Tag: Forgiveness (Page 4 of 5)

The Wanderer and His Children

February 11, 2013 / Tom

When, I ask humbly, is it time to tighten the laces on my boots and to just start walking?

When, I question the Universe around me sternly, is it time to stop catering to the maniacal creations of man and start living?

I feel it in every pore of my body and nearly every fiber of my existence. I need to walk. I need to let go of all of this stuff and just start walking. Starve if I must, freeze if I have to, die a lonely and tired death if that is what I am destined to do but do it nonetheless. I close my eyes and can see it clearly; a roughly unshaven man walking with the mountains and the pink-hued tales of sunsets as his backdrop with nothing by his side but the stories of then and the causes of now guiding him.

The more I sit idle in this apartment the more I feel sure that every note the Universe sings to me is telling me to leave. The more I sit alone in stillness the more I am sure that the echo in my mind takes me to a place I have never been before. The more I look at the wreckage of my life behind me the more I feel destined to walk the wilderness of this place both figuratively and literally. The more I look at my hands once filled with the grip of lovers the more I know I should have a walking stick in one and a book in the other. The more I miss the embrace of passion the more I am certain it only stings to open my arms. My heart is open and full even if my arms are empty. My legs are restless with the fatigue of modern life and with the weight needing things. My shoulders are raw and sore from bearing the crosses of my experience, and rather than stumble and fall under the weight of that wood I simply want to pick it up and throw it far over some cliff somewhere. I want to watch it tumble through the open air, and I want to watch it shatter into a billion splinters as it hits the craggy rocks below. I want to be done with it and die a free, liberated soul.

Yet the Universe has given me chains that bind me to this place. I look at the eyes of my loving children and I weep for the ties that bind me here. I hear the word “Daddy” and I shudder at the thought of not hearing it again save those moments when dreams remind me of who I am to them. I wonder if they could ever forgive me for leaving while, at the same time, wonder if they can ever forgive me for staying. I wonder if I am failing to teach them the most wonderful lesson of all, that we are not born to wear the chains given to us by our parents and, ostensibly, by our posterity but are rather born to be free people liberated from such need. I wonder if they would get it, if they would take flight themselves one day, and if they would love the man who simply sought to be a free man wandering among the chains that bound others to a nonexistent dream. I wonder if I need to be the teacher, or if I need to remain a slave to the ideas of what I need to be, created not by me, but by others who will teach my children that I have failed them.

In those fibers of my existence that cause me to stay I have found a tight chain binding me to this piece of ground. The mountains call. The beaches beg. The road whispers in my ear but the chains clang loudest as my babies hug me and tell me how much they love me. The sweet music of that clanging chain rings loudly in my ears, reminding me of all I have ever wanted to be while demonstrating to me that I can be it given the right set of eyes, ears and limbs to adorn me. Their love fills my heart with the nectar of the gods while their laughter fills my ears with a certain knowledge that I am here for a reason. The Universe laughs heartily at this human notion that I am a provider of something even as my mind begs to be that provider. I want to be special here. I want to be needed here. I love being “Daddy” and I love being me. Yet, I need to walk to be free.

For now I lay next to my son and play with my daughter’s hair listening to their stories and their jokes and their dreams only

Photo by Tom Grasso

imagining walking free among the trees and sleeping under the stars. I only imagine the pangs of hunger as I wait for nature to provide. I only imagine never hearing my phone ring, or getting the mail, or hearing about some human atrocity or insanity inflicted on another. I can only dream of the sounds of nature being my constant companion, and Earth under my body as I make my way to some destination only God knows.

I can only imagine meeting people whose names do not matter, whose faces are but temporary visions in a story full of those things. I can only imagine being woken up each morning by the rain, or the sun, or the birds, or the crack of thunder.

I smile wandering in my mind while enjoying the moment with those who love me dearly. I laugh at the sound of my son cracking himself up. He is his Dad’s son for sure. No one can crack himself up like I can save this wonderful boy who is laying on me telling jokes that magically appear in his head. I love his little voice, the fact that a boy so big for his age can still bring a smile to my face with the innocence of his voice. I love his big little hands as they hold mine, his fingers tightly grabbing his “favorite poopy Daddy” with all of their might. I love his stories, his insight, and the brave way he adorns his fears as if they are a cape rather than something to be ashamed of. I love how he buries his sturdy head into me when something that scares him comes on the screen, and how he tells me his goal in life is to be “an Army guy who delivers pizzas.” I love his rationale; he can be in the Army but help people who are hungry at the same time. A peaceful warrior who carries a big gun with the voice of an angel making people laugh along the way. That’s my boy.

I give a chuckle marveling at my baby girl. She was born early and a fighter with what the doctors called “an attitude.” Yes, an attitude, a medical term for a tough female who has a heart of gold and a will of tempered steel. Her laugh can make anyone laugh, and I love when I say something that hits that spot where that laugh comes from. She’s as beautiful as her mom, with an artistic ability that comes from both her parents. She is steely sensitive, often unwilling to let her heart out even as her compassion and love comes spilling out all over the place. Her smile can make me instantly feel alive, and in those rare moments when she says “Daddy, I love you” my heart melts and the Sun breaks through even the thickest clouds. I know love here in this place with these Beings, and I know the sweet music of a man imprisoned by the sheer joy of love like a bird imprisoned by the loving tug of wind beneath its wings. Sometimes the freedom isn’t in the flight, but in the ability to land wherever you so choose.

