Tag: Wisdom (Page 2 of 6)

And I Don’t Know Why

March 11, 2019 / Tom

Sometimes I am sad, and I don’t know why. Sometimes I see things coming that aren’t really there. Sometimes I see threats in the shadows where none exist. Sometimes I fear falling even when I am on stable ground.

And I don’t know why.

Sometimes I am sad and I know exactly why. Sometimes I see things coming that are really there, even when I deny their existence. Sometimes things in the shadows reach out and bite me. Sometimes even the most stable of ground crumbles beneath my feet.

And I don’t know why.

Sometimes I don’t know or understand why life has been so challenging. Sometimes I falter, and I hit the ground hard. Sometimes I sin, and don’t know who to ask for forgiveness. Sometimes I can hear angels crashing into the windows just outside my bedroom door.

And I don’t know why.

Sometimes life shows me why I have been so challenged. Sometimes I rise after the hardest fall. Sometimes I forgive myself and seek penance in mending my open wounds. Sometimes I care for angels with broken wings so that they may fly away.

And I don’t know why.

Sometimes the echoes in my life become too great to bear. Sometimes tears soak me to the bone and the chill of the air around me steals my breath away. Sometimes I feel utterly alone.

And I don’t know why.

Sometimes I welcome the silence and seek the emptiness. Sometimes tears wash away my fear and gift me a blessed renewal. Sometimes I find warmth in a heartfelt embrace. Sometimes I need to be alone.

And I don’t know why.

I don’t know why about a lot of things. But I will wipe away the tears and brush the dust off my wounded self just to seek a smile in the wilderness. I will find a way to climb the stones and love the mud just to view the gates of heaven. I will seek the answers and know the truths if just to gain one more breath. I will survive because I have found no other choice.

And I don’t know why.

Nature (A Poem)

July 9, 2018 / Tom

To feel the vibrations of Nature’s song…

The smell of Her forgotten pines,

Eternity encapsulated in the droplets of cool mists,

As water falls,

As Her sweat sprays against the rocky mounds of Her exuberance.

The soil beneath your feet never quite the same.

I’ve heard the calling of Her ecstasy,

As the song birds greet the arrival of the Sun,

As man stirs in his unconsciousness,

Distorting Her truth with the lies of his existence.

Though I falter, I hear the beckoning of Her breezes,

Tried and true I stand beside Her majesty,

Bruised, but sure to the task for which I was born,

To climb, to fall, to bleed upon Her fertile soil.

Forgotten the truest womb a babe has ever known,

The willows weeping their joy and I cry beside them,

She knows no bounds in Her acceptance,

And no judgements of misguided expectations of survival.

Hold this tired form, swaddled nicely in the torrents of despair,

Her rapids flowing beside me,

The sounds deafening me to the point where I can finally hear

That howl that rages deep inside me.

Tear away these shrouds, and leave me naked in the field somewhere,

I beg you, bleed me of the humanity bestowed on me from birth,

Rugged, let me know the steadiest of stones

As I seek my way downward once again.

A Solid Truth

November 4, 2014 / Tom

Through the numbness gaze I see

Cloudy, murky, beholden to the current

Leaning, listing, the stormy sky emblazoned

Calmly, the whitecaps form.

Through the blinded folds of skin I feel

Nothing, lost moments, surrounded by light everywhere

Laying still yet falling into the whirlpool

Rising, the foamy surf left evidence to the dying.

Lovely, I’m lost to the bliss of my own ignorance

Awakened in a moment, I cannot stand to shout

Aware in a flash, I cannot look to see that spark

Forever changed, the light enters me where I am wounded.

But such is the way of great fortune

To be wounded but alive

To be silenced but not forgotten, then heard again

She reaches for the coldness and brings a warmth renewed.

One wobbles, but does not fall

One stumbles, but finds sure footing

Somewhere, beyond the certainty of the next step

Comes the power of where the feet now stand.

