My dearest love. I have been thinking a lot about you lately. I again find myself alone and in need of your company. Things have been a little difficult these past few days. You know, the usual stuff. I stay up late. I sleep late. I have no dreams. My mind is just to bogged down with the things of this world that bother me more than they would another man. Not sure why I let some things get to me and I wish I had some answers. I know life is designed to throw a curve every now and then but it just seems to have been happening more and more often and I can't get a handle on it.
I wake in the morning alone without you and it sets my day off on the wrong foot. It just doesn't seem right. I lay there with my eyes open and my hand on the other side of the bed waiting, wishing, you were here to take it. To me, there is nothing better than the touch of you. To watch you sleep, to listen to you breathe is heavenly. It's an overwhelming feeling to know that you and I are together. It's spiritual. Divine. Natural.
I have never had this before and It is new to me but never in my life did I feel that I would be so blessed as to have a mate for my soul. When we are together, and we look into each other, we are one. I know what you are thinking before you say it. Every deed that we do shows how much we love each other. You are my companion, my friend, my lover to the end and beyond.
My dearest love I miss you so. We are not together and I don't know if we have ever met in this life. I only get out of bed each morning with the hopes that when I look upon you for the first time our souls will speak to each other and our hearts and minds will follow. Together we will joyfully get through this life. I may still have times of trial and doubt but with you, my love, I will fear nothing. And at the end of the day, when we lay together, hand in hand, I will sleep, and we shall dance in my dreams.
I love you,
Jamie
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
A Cardboard Miracle.
Hard to believe it has been since October since my last post. Sorry about that. Not sure of the real reason. I have been kind of busy. Either that or I have had nothing different to write about. Seems like all I say is depressing. I think I got tired of hearing myself think. Can only imagine what my followers thought. The last thing I want is for my friends to keep saying "there he goes again. Same ol depressing stuff."
Oh well. It is what it is. Someone once asked Rob Thomas of Matchbox 20, why, even though he is married to a beautiful woman, has a great career and living the dream, is all his music so damn depressing. His response made since to me. Maybe because I have battled depression but he felt it was hard for him to write about being happy even though he is happy. Most of his memories as a child revolved around a mother that was ill with cancer. When he writes he draws on those emotions to help him deliver a message in his music. Though his music may be about sad things, he always seems to make the outcome of what he is writing about end peaceful or happy. Uplifting is a better way to say it, I guess.
I think I know what he means. Sometimes I see things that are sad and hard for someone to endure. But the end result brings peace to someone who is troubled. Perfect example would be a video a friend of mine posted on facebook today. It is a commercial for a web company but I thought the message was incredible. The video shows a blind man sitting by some steps in a bustling part of town. People passing him by as if he is not even there. He sits on a flat piece of cardboard with a small tin can for him to put any money that someone may throw his way. The sign next to him reads "I am blind. Please help." Every so often someone would drop a coin in front of him and he would have to search for it so he could put it in his tin can. Along comes a woman who at first is like all the others and passes him by. She stops and comes back to the man. She bends down and picks up his sign and with a marker she begins to write another message on the other side of it. As she is writing the old man reaches forward and feels her shoes, trying to get a since of who was in front of him. She finishes writing and puts the sign down and walks away. leaving the old man clueless as to what just happened. All of a sudden people begin emptying their pockets of change and dropping it in front of him. There is so much money coming to him that he has a hard time keeping up with it all. He is overwhelmed with what is happening to him. Some time passes by and the woman returns. She walks up and stands in front of him. Hearing her walk up he leans over again and feels her shoes. He looks up and asks, "What did you do to my sign?" She stoops down to the old man and says, "I said the same, just used different words." As she stands up and walks away you see the writing on the sign. It now reads, "It's a beautiful day. And I can't see it."
I think what strikes me about this video (which is on my FB profile page if you want to see it) is at times we are all blind in this world. Some of us are literally blind. Others choose to be blind. How many people passed him by with out a second glance? It's a shame that so many of us, me included may have just kept ourselves in our own little bubble and paid no attention to someone in need. It didn't take a lot of effort on the woman's part. Just a couple of minutes of her time turned into a miracle for the old man. I think a very important lesson.
