Sunday, October 6, 2024

Greatest Hits Vol. IV: 2021-2024

We are all waiting to know the future, good or bad or indifferent; to know the future is to break the cycle of gnawing indifference…


Time will not change the emptiness that fills each human heart
Time will not bring us any closer to immortality
Time will not soothe the wounds of an unfulfilled childhood
Time will not bring back the lost opportunities that haunt our sleepless nights

From Purgatory (May 30. 2021)

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In every phase of my life, redemption reveals itself in small and subtle ways. Sometimes second chances become third and fourth chances. But the power of redemption is the fuel that drives me forward.

From Redemption (July 1, 2021)

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When opportunities show themselves we must entertain them, for life does not offer that many;
We must pursue dreams with all diligence for they are the cultivated creations of a life well-lived.

From The Promise (July 24, 2021)

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When the confusion subsides and the new world comes into view, do not long for the days of old, for they are no more. Close your eyes and feel the sun shine on the promises that have opened up to you, and know that a brighter future is one that you create piece by peace.

From The Tearing Away (August 8, 2021)

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The decision to wake up each day and still feel that the world will change because of your contributions is the smoke and mirrors that keep us moving forward. The ability to put on a tie, produce a clean-shaven face, and tackle a world dominated by youth is an act of shear bravery.

From Golden Years? (September 12, 2021)

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Off into the distance the steam train winds and sways and moves onward to the next mass of essential workers. My day is nearly done. But the morning will bring a new set of rattling cars, the reality of a distance war, and the bittersweet sensation of a job well done.

Grace in the form of a beautiful figure greets my greasy visage at the door with a glass of cold, clear water. A warm meal simmers on the stove. Sleep comes quickly; the long day of toil drifts away like clouds of steam.

From The Railroad Man (October 25, 2021)

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How will you serve your time? How will you spend those days as you wander toward the inevitable? The mind is the last refuge of solitude, for it speaks to us in our time of need. Call on the gods and saints if you will, and maybe they will hear you in your time of trouble. But most of all make peace with your thoughts, for that is the only way to release the chains of bondage and set your spirit free of the prison walls.

From We Are All Prisoners (December 19, 2021)

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She wishes on twinkling stars, lifts up a prayer of thanks for the gift of life, breath, and pain.

What calling can be more noble and what pathway can be more vital to a hurting world?

What can she give in return for the blessing of providing direction for small, lost souls in a world that seeks at every turn to lead them away from truth and goodness?

When she closes her eyes at night, she accepts the struggle as a willing sacrifice, trusting in her heart of hearts that there is purpose to this pain.

From She (January 12, 2022)

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A thousand years from now, surrounded by a complex structure of unknown futuristic materials, men will gaze at the stars and ponder the same questions. They will never be answered. The generations will keep asking them, always wondering if life is worth it, always coming to the same lasting conclusion – maybe.

The cost of living will continue to rise until it evaporates like a mist, only to be inhaled once again by some future-enlightened generation of cave-dwellers.

From The Cost of Living (January 25, 2022)

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Life makes me sad…knowing that one person will never be able to experience it all. Yet that sadness is overshadowed by the joy of never ceasing to forget every second, every smile, and every breath.

From Legacy (February 19, 2022)

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The truth is that wind is as inanimate as the concrete mailbox that absorbs its strength; it does not hate or fear or love, but only moves at the whim of nature and science. It makes no sense to seek meaning from the wind, yet I daily wonder what it is trying to teach me; like free-form jazz I try to decipher its rhythms and rhymes, but there is nothing there but our individual interpretations.

From The Wind (March 20, 2022)

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There is not a choice that leads to happiness. I choose to stay on the rope. Balanced between the soft and the hard; suspended between two worlds. There is security there but the exhausting balancing act cannot go on forever. The choice must be made.

From The Tightrope (July 24, 2022)

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How do we know if someone is writing our code?

Sometimes we read from the history books about the astounding feats of bravery and even greater episodes of evil and wonder if we possess the programming to write a different storyline. We share the same DNA and the potential for triumph and tragedy flows unceasingly through our veins.

From Robots (October 3, 2022)

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Is it time to start over, or start again? I am not sure if I am ready for such a commitment, but I know that there are many adventures yet to begin if I can only muster the strength to find them. Is there room for optimism in the last 1/3 of your life? I certainly hope so. For I cannot thrive on the crumbs of pessimism.