My oldest daughter isn’t here, she’s away at college being mad at me for one thing or another. She may never know how she woke me up at the moment of her birth. She may never realize how dead asleep I was in my own drunken state, and how that gigantic spark of love felt the moment my eyes saw her began an awakening process that continues to this day. She is, was, and remains a gift who doesn’t realize her greatness. Yes, I am blessed.

Those are my tethers to this world, this reality; my “happy chains”. Those are the fuel to the fire of my joy that shows itself in the smile that crests upon my face in their presence. Those are the once-dreams-now-reality manifestations of a prayer once uttered by a lonely boy in the darkness of his tortured chamber. Those are what keep me here, rooted in the human dream-state we call reality wondering why I need to live here at all. Those are the little specks of “me” that grow daily into something completely “not me”. Those are flakes of angel’s dust that will remain long after my body returns to the place it was spawned from. Those are my children, my babies, my life.

Smile now and get the joy out of you. Laugh at my condition, the one that sees me playing this insane human game because of a Divine joy I have in being with those I love. Laugh at me while I play a string-less guitar singing a song you have never heard of before. Laugh at me as I dance out of your rhythm although certainly within my own. Watch me walk, fade into the pink-hued sunset of my dreams as the laughter of my little ones follows me into the wilderness. Chuckle if you must but please, I beg of you, never offer me that sympathetic “shake of the head” in bewilderment of my actions. Never offer my children a condolence as they eye their Dad with a spy-glass that cuts through the trees and the mist and the fog and the dew leaving only a certain truth to be seen. Let them laugh at their Dad and be free unto themselves in whatever fit of laughter, anger, sadness or joy they find in their ever-present moment. Who knows, maybe one day you may strike up the courage to tighten your laces and walk into the woods even if for a little while.

As for now I will close this chapter as the dusk settles in on yet another day. I will go and check on my now-sleeping sparks of joy and settle into my own place for the evening. I will let go of my passion for walking and rest here for a little while waiting to repeat the insanity and the wondering and, yes, the wandering all over again tomorrow. I am not sure of anything except the fact that if I am graced with yet another day of breathing here I will be blessed with another day looking out at the horizon wishing I was walking there. I will wake up, shower and make breakfast for the three of us. Then I will begin yelling, screaming, begging and praying for my little ones to get ready for school. I will have to remember that they don’t necessarily care to brush their teeth or comb their hair. I will have to be aware that their school necessities are necessary not to them, but to insane adults who put such importance on such meaningless things. I will have to remember that they don’t quite yet get the vast importance of “being on time” and that they simply don’t yet know that money does not grow on trees. I will have to remember that none of my important “adult” things matter one bit to my two littlest bundles of joy. I will then realize, again, that I am jealous that they haven’t yet been bitten by the serpent of insanity that has infected most of us with a disease called “adulthood”. I will then shake my head, vow to take it easier on those who still marvel at the idea that we adults think that we are, well, right. I will also vow to be more like the boy who believes that Army men should deliver pizzas and the girl who refuses to quit at anything she does. I will also vow to call the 18-year old who doesn’t answer anything not a text and who will most likely not return my voice mail.

Then I will look out at the trees, tighten the laces of my boots, and vow again to walk one day to parts still unknown. I will hear the mighty roar of nature in my mind. I will feel the breeze rustle through my heart and the leaves fracture beneath my feet. I will dream of freedom from the dream even as I caress the chains that keep me firmly planted here. I will go to an office I can’t stand, go through the motions I have practiced most of my adult life, and wander through the mundane practice of insanity we all call “sanity”. I will do it all over and over again until, one day, I either walk free or return to the dust we call “heaven”.

My First Kiss

February 7, 2013 / Tom

My first kiss.

I’d rather not share with you the tale of my first kiss. That story of clumsy and ineffectual pecking is best saved for a time when I want to make my children laugh with hysterics in a more advanced age. No, for this purpose I want to share with you all my first kiss, that kiss that still burns in my heart and still brings me to my knees.

She had come from a distance. We had flirted with the idea of kissing for quite a while, and that idea had come to a reality in what seemed like an eternal wait for her body to meet in that place where our hearts and our souls had already arrived. We had been talking for weeks and learning about each other at the most fundamental of levels, sharing pictures and teasing innuendo as we played with the idea of actually making something of the feeling we both shared. My soul had never spoken to me before like it was speaking to me at that moment, and I had never felt the presence of another Being in me as I had her. It was a love I had never experienced in my life, and one that still flows in my veins and brings my soul to a presence undeniably Divine.

The hours since she had alerted me to her departure dragged by. It seemed like the weeks prior to her leaving were shorter than the 6 hours it took her to arrive. She had texted me at the crossing of each state line during her drive, and when the text arrived that said “New Jersey” I nearly lost my breath in anticipation. That hour and a half or so seemed to pass slower than had any other moment in my life.