One regrets, but accepts what cannot be changed

One worries, but gives himself to the great Ocean on which he lives

There, in the horizon that we call our home

Come the Sunrises and Sunsets that define our days.

Goodnight, dear, see me in your dreams

Goodbye, friend, hear me in your laughter

Feel me as the waves caress your feet, as the Sun warms your face

Know me when the light appears as a new day comes.

There is nothing to fear there, in the waves

Dance like you’ve never danced before

And know me there, everywhere

No surrender, no retreat, just calm acceptance of the Warrior.

Now, let’s go, to that healing place

Let’s bask in the warm water

Play in the lush fields where the color is blinding

And hold this moment dear.

Let’s leave the worry to others

Go crazy in the surf, find ecstasy in the sand

Together, as lovers sitting on an Earthen altar

Together in every breeze, in every wave, in every squawking seagull.

There is heaven.

There is hell.

There is everything in between

And it is there that we will find ourselves in a solid truth.

My Muse, An Introduction

October 18, 2014 / Tom

Now, it seems, is time to introduce you to my muse.

Rather than do this in what would seem to be easy fashion, I’d like to do it the way my heart tells me to, using the methods by which the Universe speaks through me. Please meet her as my heart speaks in the written word.

See, a picture would be too two-dimensional, a handshake too cordial, a video too incomplete. I’d rather introduce you to this gift in the way most of you were introduced to me. So, here goes.

Imagine for one moment you are thirsty and you are wondering through a scorching desert looking for something to drink. Everywhere you look there are pitted stones, dying trees, and the bones of dead memories strewn about in some chaotic fashion. Some of these you put in your mouth, only to be repulsed by bitterness. Others you don’t even get near, the stench is just too much for you to take. So you continue to search, to imagine what it would be like to find that one drink of water. You never give up hope.

Then, suddenly, you come upon a clear, cool spring in a lush oasis. You bend your knee to drink, that first heavenly gulp saving you as each swallow afterward reminds you not only of the thirst that nearly killed you, but of the wonderfulness of the Universe that brought you here. You take long, mindful drinks from that pond, and relax patiently on the plush grasses provided while enjoying the fruits of that place.

You are sure you will never leave. There is nothing out there for you, and everything you have ever wanted is right here. So, you give thanks, you care for that space, and you rest in a certainty that you are, and always have been, right where you belong.

That’s my muse. I’m glad you have had the opportunity to meet her.

Now walk with me. The Sun is blistering hot, and the sky offers no respite from its assault. You walk onward, the sweat dripping from your skin like tired stories of a slow demise. Each step gets harder than the last, but onward you march until…

..finally…

…. a large tree rises from above the unforgiving sands. You sit under her, enjoying the cool comfort as you are refreshed from your journey. She dries the sweat from your skin, cools the burning rage in your heart, and steels you for the effort that still lay ahead; all while assuring you that you can always return to her, without ever wondering where she’s been.

That’s my muse. Please shake her hand, and give her your utmost respect. She deserves nothing less.

Now sail with me on my Ocean. The seas are rough, the storm mighty as the ship tosses roughly around while the gods argue your very existence. You are battered against the wooden frame, bruised against the solid mast until, finally, you are tossed overboard into the murky mayhem that quickly surrounds you and drags you down…

…down…

…down.

The last thing you remember is your impending demise. The last thing you see is a vast, bottomless cauldron of darkness. You finally surrender to your doom.

You awaken on a soft, sandy shore, the Sun warming you, the light breeze sending chills up your entire being. You gasp as you remember your breath, and you inhale deeply as if you were newly born. You sigh as you embrace the earth around you, and you cry as a testament not only to where you are, but where you have come from.

There, right there, is my muse. I don’t possess her any more than I could possess the air around me, but I certainly utter lovely prayers of gratitude with each passing breath. “I love you,” I say. “Breathe,” she replies. I love you too.