From EnTrOpY (October 26, 2022)

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The professor knows this is a trap. While simultaneously longing for the days of the future when he is in control and no one can tell him what to do, those days scare him for he will become his own boss, and he is a terrible self-manager. Yet there are still goals that he writes on sticky notes and pastes all around his messy office like wallpaper. It is yet to be seen whether or not those lofty goals will ever come to pass and if the sticky notes will be stuck on the wall like gold stars, crumpled in the trash, or frozen in their place like flypaper to serve as a warning for all those who dare to dream.

From Much Ado About “Nothing” (November 23, 2022)

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Many times the trials of life seem too heavy. The reality of our future nonexistence weighs heavy on our souls. We seek to grab the promises of eternal habitation, but their allure slips away as we consider their lofty possibilities.

What holds the gloom at bay? What keeps us from slipping into the abyss? The warmth and promise of love is the only solid footing on this journey. It sustains me. It fills my belly. It feeds the hope that I so often starve. Love is all that keeps me away from the ledge.

From Addicted to Discontent (December 16, 2022)

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Your childhood home is a place of comfort but one to which you can never return; the winds have changed and the forest of your youth has now become a parking lot – you can never re-live your childhood adventures and moving closer will not guarantee that any of your past memories will nourish you or give you peace.

From Reawakening (January 2, 2023)

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We enter this world alone, with a slap on the ass. We begin the journey with a crowd of onlookers, even as we arrive here on our own terms. We leave the same way, with a host of mourners seeking to illuminate our exit. Chants and prayers, songs and tears will soon be ours, but before that day, we will take those last wobbly steps…we must face this final journey alone.

From Rebirth (January 21, 2023)

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Nature reveals the constant presence and power of the waves, yet each one is different. Each new ebb and flow produce a display that has never been before and never will be repeated. So it is with our lives. Each of these unique sunrises and sunsets hold their place in the lexicons of time. Yet they are oblivious to our human frailties, imperfections, and anxieties.

From Washed Away (February 18, 2023)

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What is it that everyone else sees when they look in their own mirror?

This face that has witnessed the whole journey in awe, eyes that have seen beauty and sadness, ears that have heard my babies cry, beautiful melodies, and the sounds of destruction, confusion, and chaos.

If it is really true that the eyes are the windows to the soul, then may these eyes be blessed to see a thousand more sunrises. May my face feel the wind as it whips across the ocean and my ears hear the sounds of happiness and joy that ring true in my children, their children, and eons onward.  

From In My Skin (March 25, 2023)

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It doesn’t matter what animal you slay, it will never bring you the peace that you so desire. Because once the last dragon falls, both your livelihood and sense of accomplishment will fall as well.

I languish in the understanding that what I really loved was the hunt. The chase. The fear. The adventure. Now that it is finished, and the dragon, along with my insecurities, negativity, and self-loathing, are soundly defeated, I rest in the fact that the elusive happiness and contentment that follow a sense of accomplishment was always within my grasp.

From When the Last Dragon Falls (April 16, 2023)

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I travel the almost-good-enough, always striving, always climbing ascent that never reaches the summit.

I am the former also-ran who sees the finish line that keeps moving farther and farther away.

I will never reach it…I am half-way certain of that.

From The In-Betweens (April 18, 2023)

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It does not matter if I look in the mirror and don’t like what I see. I am stuck with that mask and I must work with what I have. Nobody is going to carve me into the image of that person that I long to be. Even plastic surgery would not make me happier, because under that skin lies the heart and soul of the person I have built and molded my entire life. 

From You Are the Only One (May 18, 2023)

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Silence scares me more than any other noise that can be conjured, because in the silence walls are formed, plans are schemed, loves are lost, and tears form and fall. Silence rips a man apart and drives a woman into insanity. It has no form, no function, and no purpose, and it holds your life as a ransom.

What is this future silence that awaits us? I no longer believe in the heavenly choirs, harps strumming, and choruses of angels (I would much rather hear screaming guitars if I had to choose), so the prospect of silence is the most deafening and frightening punishment that we could receive.

From The Curse of Silence (July 31, 2023)

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Enough

For a small select few a long life is never going to be enough.

We search for more than this life because this is all that we know and the prospect of a greater above, or a scarier below, spins us onward as we search for a level of piety that will always allude us.

When do we stop longing for our righteous reward and breathe in the miracle of the here and now?

From Enough (December 14, 2023)

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We are all replaceable….

Why can’t we mourn change like we mourn death, for change is a memoriam to the pathway of comfort that was stolen from us? The speed at which I must accept change and move on makes me feel less human and more like a caged animal.

