Labels: emotion, meanderings, music, songs, stories, word play

Labels: emotion, sea, stories

Labels: emotion, gender stuff, poetry, word play, writing

Labels: emotion, family, father's wisdom, life on life's terms, poetry, word play, writing

Labels: emotion, exercise, life on life's terms, stories, work out

Labels: blogging, emotion, life on life's terms, meanderings, word play, writing

Labels: blogging, emotion, lists, meanderings, social networking, word play, writing

Labels: blogging, emotion, poetry, word play, writing

Labels: emotion, life on life's terms, meanderings, prose, word play, writing

Much can be said for miracles. Read for a moment or two on blog topics like wholeness, cancer, poverty or economic struggle and you are sure to run across a ‘miracle story’ or two. Cancers are healed, injuries vanish, accidents are avoided, and consequences evaporate like a morning fog. We find ourselves in awe, even disbelief – amazed.

While all of these events are certainly worth noting and even celebrating, on occasion (like right now) I am reminded of what seems to me to be the greatest miracle of all. This is not a miracle of healing, financial success, physical triumph or an underdog victory. I would describe the greatest of miracles this way: that a person whose very soul is broken, twisted, ill worn and misshapen can - from the very core of their being, change and become someone of loving and graceful spirit.

Or, said another way – that God can transform a human heart.

It is a miracle I depend on, every day.

Labels: emotion, recovery, sacred moments, spirituality

After attending a faculty concert at the University Of North Carolina School Of The Arts in honor of Mozart’s birthday (great music), my wife and I decided to rent and re-watch “Amadeus.”

The movie is a master piece and tells the story of Mozart’s musical genius through the eyes of the aged, embittered Salieri, a court composer and contemporary of Mozart. What struck me profoundly was Sallieri’s struggle – he speaks of holding within himself the appreciation of and desire to create, divine music and yet, he must live with the reality of his inability to do so.

I believe many of us struggle with similar tensions, unrealized passions. I believe we often find ourselves frustrated by the limitations of our craft to contain something larger than us. Yet, I also believe that it is this desire to manifest something greater than ourselves that can make us truly a vessel of Divine love and empowerment. It is a reoccurring theme and one perhaps worth acknowledging…

Labels: emotion, sacred moments, songs, spirituality, word play

Yesterday I had a visit with a good friend of 5 years now. We met innocently enough at a local coffee house (Café Roche) and talked over hot coffee and warm pastries.

We spent about 2 hours together and I left with a bitter –sweet awareness.

The Sweet – We listened and talked to each other. We asked questions to better understand perspectives. We recalled life experiences and things we had read or seen to add depth and breadth to the conversation. We wondered together. We laughed, debated and shared silence together. I left feeling grateful for the time and stimulated in my thinking and creative passion.

The Bitter - I don’t have good, quality conversations of substance nearly often enough. I know I am busy at work and at home. I know the trend is for 140 character interactions, online chatting, blogging/commenting and trite verbal exchanges (and I’m very good at those – I’m just saying), but I wonder if there isn’t more to it.

Have we somehow developed into a culture where conversation has been replaced with brief proclamations and affirmations? Has the art of informed group inquiry (was there ever such an art) become too complicated, too time consuming? I think one of the reasons that I love sharing coffee with others – just about anyone – is that it slows things down and creates a moment for conversation. It is hard to be in a hurry when you are holding and trying to drink very HOT liquids!

My life needs more time for coffee and conversation, more space for debating, wondering with others. What about you? Care to join me for a cup of Joe?

Labels: coffee, emotion, word play

I am touched by the tragedy in Haiti and the outpouring of support to those affected. I must, however, take this moment and stand on a soap-box cause of my own.

The current death toll is reported at over 200,000 with 1.5 million rendered homeless. This is a tragic event, similar to the tsunami of 2004. I have and will continue to offer my financial contributions and prayers. I hope you will do the same.

My soap box is that in the United States alone, there are over 180,000 deaths annually due to alcohol and other drugs (not including drug and alcohol related traffic deaths). The estimate cost to Americans each year for illicit drug use and related crime is around $65 billion.[1] There is numbness to this astounding reality. We don’t hear pleas from the White House to text for support, or celebrities and emergency response groups banding together to raise awareness and funds. What is more, how quickly would we respond if the technology and expertise to prevent the earthquake in Haiti had been available? Yet, much is known – both medically and socially - about the causes and treatment for addiction and those affected by it.