Sometimes i look at myself and where I am in my own life. I am not happy and have what feels like a long way to go to be happy. I miss the sound of my own laughter and knowing that something I do or say will lift someone else. I have tried and tried to find myself. I am out there somewhere, I just don't know where to look. To be honest, I'm tired of looking. I have for a long time told people and have used as an excuse that I need to find myself first, THEN I can help others. What I have found with this way of thinking is that I think to myself that I will never be good enough so I put off helping someone else. It brings out pride and laziness and does nothing else but bring about more depression and sadness.
So what is the cure? The fix? I have heard for years to loose yourself in the service of others or better yet, "When ye are in the service of your fellow beings, ye are only in the service of your God." Sound familiar? I know. It does to me too. Sometimes, taking off the blinders I have on is a hard thing to do. Am I too afraid of seeing the old man at the foot of the stairs with a tin can looking for alms or am I more ashamed of seeing the man I have become? Funny thing though, I really don't think the old man cares.
Oh well. It is what it is. Someone once asked Rob Thomas of Matchbox 20, why, even though he is married to a beautiful woman, has a great career and living the dream, is all his music so damn depressing. His response made since to me. Maybe because I have battled depression but he felt it was hard for him to write about being happy even though he is happy. Most of his memories as a child revolved around a mother that was ill with cancer. When he writes he draws on those emotions to help him deliver a message in his music. Though his music may be about sad things, he always seems to make the outcome of what he is writing about end peaceful or happy. Uplifting is a better way to say it, I guess.
I think I know what he means. Sometimes I see things that are sad and hard for someone to endure. But the end result brings peace to someone who is troubled. Perfect example would be a video a friend of mine posted on facebook today. It is a commercial for a web company but I thought the message was incredible. The video shows a blind man sitting by some steps in a bustling part of town. People passing him by as if he is not even there. He sits on a flat piece of cardboard with a small tin can for him to put any money that someone may throw his way. The sign next to him reads "I am blind. Please help." Every so often someone would drop a coin in front of him and he would have to search for it so he could put it in his tin can. Along comes a woman who at first is like all the others and passes him by. She stops and comes back to the man. She bends down and picks up his sign and with a marker she begins to write another message on the other side of it. As she is writing the old man reaches forward and feels her shoes, trying to get a since of who was in front of him. She finishes writing and puts the sign down and walks away. leaving the old man clueless as to what just happened. All of a sudden people begin emptying their pockets of change and dropping it in front of him. There is so much money coming to him that he has a hard time keeping up with it all. He is overwhelmed with what is happening to him. Some time passes by and the woman returns. She walks up and stands in front of him. Hearing her walk up he leans over again and feels her shoes. He looks up and asks, "What did you do to my sign?" She stoops down to the old man and says, "I said the same, just used different words." As she stands up and walks away you see the writing on the sign. It now reads, "It's a beautiful day. And I can't see it."
I think what strikes me about this video (which is on my FB profile page if you want to see it) is at times we are all blind in this world. Some of us are literally blind. Others choose to be blind. How many people passed him by with out a second glance? It's a shame that so many of us, me included may have just kept ourselves in our own little bubble and paid no attention to someone in need. It didn't take a lot of effort on the woman's part. Just a couple of minutes of her time turned into a miracle for the old man. I think a very important lesson.
Sometimes i look at myself and where I am in my own life. I am not happy and have what feels like a long way to go to be happy. I miss the sound of my own laughter and knowing that something I do or say will lift someone else. I have tried and tried to find myself. I am out there somewhere, I just don't know where to look. To be honest, I'm tired of looking. I have for a long time told people and have used as an excuse that I need to find myself first, THEN I can help others. What I have found with this way of thinking is that I think to myself that I will never be good enough so I put off helping someone else. It brings out pride and laziness and does nothing else but bring about more depression and sadness.
So what is the cure? The fix? I have heard for years to loose yourself in the service of others or better yet, "When ye are in the service of your fellow beings, ye are only in the service of your God." Sound familiar? I know. It does to me too. Sometimes, taking off the blinders I have on is a hard thing to do. Am I too afraid of seeing the old man at the foot of the stairs with a tin can looking for alms or am I more ashamed of seeing the man I have become? Funny thing though, I really don't think the old man cares.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Don't Let Go
This post may be hard for some of you to read. Lord knows it's going to be hard for me to write. As you all know I don't hold back much on here. Maybe I should but it will have to wait. I have something brewing and if I don't get it out I may explode. So sit back, buckle up cause this one may shock you.