Over and over again I seemed to look at the clock only to see the second-hand had moved. I cursed the time and realized that the time she would be with me would move much faster. I wondered if I could somehow capture the slowness of this moment and apply it to the moments we would share. I knew somewhere Einstein was laughing in his grave at the notion.

Oddly, I had no doubt that this was to be a special meeting. My eyes, my mind, my heart and my soul all had been opened to a wondrous new awareness in the weeks since our discussions had started. The air tasted fresher as it entered my lungs. The sky seemed brighter. The tumult that was my life seemed relatively meaningless in the face of the power of what I was feeling. It seemed all so very perfect and necessary, and shortly I would hold the hand of a lover I had never met.

Weird, huh? Yes, for me it was all so very weird. My life had not led me to such a destination before, and my heart was not accustomed to such folly. This type of relationship was not my type. I had not met someone who inspired my Entirety the way she had. What happens if she is not real? What if she never shows up?

Soon I found my mind drifting off to memories of her words, her voice, her sweet nothings and her beautiful everythings. I was feeling the embrace of her mind and the touch of her soul in the chilled spring air as I sat in stillness feeling the rush of it all force out the seeds of doubt that were springing up all around me. I felt her getting closer to me with each inhalation to the point where exhalation became nearly impossible.

Eventually there came her headlights in the darkened distance. As the two eyes of the night grew closer I could feel the gaps in my heartbeat become shorter and shorter. I sat on a curb as some port of call for her to find until those lights got closer. I stood up, barely able to stand but also unable to sit any longer. The moment had arrived.

With some direction she parked her car and got out. My body had forgotten the benefits of breathing as I walked over to greet her. My God! her beauty caused me to flutter. Her smile lit up the evening sky as if the Sun herself had come to the dance. Her eyes, those gateways that had first captured my attention and caused me to reach out to the distant horizon, would not let me go. At some point I stopped walking and began floating to the place where my entire world came together.

We hugged, and as our lips touched I had my first kiss. For the first time the world ceased to exist where we were. As our lips embraced and our tongues danced I couldn’t tell you where I was or what was around me. Except her. Her heartbeat. Her breath. Her body. Her soul. All meshed with mine in a way that told me I was exactly where I needed, and wanted, to be. We two ice cubes had further melted into our singular pool of Love.

Our breath became one in that first kiss. Our bodies sunk into each other as stars melded and suns engulfed each other. Life was born there, and memories faded. Injury was cured, scars healed, and a song that God herself sang was written in that place where our two bodies finally felt a new earth born. There, I knew my destiny. There, I needed no proof of anything.

We repeated that first kiss many, many times over the course of our time together. I call those moments the “Big Bang”, the creation of a Universe of Love that may never be repeated again in this lifetime. Eventually, like is the case with many a Universe, the mind seemed to kill what the Divine had created yet each time my heart beats I remember that first kiss and the purity that defined it.

In that regard I will always cherish that moment. It continued a process of transformation that continues even this day, and I still get the feeling of absolute and pure love in the memory. While a tear may creep its way into my eye in the thought, it is a smile that forces it to spill upon my cheek. I am grateful for feeling such love, and while the experience may never be repeated again in my life, I certainly am grateful for the opportunity I had to have it. I have been blessed.

*Love*

I Am Home

December 25, 2012 / Tom

What, I wonder, could I have seen to have been left so blind.

We know that we cannot look directly into a solar eclipse as it will render us blind. That’s how I feel now looking back at my period of blindness and insanity. I was staring at something so completely unusual that I was blinded by it. Fear blocked my Sun and, as a result, only allowed me to see Her edges, Her corona, and it blinded me.

The Sun should be left to freely roam across Her lover’s sky. She should be freely left to follow the laws of a Universe shared by those who love Her. The mindless fears of man do not change who she is, it changes who man is. It was me who thought this world was flat and feared to sail to Her in the horizon. She did nothing. It was I who believed She would sink beyond my sight into the darkness when it was me, so stuck in the spot of my own creation, who choose not to follow her to keep the mornings close. She was just being Her, it was me who saw that as something other than what it was.

It has been said that a man is but a sum of all of his experiences. That is a choice and while it may be hard to make other choices in the throes of conditioning, it is not impossible. It’s overcoming fear to set sail toward that horizon not just to test your world’s flatness, but to reach a place you want to reach beyond the grip of fear and doubt. There will be fear in getting there. There will be doubt. Yet, when you land on the New World and press your lips to virgin sand you will know the reason you set sail to begin with. You love Her, you need Her, and you will risk great peril to get to Her.

If you’re lucky She will be shining brightly when you arrive. She will grasp your face and caress your lips with Her own. She will not leave you. She will create winds to press your sails toward your destination. She will crack through the mightiest of storm clouds to remind you that She is there and exactly what it is you are fighting for. She will burn your skin and crack your lips and then create the rains that will wash it all away. She will remind you that you are a man, a fierce and unbeatable man, and you will rise to every occasion just knowing that She is there. You will growl in Her presence and somehow, in some way, She will bring you to the height of your soul and show you a view that proves you that you are alive.