To err is human, but to be human is also to live with change and loss and separation and loneliness; I envy the animals in their ignorant bliss.

From The Curse of Humanity (January 18, 2024)

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He hadn’t really travelled the world. Once to England and a smattering of cities in the United States. Always connected to work and hardly ever free to roam and make connections to the land. Yet he considered himself an adventurer of sorts…he had the fedora and a suitcase full of memories to prove it. But someone once laughed when he talked of his adventurous spirit and reminded him that he was no more than a boring wannabe with a closet full of ties and a teaching certificate. Although his new love had told him a thousand times that she loved the professor life and he was all the adventure she would ever need, the snarky comment of someone intent on hurting him stayed with him like a contentious bone spur…always there…always reminding him of his inability and lack of worth.

From The Traveler (February 21, 2024)

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How can we consider being finished when there is so much more work left to do? How could the world spin without you in motion around it? Yet on it goes; when one dies and another is born the relentless spinning never slows through it all.

We feel that we must keep moving because if we slow down, we will see that the world is perfectly fine without us; yet we are not fine if we don’t enjoy it until the very last second…until the last beat of our hearts.

At some point everyone senses when it is time for a change, but not everyone is brave enough to take that first step toward evolution and freedom. Its never too late to continue your unfinished journey and to follow the brave path of other lost and wandering sojourners who have stayed the course.

From Parallel Lines (May 12, 2024)

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During the waiting the anxiety starts, but it continues during the waiting and it never stops.

I am starting to wonder if I manufacture these things to keep having something to wait for;

Something to look forward to;

Something to worry about.

But then again maybe life is just a waiting game and we are all a part of its sick and twisted world. 

From The Waiting Game (July 8, 2024)

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It is the unflinching and insatiable sense of the chaos around you spinning out of control, like you are trapped on a rollercoaster where you changed your mind after the first 10 seconds…but it is too late. It must speed onward as you hope for a timely resolution.

You want to solve the problems from without, but first you must control the roaring beast of anxiety within.

From When the Lion Roars (September 4, 2024)

 

 

 

Wednesday, September 4, 2024

When the Lion Roars

When the scourge arrives there is nothing that can be done.

It must run its course and take you to places you never bargained for at a speed that breaks all the records of land and sea.

Anything can set it off, but it is beyond your control; when the stories come at you all at once and they are missing their happy conclusions, it is best to let them play out. Control is an illusion.

The need to change those who you feel need to be changed.

The need to bend time and space to your will and turn back the hands of time.

The need to block out all the confusion, indulgence, and decadence of others; it is too much to bear on your shoulders.

The need to change it all and hope someday it will move within the space of your grasp.

It is the unflinching and insatiable sense of the chaos around you spinning out of control, like you are trapped on a rollercoaster where you changed your mind after the first 10 seconds…but it is too late. It must speed onward as you hope for a timely resolution.

You want to solve the problems from without, but first you must control the roaring beast of anxiety within.

Maybe I should try breathing techniques.

Maybe I should try to mediate and escape this weary body for a few isolated moments.

Maybe I should get in my car and barrel down the highway at an unsafe level of speed.

Maybe I should do nothing at all.

The result will be the same; it doesn't matter whether you worry or not. Sleep will bring it to heel. Time and a new outlook awaits in the morning when the beast sees the new sunrise.

At least for now, the beast is asleep and all is well.

When will it wake again?

 


Sunday, August 18, 2024

I Have Lived Seven Lives

My early childhood is a distant mist, but I remember the sounds of laughing children mixed with intense moments of sadness and wonder. It was a normal childhood in many senses where I suffered the usual childhood pains and troubles – bullies, heartbreak, and the loss of loved ones. Yet it was a life that I was born into, as are many others, and I look back with indifference and confusion because there were no other childhoods I have to compare. It was my first life.

My late teenage years and early 20s were occasions for soul searching, weighing my skills and desires and finding a path of sure footing, yet it was jagged and rocky and I groped in the dark even as I found great joy in the work. I graduated from a prestigious university, but it felt like a premature beginning, and the first wave of emptiness and confusion I buried in church, a marriage, a budding family, and a new teaching career. It was the way I felt the world was supposed to happen, and it was my second life.