Over the last month or so I have been struggling. My inner demons are fighting and I can't get them to stop. Yes, I said demons. Plural. I have many. Anyone need one or two? I have lots to give away. I know I don't want them. But they are mine. Now if I can just figure how to make them coexist. Problem is...these demons don't like each other. They are completely opposite of each other. If they did get along, one way or another, I think I wouldn't be having so many problems. See, some of these demons are good, some are not and they are playing one hell of a tug-of-war with me.
I know how this will sound. I am not trying to be conceited. It's just how I feel. A part of me, although kind of small, wholeheartedly believes that I am on the brink of greatness. Teetering on the edge of making a difference in this crazy world. On the verge of having people say as I go by "There's Jamie, Oh how he made a difference in my life." Or having my name mentioned and have a crowd of people go wild like at a concert. Am I lost in la la land? Maybe. I think we all have the opportunity to do something remarkable. But I also have to admit that on the other hand, I feel I'm on the verge of complete disaster. This is the more part of me BTW. It's that stinking feeling I get when things don't go right and I say to myself, "Oh, they are better off without me anyway." Or the feeling of walking down a street and bumping into someone and have them not notice me. Like I'm invisible. Being looked at by people who think to themselves, "Whatever happened to him anyway?" These are the feelings that scare me the most.
There are times I go to church and feel so loved and welcomed. There are other times when I look at someone and I can tell they are thinking, "what are you doing here?" And that's at church people. Of all places to not feel welcomed. I'm not talking about my close friends. I love you guys. If it weren't for you I may not be where I am today. But there are those folks who I know I have let down. And believe me when I say it, you CAN see it in your faces. I'm like the plague to them. But I have come to the knowledge that we are NOT all perfect. We have ALL made mistakes and in some ways that brings me a little peace.
The most important piece in tug-of-war is the rope. Two opposing forces pull on it with all their might, mind and strength and to the victor goes the spoils. The hardest part for me right now is I feel like I'm the rope. Both sides are pulling fiercely on me and I feel at any moment I may snap. This is a battle of good versus evil. On one side I have all my friends who love me and support me. My children are there. My family as well and I believe with all my heart they are pulling with all the love they can muster. Then there are the things of this world that are pulling me in the other direction. And the things of this world have a strength of their own. It's powerful. It's mesmerizing. Sometimes the thought of loosing the battle isn't all that bad. I mean seriously, can it?
This truly is a difficult thing for me to go through. You would think it would be easy but it's not. I wouldn't want this on anyone. I know where I want to be but getting there is the hardest part. Oh I have faith. I just don't have patience. Sometimes I think it would be easy to just throw in the towel and let me ride the wave and see where it takes me. But I fear in doing so I may land so far back I may never get to where I need to be. So I plead with you my friends, family and fellow Christians, PLEASE don't let go of the rope.
Over the last month or so I have been struggling. My inner demons are fighting and I can't get them to stop. Yes, I said demons. Plural. I have many. Anyone need one or two? I have lots to give away. I know I don't want them. But they are mine. Now if I can just figure how to make them coexist. Problem is...these demons don't like each other. They are completely opposite of each other. If they did get along, one way or another, I think I wouldn't be having so many problems. See, some of these demons are good, some are not and they are playing one hell of a tug-of-war with me.
I know how this will sound. I am not trying to be conceited. It's just how I feel. A part of me, although kind of small, wholeheartedly believes that I am on the brink of greatness. Teetering on the edge of making a difference in this crazy world. On the verge of having people say as I go by "There's Jamie, Oh how he made a difference in my life." Or having my name mentioned and have a crowd of people go wild like at a concert. Am I lost in la la land? Maybe. I think we all have the opportunity to do something remarkable. But I also have to admit that on the other hand, I feel I'm on the verge of complete disaster. This is the more part of me BTW. It's that stinking feeling I get when things don't go right and I say to myself, "Oh, they are better off without me anyway." Or the feeling of walking down a street and bumping into someone and have them not notice me. Like I'm invisible. Being looked at by people who think to themselves, "Whatever happened to him anyway?" These are the feelings that scare me the most.
