Stand Still

No matter how we try to slow it down, time marches deliberately on

It never waits, feels sympathy, or asks for anything in return

It simply does what it has always done

No matter where we find ourselves, we cannot escape it or push it back

It is fair in that it gives no favor to the rich and poor; the strong or the weak

It simply moves us forward like the current of a rushing river

In seasons of great joy and solitude, it feels as if the silence somehow

Grabs time and holds it ransom, takes it up to a lonely hill and shows it why it must slow down

But like the wind, it cannot be harnessed, deceived, or controlled

The standing still is an illusion—it is easier to catch the wind

As when we savor food, fresh air, love, a song, or fine wine, we must savor the time at hand

Let us not try to hold it back, because that is a fruitless waste of a non-renewable commodity

But may we come to an agreement with time, acquiesce and let go of our grip

Knowing that we share time’s common fate with every past and present life on earth

No matter what happens, the times of stillness and solitude, family gatherings, and remembrances of those we lost will make the time seem like it is standing still…and that is all that matters.
 

It will always be the treasure we seek, but it will always be buried under the next tree

It simply guides the hands of the clock in their sweeping motion and leads us on to the next chapter

Sounds (For Those Who Have Ears)

Sometimes all I have the strength to do is listen.

Sounds fill the night—airplanes, cars honking, ambulances.

Sometimes I imagine that I am blind and sounds are my only friends.

Messages brought alive to alert my senses—the ringtone of a phone, crumpling paper, a spinning dryer

These are not the sounds of rattling bones, inflamed anger, or pontificating pundits.

These are everyday noises that remind me of the business of life--

Laughing students, the scratching of a squirrel running up a tree, a motorcycle revving on a city street.

Sometimes I want to spend a day only listening, not talking.

Delving into another’s soul—hearing the fear of defeat, the wonder of a child, the joy of success.

                Sometimes I am lulled to sleep by the rhythm of a fan or the ticking of a nearby clock.

Sounds remind me I am alive--strumming guitars, a missed voice that brings tears, a genuine and thankful response, the thud of my beating heart.

Yet one of the greatest sounds of all is the sound of your own voice—knowing you have the power to bring calm to a storm, cause someone sad to smile, bend wills, strengthen burdened hearts, and encourage ones you love.

May I use my voice to be a sweet melody to a world that hears only sadness and despair.

                Sometimes I love the sound of silence most of all—for in silence I hear the voice of hope.

Why Can't We Love?

My heart is burdened of late. There is a serious lack of love in this country.

Oh we talk a good game. We talk about unconditional love, Christian love, and forever love.

It sounds so simplistic doesn’t it?  Just love one another. But I am starting to think that humans are incapable. I am never more able to love than when I am alone in my quietness or watching nature as the clouds blow across a fall sky. It is so easy to love at that human-less moment.

Then the contact happens. Or media reminds us of our differences. Or we remember how that person lied to us and how we still have lingering anger. Or we remember how a partner hurt us when they promised to love us forever. Then love seems like a chasm, a canyon of difference, a mountain of impossibility.

The truth is we don’t really want to love. We say we do but I am not sure we believe ourselves. We resist it because it hurts. We shy away from it because it leads to pain as we consider all we have to lose. We are skeptical that this love experiment will ever work. Love is not a magic potion. It does not solve all problems. It is free but sometimes it costs us everything.

Love is light years away and shines like a distance star. We keep moving toward it but it seems like it is out of reach. We must march on. We must follow its light. We can never love enough, but every minute we partake in its goodness is time well spent.

Maybe there is not enough love in the world. Maybe there never will be. Start with yourself and prove to the world that love is not just words or emotions or selfishness, but it is as important as the blood coursing through our veins.

Prove that it is within our grasp. Prove that it is not a myth. Prove that it is worth the risk.

Like infants, like small children we reach out our feeble hand to touch it. We may draw back because it burns, but we do not give up. The reward is too great.

Imprints

I picked up

The fossil and turned it

In my hand.