When you truly love a woman you will face your demons and even yourself. You will find those parts of you that darken the skies and cause you to shut your eyes and you will defeat them. You will beat back the winds and the rain. You will stand taller even in the throes of weakness. You will fall, pick yourself up, wipe the blood from your brow and sweat from your eyes. You will growl again and keep on coming for more. The fire in your heart will drive you forward, toward that horizon where your Lover sits and begs you onward.

Now, I will close my eyes and sit in stillness and know the truth. I will feel the heat rise up into my crown and be ready to share it with Her. Feel it baby, and know it where you sit. Do not let go of it, and hold it tightly to your breast and let it consume you. Your man is here. Your man is back, and he has found the world that you have shown him to be as you said it was. He will be that man you can’t take your eyes of off. He will be that man that makes you sweat at the slightest touch. He will be that man who so captures your gaze and steals your imagination. Yeah, I am home.

“Stop It”

December 18, 2012 / Tom

“Obstacles cannot crush me. Every obstacle yields to stern resolve. He who is fixed to a star does not change his mind.” – Stephen Covey

I felt a familiar stitch in my mind this morning, a painful cramping that drives me to my proverbial knees looking for relief somewhere. I felt the sting of something riddle my mind with doubt, and I began questioning everything. It’s something I have found is a familiar pattern; one I can trace back to the time when I was taught not only to doubt everything around me, but to also doubt myself.

The doubt starts here, within me. Although I am strong, I often believe myself weak. Although I have a lot to offer, I often feel myself worthless. Although I am kind, caring, and compassionate I often feel myself cold and heartless. I know who I am even as I get lost in the insanity of who I think I am. Actually, maybe the thought of who I am is part of who I am, and when I finally readily accept the Doubting Thomas I can finally accept the St. Thomas.

In that place I doubt that anyone, at any time, could love me, be faithful to me, and accept me. I struggle for aloneness, often telling myself that I am better off the lone wolf than part of a pack that will, at some point in some time, bare its teeth against me. There are others so much better. Fitter. Stronger. More confident. More able. The list goes on and on as to why I am not worthy of the very things I thirst the most for; love, companionship, devotion and loyalty. If I extend them to you, you will invariably bludgeon me with them at some point.

This belief, which has proven true at various places in my life, is my own creation that is like a chain that has always bound me to a wall that is too of my own making. I may want to get there, but the chain of my mind attached to the wall of my own attachment to the past and the false beliefs that experience has created. I can feel me run to open arms but then can feel the chain pull me by the neck back to where I believe I belong.

I belong back here. You belong out there. It’s safer that way. Safer for you, and safer for me.

This morning, as I felt that old, familiar chain tighten around my neck I felt something else too. Something unfamiliar but becoming more a truth than a piece of fantasy. I felt the warmth of love so intense that it could not be ignored for the chill of the steel wrapped around me. It caused me to stop, to look, and to listen. I could see her love reach out to me. I could see her eyes look right through the layers I had created to hide myself from her at least partially. I could see her hand touch mine and utter a command that would resolve me to ending this lunacy.

“Stop it.”

I could see her loving eyes looking into my own.

“Stop it.”

I could feel her hand taking mine and strongly demanding me to hold on.

“Stop it.”

I could feel her lips nearing mine while she whispered into my head.

“Stop it.”

So, I stopped it. I fucking stopped it. And to those of you who do not know how glorious that moment is when you achieve such a monumental goal think back to that scene in Rocky when a battered and bruised man wants nothing more than to tell his Adrianne the truth and she finds him. He has nothing left – no face, no strength, and no thought other than to tell the only person that matters to him how he feels.

And she finds him. She fights her way through the crowd, through her own fear and her own shyness to tell the only man she loves how she feels. She bares her soul to him in front of thousands yet it appears that there is only the two of them standing there, each baring their truth to the other and taking the chance. The world may have been watching but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the complete absence of boundaries, the complete dismantling of walls and the complete destruction of the chains that kept them from knowing the power of that moment. They lived for each other, and they let it be known.

Yeah, Rocky is not a sports movie to me. It’s a love story; a deep, passionate and meaningful love story. Still, enough of the story, let’s get back to a slice of reality. I could get lost in that story all day because I find great meaning to it. I can relate. J

So, I stopped it. I fucking stopped it. I was Superman there, standing on the railroad tracks stopping a speed freight train before it destroyed yet another perfect moment in my life. I stood my ground. I braced for impact.

Nothing happened.

Well, I shouldn’t say “nothing.” To quote one of my favorite books/movies (Peaceful Warrior), “there is never nothing going on.” So, in order to best describe it in the way I know how, let me use a metaphor (I apologize in advance) and let me start from a place where I realized that nothing stopped going on.

We stood there, my chain growing taut and the air becoming harder to force into my lungs. I could see her walking toward me. She wasn’t asking me to struggle with my own limitations to get to her. She wasn’t asking me to break the steel that bound me to my own limitations in order to touch her. She came to me. I could sense her fighting her own thoughts and own experience to get to me, but get to me she did. I marveled at her, feeling somehow pathetic as this remarkable vision made her way through the mud just to comfort me.

