Daily Meditation

Lord, make me a channel of thy peace;

Where there is hatred, I may bring love;

Where there is wrong, I may bring the spirit of forgiveness;

Where there is discord, I may bring harmony;

Where there is error, I may bring truth;

Where there is doubt, I may bring faith;

Where there is despair, I may bring hope;

Where there are shadows, I may bring light;

Where there is sadness, I may bring joy.

Lord, grant that I may seek rather to comfort than to be comforted;

To understand, than to be understood;

To love, than to be loved.

For it is by self-forgetting that one finds.

It is by forgiving that one is forgiven.

It is by dying that one awakens to eternal life.

Amen. 

Words

Once upon a time, I liked to write. And I thought, “Hey, you know what would be cool? … If I became a writer. And got paid… to write.” 

And then a little while later. I did that. … Well, actually. More like, 10 years and a helluva a lotta work later. So I’m writer. And now I hate to write. 

Ever since I can remember, writing was for me. It was mine. Something I did to clear my head, to understand my own thinking and a way to discover beautiful parts of myself I didn’t even know existed, until they were realized on paper. 

See, what they never told me is that they didn’t want me to write. The way I do. The thoughts I have. The images in my head. And the words I wanted to use. 

I used to be good. I used to be a good artist. An artist of words. 

What I didnt realize is … No one wants to hear what you have to say. They want to criticize what you have to say. They want to hear what THEY have to say. They want numbers, figures, logic, and math. They want to optimize your writing. Make it cold. Make it meaningless…. make it dull and boring and typical AND PERFECT. And what is perfect? To me perfect is not interesting at all.

What they don’t realize is that you can’t take a circle and make it square. … without breaking it apart. Reforming it in some way. 

Now my writing… my lifeless words. They are just WORDS. Just words, linked together into sentences. Boring. Dull. lifeless words. 

I go to my job and write. WORDS. then… I get in my car and I sit in the same place. on the same road. and I come home… and I don’t write anymore. 

I’m getting older. … I’m just the same person I’ve always been. And done nothing different or better. But at least- I used to see things different. and better. I used to see them and capture them with my words. Capture life, my life. Capture imagination, goodness, ideas, greatness, and ingenuity. My personal, unique ingenuity. With my own words. 

My words - are not my words anymore. My life. This life. My love. This love. This special, secret, wonderful part of myself. My soul-my writing. … Lifeless. Empty. Meaningless. 

I stopped writing because. This is not what I love. This is not what I think. These are just words I use to describe other things. I’m just used for the ability to make words into power. To make words into thoughts and give them feeling. 

I stopped writing because. I have forgotten what I wanted to say. Me. What I wanted to say. 

I can’t keep doing this. I can’t be a robot writer. I have to still write for myself. I have to say my words too. I have to capture my thoughts. This is my gift. These days that I lose not giving this gift to the world. Those are empty days. 

Seems kind of wrong. 

Once upon a time… I decided I want to write. Because I was good at it. And so I did. I started writing what I had to say. Me. Every single day. I wrote something. And it turned into something that meant something. 

It turned into magic. 

My Love

To paint a feeling
To paint a scene
To capture a moment
To know what they mean

Describe love so deep it has walked under seas
Love so large it reached space limits with ease
Feel pain so real it suffered to breathe
And joy so great it soared to the peak

To paint feelings
To paint thoughts
To capture moments
Not to be lost

Passionate kisses that trembled the touch
Life only good, no evils or such
Loss so great it empties the soul
Faith so true, a void always gets full

To have had that time
To have had that luck
To know you were mine
To know, leaves me so struck

The most talented artists drew up the plan
The most talented builders created on land
The best all went in to a perfect laid house
Tragically left on a foundation of sand

To wait for the one
To know only he
To say all is done
To my heart only me

Continue walking through life, but half whole
Fooled by the shiny things painted, not gold
Searching for familiar senses of us
Knowing the treasure lost is now dust

The Light Inside

When little kids tell adults who they are and what they think or what they are good at it is received with praise and encouragement. Little kids have their whole life to grow into the next Einstein or Van Gogh. You wouldn't look at a little kid and tell them what they do is terrible or what they dream is stupid. You would never criticize how they look or point out flaws in their bodies.