So, my pitch is that we must find a way of raising our awareness and response to a killer that surpasses the tragedy in Haiti every single year in the USA. At this point I would recommend a charity, program or group for you to donate to or support, but other than local programs – I’ just not aware of one good source to fund or support. So, search your local charities and give of your money and your time.

-Steps off soap box-

We now return to our regularly scheduled blogging…

Labels: addiction, emotion, recovery

“The greatest discovery of any generation is that a human being can alter his life by altering his attitude.” –Williams James

I spent 8 years in higher education, 15 years beyond that as a pastor for a mainline denomination, and studied human psychology, pastor counseling and theology. It took a man with no more than a high school education and a background in construction to teach me something real about people, about me.

I was having a bad day and it wasn’t even 10:00 am. I’d had an argument with my wife. My children were not behaving the way I wanted them to, and my work schedule for the day was so packed that I knew I wouldn’t be able to get all of it done. My brain hurt, my back hurt and I pretty much hated everything and everybody at that moment.

My boss at the time took note of my very bad attitude and asked me to come into his office. I did. He listened to my story and then paused before saying, “You have two choices this morning. You can stay pissed and have a sorry day, or you can do something about your attitude.” He reached in the desk drawer and handed me a card* that resembled one of those “do not disturb” door hangers. On the front and back were a series of saying, positive affirmations. He told me to take it and if I wanted to change my attitude to read the sayings out loud on the way to my first appointment for that day. My attitude wasn’t very receptive. I thought of all the psychological cliques that I knew. I thought about how what I was going through was much bigger than a few clever and witty sayings. I thought of a hundred reasons why his suggestion was, at best, inadequate. I didn’t challenge him. I took the card and headed for the truck. As I walked out of his office he said one more thing, “I bet you’re too chicken to try it.”

I smiled and for some reason warmed up to the idea of proving him wrong. On the way to my first appointment, I read them out loud:

“I will win. Why? I’ll tell you why – because I have faith courage and enthusiasm.”

“Today I will meet the right people in the right place at the right time for the betterment of all.”

“I see opportunity in every challenge.”

“When I fail, I only look at what I did right.”

“I’ll never take advice from someone more messed up than I am.”

The readings continued, and so did the change in my attitude. There is great power in the words we speak to ourselves, and by the time I was done – I did feel better and begin to think on the things I could do to be effective and successful that day. I had once of the most productive days ever. I have never forgotten that lesson.

*The card is produced by Tom Hopkins International and can be found here: Shower Card

Labels: blogging, emotion, life on life's terms, word play

No thank you. I do not want it super sized, mega-made, biggied or mutated. I just want this day regular, normal, simple, as it arrived…

I have had enough of different, trying, intense, involved, complicated, volatile and demanding for the time being.

I'll take a normal day. Thank you.

Labels: blogging, emotion, life on life's terms, spirituality

I was minding my own business, driving with business colleague to lunch when my iPod shuffled right up to a song that made me very uncomfortable. I may be alone on this one, but there are some songs that are so sensual that I’m uncomfortable hearing them in social settings. Two of them on my list of “too sensual for public listening” are:

Paula Cole – “Feeling Love”

Christina Aguilera - “Nasty Boy”

So, when driving to Steak Street with a female colleague, it is best not to hear Christina Aguilera singing, “Give me a little taste of that sugar below your waist.” Trust me.

What about you? Is there a song that makes you blush if playing in public?

Labels: emotion, gender stuff, music, songs

Do you know the number one song from 1972? I do, and I’ll never forget it.

It was New Year’s Eve 1972 and I was listening to a radio program, Opus 72, the top 100 hundred songs of the year counted down. I was home alone. I know, it sounds pitiful, but I was happy – I was 14 and home for the holidays from living away at Military School. We lived in a new home on the water in Murrells Inlet, SC and I was enjoying the time alone with my run of the house. I had set up my stepfather’s reel-to-reel tape recorder to record hours of the countdown.