To most

A lump of rock, devoid

Of form and substance yet

Mysterious in its own way and in its own time.

The lines from

Living footprints staining a

Portrait on canvases of stone weathered

And rewarded by thousands of years of dirty work.

I wondered about

My imprints—those I withstand and

Those I create.

Are they lasting and do they profess

That heat and pressure form the man and make us a work of art?

I am amazed at the

Beauty of the shapes that grace its

Beaten and tired surface.

Yet it smiles from across time and

Triumph as it proves that many

Treasures can come from

A deep and dark and

Pressured

Place.

A Glimpse

I. I see that potential man in the distance

A mirage of what I want to be

Will I approach it?

Will I see it?

Will I touch it?

II. I have a story to tell

A story of love, of loss, and of second chances

That story has a beginning
That story has an in between

That story has an ending

III. It’s not true that everything that has been said has been said

There is always more to say

Can I reach that potential?

Can I make the dream become real?

Can I fit myself into that mold?

IV: I have two choices: to push forward or draw back

Either choice is scary and demanding

This time will pass

This season in my life will take me somewhere

This life is what I always wanted

V. It is scary to finally see your potential

Like a superhero whose powers begin to take form

Will I use them for good?

Will I use them for evil?

Will I use them to change my world?

VI. I finally see that man emerging from his shell

Although it seems late, maybe it is right on time

The choices are in front of me

The future will proceed in its unstoppable pace

The prize is there for the taking

Time to reach out and claim the destiny that is mine.

The Bitter and the Sweet

     Unexpected
Loneliness hits you out of the blue; when you least expect it.
It makes no sense to feel alone in a crowd or even a full house…
When you long to feel nothing and even wish for pain and blood
To break the monotony of the numbness.

      Inextinguishable

Maybe loneliness is not loneliness at all.

Maybe it’s a yearning for something deeper…for something more;
Or fear hiding in shadows and begging for us to tame it as it
Cries in a corner and waits for the world to spin around again.

      Inexcusable

It hurts from deep inside but lingering guilt draws it back…

Hides it from those around you as well as yourself.
Loneliness is company to anger; the darkness pushes you to feel something.
Yet how can you feel nothing when the shadow of emptiness is laughing

            at you in the mirror?

      Unexplainable

We color it with busyness and searching for collectibles to fill the empty spaces

But matter fills us all--we have no control over the filling or the emptiness.
All we can do is hold out hope for the souring emotions to pass like a salty wave
As we wait for refreshing to sooth the burning wounds like a salve.

Loneliness is not loneliness at all.

It is so much more.

The Sameness of Home

Faded memories and fading neighborhoods; every tree and leaf appears to never have moved.

People changing yet staying the same; immobile yet moving forward into their unknown requiem.

Every step brings back a memory; every road and rustling wind reminds me of my distant past.

How can this body have aged yet this neighborhood seems to eternally hold on for dear life?

The roads are renewed and paved; the cracks shifted as the weather pounds them into shape.

Like the memories that are paved over with new ones, sometimes enriched and other times a new block fitting into the same round hole.

Yet I long to come back here…breathe the unique air…drive the streets that lead me to that old house.

When I go I take a piece of it with me to the big city.

But, like a mesmerized zombie, the old town eventually draws me back to face my former realities.

The new and old compete for my attention, yet they both win

I am left to contemplate the meaning of that confusing draw that leads me back to the sameness of home.

I DO NOT Want Fries with That! A Case for Listening

Last year, I was in one of my diet phases so I stopped at the neighborhood Whataburger. I know you are thinking Whataburger and diet should not be in the same sentence, but bear with me. I decided to eat a tad more healthy by not ordering the fries, which I knew would cut out quite a few calories. I made that explicit to the worker when I ordered. It was a busy day and the drive-through seemed to go on forever but I was patient, my mouth watering for that juicy cheeseburger. When I arrived at the window I had to sit another 5 minutes, but the food finally made its way to me. As she handed me the bag, the employee was apologetic as she gave me the order. Nestled in the bottom of the bag was a large order of fries. I told her I didn’t order fries and with a smile she said “Oh it took so long I gave you those for free.” I just stared at her and blinked, wanting to say something but not wanting to appear ungrateful or rude. It was not a big deal, but I am sure I ate at least half of the fries since they were within reach since I have no self-control. But the point is this: I DO NOT want fries with that!