Something struck me at that moment. I was not pathetic here. We were both showing one another something, and we were both learning from one another. We both were challenging each other, and we both shared a love that no real boundaries could keep hidden. I had as much meaning to this story as she did. She didn’t just grab my hand for me, she grabbed it because she needed it. She just didn’t look into my eyes to cut through my own layers, she did so to cut through her own. It wasn’t just my truth she wanted to take, it was hers she wanted to give. In that moment she was searching for the same thing I was looking for even if she did not realize it. Hell, I didn’t realize it until it nearly destroyed me.

“Stop it.”

It wasn’t a command to me alone. It was a testament to a new reality. So I fucking stopped it.

So, as the train came bearing down on me and I extended my arm to “stop it” I felt something. I felt her hand on my shoulder. I felt her lips come close to my ears and I heard her whisper,

“Not going to happen.”

In that moment there was no train, no tracks and no need to be Superman. There was her, me, the chain and the wall. I looked at her, and her at me, and I knew. It was time to end it all, and to move on to the sequel where me and this woman…well…that’s a bit private.

Once upon a time she handed me a hammer. Others had tried, but I often found I could not wield their tool. Either they were too heavy, or too soft, or too long or too short. The hammer she gave me felt just right and I have used it to destroy many of the obstacles in my way to where I want to go. Yes, I have been fixed on a star and yes, I will get to where I want to go.

I can’t start by destroying the chain. See, that chain is my friend. It allows me to roam within its circumference, and to feel the taste of liberation even as it binds me to the past. It allowed me to see love walk toward me, and to feel the beauty of being the one. The chain also shows me the direction to the real obstacle in this continuing saga. The wall. The attachment I have to the past that, brick by brick, has created the largest obstacle of all. It’s an obstacle I may not completely destroy, but it is one that I will turn into something I can easily hop over when I need to.

In this mixture of metaphors and dreamy states of mind, there is one constant. Motivation. Love isn’t just a tool of acceptance, it is a tool much like a hammer that we use in conjunction with stern resolve to get to the destination we want to reach. We can either choose to knock down those walls or attach a chain to them. It’s all about choice, and it’s all about finding the resolve to overcome those very temporary moments when the obstacle seems too high to climb or too thick to demolish. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come to that moment when I just didn’t think I could overcome the obstacle. I’ve given up, walked away, protested that I just couldn’t go on only to find the motivation to continue. Sometimes it has been despair. Others, it has been hope. Sometimes it has been fear.

It has always been love. Always. Despair comes from the failure to follow your loving heart. Fear is the feeling that love is absent even when it is staring into your eyes and holding your hand. It all is a belief in doubt, where the doubts scream at you that you cannot climb this wall until you find the strength to simply say “fuck it” and reach for the top. Love is the motivator and regardless of whatever tool it shows itself as at the end you will feel its power if you just “stop” the activity of forgetting.

Well, that sermon is over. I have a lot of stuff to do, including “stopping it”. I have love to make and dreams to fulfill and good times to create. I have mistakes to rectify, and a wall to tear down. Then, I have a chain to dismantle link by glorious link. Yeah, I’d say I have plenty to do.

Peace.

Geminid

December 14, 2012 / Tom

As I watched millions of years of existence end in a flash across this evening’s sky, I felt small, impermanent and grateful for the realization.

It all ends sometime, someday. In an instance what was ceases to be, and what is becomes the new reality. Across the darkened sky of our existence everything ends in a flash that, to some, is but an instant but to others is an eternity. In a moment of intense flame it ceases to be, and the sky again becomes dark save the few diamonds left to prove its existence. Everything returns to darkness; everything returns to light.

I walk to the darkest spot I can find, feeling the emptiness in my hands highlighted by the hope in my heart. Am I but a Geminid in her evening sky? Am I but a flash in the night sure to exist in one moment but be gone before the her eyes open again? Am I but a cold rock floating aimlessly in the nothingness sure to die in the heat of her atmosphere? Am I destined to be but a bright flame across her darkness, across my own darkness; a flame that burns intensely but for only a short period of time?

I look at those lonely hands, opening and closing them as if to prove they are mine. I can see her hand resting nicely in my own, warming the skin left cold by the evening air. I can feel her lean her head on my shoulder and I know. I am not a cold rock floating aimlessly in nothingness. I am one of the diamonds, burning brightly and lighting the way. If only I choose to be, and if only she lets me. Her and I are not them, those strange vestiges of past pains left to scramble in the light of love. We are the light, the source of contrast between the blackness and the timelessness of love. We are what we choose to be, either to be lost in the mix of the mind or found in the millions of suns proving to us that even the darkness is temporary.

So tonight as I am surrounded by the darkness and the destruction of travelers who simply got too close, I am warmed by the heat of love cascading through my soul and the light of the love we both share. Perhaps it is time for us both to take the past and turn it into a chunk of stone and push it into nothingness. Maybe it is time for us both to watch that rock burn in the air of love and vanish into space. I can almost see it, her hand tightly in mine as her head lies softly on my shoulder watching with a smile as those barriers burn away. I can see her smile as I turn to her and say, softly,

“I love you.”