There are times I go to church and feel so loved and welcomed. There are other times when I look at someone and I can tell they are thinking, "what are you doing here?" And that's at church people. Of all places to not feel welcomed. I'm not talking about my close friends. I love you guys. If it weren't for you I may not be where I am today. But there are those folks who I know I have let down. And believe me when I say it, you CAN see it in your faces. I'm like the plague to them. But I have come to the knowledge that we are NOT all perfect. We have ALL made mistakes and in some ways that brings me a little peace.
The most important piece in tug-of-war is the rope. Two opposing forces pull on it with all their might, mind and strength and to the victor goes the spoils. The hardest part for me right now is I feel like I'm the rope. Both sides are pulling fiercely on me and I feel at any moment I may snap. This is a battle of good versus evil. On one side I have all my friends who love me and support me. My children are there. My family as well and I believe with all my heart they are pulling with all the love they can muster. Then there are the things of this world that are pulling me in the other direction. And the things of this world have a strength of their own. It's powerful. It's mesmerizing. Sometimes the thought of loosing the battle isn't all that bad. I mean seriously, can it?
This truly is a difficult thing for me to go through. You would think it would be easy but it's not. I wouldn't want this on anyone. I know where I want to be but getting there is the hardest part. Oh I have faith. I just don't have patience. Sometimes I think it would be easy to just throw in the towel and let me ride the wave and see where it takes me. But I fear in doing so I may land so far back I may never get to where I need to be. So I plead with you my friends, family and fellow Christians, PLEASE don't let go of the rope.
Monday, August 23, 2010
The inside of me
As most of you know I started this blog as a place to air my stuff. Some stuff has been funny, some are serious. Some just indicate my mood at the time. I hope you don't mind the ramblings on sometimes. I can ramble for sure. I where my heart on one sleeve and my emotions on the other. What I say here is real and I don't mind letting you in so you can feel what I feel. I love to write. It is a new found passion (see last post). So with that said, here is something swirling around in my head at the moment.
I am a good man. At least I think so. I am who I am from decisions made in my life. Some good, some bad, some down right terrible. But I am who I am. I am 42. So to say I'm new at this is far fetched. I have had experiences that I treasure and some that I wish never came my way. But through it all I have discovered things about me that are what make me, well, me.
I am a Mormon. I was born in the church, baptized when I was 8. Served a mission at 19 and have been active all my life. I love it. I think my life would be so different without it. For the worse. The Gospel can be hard to live sometime. But through faith I have survived many trials that have come my way. There have been many times that I had fallen short of what I believe and it really destroyed my marriage. I am at fault for my faults and for no one else. Being Mormon is and will always be ever present in my life.
I am emotional. Can't watch a hallmark commercial without getting all teary eyed. Drives me nuts sometimes. Seriously, I think there is a deficiency somewhere in me. But with that emotion comes tenderness. I'm very gentle. I don't like violence. Well, the kids may tell you different. Grrrr! Anyway, I was born with a broken collar bone. My sister will tell you that because of that I was treated and handled very differently as a baby. I guess that's where it came from.
I am a product of a broken family. My father ruled the house as kind as he could but when he felt crossed in any way he changed. Different persona, if you will. Later the alcohol came and all the fights with my mom. I remember, vividly, laying in bed one night and hearing my parents get into it. What made them think that it was OK to start fighting at 2 in the morning? As a 8 or 9 year old kid, I didn't feel like there was much I could do but lay awake and listen. My mother was no slouch either. There were times when all I heard was her yelling. Self defense I guess. But as I heard the door rattle and the noise get louder, I made a vow to myself. A nine year old vow. I will never hit my wife. My ex and I had our problems. I never yelled like he yelled and I kept my vow. My promise to myself. And I always will.
I am a romantic. My ex may say other wise. It takes 2 to tango. I love to hold hands, kiss in public and I love to dance. Yes, I said dance. Not out at da club (although I have been to a few). I believe when you are at one with your partner, dancing can be a form of foreplay with no want for sex after. Holding each other and swaying to music or just the rhythm of your breaths,can be exhilarating. I'm a very touchy feely guy. Nothing says I love you more than a pat on the butt, too.