Now that you have met her, love her as you do while I love her as I do. Know her through the air that you breathe, the water than quenches your thirst, the earth that gives you a safe place to stand after nearly drowning in the Sea. Be tender with her as she is tender with you, and give her your full attention. Do not question the Sunrise and Sunset, but give thanks for the experience of her absence by truly appreciating her presence.

She is my muse, and with each word you find value in thank her with all your heart.

Love.

I Long for Winter

September 12, 2014 / Tom

Silence.

What is wrong with basking in the silence?

What is wrong with the aloneness of nothing’s sound? Where is the error within this isolation? Within the miracle of those spaces caught between the notes, within the sweet sound of creation stuck within the cracks of what we see as destruction?

From somewhere comes a sigh. From outward poses of false realities come awkward words of truthful fantasies.

I walk along trying to find the mindless footprints I’ve cast in the hardened bedrock of my life; wondering why some fear the sturdiness of this place, why they search for escape by looking for the invisible tracks they swear they left behind.

I question, they don’t respond.

They react.

Read more here…

A Moment Cherished

May 21, 2014 / Tom

“Who are you looking for?” came a voice in the night.

“You,” I responded. “This, us, everything.”

This is how it happens for me. In the darkness of night I hear her, and in the throes of my slumber I can feel her. There, I can look into her eyes and feel it, and there I can touch her hand and know a truth that is, and has been, a certain reality.

“I’m happy you were patient,” she says, touching her hand to the place where my heart resides. “I’m happy you were there when I called for you, and I’m happy I was here when you finally arrived. I’m happy your arms were empty when I reached to embrace you. I’m happy we both were tested, and that we have finally reached our place, our time.”

The look in my eyes spoke total agreement as my beating heart sung the praises of a moment fought for, a moment cherished.

My mind first wanted to travel backward, to the scattered remains of lessons learned and of things lost. It screamed for attention to the bandaged places, but when I looked there all I saw was light. It wanted me to revisit old pains and distant agonies, but my heart had set the bridges to those places afire, turning them into impassable piles of ash.

Her lips drew my attention back to the place on where we stood, together. I could feel the sturdy sands of our beach give way slightly to my bare feet as we kissed, the warm surf surrounding us in our moment of pleasure. The sea tugged at us, wanting to pull us away from our place, but our root held firm as our passion grew. There was no other place out there; for us there was only the here, the now. As the Earth held us tightly, the air embraced us gently as the sea issued its sweet song of surrender.

Here is love, and here is where it will be.

My mind then wanted to travel forward, into times not yet created but certainly well-known. In the fear of a moment never seen before, the mind wanted to find security in what it had known, and in the process created tomorrow out of yesterday. For a moment I could not feel the soft sand beneath my feet, but only felt the stony beaches of yesterday. I wondered if those rocky coasts were my future paths, and if the lies uttered by a hundred mouths before would one day be said by the lips I so eagerly tasted now.

Now. Come back, now. Please listen…

Her hand on the back of my head brought me back to our place. It is said that tears are a release of stories kept deep within the soul, and I release mine as my mind surrendered to what the rest of me was screaming. I listened as fear raised a white flag to the moment, surrendering to the passion, to the promise, to the reality of a moment cherished. There were no more footprints in the sand save the ones we were rooted in, and there were no more doubts in the bedrock of water and sand in which we now stood. The miracle was that the sun had risen as though it had never, ever set.

Our lips parted and we looked deeply into each other’s eyes. I could see the trail of tears on her cheeks that framed her beautiful smile, and I smiled in return as she wiped the last vestige of old stories from my face. I knew, then, that she had traveled far as well in our cherished moment, and that we had not only shared a collective peace there, but also an individual journey in the seconds we first felt a new reality. Some connections cannot be explained, or reasoned. They can only be known, and when two hearts know that connection as truth, nothing can stop the dream from becoming real.