As the hours ran on, I enjoyed song after song, many of which I was hearing for the first time (living in a Military School where the current events were not so assessable had its draw backs). Time rolled on and one by one the songs played. Then the number one song was announced, at midnight – Roberta Flack’s version of “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.” I had never heard the song before and was overwhelmed by the romance and beauty of it. There, alone on New Year’s Eve, I felt a real message of love and dedication between two people. That song touched a real longing and desire within me and at 14 I knew I wanted to love like that.

I was such a sappy romantic.

First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and stars were the gifts you gave
To the dark and the empty skies, my love,
To the dark and the empty skies.

The first time ever I kissed your mouth
And felt your heart beat close to mine
Like the trembling heart of a captive bird
That was there at my command, my love
That was there at my command.

And the first time ever I lay with you
I felt your heart so close to mine
And I knew our joy would fill the earth
And last till the end of time my love
It would last till the end of time my love

The first time ever I saw your face, your face,
your face, your face ...

Labels: emotion, family, songs

Time at home has allowed me to dig out some old CDs and take a musical ride through time. With the holiday season and all of the festivities associated with it all but over, we have cleared away the torn wrapping paper, empty boxes and some of the Christmas decorations. Today I’ve managed a few minutes to simply sit in the living room and listen to music. I would normally listen to satellite radio or an iTunes play list, but today I’ve dusted off some of the CDs stacked about the room and found an array of music that I haven’t heard for some time. Right now, it’s Jethro Tull’s “Aqualung.”

With this music comes a specific memory. This album takes me back to 1975, Myrtle Beach, SC where I grew up. I remember one very specific day in May, an afternoon after my birthday but before the summer break in between my junior and senior year of high school. I was still driving the hand-me-down family car, a 1966 Chevrolet Bellaire, and at that particular moment was cruising north on Highway 17 between Murrells Inlet and Myrtle Beach headed into town to join friends for pizza and some night time fun. The car stereo was blasting, powered by an 8-Track tape player as I listened for the first time to “My God.” What I remember today, is somehow in that drive I felt very free, and I knew that even though I didn’t fully understand what Tull was saying – I knew two things: There was more about God to learn than my parents had taught me and I liked this crazy, in-your-face, music.

I still know those two things.

"My God"

People -- what have you done --

locked Him in His golden cage.

Made Him bend to your religion --
Him resurrected from the grave.
He is the god of nothing --
if that's all that you can see.
You are the god of everything --
He's inside you and me.
So lean upon Him gently
and don't call on Him to save you
from your social graces
and the sins you used to waive.
The bloody Church of England --
in chains of history --
requests your earthly presence at
the vicarage for tea.
And the graven image you-know-who --
with His plastic crucifix --
he's got him fixed --
confuses me as to who and where and why --
as to how he gets his kicks.
Confessing to the endless sin --
the endless whining sounds.
You'll be praying till next Thursday to
all the gods that you can count.

Labels: emotion, sacred moments, songs, spirituality, travel

Then there was the time that without any provocation and no history of misbehavior, Eleanor the Siamese cat leaped from the ground into the Christmas tree and sent it crashing to the floor. My in-laws, who housed the cat, subsequently tied the tree to the door hinge with twine ever year – even after Eleanor died.

Labels: blogging, Christmas, emotion, family

I don’t know what possessed me. Most of us were standing back stage in the elementary school cafeteria that doubled as our auditorium. I was in the fourth grade and we had just begun to plan for the Christmas program. We were all singing America and although I was always an outgoing child, I didn't know the first thing about singing but when we got to “…above the fruited plains” I couldn't help myself. Something deep inside of me expanded and I sang so loudly that the music teacher rang back stage shouting, “Who is that!?”

I sang “O Holy Night” as a solo that year. It was one of my first “on stage” moments. It is one of my mother’s all time favorite memories – mine too.

Labels: blogging, Christmas, emotion, family

The colors of blue, green, red and bright white danced across the ceiling; the patterns always different - an intertwining of light, creating brief illusions of texture and living shapes. If I listened closely I could hear the ping of the bulbs as they flashed individually on and off. I lie on my back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling watching for repeat patterns and tried to imagine what would come next. My thoughts flashed from the lights to the coming of Christmas. What was in the present under the tree wrapped in the bright green paper with my name on it?