A similar situation happened in early 2016. I was trying to find a place where I was not distracted to get some work done (which is nearly impossible) so I happened upon the local Starbucks and bought a hot tea. They did not have the flavor I wanted so I just said, “I’ll take Black Tea.” I waited patiently as they searched for teabags. I heard the workers quietly say something to each other about being out, but I dismissed it. A few minutes later, I received my steaming cup of hot tea and lifted the lid to add sugar and cream, when I noticed a strange color, smell, and taste. It tasted like they went outside and pulled up a handful of grass and tossed it in to steep. You guessed it: Green Tea. I did not want to be one of “those people” that complained about their orders, so I just called him over and told him it was not Black Tea. He looked down in the cup and said “Oh, we were out of Black so we gave you Green.” Inside my head I was screaming “In what universe is Green Tea a replacement for Black Tea?” On the outside, I just stared and blinked in disbelief like I did at Whataburger and said, “Umm, I’ll just take Early Grey.” My point is obvious: I DO NOT want Green Tea!

There is a lot of talking going on these days, but very little listening. I don’t pretend to have all the answers, but I do have many questions:

* Can you be against Black Lives Matter in principle, but listen to what they have to say and try to understand why they feel like they do not matter?

* Can you be in support of the 2^nd Amendment, but still be appalled at what people do to others when guns are easily available and be disgusted by this epidemic of violence?

* Can you be in favor of traditional marriage and its sanctity, but still cry with LGBTQ people that have been ridiculed, feel like they have nowhere to belong, or have considered suicide?

* Can you stand on the principles of your political party, but still listen to the other side, at least exploring the possibility that most are well-meaning, red-blooded Americans like you that just have a different view of what makes America tick?

* Can you support police officers and all that they do to help their communities, but realize that there are too many instances of deadly violence toward people of color to dismiss the reality that some police officers are blinded by racism? 

As I said many times, I do not have all the answers. But I know the truth lies somewhere in between the two extremes. Too many times we try to give people what we think they need, not what they have asked for. This is not about liberal or conservative, Democratic or Republican, right-wing or left-wing. This is a matter of treating others like human beings with value. Listening is not optional any more—lives are at stake.

What most people want more than anything else is to be heard. This does not mean listening to them as they say their peace, yet ready to strike back with your vehement appeal and convictions firmly entrenched when they are done speaking. Just listening with those who need to be heard, crying with those who need to shed tears, and holding the hand of someone who feels no one is on their side.

Until we learn to listen and see through the eyes of others, America will never truly be great. 

Never Enough

It is a terrible feeling to see the finish line but never reach it.

Even worse is never knowing where to find the finish line…it is always around the next curve or after the next corner… always out of reach.

But the most horrible feeling is not having any finish line…knowing that you are running in vain…no map…no destination…no reason for running this mysterious race.

You will never be good enough

You will never be liberal enough or conservative enough

You will never be strong enough or weak enough

You will never be female enough or male enough

You will never be white enough or black enough

There is always a faster runner, a smarter scientist, a more handsome suitor, beautiful model, or successful businessman.

But just like the runner needs a finish line, we also need a destination.

Without a destination, we are lost.

We will build an amazing amount of stamina and endurance running this race…every lesson learned makes us better at finding our finish lines and gives us faith that this running is not in vain.

Keep running even though you may never win

Keep striving for good even though you will never be good enough

Keep struggling and straining even though you will never be strong enough

Keep being a worthwhile and courageous man, woman, or something in between

Keep representing your color, knowing the differing shades do not make us better or worse… just human

I am not good enough…but I will never give up--the finish line is just around the corner.

My story is never good enough, but I will keep writing it.

Walker

I am a walker watching the world run by

A confused poet in a room full of confident writers

I take it slow—not a novel approach.