We both know. We have always known. The Geminid is not the love that we share but the barriers we have created keeping us from it. We both surrender in an instant, and utter a silent vow that this time we will know the truth and it will be ours. We make it ours, we own as if it is all we will ever own, and it becomes the reality we cherish. Even as I close my eyes to dream this lovely dream, a prayer escapes my heart as the beautiful mediation begins.

Yes, my love, my fears are in that rock you just watched disintegrate. Yes, my love, I feel the truth around us. Yes, my love, I know you are here, and that you love me.

I have heard her say it in my ear at least a hundred times. “I love you.” So, I vow to her this moment a truth that speaks from that part of me only she can see when her mind is silent and her heart is open.

Yes, my love, my doubt has just burned away in that streak you saw across our sky. Yes, my love, I am here. Yes, my love, I believe in you. Yes, I am ready.

Such truth brings tears to my cheeks. I have never cried in my life combined as much as I have now. Cleansing, releasing, forgiving and, finally, surrendering. Like any good fighter just at that moment of surrender I find renewed fight to continue on. Now, I am finally on the canvas, staring up at her beautiful face thankful for the knockout blow.

Yes, I am done baby. Yes, I am ready to end the battle. Yes, I want to leave this place and walk alone with you. Let me, please. Thank you.

Soon, the Sun will rise above that place where the ground meets the sky. I’ve always loved that place, and it is there that I ask her to walk with me. I deserve the chance and so does she. A chance to smile in the light of love as we push the Sun above the horizon. A chance to walk together without the rocks falling all around us. A chance to know one another without the voices telling us stories that don’t exist here. Yeah, it’s time to walk my love…

♥

Go There, Be Happy (Poem)

November 11, 2012 / Tom

Who you turn to

In your time of need, that’s the One.

When lost in your sea of emotion

When the mind takes over

And proves to be an absent friend

The arms that comfort you

Are the arms where you should remain.

Who you talk to

In your moments of turmoil

When the world closes in on you

When the journey seems its longest

And peace seems some distant dream

That mind is the one you need know

The thoughts that should be cherished.

Comfort is not an illusion

It is a message.

A message from one heart to another

From your heart to the rest of you

That tells a simple story of love

and of where you need to be

And where you should return.

Go there, and be happy

Know it every day, every minute, every second

Even in those moments when very ground you tread

rumbles with its dissatisfaction.

Go there, and be happy

Knowing I go there with you

Sometimes with tears, sometimes with a beaming smile.

Go there, and be happy

Like flowers and grasses, bow your lips to the stream.*

And quench your thirst within the River.

I will see you there, someday.

*Rumi “Eternal Joy”

The Black Wall

November 7, 2012 / Tom

This was a vivid dream as real as any waking moment he had ever experienced. He walked alone a field so dark there was no form, and with each step a fear that there would be nothing which would hold him steady until the next foot fell. In the darkness he wondered, and there in the space within space he found himself questioning everything.

Off in the distance something shined like a star contrasting brightly against the emptiness. He approached warily, unsure not only of what it was but also unsure of the safety of the journey to it. In this darkness there was no security, only insecurity, and in this walk toward the light there was no guarantee that his feet would fall on steady ground. He couldn’t even see his feet, or the rest of him, let alone the ground that lie ahead. He just knew he couldn’t sit still, that he needed to move forward toward the star lit against the abyss. He wanted – he needed – to get to that spot where the light would show him all there was to see.

Slowly, almost painfully, he neared the light. He could now make out the form of a wall. It was a dark, black brick wall highlighted by a brilliant white mortar which reflected the light brightly. He could not see the source of the light, or the size of the wall but as he looked away the light only make the blackness surrounding him darker and more ominous. Somehow the wall itself made him feel both lonely and loved, as if somehow now he had found a purpose in the loneliness he had always felt and the hope that soon it would all end. So he pressed onward, painfully afraid of each step while joyfully hopeful in the journey.

The brightly-lit wall appeared to move toward him as he got closer as if it somehow sensed the fear he had in each step. It seemed to want to end his suffering although he thought it couldn’t possibly relate to such emotion. The wall could be nothing other than a wall, it had no ability to know him or his condition. It was just there, lit, tall, strong and unable to feel.

Soon he had to stop walking as the light began to hurt his eyes. It seemed to be harder to see in such bright, beautiful light than it was in the darkness. He had become so accustomed to the darkness that the light actually hurt him. He looked away, searching for comfort in the darkness while still desperately wanting to see the light. It was a slow, painful process, but soon he could look into the light without reaction. Then he could see a message written boldly in white scrawled across the wall. It wasn’t long from then that the message was clear.

“You may not live to see the end of this.”

He stood, frozen. The fear created within a lifetime came flooding to his face as his eyes began to let go a torrent of pent-up suffering. He dropped to his knees and sobbed. Yes, the end was near, and there was no certainty that he would live to see it.