I could have stayed there forever. In some ways, I guess I did.

Labels: Christmas, emotion, family

1. That favorite dish your mom makes is still as good as you remember.

2. Somebody in the family is in trouble with the law again this year.

3. You are probably the only one driving a Honda.

4. Smoking is still expected inside at all times.

5. There is NOT, no matter how much we talk about it, an annual family tradition.

6. You will be expected to participate in the annual family tradition.

7. You are expected at Christmas if you didn’t visit for Thanksgiving.

8. Football will be explained with hunting analogies.

9. Hunting will be explained with football analogies.

10. There will be no raw, steamed, green or leafy vegetables at the holiday table.

11. There is always something that needs to be fetched from the store.

12. You will talk for hours and never really say anything.

13. No matter how hard you try not to, you will spend hours trying to figure out what everyone is really saying.

14. You are related to everyone there and you won’t know several people.

15. Everyone there loves each other as best they know how.

And, You will either leave this holiday gathering thinking your family is a dysfunctional tragedy or the funniest assortment of people you could ever imagine – it totally depends on you.

Labels: Christmas, emotion, family, life on life's terms, vacation destinations

Labels: coffee, emotion, life on life's terms

There is little in this world more beautiful than someone who takes care of themselves in order to be able to care for someone else.

I overheard a woman discussing her recent workout routine with a friend. Her goal was to increase her upper body strength in order to better lift and care for her handicapped child.

Beautiful woman.

Labels: emotion, exercise, gender stuff, life on life's terms, sacred moments, work out

Labels: blogging, coffee, emotion, life on life's terms, meanderings, travel, writing

Labels: blogging, emotion, gender stuff, poetry, sacred moments, word play, writing

Situation: A couple, newly together, watches a DVD together. She falls asleep half-way through. The next morning he sends her an email…

“Thank you so much for last night. It is wonderful to have someone who thinks enough of me to watch what I wanted to see. I know you don’t like horror that much. You were obviously very tired. I’m delighted you were comfortable enough with me to fall asleep. I wore the same shirt today because you left a tiny bit of drool on my sleeve and I wanted to keep you close. See you tonight.”

Same couple, same evening, five years later…

“I don’t get you! Not only do you not care about anything I want to watch but you fell asleep on my favorite shirt and drooled all night! Next time, just go to bed. I’ll be home at 7:00.”

Same couple, same evening, 15 years…

“Enjoyed the movie. I dropped off the laundry (I got something on my shirt). Did you take the DVD back? Pick up something else when you go – one of your favorites this time. Oh, I’ll be home at 5:30, do you want to go out for dinner? You pick.”

Labels: blogging, emotion, gender stuff, life on life's terms, spirituality

The theme of this website proclaims “It begins with words….” I believe in the power of words, but not just the obvious power of words that hurt or console, I believe words are woven into every fiber of our existence. Words, properly understood can reveal intent and affect outcomes. Even a small change in a phrase or word choice can have a powerful affect on our lives.

Take the word “but” for example. We use it often, “I understand that, but I think it’s deeper than that.” “I want to, but I’m too tired.” “Yes you did, but that’s not what I meant.” The power of the word ‘but’ is that it negates anything said before it. Someone said once, “’But’ is the great eraser. It erases the value of anything before it.”

It is my observation that there is no better fuel for an argument than a hefty and well placed “BUT!”

I find it very interesting to practice using another word than “but.” Try “and” for example. “And” is a good alternative it makes an acknowledging, respectful way to add another piece of information or perspective to a statement.

“I understand you feel that way, and I still want you to get it done.”

“Yes you did, and that isn’t what I meant.”

“I want to, and I’m too tired.”

Using “and” gives value to both statements and allow us to add information and often depth to a conversation in a nonthreatening fashion. We can acknowledge what someone has said and then add our perspective.

I’ve tried to eliminate the word “but” from my daily speech. It takes some practice and it seems worth the effort. Give it a try. Let me know what happens.