I am a thinker in a world of proclaimers

An opponent of hate in a field full of thorns

I open my mind—never ready for the abundance of criticism.

I am a listener in a world full of talkers

A sensitive soul in an environment of uptight objectors

I open my ears—not a common response.

I am a giver in a world full or takers…

A destroyer in a world full of makers…

A dreamer in a world full of nightmares.

I am a zombie with a heart that beats in secret

A master in reviving dead dreams devoid of hope

I take in the fresh air—it keeps my flesh on a path of regeneration.

I am a spirit in a world obsessed with flesh

A wondering ghost that seeks a destination unseen

I never give up hope—the journey moves inevitably and undeniably onward.

I am a walker when the world says get in line--never in a hurry to win someone else’s race.

All I Knew Is That I Loved You

I didn’t understand you as a child.

The way you talked…crossed your legs and held your cigarette…

You only came to visit a few times…short visits… but I had so much fun laughing with you.

I knew something was different ….

But all I knew is that you were my uncle and I loved you.

I saw you from across the church… it was quiet and the huge cross loomed

                at the front; I saw the anguish in your eyes…wondered what you were thinking.

But they say you could not have been a Christian…they say it is impossible.

I did not understand your lifestyle…

But all I knew is that you were my uncle and I loved you.

I heard you enjoyed your life in California and that you had a huge record collection.

It disappeared or was sold when you died...alone surrounded by a few friends.

If I had it to do over again, I would have flown to see you before your life slipped away.

Now a room full of lives has been lost in a senseless hate-filled rampage.

Lives gone in an instant because of evil…a punishment inflicted by a single judge and jury

                with a coward’s weapon.

You could have been in that crowd…and I could have lost you.

Some self-righteous ones would say it was not a great loss and it was a form of judgement for a lifestyle that repulsed them.

But I disagree.

Your heart beat just as mine and you loved differently than me…

But all I know is that you were my uncle and I loved you.

And I think about you now more than ever.

The First Step

You!

Yeah you. You know who I’m talking to.

What are you doing?

Why are you giving up?

Are you really giving up before you even start?

I know it is hard. I get that.

But anything in this life worth fighting for is hard.

If it was easy they wouldn’t call it a challenge.

Yes I know your background.

Yes I know the seemingly insurmountable obstacles you have to overcome.

I know your past was a terrible mess.

People have left you or turned their back on you.

Your plans haven’t gone even remotely close to what you expected.

So what?

There are no guarantees in this life.

There are no tickets to punch to take you to the life of your dreams.

There is only hard work and sweat and roadblocks and obstacles at every turn.

You still have a multitude of life and strength in you that you don’t even know is there.

I hurt for you.

It pains me to see you give up like this when so many others have crushed life’s obstacles under their feet.

I know you are not them.

I know it hurts to think of the hill you must climb.

But I will be there with you; even if from a distance.

Even if only one person in the world believes in you, I will be that one.

All it takes is that first step.

Then another….and another…and another.

You will rise above. You will conquer this monster that will never leave you alone.

There is no other way but up.

No other direction but forward.

But I cannot make that step for you.

The first step belongs to you.

The Stars are Waiting

Out of the touch of humanity’s grasp…

Out of the reach of his greed…they shine.

We talk about how they twinkle, but wishes are free to all who present them—the stars ask for nothing in return.

Though the journey is far, millions of wishes move toward their final heavenly destination…

Outward…upward….when will they arrive?

Do they travel at the speed of light or are they instantaneously delivered at mind-warp speed?

Everyone who looks up sees the same sky, yet the views of some are blurred by incessant city lights (they never turn off), while others see a rich array of galaxies beyond their imaginations.

The stars await these billions of wishes that take their nightly flight on the wings of hope.

Some look with tears; others laugh; yet others scream the name of their long-lost love. Others take a good look and then close their eyes to feel the cool wind on their face as they contemplate their requests…

Hoping upon hope that millions are also beholding the glorious light show on display for free.