I have dreams. Aspirations. Sometimes visions. They are personal. If I share them with you consider yourself loved. I wouldn't share them with someone I disliked. In my dreams I have a love. A love you only dream about but mine is real. In my dreams I am wealthy without money. I have enough for my needs and that is all I need. I have friends who love me and I them. And I play one mean game of basketball.
Well, I guess I could go on. I think I have said enough. I sit here in my room alone with nothing but my fan to keep me company. There are times when I feel the worst case of loneliness. I do not like it. I was not meant to be alone. I have so much to give if only I had someone to share it with. This is not a booty call. I am just saying that I believe I am a good catch. I have gone through many trials. I am scarred and have been through the ringer. But this in no way changes the fact that I am a good man. Get to know me and you will see. I have a lot of love to give.
I am a good man. At least I think so. I am who I am from decisions made in my life. Some good, some bad, some down right terrible. But I am who I am. I am 42. So to say I'm new at this is far fetched. I have had experiences that I treasure and some that I wish never came my way. But through it all I have discovered things about me that are what make me, well, me.
I am a Mormon. I was born in the church, baptized when I was 8. Served a mission at 19 and have been active all my life. I love it. I think my life would be so different without it. For the worse. The Gospel can be hard to live sometime. But through faith I have survived many trials that have come my way. There have been many times that I had fallen short of what I believe and it really destroyed my marriage. I am at fault for my faults and for no one else. Being Mormon is and will always be ever present in my life.
I am emotional. Can't watch a hallmark commercial without getting all teary eyed. Drives me nuts sometimes. Seriously, I think there is a deficiency somewhere in me. But with that emotion comes tenderness. I'm very gentle. I don't like violence. Well, the kids may tell you different. Grrrr! Anyway, I was born with a broken collar bone. My sister will tell you that because of that I was treated and handled very differently as a baby. I guess that's where it came from.
I am a product of a broken family. My father ruled the house as kind as he could but when he felt crossed in any way he changed. Different persona, if you will. Later the alcohol came and all the fights with my mom. I remember, vividly, laying in bed one night and hearing my parents get into it. What made them think that it was OK to start fighting at 2 in the morning? As a 8 or 9 year old kid, I didn't feel like there was much I could do but lay awake and listen. My mother was no slouch either. There were times when all I heard was her yelling. Self defense I guess. But as I heard the door rattle and the noise get louder, I made a vow to myself. A nine year old vow. I will never hit my wife. My ex and I had our problems. I never yelled like he yelled and I kept my vow. My promise to myself. And I always will.
I am a romantic. My ex may say other wise. It takes 2 to tango. I love to hold hands, kiss in public and I love to dance. Yes, I said dance. Not out at da club (although I have been to a few). I believe when you are at one with your partner, dancing can be a form of foreplay with no want for sex after. Holding each other and swaying to music or just the rhythm of your breaths,can be exhilarating. I'm a very touchy feely guy. Nothing says I love you more than a pat on the butt, too.
I have dreams. Aspirations. Sometimes visions. They are personal. If I share them with you consider yourself loved. I wouldn't share them with someone I disliked. In my dreams I have a love. A love you only dream about but mine is real. In my dreams I am wealthy without money. I have enough for my needs and that is all I need. I have friends who love me and I them. And I play one mean game of basketball.
Well, I guess I could go on. I think I have said enough. I sit here in my room alone with nothing but my fan to keep me company. There are times when I feel the worst case of loneliness. I do not like it. I was not meant to be alone. I have so much to give if only I had someone to share it with. This is not a booty call. I am just saying that I believe I am a good catch. I have gone through many trials. I am scarred and have been through the ringer. But this in no way changes the fact that I am a good man. Get to know me and you will see. I have a lot of love to give.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
The book I read to mother
Summer is coming to a close, I thought to myself. Not knowing if I really meant the seasons were changing or if I knew somehow that life was about to end. Staring out of the window I could see leaves beginning to change color. The sky had such a deep red shade to it. Birds were flying south and as I gazed upon them in the window I saw my reflection. I was so young then. Scared. Helpless. Nothing I could do would ease the strain that was upon me.