“Thank you for waiting, my love,” she whispered.

“I had no choice,” I responded. “You were always speaking to me, always there. Even in the darkest hours I could hear your voice begging me onward, reminding me of things not yet done, and places not yet seen. Thank you…”

She hugged me tight, no other words needed to be said.

We looked down the beach, deciding silently to head in that direction, to everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Our hands embraced as we splashed along the way, laughing and talking the entire way toward each sure footfall, each telling footprint in the sand. Our night was drawing to a close.

I awoke with a smile and a renewed feeling that change was coming. The emptiness in my room became filled with birds singing from beyond walls through cracks the windows would provide. I had never seen it so bright on such a cloudy morning, and even as the humid air stuck mildly to my naked form there was a sense of comfort there. There was always a sense of comfort in surrender, in knowing that control was only possible over the choices I would make. In those moments my anger over the lies of others in their untrue testaments of truth and promise would end. It appears those souls were simply unconscious leaves from the tree of life that the wise wind had taken away. They were malformed to my purpose but certainly valuable to another’s, and the release became a testament to the promise kept to the one who will be waiting.

There is great service in truth, in surrendering to the will of the wind and the great sands where we stand. There is a great love shown in letting go of the pieces that just don’t fit for they, too, deserve a true moment cherished. How many square pegs continually grasp at round holes believing that with great effort will come a perfect fit, all the while finding the work undertaken is destroying both pieces. We deserve to be honored, to be cherished, for who we are by those who need not change to cherish us.

We all deserve our truth. Once we discover what that truth is, I mean. Until then, we all deserve our illusion separate from those who can’t live within it.

As for me, I have vowed to remain true to that which I am seeking, knowing full well that it, too, is seeking me. I cannot return to the human expanse of barren promises and broken dreams that I know all too well. I not only burn bridges that would take me back to those places, but blow them up with an abiding attachment to my own sense of truth. It has taken me a long time to arrive, and I’m not giving up the hard-earned ground I’ve traveled for a sense of human security which is, of course, a human frailty. Each experience teaches me, each dream fulfills me, and each cherished moment reminds me of who I am.

I love even the round holes to my square peg. They are beautiful, which is one reason I don’t seek to change them more to my liking. While I do wish they’d stop trying to change me to theirs, I understand who they are and where they stand. We often seem to fear uniqueness, we seem to fear that which reminds us of what we’ve created as a painful truth. We seem to fear aloneness and become fearful of those who don’t. We fear being different, and work hard to fit into places we truly do not belong. “If I need to change to make them happy, why don’t you need to change to make me happy?” seems to be a mantra of leaves unaware that they, too, are simply blowing in the wise wind. We often don’t seem to learn that the “one” will never arrive if we are busy holding onto the “wrong one”.

So, yes, my lover, I am letting go. One day there will be a light so bright as to blind us both to everything not within it. There I will go, even if only within the confines of my slumber, to let you know that I, too, am waiting for our moment cherished. I know it is coming.

What is Surrender?

February 22, 2014 / Tom

Surrender is, simply, an act of love, the description of which is determined by our current states of mind.

I could end it with that, and be done with the discussion. Yet, I’ll surrender to the need to expand on it, and to share some personal experiences and insight. There is an act of surrender in everything we do, and we can see it simply by shifting our focus.

We aren’t taught the art of surrender in our society. We are taught that surrender is an act of weakness reserved for losers. We are taught that quitters surrender, and then we make an agreement to agree with the various negative descriptions of surrender we are given. In essence, we surrender our experience to the egoic definition of strength, weakness, winning and losing.

I used to see surrender as an act of fear, and the refusal to surrender as an act of “heart” or courage. Yet, I’ve discovered that even what we view as a refusal to surrender is, in fact, a surrender. I make dozens, if not hundreds, of choices to surrender each and every day. Perhaps I choose to surrender to old behavior patterns. Maybe I choose to surrender to new perspectives. Maybe I’ve decided to fall into old ruts, or perhaps I’ve decided to make new footprints. Either way I am offering myself to the choice, I am surrendering to the experience of either renewing old agreements or creating new ones.

