are. When you express that beauty, it creates a ripple across the entire Universe. You have absolutely changed history and had a profound effect on life. She is so worth the patience, the love, and the resilience and so are you. You will learn so much braking for those turtles, I promise.”

The thing about these lessons is that they are never over. They echo in my chest forever, even when those other voices creep in. I’m actually not the teacher in this lesson, I am as much of a student as anyone else. I’m learning as I go, using the wisdom of this life toward expressing the love that lives within me.

I sincerely thank the turtle who had me pause, and practice patience. That patience has allowed me to focus intently on that voice in my chest and actually hear it above all others. Mostly, she’s allowed me grow into my expression of love, and trust that I have the strength to hold that space for her as she crosses the road regardless of the noise coming from the rear. She will be safe here, for the warrior who has stopped is fierce toward those voices while softly guarding her journey. He will always do his best anyway.

Warriors don’t just move forward with purpose. Sometimes they brake for a turtle with purpose, too.