But as adults all of this changes. Who we want to be and who we think we are is questioned and judged constantly. People go to plastic surgeons to get 'fixed'. Women are blown up as sex objects in television and magazines. Women even invest in magazines to tell them how to be better and look better; because who they are isn't good enough.

I see it in people's eyes when they talk to me... they are still that kid inside, painting the picture of who they are, who they have become. They describe themselves as an outdoor enthusiast or a fashionista or maybe a talented writer? While I listen to them describe that intense hike or everything they know about designer labels, I might think they aren't who they say they are. But do you think I would ever challenge it? Never. I could never suck the light they feel out of their life.

If thinking that they are the world's strongest man or most fashionable woman is what gets them through their day, who am I to judge? And more importantly, who am I to kill their light? This is what makes them them! This is what makes them happy and what makes them beautiful.

I've learned the hard way that the minute someone does tell you that who you thought you were or what you wanted to be isn't who you truly are and sometimes more painful, points out flaws about you that you cannot fix, you never really forget.

I guess when I think about the light I see in the people I love though... It doesn't matter if they aren't who they see. I see something more beautiful than they could ever create.

Can't Sleep

Can’t Sleep…

Thinking about my dog. Cookie.
Thinking about my cabin. The day mom found it. Repainting it.
Thinking about my old house. Natalie playing the piano.

Just thinking about how people spend everyday of their lives trying to ‘get ahead’… trying to get somewhere ‘better’ with ‘nicer’ things. Wishing their lives away, waiting for the day when they FINALLY feel happy.
Working for that brand new car, the house on the hill, new furniture. It’s healthy right? To always be looking forward, moving on, getting better. I understand why people do this… I am constantly doing it. Neglecting the moment to focus on the future.

It feels natural, until you lose something.

I miss my dog. What I wouldn’t give to go back in time tonight and cherish her for one more day. So many stupid days I let her lay around the house alone!! I hate myself for that.

So what about the future? What about getting old and not being able to run like the wind anymore? What about aches and pains? Wrinkles… the loss of youth. The loss of possibilities and options. What about the deaths of loved ones around me?

… What about those last minutes of your own life?

Hopefully for me… I won’t spend them thinking about how I walked through it completely asleep. Hopefully I can live through struggles, strife and success with a big smile on my face and enjoyment in my heart.

Because I’m alive. NOW! Not tomorrow…

It's Funny the Things You Remember

I love the way the stars light up my ceiling when I turn out the lights. The way they are arranged; creates pictures in my imagination. On the other side of my turquoise wall the big screen TV blasts in the family room, making it impossible for me to sleep. Yet there is something comforting about it. Any night that I have to sleep without it, fear sleeps next to me in my twin size bed. I guess knowing that mommy and daddy are out there makes me feel protected; even if dad is asleep on the couch.
Something is upsetting me tonight. I try to put it out of my head, but secretly I am concentrating to telepathically tell my mommy to come make me feel better. I realize that this is silly and roll over to watch the car lights move across my wall. I hear my door open and see light flood my floor.
“Goodnight honey.” Mom’s sweet voice sings.
I sit up in bed with a pout on my chubby five-year-old face. As I begin to tell her my troubles she lies down beside me. Sweet mommy smell alone sweeps some of the fear away.
Together we stare at the green stars; she asks me what I see. We talk about what was bothering me and then about music, and beliefs, love and magic, and eventually solve all of the worlds’ problems.
I tell her that I’ll make a religion someday; one where everyone is included and no one gets left out. Mommy thinks that seems like a good idea.
I see my mom every single day. I’ve known her longer than anybody in my life. Of all the vast memories I could think about from day to day, the night me and mom became best friends stands out the most.
It’s funny the things you remember.

The Berry Tree

Today I died
In front of my house
By the tree with the red berries
A freak accident
Left me
Lying on my back
On the cold cement
My mom ran to me
Stood over me
Her face pale
Her mouth gaping
Tears flooded her eyes
As she swept me up
And flew inside
A smile crept across
My berry juice covered face
Laughter exploded out
Of me, my brother and sister
As my mom set me down
Her scowling face
Melted the laughter
And created storm clouds
That covered the sun
My joke wasn’t funny
Today I died
Tomorrow, I’m grounded