In my gaze was my mothers bed. Tubes and bags hanging off the side. Listening to her breathe was as hard to do as her breathing was itself. Short, gasps of what she would soon no longer need. I turned and asked if there was anything I could do to make her comfortable. Her arms had sores on it from just laying there lifeless on the bed. She said, can you raise my arm up? It hurts. Yes mom I can. I lifted her arm up so she could rest it on her forehead. She had no strength in that arm. Hadn't for years. So I stood there and held it for her. I don't recall for how long but after awhile she said OK and I put it back down. She took a deep breath and called my name over and over again. It was as if she wanted me to fix her but I couldn't. She was scared but as much as she could she hid that from me.
I sat down beside her bed and began to read to her from the scriptures. She loved the scriptures but because of her handicap she couldn't read from them very often. So as my last act of service to her I read to her about Christ. It was very hard for me. To think that I was reading to her something that she has always known. Mom had great faith and although she was the one dying she took time to comfort me. She knew where she was going and she knew soon she wouldn't feel pain anymore. And in some way I think that was all she cared about. We would be alright without her. All of us. Her children. And in her last days she provided the ultimate example of Faith.
I finished reading and had to go. I stood up and held her hand and told her I would be back tomorrow and we would continue reading. She said that was fine. So I left the Book in her chair and gathered my things. I stooped down and kissed her on the cheek. Told her to get some rest and headed toward the door. When I got there I turned and said, "I love you Mom." She said, "I love you, too." Those were the last words I would ever hear her say.
When I returned the next day she was unable to speak. Unable to recognize me. Her eyes opened but briefly before falling back into her sleep. We all stayed until about midnight. Early the next morning my sister called to say, "she's gone." My heart sank both with sadness and great joy. Sad that she was gone but oh so glad she was not hurting anymore. My mothers struggles were over. She now rests in peace and is living again beyond the veil with her family long since gone.
One of my greatest joys in life came the moment she spoke her last words to me. "I love you, too", she said. Too. The keyword in that sentence, because it tells me that the last thing she would ever hear me say to her was "I love you." How grateful I am to know that my mother, on her last days on earth knew without doubt of my love for her.
I think of her often especially this time of year. Summer's gone. The air has a chill. The leaves are changing color. Seasons come and seasons go but my undying love for mother will always be there. She left ten years ago today but her presence is always near. Watching over me. Reminding me of the power of the book and the lessons that are there. One day we will see each other again. This time there will be no refection in a window but face to face. What a glorious day that will be.
In my gaze was my mothers bed. Tubes and bags hanging off the side. Listening to her breathe was as hard to do as her breathing was itself. Short, gasps of what she would soon no longer need. I turned and asked if there was anything I could do to make her comfortable. Her arms had sores on it from just laying there lifeless on the bed. She said, can you raise my arm up? It hurts. Yes mom I can. I lifted her arm up so she could rest it on her forehead. She had no strength in that arm. Hadn't for years. So I stood there and held it for her. I don't recall for how long but after awhile she said OK and I put it back down. She took a deep breath and called my name over and over again. It was as if she wanted me to fix her but I couldn't. She was scared but as much as she could she hid that from me.
I sat down beside her bed and began to read to her from the scriptures. She loved the scriptures but because of her handicap she couldn't read from them very often. So as my last act of service to her I read to her about Christ. It was very hard for me. To think that I was reading to her something that she has always known. Mom had great faith and although she was the one dying she took time to comfort me. She knew where she was going and she knew soon she wouldn't feel pain anymore. And in some way I think that was all she cared about. We would be alright without her. All of us. Her children. And in her last days she provided the ultimate example of Faith.
I finished reading and had to go. I stood up and held her hand and told her I would be back tomorrow and we would continue reading. She said that was fine. So I left the Book in her chair and gathered my things. I stooped down and kissed her on the cheek. Told her to get some rest and headed toward the door. When I got there I turned and said, "I love you Mom." She said, "I love you, too." Those were the last words I would ever hear her say.