Labels: blogging, emotion, word play

I found myself

Humming into the mattress

With you

It was an accidental thing

An exhale that sent a slight vibration

Through the sheets

I enjoyed the sound

The sense

Of my humming

Beside you – with you

The vibrant ripples made me giggle

And roll joyfully

Leaving all tension and dis-ease

I found myself

Humming into the mattress

Thank you

Labels: emotion, family, life on life's terms, meanderings, music, poetry

Labels: blogging, emotion, exercise, life on life's terms, prose

Labels: emotion, poetry, word play

The beach remembers

Lover's tastes and trash

And it can't forget

Too many breezes blow

In strong currents

And sand tossing tourists

Piles of humanity

Discarded playthings

And burnt butts

Cans crushed under foot

Seasoned among sea oats

And barley stained

His hands upon her

Rumpled sands swaying

And tides wetting

Every passion gets remembered

By the beach beneath us

And our trash

Labels: emotion, family, life on life's terms, meanderings, poetry, sacred moments, sea, spirituality, vacation destinations

A number of weeks back, several friends sent me the same link to a wonderful video of Elizabeth Gilbert speaking on the angst of artistic genius. I'm not purporting to be a genius, but I have had my share of artistic challenges.

My first true passion was acting. I felt more alive when acting, soaking up the spot light and wrestling with the nuances of character development than I did living my real life. I achieved some modest success while making acting my hobby throughout my life including some professional time with a North Carolina Shakespeare Company, and several cable-run commercials. During college I discovered creative writing and I've had a few article published (during my time as a pastor). Sermon writing, at its best, is a highly creative venue and I relished in both the creation and presentation of sermons for 15 years.

In each of my creative adventures, I discovered the same reality – satisfaction of the urge to create and the compulsion to be a part of something new and dramatic is fleeting.

Often, upon reflection on my own creative internal disturbance, I am left with the following apparent and unsavory thought - The creative spirit, as embodied in so many artists, is its own bane. The artist can devote his/herself to the task fully and in doing so risk a rapid burn or can deny the very passion of the soul and lead a life of frustrated mediocrity. My trouble with this thought is that I don’t want it to be true. Is it possible for an artist to pursue his passion and not self destruct? Is there something in the nature of art that demands the humanity of the artist and leaves her broken?

There is more to say here, but I would rather leave it for your comments. So, dear reader, is your artistic passion dangerous?

Labels: blogging, emotion, life on life's terms, meanderings, poetry, prose, writing

Paint Me Not

Paint me not in shades of brilliant blue and red

Coloring over my misguided lines of glossy black

And smeared greys

Don’t layer me over with sentiment and morality

Forgetting my deformity of thought

And bare deeds

Have the fortitude to lay it out

As I was and am naked and old, withered

And decaying now

My life will be dust soon enough and should not be concealed while it can be revealed.

Note: Inspiration comes when it is ready. I was viewing a photo and a post over at MelodyWatson.com and somehow, my thoughts and feelings lead to the poem above...

Labels: blogging, emotion, family, life on life's terms, meanderings, poetry, writing

Labels: emotion, family, father's wisdom, life on life's terms, meanderings, writing

Last night as my wife and I ate dinner at Wendy's in Brevard, NC (yes. I know we are big spenders), we overheard five ladies talking. Here is the truth.

1. They are all over 60.

2. They have dinner and play cards there at Wendy's every Sunday night after church -every Sunday.

3. They were feeling a bit racy last evening since they had 'skipped' church and started playing cards an hour earlier than usual.

Wild times in Brevard, I tell you. I'm not sure it is truly safe to be there on a Sunday evening! What will happen next - Dogs and cats sleeping together?

Seriously, I found the entire scene delightful and worthy of a movie script.

Labels: blogging, emotion, life on life's terms, travel, vacation destinations

I am mostly a happy person. I enter each day with a determination to be positive, smile and find the opportunity in every challenge. Yes, I am one of those people.

Today, I wasn't able to make it happen. Nothing bad happened. Nothing monumental broke or went awry. Yet, I have found this day empty of enthusiasm and lacking in luster.

Chalk it up to "one of those days."

One of Those Days

Walking through cement

Wading in the swamp

Paddling up stream

Strolling up the down escalator

And

Simply not really caring about getting there

We are all allowed one of those days. Right?