There are instances when events that seem out of our control become difficult to surrender to. A job loss, a relationship that ends, an illness, or any event that seems beyond our control can set us off on a tangent of suffering simply by our seeming refusal to surrender to the event. Our refusal to surrender doesn’t mean we haven’t surrendered, it simply means we refuse to see that we’ve surrendered. We have, by either surrendering to the refusal or by surrendering to the event.

You can’t refuse to surrender, you can only recognize your choices on what you surrender to. Those choices will reflect your current states of mind, and you can begin to see (become aware) of where you are simply by observing what choices you have made.

Do I curse the company that I used to work for or do I embrace the change? The answer will help me discover where my mind is, and to what master I am answering to. Am I attacking my old lover and trying to make them suffer? Again, my answer will show me what master I am serving. Am I afraid of the changes coming or eagerly awaiting their arrival? Yes, you guessed it, the answer will tell me everything I need to know.

We are all given choices to make, and often those agreements became a simple choice between acting in the illusion of fear or acting in the reality of love. While love allows us the illusion of fear, fear does not allow for the reality of love. What we surrender to is our choice, and our experience will directly result from which we agree to have. We are all-powerful creators, and we create our existence within each and every moment. We simply need to surrender to the experience we wish to have.

Peace.

God I love this place!

December 13, 2013 / Tom

I walk.

I marvel at how the once soft, fluffy sands have become hard and unforgiving in the winter’s chill. I’m alone with my thoughts save the sounds of the surf crashing behind me; the sea hidden behind a shroud of darkness that allows me to focus on that music and the Universe exposed around me. I sit in the chill, gazing up at Gemini hoping to see the faint streaks of light created by the end of things likely born long before man was a dream. I give thanks in each passing blur as I am reminded of my own mortality, my own beginning, and my own end. I am reminded of the distance between the two, and I am grateful for this step in the journey of remembrance.

Through the shivers and the wet feeling of coldness upon my skin, I realize I love this place. I love the drawings I see as my mind connects the dots on Heaven’s canvas. I love the bright gaze of Jupiter staring down at me as I stare up at her. I love the orange flicker of Betelgeuse lighting my way toward the Hunter I’ve loved so much since my youth. I remember gazing up at his belt, staring at its perfect alignment and marveling at how the dots seemed so close together, yet were so far apart. I remember realizing then that what we see from where we stand can make all of the difference in how we think.

God I love this place.

I walk.

I walk through the paths others have cut through forests created long before I was born. I embrace the stiff silence that allows the wind to make music through the brittle, dead leaves on their Mother trees. I notice how both seem to hold on to what was, neither truly wanting to admit that the time of their union has passed. It’s a certainty that the winter wind will separate those who cannot seem to let go on their own, and that the tree will sleep and the leaf will fall, lightly, to return the gift it has been given.

I cross a stream. Little tufts of earth peek through slowly moving surface of crystal clear water, reflecting Heaven’s gaze. I notice how everything reflected seems the opposite of what I see, and I wonder which is the truth. Am I seeing things as they are, or am I seeing things through a reflection in my mind that is the opposite of how they are? Whichever, I continue walking, realizing that time and space can change everything, including the distance between giant stars that likely pay no attention to each other.

I allow the cold winter winds of my life to separate me from my leaves. I let go and say goodbye as they drift away toward their destiny. I know those things I think, those things I see, are mere reflections that exist only in my mind. I am a man, after all, and can enjoy a view through both tainted eyes and the crystal clear waters of Love that exist in the calm stillness I dive into. Both exist for a reason, and a purpose to which both can be known.

God I love this place.