My adult years were programmed for me, a strong religious routine filled me with all the truth I needed even though I could not put my finger on why it was never enough. Even as I believed that all things would work together for good, I never felt fulfilled so I immersed myself in knowledge and guilt and I played the part of the perfect husband and father for many years, until one day it all came crashing down. Yet I had a hand in the crash, and I knowingly and willingly sent myself reeling as I found my next adventure. Thus ended my third life.

My middle-age years were a time of great freedom and even greater struggle. I set up the goal of becoming a professor, and my eyes focused on the belief that it would happen, while never really believing it would. As I grew into a man for the first time, I found love in the most unpredictable place. But it has sustained me all these years and led me head first into the completion of my degree, my career, and my new-found identity as a professor. For the next 8 years, this was my fourth life.

My soul searched for meaning and completion to a lifelong career goal as we moved to a dry and dusty land to seek great fortunes and the promise of tenure. Along the way, I made more friends, always keeping arms length, while knowing deep down it would never last. I had dreams of great triumph and building on my skills in leadership. And they were partially fulfilled, but that time also came to an end. When I knew this adventure was almost over, I started developing plans for a unique, and untested, enterprise. Thus ended my fifth life.

My next life was the shortest of them all, as I faced the prospect of cashing in my chips, retiring, and building a business to hawk my products of knowledge. I was a dreamy and short-lived adventure, but the realization sunk in that it would be harder than I thought, and also that I was not ready to move on…to call it a day and pass the crown on to the next generation. So that life, my sixth one, was put on hold, but it is not dead just yet. I am likely to return to it in some future universe.

My next life is the one in which I am currently immersed; one where I dove in head first without much contemplation. Rusty though I am, I know I have the skills to teach, so I am simply revisiting my third life, but with a new set of skills and wisdom that I never had in those early days. I am more self-sufficient, less religious, yet more contemplative in my thoughts and more aware of my skill set. Now the alarm rings early and I brandish wisdom as my weapon of choice as I lead another generation of youth into their own grownup adventures, hopefully passing my knowledge along to them to use it as they may. I now tackle this familiar and daunting field of play with guarded confidence. As I begin this seventh life, I will make and mold it into what it was meant to be.

My next few lives are yet to be shown to me and to the world. This seventh one may be the hardest of all, yet there are many more lives to live, and I want to live them all.

 

 

Monday, July 8, 2024

The Waiting Game

Hurry up and wait.

I am ready to get started.

I always thought that the world was like me, now I know there is probably no one like me.

Here is the scenario – I do a work thing, write something, apply for something, then wait…

And wait…

And wait…

And wait…

During the waiting the anxiety starts, but it continues during the waiting and it never stops.

I am starting to wonder if I manufacture these things to keep having something to wait for;

Something to look forward to;

Something to worry about.

But then again maybe life is just a waiting game and we are all a part of its sick and twisted world.  

So here I go again – doing another work thing, writing a paper, applying for a new job, then waiting…

And waiting…

And waiting…

And waiting…

Until there is nothing more to wait for.

Well at least the waiting is over now.

I’m bored.


Sunday, May 12, 2024

Parallel Lines

Starts and stops and lucid dreams seek me out, leading me forward and backward in the same moment.

How can I be over half a century old when just yesterday I dreamed of catching a fish with my dad on Saturday and bragging to my middle school friends on Monday? But then I woke up and my sore back and feet reminded me of all the years that have passed since I was that little boy.

So many distinct yet unique stories…too numerous to count…some filled with joy and happiness, but others driven by tragedy and hurt; yet onward the journey goes no matter how we try to slow it down. This is the burden we share as a human race.

How can we consider being finished when there is so much more work left to do? How could the world spin without you in motion around it? Yet on it goes; when one dies and another is born the relentless spinning never slows through it all.

We feel that we must keep moving because if we slow down, we will see that the world is perfectly fine without us; yet we are not fine if we don’t enjoy it until the very last second…until the last beat of our hearts.

We grow up together yet separate with a multitude of total strangers and share common stories – skinning a knee on the playground, getting our hearts broken in high school, feeling lost in college, falling into the routines of life with family, bills, and raising children, then coming to grips with a world that is spinning out of control. That is when we find that we must do our best to ease the dizziness.

There are thousands, possibly millions, that follow similar patterns, yet we feel we are so isolated…that only we have felt these pains and have tried as we might to repair what was broken. If we heard all of the stories we would feel better at our common struggle, but it would be too much to bear. Our story is enough, along with the parallel stories of those we know and love.

At some point everyone senses when it is time for a change, but not everyone is brave enough to take that first step toward evolution and freedom. Its never too late to continue your unfinished journey and to follow the brave path of other lost and wandering sojourners who have stayed the course.