As he sobbed uncontrollably he noticed through his blurred eyes the field in which he had walked. There were such beautiful flowers that extended as far as the eyes could see. Yes, he could see! Butterflies fluttered around him, some landing on his shoulders, others on his arms, still others on his head. They seemed to caress his soul, telling him “it will be all right, you are loved.” He looked out across the horizon not believing he had never seen any of this. The darkness wasn’t the only truth, there had always been this field, these flowers, the butterflies and the beauty that reached as far as the eyes could see. He had simply closed his eyes to it all, and when the smallest crack in his own blindness presented itself he found a light that lit the world. The journey hadn’t been a simple walk at all; it was his eyes being opened to the truth.

He turned to the wall that had given him hope and had inspired him toward his present moment. The light that had once lit it now lit everywhere. As he wiped his eyes and stood he read the message scrawled on it one final time. It had changed, and with a sigh and a swallow he read what it now said aloud.

“This is the end of it.”

He half-cried half-laughed at the revelation as a lone butterfly landed on his chest right where he now felt his heart beat loudly. He looked at her as she him and both seemed to know.

Love.

♥

The Short Story of a Simple Truth

October 18, 2012 / Tom

He just knew.

If anyone asked him why he was in love with her, he simply replied “I just am.” If someone asked him how he was able to deal with the distance between them he would reply, “I just do.” When his friends wondered how he could deal with the weeks between seeing her he simply shrugged and said, “I just can.”

His replies had become simple over the years. When they began he would describe elaborately to all who would listen how much he loved this woman. He’d demonstrate his loyalty for all who would watch, and he would get into long discussions describing his love for her when he was challenged. There was no doubt in anyone he knew that he loved her, and that he was her man, and he liked it that way.

He had mellowed over the years. Soon the distance between them would close, and the time between visits would be nil. They had been committed to each other for a number of years now, and the years had converted what were rough seas into calm waters. She had healed him and, in some respects, they had healed each other. Now this man and this woman walked together in ways many would never know, many times simply to be with each other in a moment that would become eternity.

His once elaborate protestations of love were his truth. He had never known such passion for another human being. He felt something when he saw her. He knew all he need to know when he was with her. He needed nothing when in her arms and asked for nothing in their moments of passion. He felt her in every breath and saw her in the beauty all around him. In their moments apart, he could feel her hold him in the pink-hued clouds of a summer sunset. He could hear her whisper to him in the sounds of a running stream. He would smile at the thought of seeing this or that with her, and would vow to bring her to these places in their moments together. He wanted her to see his world and to know him through these things. Once she was there with him he could revisit these places in her absence and remember.

Once he feared. He feared her and in giving himself to her. He fought her, and she fought him right back. He tested her, and she refused to accept the test. She was not them, she was beautiful and smart and everything he needed. The nightmares and demon-voices would warn him and he would react, and she would fight him hard. He hated those voices, and he hated the terrors they brought to him. He knew the truth, and he wanted to believe.

Then he resolved to embrace the truth and own it. He stood firm and fought back against the onslaught of fear and insecurity. This time instead of fighting him, she was fighting next to him, like a warrior princess alongside her prince standing with their backs against the wall ready to win or die trying. It was in this battle that they found each other, and where that unbreakable bond of trust and love was made whole. He learned he could trust and have faith in her without question and she learned of his incredible strength and resolve in love despite facing the haunting face of his own demons.

When the dust settled they were standing there, hand in hand with their lips embracing each other tenderly. There they found freedom, and there she taught him more than he had ever learned. He proved to her the depth of his love for her, and for her that meant the world. He would never steal from her who she was but would instead stand guard and protect her without question. He would not control her, he would fiercely protect her independence. He would never need ask her for a thing, for she would freely give of herself to the man she loved without worry and without question. The Yin and the Yang met there, where they stood, and that was enough for the Universe to sing loudly.

From then on, when someone asked him why he was in love with her, he would simply reply “I just am.” When someone asked him how he dealt with the distance between them, he simply replied “I just do.” When someone asked him how could deal with the weeks that spanned between their moments together he simply replied, “I just can.” They were simple answers, particularly for this man so known for his elaborate responses.

Yet they were elaborate to him. They were very detailed in describing the indescribable. They described the gratitude he had for the gift that was her. They described the salvation he found in a woman so strong that she not only fought him but fought for him. Those simple replies encompassed an eternity of emotion and a never-ending spring of love within him. He couldn’t describe any of this to them, and he felt no need to anymore. Instead, he would hold his tongue and find her. There he would hold her, kiss her, touch her and make love to her in a way that fully described how he felt. Their eyes would speak a language no one else spoke, and their bodies would dance to a song no one else heard. It did not matter to them here in that place where they stood, where they laid, where they danced together in unending ecstasy. They had found each other and they were present in the moment they had created. All else had ceased to exist.

In their lives they had found a short story of a simple truth. Their entirety, their Universe, and the enormity of who they were could be found in three simple words they never failed to speak to each other. “I love you.” Those words righted a world that had once gone mad. Those words solidified a truth that spanned a million moments. Those words rang true for the eternity they described and the Universe they created. They lived it, they breathed it, and it became everything.