Here I sit. I’ve done nothing on my to-do list, yet I’ve given birth to an entire universe. To whatever blesses me with these words, I am grateful. To whatever inspires me to see beyond my flesh and bones, I am grateful. To the power that takes the ingredients of a man and makes them so very special, I am grateful. To my eyes that see and my heart that feels, I am grateful. Though I am no longer who I was, I am grateful for who I am. To the music I dance to and the voices I hear whispering lightly in my ear, I am grateful. To the scars and the wounds as well as the dream I had that gave them life, I am grateful. To the love and kindness offered that has held me steady, I am grateful. I am grateful for it all.

So I sit, in peace and in stillness as the Sun shines gently through the window, its glow changing colors through my closed eyelids. I inhale its warmth that contrasts nicely through the chilled morning air, realizing both in the same moment. I realize the stretch of time that has brought me here, the limitless experiences and infinite possibilities of what “now” has to offer. The raised bumps on my skin tell a truth, a truth that says, “Yes, you are on your way.”

God how I love this place.

A Pure and Holy Selfishness (An Introduction)

November 13, 2013 / Tom

“Selfishness is one of the qualities apt to inspire love.” – Nathaniel Hawthorne

I wander, in this windswept world of ideas and thoughts, and wish I could escape it all. Yet, the wish is yet another idea, part of the mind, and it seems as if there is no liberation from the voices in my head.

My soul, my essence, my spirit, has apparently decided it wants to play in the land of the Great Known. Here, everything is judged, defined, and falls under certain rules we must all live by. Judgment is a part of the breath of our physical form, for even the very act of being non-judgmental is an act of judging itself. Beneath the conscious parts of ourselves lies an undercurrent of patterned behaviors, of instilled thoughts and ideas that can only be vetted by the amount of suffering they cause. It seems as if the world around me is devoted to the act of suffering to the point where even the practice of detachment is devoted to it. We suffer in the fact that we must become detached from those things that make us suffer, never realizing that it is the suffering itself that is an arrow pointing toward places of pure joy. Yes, Eve, it is possible to revisit the Garden of Eden, but first you need to wake up from your nightmare.

I am fortunate. I live in a society where, traditionally, being white and having a penis is an immediate advantage. Yet I feel distinctly disadvantaged as I observe the suffering around me. I see men forgetting who they are, struggling daily to act like their fathers and the men who taught their fathers. I see the glorious power of women being trampled on by the fear and insecurity of men taught such things by their ancestors. I see children being victimized by those who love them the most as the shackles of ideology and culture are placed upon them, and see the wonderful wings of a child’s imagination clipped as they are taught they cannot be who they want to be, and they cannot do what they find great joy in doing.

Of course I generalize here, describing the things I see pejoratively in the largest part of the whole I have lived my entire life in. My memory brings back a time when I was a conservative white male and saw the world through those eyes. My, how the victims I see now were the victimizers then. My, how those with the least were trampled under the weight of my idea that they deserved to be. I remember how the poor were unworthy of my help, and how my white, male self was being victimized by the poor simply because I was forced to help them.

Today, of course, I have evolved and see things much differently. I’ve been wealthy and have lived the life of a wealthy, white man. I’ve had a gorgeous wife, a big house, fancy cars and money to spare. Yet, like a short-necked giraffe I could not reach the sustenance I needed even as I stood on the summit of the American dream. The fruit I needed to live was on a much higher place than I could reach, so something needed to change.

So, as is the case for most of us, something much more powerful than I took over. I lost my financial wealth and was forced to downsize a life that had gotten out of control, a process that continues even now. I lost the gorgeous wife, the fancy cars, and now live in relative simplicity. The talents that helped me accumulate wealth are still there, but my focus is now on what brings me joy. I write, I think, I protest, I work and I live to love my children. My children are not an aside to my workday, my workday is an aside to them. I have discovered the love of people I would have never known in my “past life”. I’ve taken charity, I’ve received and I have learned. I’ve learned to let go. I’ve learned to tolerate. Most of all, I’ve learned to forgive and accept while always realizing that my choices are my power. There, I’ve learned much about responsibility that goes well beyond the type my ancestors taught me.