Make your wishes humanity.

The stars will not wait forever.

 

Defining Moments

“…It's when you know you're licked before you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do."

~from To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee (1926-2016)

A while back I was listening to a few albums from the 70s. Some particular groups had a string of successful hits and nailing down one particular best album from them is hard to do. Those supergroups, it seemed, never produced a bad record. Then you have your one-hit wonders. I try to avoid the albums with those particular songs, knowing that it might be the highlight of an otherwise terrible musical career. You also find groups that produced a number of mediocre records, then burst into superstardom with a record that literally broke the charts. After that record, they were never able to replicate that level of stardom again.  When I am in the record stores, I look for those albums because they represent the group in their heyday; at the top of their game.

When we are at the end of our lives and we look back and reflect on our greatest moment, will we be able to pin it down to one major event? I used to believe that we all have one star moment, fifteen minutes of fame, moment in the sun, or time on top of the world. But is it that easy to pin down? Is it even useful or necessary to try and pin it down? To me it is like catching the elusive greased pig that we think we have a hold of, but slips easily through our fingers. Just when we think we have that defining moment defined, it is replaced with an ever better one.

In the case of the thrill seeker, it is the search for Mt. Everest. What happens when Everest is conquered? There are no more taller mountains to climb. Maybe it is on to the next challenge. Check that one off your bucket list.  Then again, many die trying to climb Everest. Then your defining moment becomes a moment of shame. You are a frozen memory on a barren rock with an epitaph of “almost made it.” Sadly, sometimes our defining moment is one of lost opportunities, unmet goals, and dashed dreams. So should we never chase the mountaintops? That is not necessarily what I am saying. The problem is that there is always another one to climb. Seeking an ever-higher goal may be as fruitless as chasing the wind. A Christian may claim their salvation experience as the defining moment in their lives. But after the fire insurance is purchased, are they making any kind of difference in the world around them? Or are they standing on the promises of the past and putting all their stock in that one moment in time.

I am not a thrill seeker, but I have to admit that I look for those mountaintops more than I should. When I received my doctorate, I thought I had reached the pinnacle. But then an offer of a tenure-track position replaced that goal with a higher mountain. There are other things in my life that, at the time, seemed like a defining moment, but then I realized that I have many more moments to create. I cried when my son was born, but every day he wins a battle over depression and anxiety and moves closer toward his degree, I wonder how many more defining moments I will trace over the course of his journey. I remember my daughter as the apple of my eye, wearing her pig tails and spinning around trees after school, with her big round glasses and her contagious laugh. But now that she is through with college and starting a new career, I wait for the moments that will define her future, and change mine for the better, as I watch her grow and develop as an adult.

I still seek to finish my tenure process. I hope to write a book someday. To travel overseas. To win awards for my second career. But since our time on earth is short and we never know if we will have the luxury of looking back, I chose to make each day a defining moment. I chose to define my life by seeking to live it to the fullest. Because it is how we live the moments of everyday existence that define us.

So keep chasing those dreams. Keep fulfilling promises to yourself and to those you love. Make a name for yourself. Rest assured that you have written your life story on the moments of the past, but know that an abundance of defining moments are always around the next corner. 

I Dance When No One is Looking

Prim and proper…ironed and pressed…awaiting the challenges of the day.

Impressions to be made.

Rights to be wronged.

Fires to put out.

Lessons to be taught.

Yet an undercurrent of gratitude and thankfulness pervades the mundaneness of this daily grind.

Feeling blessed some may call it, but it is a benefit of breathing and sharing the oxygen around us with our fellow strugglers.

An outpouring of this gratitude is expressed in private moments in my car and behind my desk…

When an inexplicable incident of smiling spreads across my face as my toe taps and gyrations are produced that, under a watchful eye, would cause any grown man to blush.

No audience is present; no record contracts or visions of stardom; no one to impress.

Just a freedom of movement and motion that keeps despair at bay and fights off the thick depression that can accompany reality.

This private dancing is a reminder that my heart still beats and, because of that, there is still a reason to dance.