Labels: emotion, life on life's terms, poetry, spirituality

Labels: blogging, emotion, family, gender stuff, meanderings, prose, word play, writing

Labels: blogging, emotion, life on life's terms, travel, vacation destinations

Labels: blogging, emotion, gender stuff

For a true writer each book should be a new beginning where he tries again for something that is beyond attainment. He should always try for something that has never been done or that others have tried and failed. Then sometimes, with great luck, he will succeed.

-Ernest Hemingway (1899 - 1961), in his Nobel Prize acceptance speech

Labels: emotion, quotes, writing

Labels: blogging, emotion, hiking, meanderings, pets, prose, sacred moments, spirituality, writing

The Thinning of One

If I am not careful

With my thoughts

My ideas

Plans

Dreams

I will become thin

On artistic endeavors

Of creativity

Possibilities

Virility

Thin

Is transparent

Lifeless etching

Labels: emotion, gender stuff, life on life's terms, poetry, word play, writing

It should have been a strange experience, but it wasn’t.

The room was filled with chatting and laughter. An arrangement of peculiar instruments were placed at one end of the room – didgeridoos, drums, crystal bowls, bull-roars, various flutes from around the world, chimes and items I could not identify formed a semi circle around two men.

My wife had arranged the evening, as she is prone to do, with certainty of purpose. She knows me, and she knows the likelihood of me pursuing such an event on my own is slim. She also knows that the reality of my appreciating and benefiting from such an experience is almost certain. We had registered and made our way back to the main room amid gathering people, nervous laughter, meaningful hugs and an atmosphere of escalating curiosity.

The group of us, about 15 in all, found our places; lying on the floor supported by various mats, pillows and blankets. After a brief explanation, the sounds began. This was advertised as an evening of sound and healing. Amid sometimes gentle and sometimes piercing sounds, I rested motionless and felt my way through the evening. Images came and went. Ideas floating in, some staying a while, and then out. I was sometimes aware of the movement and noises of others. Moments found me very aware of where I was and what was going on. Moments found me adrift in the twilight of relief. Then, as simply as it began, it stopped.

I listened as others shared of their experiences, stories of traveling to other places, regressing to previous life moments, journeying inward to spiritual realms. I understood much of what was shared – conceptually, at least. I just listened.

For me, it wasn’t about going anywhere. It was more about what came to me, and even that, the coming to me, I can’t really describe. What I can tell you is that I have slept wonderfully ever since. Something rode in on the waves of crystal bowls, and in the swirls of twirling blades, and through the chanting of ancient flutes. Something came gently on the tunes of voices and the rhythm of drums. Something of great value came and drifted through the discontinuity of my thoughts, images and sensations. It should have been a strange experience, but it wasn’t. The healing was, well, normal.

Good night.

Labels: blogging, emotion, family, life on life's terms, meanderings, prose, songs, spirituality

The long shadows stretch out, carving a swath into the close of the day. This day is more than the end of one more day, one more 24 hour period fading into the dusk of life and lingering in darkness before easing into the next. This day is his last day, the end, the final fading of life into that moment when the last step has been taken and the final period is written on the page – and so now, as the shadows creep into threads of night so long that they reach from horizon to horizon, he simply moves on… completing the task of washing the dishes, and letting out the cat. 

Would he do anything differently in these last hours if he knew? Would his mind bother worrying about the loss of his retirement plans, or spend any energy concerned about the uniqueness his most recent proposal at work – hoping by it to attract the attention of his boss who happens to be a very attractive young and single woman? If he knew that even now each breath was moving him closer to the measurable possibility of counting his last breaths, even knowing the number of beats left for his heart, would he bother with anything at all? 

He finds his way to bed, turning out the lamp and shifting to his right side as he always does, nestling his head into his too soft pillow, and curling his legs up to feel more completely the cat now nestled next to his stomach. His mind wanders about, replaying the events of the day as slowly his thoughts become less his own and a more independent, creative array of images begin molding their dream shapes, and fantasies for him as he slowly gives way to sleep. 

Sometime during that night his heart stops its rhythm. He ceases everything, resting eternally beneath the long shadows, the pall of his end.

Labels: blogging, emotion, life on life's terms, meanderings, prose, spirituality

Often spoken words lose meaning
Repetition, redundancy, familiarity
Turns the phrase
Into empty sentiment.

What shall we call these things
Courage, commitment, duty, belief
Pallor of soul
To sigh and ache?