Wednesday, February 21, 2024

The Traveler

His dreams were rough last night…relentless reminders of the struggles that have occupied both his sleeping and waking existence these last few weeks. Maybe tonight his thoughts will not hold him hostage. Even music followed him into dreamland. Night songs beating in his brain like constant pounding in preparation for battle; ear worms of songs he doesn’t even particularly like…followed by cherished melodies that make him cry and long for simpler days.

But were the days ever simple? You have likely seen videos of someone caught in a storm yet they remain calm and choose to believe that nothing bad will happen to them. His brain was the opposite – the everyday peace and monotony of the day hoovered around him like sunshine on a Texas summer morning, yet in his brain raged a hurricane. Sometimes the sunshine would calm the torrent but other times it inflamed it for no particular reason. And there was never a happy ending; the worst-case scenario always took center stage in his mind. It was like that R.E.M. song…it was the “end of the world as he knew it,” but he did not feel fine.

He hadn’t really travelled the world. Once to England and a smattering of cities in the United States. Always connected to work and hardly ever free to roam and make connections to the land. Yet he considered himself an adventurer of sorts…he had the fedora and a suitcase full of memories to prove it. But someone once laughed when he talked of his adventurous spirit and reminded him that he was no more than a boring wannabe with a closet full of ties and a teaching certificate. Although his new love had told him a thousand times that she loved the professor life and he was all the adventure she would ever need, the snarky comment of someone intent on hurting him stayed with him like a contentious bone spur…always there…always reminding him of his inability and lack of worth.

Alarms buzzing and the world in motion starts the routine that he has known for over 10 years now. This daily journey begins with a smile and warm embraces that remind him that he is enough. He is adventurous. He is the traveler, even in his mind and in his hopeful dreams. She always supports him and lifts him up. He can make at least one person happy in this corrupted world. And that is enough.

Somehow his feet are numb and aching at the same time. A daily soreness reminds him that he is no “spring chicken.” But his mind is sharp and he knows his travels are far from over. If only he had a sign…a crystal ball…a way to cut through the fog that shrouds his way forward. A map to show to show him how to find the next trail.

After a day of academic pursuits, it is time to take his rest. He writes in his journal (the only counseling he has ever been brave enough to choose) and then crawls into bed. Adventures, both good and bad, await the traveler. For in his dreams he is that adventurer. He is all that he hopes to be. For the night is the teller of tales and the conjurer of hopes. As the numbness overtakes him, he knows tomorrow will bring another hurricane and another cloudy mind.

But that is for another day. The weary traveler must take his respite and let the river of dreams wash away his fears, always believing that more explorations await him and his lifelong traveling companion.


Thursday, January 18, 2024

The Curse of Humanity

We are all replaceable….

Why can’t we mourn change like we mourn death, for change is a memoriam to the pathway of comfort that was stolen from us? The speed at which I must accept change and move on makes me feel less human and more like a caged animal.

To err is human, but to be human is also to live with change and loss and separation and loneliness; I envy the animals in their ignorant bliss.

We are all responsible…

Mourning is an emotion that we dodge like a bullet, for recognizing those emotions give way to sorrow and the realization of loss. But if I embrace it for too long, I am told to “get over it” for the work must be done. If not you, then never fear, your replacement is waiting in the wings.

To keep going is human, but sometimes it feels like we are rats on a wheel going nowhere fast. We may not know where we are going, but we must get there quickly before its too late; barely missing the coming storm and thanking the gods for their mercy. There is no joy in that journey.

We are all unique in a weird and twisted way…

Why do we brag that we are better than the animals, when we fight and kill for territory, power, and food and devour anyone who gets in our way? Animals act like animals because they were created to live and die oblivious to their own mortality. We possess the curse of that knowledge.

To fight for our survival is part of our animal nature. We have added all the drama and emotions to make this journey more interesting, but we sleep, eat, have passionate desires, and establish a niche in our human-created wilderness filled with split-level condos and shopping malls.

We are all to blame…

Why am I told that I should not be like this – to not take things so personally, overreact, or mourn the departure of a co-worker? I should be able to set the timetable of my mourning, to move when I am ready, and to never forsake the compassionate side of my humanity.

I do not believe in reincarnation, but if I did, I would want to come back as an animal, oblivious to life and death decisions, taxes, sorrow, and the pain of separation, but most of all oblivious to the sadness that I would feel if I were cursed with humanity.