♥

Lover’s Lament

October 16, 2012 / Tom

I need you to settle in next to me

Hold my hand

Put your head on my chest

Let your leg drape over mine

As you wipe these tears away.

Tell me it’s all right

That the numbness will end

That the cold shoulder isn’t cold at all

Just waiting for my warmth, my touch

As you bring your body close to me.

Show me that you love me

That you are true, that the rock on which I rest

Isn’t another figment of my imagination.

That you are real

And that you aren’t just another ghost being created by a lie.

Let me feel the sun again

Hear the church bells ring while the songbirds sing their tune.

Let me know some truth

In place of this loneliness, your love

In place of this fear, your steady gaze.

In ignorance the fumes of fear explode

In dismissal the eruption of sadness consumes

The Warrior succumbs to the battles of his mind

He cannot move from his stool

Or stand as the blows rain down upon him.

And so he loves…

Now, then, tomorrow.

And though he struggles alone against the tide

He will stand, eventually

And he will secure Love’s sweet victory.

The Broken Umbrella (Creative Writing Exercise)

October 2, 2012 / Tom

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” ~Lao Tzu

It was just a solitary, broken umbrella. To the casual observer it meant nothing. It was refuse, trash, and needed to be discarded before the next home game. It had outlived its usefulness and could no longer serve its purpose. Soon, it would end up yet another anonymous object at the bottom of a landfill somewhere, decaying for a million years in the land of unwanted things.

Yet it stood there proudly, its bright red color contrasting greatly against the stadium’s somber grey concrete benches. It had been a couple of weeks since the team’s last home football game, and another was coming up in a few days. The maintenance crew was busy at work, getting the field ready and the stands prepared for the warm bodies that would give life to this otherwise cold landscape. Everyone there could see the red umbrella, but no one really noticed it. That is what happens when something becomes old and broken. The protector becomes garbage. The needed becomes discarded. To many who worked that field on this day that umbrella would become a harbinger of things to come. They, too, would become discarded when no longer loved, needed, or wanted. They, too, would be anonymous. Their bright color would fade into the grayness, and they would be forgotten.

This umbrella had, however, given a gift in its state of disrepair. It had been protecting a man and woman, lovers, as they sat and talked under the steady rain a few days earlier. They had been having trouble in their relationship, both feeling as if they had become broken and forgotten to the other. They both desperately wanted to work it out, to fix what had been broken, but neither would give up their anger. As the conversation became a debate and the debate became an argument, both began to lose sight of their truth. Soon, the innuendo became threats and it seemed like all would be lost on that cold, wet October day.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew and the once strong umbrella bent in the middle. It’s bright red covering folded backwards, and its arms gave way to the pressure. Both became soaked instantly, but the man and woman stopped their argument as the rain became a torrent. They began to curse the umbrella and the rain, running for shelter in one of the open doorways that led into the bowels of the stadium.

Once reaching drier climes, the stopped to get their bearings and to regain their senses. As they wiped raindrops from their faces they looked at each other. The eyes, those gateway to the soul, met and suddenly the world stopped around them. Something clicked. She suddenly was that beautiful woman he fell in love with, and he was that caring man she loved. Their hands moved in unison as he moved the hair from her eyes, and she wiped some raindrops from his forehead. Their words stopped, their anger was gone and all that was left was the indescribable force that had brought them together. The resistance subsided, and they stood, man and woman, lovers again.

“A lot of good this umbrella was,” the man said, looking at the broken thing in his hand.

“You know, it’s been a long time since we’ve danced in the rain,” came her reply.

They looked at each other and smiled.

“Yeah, it’s been too long. Let’s go,” the man said. He grabbed her hand and the ran out onto the concrete heading towards the field. On the way, the man dropped the umbrella along the benches where it would stay until it was picked up by the maintenance crew a few days later.

The sounds of laughter and rain echoed within the walls of the empty stadium as the lovers danced and played in the rain. After a while their bodies would become cold and they would embrace to get warm. They both remembered how nicely their bodies fit together, her head on his chest, his arms around her, his hand holding her head tightly to that spot where his heart beat. It felt so good to remember how right this was. It felt so good to feel how perfect everything would be when they just leaned on one another.

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. She, looked up at him, and they kissed like they hadn’t in quite some time. They held each other in this lover’s pose, remembering all along what made their world work. This, they remembered, was the Truth.

“Baby, take me home. I need you,” the woman whispered.

He took her hand again and they began to run to the stadium’s exit leaving their umbrella behind. In a moment that umbrella had given way, and the two would become one yet again. As the rain washed away their pain they remembered their love. Neither would recall what they were arguing about, and neither cared. Instead, they focused on the love they had rediscovered and the warmth they had given to one another on even the coldest of days. A gust of wind and a broken umbrella had provided a miracle of sorts, and one that would not be forgotten for the rest of their lives.

Even in breaking there is purpose, and even in getting wet there is hope. No one would know how important that umbrella was. It was picked up and put in the dumpster with the garbage but it had served an enormous purpose. Lovers who would find their eternal purpose that day owed it all to something they would never know and never remember. As their days became years and their years became decades it all made sense, and the man and woman never forgot to dance in the rain. And they never bought another umbrella.

♥