Can we even speak of heroes anymore?

Labels: blogging, emotion, meanderings, poetry, spirituality

Him – Lets go hiking this weekend.

Her – Sure. I’d like that.

Him – We could go up to Pilot Mountain. The same trail we did last time.

Her – Sounds good.

Him – Maybe we will beat last week’s time!

Her – Why is it always a competition with you?

Him – What? I’m not trying to beat you.

Her – Not me. Why is always about performance, being better.

Him – Huh? Something wrong with wanting to be better?

Her – That’s not the point. Why can’t you just be…

Him – I am…being better!

Her – Not funny. I give up…

Him – Sorry. Seriously, I don’t follow you.

Her – Why can’t you – we – us just be on a hike? Why does it always have to be about performance, accomplishment? Can’t you just be?

Him – Of course. I am being, I guess. You mean like being one with nature? Meditation and all that?

Her – No. Never mind.

Him – Ok. I don’t have to push for a better time. You can lead. You can set the pace.

Her – Fine…

Him – Look, seriously, it isn’t that important. I really just like hiking with you. I like the way you talk about all sorts of things, and I like listening. I really like being with…

Her – Yes??

Him – I just got it.

Her – Good. So we can just hike together?

Him – Yes. But, we still might make good time.

Her – You’re impossible.

Labels: blogging, emotion, family, hiking

Labels: blog games, blogging, emotion, life on life's terms, meanderings, sacred moments, smile and move, spirituality

Labels: blogging, emotion, family, life on life's terms, meanderings, poetry, songs, word play

I saw the face of God the other day. 

I was in a stranger’s home, where my new work often takes me, and was taken by an unframed painting hanging in the foyer. After dealing with several matters of business, I could not help but ask.

Me: I hate to pry, but who did that painting?

Proud Mother: My daughter. 

Me: It is lovely, very moving, actually.

Proud Mother: That one over there was the first painting she ever did. (She pointed toward the dining room)

I am a father. I have seen the ‘firsts’ of a lot of things. My daughter is a good artist, and her first attempts look just like that: efforts that show promise, but lack the presence of an educated and trained talent. This painting showed nothing, and I mean nothing, of being a first, except the first masterpiece. I then heard how this young artist had never as much as drawn a stick figure (beyond childhood), nor shown any interest in art until her senior year in high school. Her family had moved her to North Carolina from New York the summer before her senior year and she reacted as one might expect. To make matters worse, not only had she been ‘forced’ to leave her friends and classmates, because of the North Carolina educational requirements, she had to take two art classes, one a junior class and the other a sophomore introductory art class. After a brief introduction to the use of canvas and paint, she had responded to her first assignment with a painting, a painting that now held me captive. Her muse had been a photo taken of her cradling her cat. She had decided to paint the self portrait and replace the cat with an infant child.

I wish you could see the work as it is now permanently burned upon the canvas of my mind. I wish I could post a photo of it for you to see. I wish that my ability to write could come even within a universe of describing what I saw hanging on the wall in that home. I wish you could feel the chills running up your skin as I did. I wish that every human could see the wonder and awe of the creative moment that she managed to capture. It is pure beauty. I long to describe what I saw, but alas I cannot. I will simply honor the wonder and miracle of that moment when the efforts of a young woman captured for me and gifted me in that moment of time with a glimpse of the Divine.

I saw the face of God the other day.

Labels: blogging, emotion, meanderings, sacred moments, spirituality

I'm a bit late with the second phase my public writing journey. Here is what I've 'carved' from the raw block of words - so far.

I grew up in Myrtle Beach, SC one of the largest beach tourist destinations on the east coast. In many ways I was a beach rat, spending my summers working at my family’s ocean front hotels and making friends with our weekly guests, and their daughters. Mine was a life filled with those summer days of youthful zeal, sun-tanned skin, wind blown hair and new beginnings. Every week was a new start with clean rooms and new guests. The four month vacation season dominated all that we did. It seemed that school, and all things winter, were simply the time we spent remembering or preparing for summer. Summer was our time. Summer was the time when we thrived economically and personally. I always lived in summer. The heat of the sun blazed down from the sky and up from the sand. The sea tossed its mist into our air and we breathed in the damp essence of life. Living so close to the sea, we drew our life from it day in and day out. The sea held us and brought life to us. Its vast reservoir, pulsing with each tide, offered to and collected from everything it touched. It is this giving and collecting, that I have witness many times.