When I returned the next day she was unable to speak. Unable to recognize me. Her eyes opened but briefly before falling back into her sleep. We all stayed until about midnight. Early the next morning my sister called to say, "she's gone." My heart sank both with sadness and great joy. Sad that she was gone but oh so glad she was not hurting anymore. My mothers struggles were over. She now rests in peace and is living again beyond the veil with her family long since gone.
One of my greatest joys in life came the moment she spoke her last words to me. "I love you, too", she said. Too. The keyword in that sentence, because it tells me that the last thing she would ever hear me say to her was "I love you." How grateful I am to know that my mother, on her last days on earth knew without doubt of my love for her.
I think of her often especially this time of year. Summer's gone. The air has a chill. The leaves are changing color. Seasons come and seasons go but my undying love for mother will always be there. She left ten years ago today but her presence is always near. Watching over me. Reminding me of the power of the book and the lessons that are there. One day we will see each other again. This time there will be no refection in a window but face to face. What a glorious day that will be.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Discovery and Passions
Passion. I've been hearing a lot about that word today. It's also been on my mind as of late. Such a simple word. Seven letters long and only two syllables. Easy to say, spell and write. Why then is it such a hard word to understand? It has many different meanings or should I say contexts. It may have meaning for one but a different meaning for another.
Not that I watch Oprah, but today she had three guests on her show that all have jobs that they are absolutely passionate about. One was a fashion director for a magazine; one was a florist for a four star hotel in France and the other was a cake chef. She interviewed all three at different times and asked each one of them to explain why they were so successful at what they do. Each one stated the number one reason was passion.
Are some people more in tune with that word than others? How is it that someone who, as a child, was punished by his father by making him bake cakes in his store to keep him from playing outside with his friends become something that makes him millions of dollars every year? (Smart dad, by the way). This chef now has a show on TV and has many number one selling cookbooks to his name. And he has the nerve to say passion is the number one reason he is successful? How can that be? How can something that out of the ordinary be the one thing that sets in motion a highly successful career?
So I took a few moments today to discover or rediscover what my passions are. I sat and thought, sat and thought. Got up, went bowling and thought. Came home and ate dinner, and thought. There were a few things that I discovered or rediscovered that I am passionate about. Obvious things that didn't require a whole lot of thinking really. My kids for one. Duh! No brainier there. I am very passionate about them. Every time they discover or rediscover a passion and see the joy on their faces I get a bit choked up. What's new there, right? I love cooking and when I bite into something that only existed moments ago as raw material I get a rush come over me. I am no chef but man I do love to eat. Oh wow, look at that...another passion.
But for the life of me I could not come up with a passion that I would consider a life changing passion. Nothing comes to mind about doing something so good that I could actually make money from doing it. Not one thing came to my mind that would get me out of bed in the morning and say to myself "Hot dog, I'm going to work!" And if it were a passion of mine wouldn't I not say "work?" Because, as everyone on the Oprah show pointed out, they do not consider what they do as work. Wouldn't that be nice? "Bye, honey! I'm off doing something that I have a passion about. Gotta pay the bills."
So is there something wrong with me? I have no talents and even if I had them I'm too lazy to perfect them. Maybe then those are not my talents after all. Maybe, just maybe, I have yet to discover my true passions. Maybe I have spent way too much time trying to rediscover myself when myself still has yet to be discovered.
Now that thought brings me great joy. To believe that after all I have gone through and all the hard work I have done to come to know that I have yet to be discovered. That gives me great hope. Hope to believe that there is a better me waiting to come forward. A better me that will be more full of life and love and happiness. I don't believe it will come easy. But when I recognize the change in me and see how others see me, there will be no doubt that passion exists in me, and the world around me may be a better place indeed.
Not that I watch Oprah, but today she had three guests on her show that all have jobs that they are absolutely passionate about. One was a fashion director for a magazine; one was a florist for a four star hotel in France and the other was a cake chef. She interviewed all three at different times and asked each one of them to explain why they were so successful at what they do. Each one stated the number one reason was passion.
Are some people more in tune with that word than others? How is it that someone who, as a child, was punished by his father by making him bake cakes in his store to keep him from playing outside with his friends become something that makes him millions of dollars every year? (Smart dad, by the way). This chef now has a show on TV and has many number one selling cookbooks to his name. And he has the nerve to say passion is the number one reason he is successful? How can that be? How can something that out of the ordinary be the one thing that sets in motion a highly successful career?