I may not die the millionaire I once sought to be, but I will die a wealthy man. I will die a liberated man no longer a slave to the story I once saw as “my truth”. Today, I see my truth in the fact that I am a perfectly fallible man, full of judgments and opinions and thoughts and ideas. I accept the fact that there are times when I will judge you harshly for your actions, but I also accept the fact that the gaps between such judgment and my forgiveness of it is narrowing quickly. Perhaps that is the role of judgment, to make us examine the gaps between the lower vibrations within us and the higher ones we seek to feel and how quickly those gaps close.

Right now I look to compassion and love for solutions that used to come in dollars and cents (no, not sense). I’m talking about real compassion and love, not the kind that says “I’m beating you with this stick because I love you,” or “starving people is compassion because it teaches them they need to fish.” Compassion, to me, is defined by what makes me smile in service of others, and love is defined by what raises those tiny little bumps on my skin. That’s all. It’s not about you as much as it is about me.

This is a new kind of selfishness that I define as a “pure and holy selfishness.” Here, my neck must lengthen not for the good of the herd, but so I can reach that fruit at the top of the tree that will keep me alive so that I may do some good for the herd. Here, my arms must widen so that I can hug you tighter. Here, I must be happy so that I can make you smile. It has to be about “me first” so that I can put YOU first. It’s a simple equation that goes something like this:

Ok, I’m just kidding. Actually, it is more like this:

I(x) = U(x)

If “x” is happy, well then I am happy and you are happy. But I have to be happy first. I can also make you upset if x= upset. See how easy that is?

I can even change your x simply by being a different x first and choosing to stay there. Yes, I now love math when it’s taught like this.

I can attest to the fact that this is not an easy road to travel. It’s rife with the pain and anguish many spend their time avoiding. I can understand the avoidance, and I know that when the Universe says it is time you will have no choice. It may not happen in this lifetime or even the next, but it will happen when your soul is ready to experience something new we profoundly call, “the truth.” One day you will wake up, swallow the red pill, and the pathway will change. Enjoy the journey, it is nothing but wonderful once the fog lifts and the sunlight warms your heart.

Peace.

Sometimes

October 5, 2013 / Tom

Sometimes…

Sometimes I do my best work when no one sees me at the plow. Sometimes I have my best swims when no one sees me reach the shore. Sometimes the best things I’ve ever written are the stories no one will ever read. Sometimes I’m my most grateful when I’ve never said a word.

Sometimes I just need to shut up and ride the wave. Sometimes I need to watch without comment. Sometimes my utter silence is when I am at my most profound. Sometimes I need to watch the sunrise without painting it, or writing about it, or describing its glory in words. Sometimes the greatest art is found when doing nothing at all.

No one needs tell the fire to burn, or the sun to set. No one needs to command the leaves to change their color, or to fall to the ground. No one needs to direct the tides, or teach the winds how to blow. We are all so beautiful in our own natural setting. Sometimes I just need to return there.

I wonder if the inspiration of silence I’ve experienced over the last week is a great gift of the Divinity that often overflows my chalice with words. I wonder, as I watch others flail about their oceans with words that fail to have real meaning, if silence is truly a gift I have been given. I wonder if that which I’ve often viewed as horrible consequence is actually the thrill of my life. Sometimes I just need to see it differently.

Maybe in the silence I have found the value of the sound. Maybe in the lie I have found the value of the truth. Maybe in the stark blankness of the sheets of paper that lie before me I have found the value of the gift I have been given. Maybe sometimes I need to lose in order to win the greatest prize of all.

There is much love in the things we fear the most, and there is much hope in our greatest despair. It’s there, after all, that we will find the meaning of it all. Sometimes I simply takes the courage to look.