The sea gives. My grandfather and father were both sailors. Their comfort with the sea and its gifts of food and fellowship were passed to me. I can remember the day my brother and I spent a day catching hundreds of small ‘spots’ only to face the task of scaling and cleaning them into the night. My grandfather taught us that day about finishing the tasks we started and about the sequence of work to reward. It was fun to catch. It was work to clean. We had to do both to eat. It was the sea, as it lingered in the marsh and inlets that gave us this opportunity.

The sea gives. I have witnessed many occasions of children and adults finding the sea for the first time. They had been inlanders all of their life and never seen the sea. That seems strange to me, even now. What a change of perspective that must be – to see the sea, to see and feel for the first time the sea from which we are created…

Labels: blogging, emotion, family, father's wisdom, sea, travel, word play, writing

I attended a writer’s class recently for five weeks. Christopher Laney (writer, pilot and all around amazing human being) lead the group. I have struggled with writing. It isn't the need for stories to tell or a lack of love for words that holds me back, but one of my blocks is that I sit down to write and what comes out, for all of it’s potential, isn't that good. It has ‘good’ in it, but it just isn't the ‘perfect’ piece I would like to write – so, I write only rarely – when the inspiration bludgeons me to action.

Christopher shared an analogy with us. In the same way a sculptor must begin with a block of stone in order to carve a work of art, the writer must begin with a mass of words and begin the process of carving piece from them. I have been experimenting with this approach by writing free-form for 30-40 minutes and then slowly sculpting something from the mass of ideas and words generated in the free-form time.  I thought it might be fun to share one of these sculpting projects with you, so I have posted below the mass of words from which I will be seeking to carve something akin to an essay. I plan to post another phase of this next weekend, and I invite you to return and see what has been released from this writer’s block of word stone…

Rivers, oceans and streams collect things – rain, mud, branches, sand, and the dead. Dead birds, fish, people. He went to sleep with the fishes.

Time heals all wounds, well time allows for adequate decay, anyway. It softens, swells, expands until it pops- melts looses from its form (lets loose itself?) and changes into the collective. In water we are all borg – resistance is futile – really it isn't present at all.

Finally it becomes homogeneous – a mixture of all things , formless, laps with all tides and waves, a rocky cradle of the world’s mush – oatmeal of everything.

Some would say we came from the sea, an evolution of undaunted genetics that have to, must evolve – gather its one self and form to conform to demands of our own becoming. So with the waxing and waning, the tugging of the moon’s tidings upon us – a planetary massaging of our little planet – we have become this formed p[lace and these formed creatures, plants, people and things.

Some speak if coming from and returning to our creator, and if such is true then we are created by the hands of the sea. See then the sea in all of us? See all of us in the sea?

We do return to the sea – the splashing of childish play and delight (I witnessed many occasions of children and adults witnessing the sea for the first time – they have been in-landers all of their life and never seen the sea. That seems strange to me – what a change of perspective that must be – to see the sea, to see and feel for the first time the sea from which we are created?), the percussion of a dead body dropped form the pier, the trickle of mucus-like decay through soil, water tables and into the streams that feed the sea – we all return. We return and melt and blend in to the great sea – dissolved and transported.

Then some poor fool turns on a tap and drinks us.

Labels: blog games, blogging, emotion, family, life on life's terms, spirituality, word play, writing

Clinging to branches among the oaks

Timeless observer of time’s passing

You sway through breezes and revolutions

Directing humanity’s passage

As if orchestrating a divine symphony

With nothing but a wisp connecting you

To the lofty vantage from which you observe

Coy and unaffected

Your slight presence fans our dreams

As a winter wind stirs the smoldering fire

Little more than air feeds you

A hint of sea salt to spice your tasting

Of our adventures and chaos

You remain, lingering luscious

As the memory of a lover’s sigh

Eternally upon us

Labels: blogging, emotion, family, poetry, spirituality, travel, word play

Labels: blogging, coffee, emotion, meanderings, spirituality, travel, writing