So I took a few moments today to discover or rediscover what my passions are. I sat and thought, sat and thought. Got up, went bowling and thought. Came home and ate dinner, and thought. There were a few things that I discovered or rediscovered that I am passionate about. Obvious things that didn't require a whole lot of thinking really. My kids for one. Duh! No brainier there. I am very passionate about them. Every time they discover or rediscover a passion and see the joy on their faces I get a bit choked up. What's new there, right? I love cooking and when I bite into something that only existed moments ago as raw material I get a rush come over me. I am no chef but man I do love to eat. Oh wow, look at that...another passion.
But for the life of me I could not come up with a passion that I would consider a life changing passion. Nothing comes to mind about doing something so good that I could actually make money from doing it. Not one thing came to my mind that would get me out of bed in the morning and say to myself "Hot dog, I'm going to work!" And if it were a passion of mine wouldn't I not say "work?" Because, as everyone on the Oprah show pointed out, they do not consider what they do as work. Wouldn't that be nice? "Bye, honey! I'm off doing something that I have a passion about. Gotta pay the bills."
So is there something wrong with me? I have no talents and even if I had them I'm too lazy to perfect them. Maybe then those are not my talents after all. Maybe, just maybe, I have yet to discover my true passions. Maybe I have spent way too much time trying to rediscover myself when myself still has yet to be discovered.
Now that thought brings me great joy. To believe that after all I have gone through and all the hard work I have done to come to know that I have yet to be discovered. That gives me great hope. Hope to believe that there is a better me waiting to come forward. A better me that will be more full of life and love and happiness. I don't believe it will come easy. But when I recognize the change in me and see how others see me, there will be no doubt that passion exists in me, and the world around me may be a better place indeed.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
All I am
I don't know why I'm still awake. I've been tossing and turning in bed for about an hour now. My brain seems to not know that it's late and I need sleep. Sometimes I don't think it cares. It's going to keep me up no matter what. I have many things dancing in my mind. I think of this and I think of that. Dreams. Things I want that I don't have. I lay silently yet the noise in my head is so sounding that I'm just unable to close my eyes.
So I just sit here at my computer typing aimlessly and hope that I am making some since of the things I say. I look around my room and my apartment and I have so many wonderful things. Things I thought I would never have again. Simple things. A table to eat off of. A couch to sit on. A living room to sit in. A bed to sleep in. A walk in closet. Holy cow, I have a walk in closet! I never had that before. So you see, in many ways I am blessed.
I was at a friends house today and I looked around his place and I could tell that he goes through great lengths to keep it in order. It was nicely decorated and, although I didn't see it, I bet his bed was made too. Then I come home to my house and see things are just in dis-array. Dishes in the sink from last Saturday night yet to be washed. Kids clothes on the floor (what else is new there?) Ironing board out and what the heck is that smell? Note to self...take trash out before going to work.
It really isn't that hard to keep this place clean. It's a small apartment. I'm the only one here 4 out of 7 days a week. Am I really that unorganized? Or is it just laziness? Both? Maybe a little. Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed with it all. When the kids are here it's like a massive whirlwind coming through. By the time they go back to their mothers on Sunday I feel like I have so much to do in so little time. After church it's back to the grind at work and the whole thing starts over again.
So where do I stand? Where am I? Who am I? What is important? Do I sacrifice the things that matter the most for the things that matter the least? Where are my principles? What are my principles? What am I willing to sacrifice and at what cost?
I see other people. Single people. I look into there eyes and hear the sound of their voices. They are different than mine. I feel some since to emulate them. Be them. Have their lives. Live in their world. Drive fancy cars. Drink fancy drinks. Laugh. Move and shake like they do. Seems all surreal. Are they really happy or are they missing something too? Hard to tell sometimes. The last thing I want to be is fake.
I am me. There is no other like me. I was created with me in mind. I am a rough stone. Will I ever be polished? Maybe. I have been beaten and turned around and scraped with all my life's challenges. It is not over. God willing I have plenty of time. Plenty of time to get it together. To let go and be molded into something flawless. So take me as I am. I may not be much but I'm all I have to offer. So with all that said, I'm picking my blanket off the floor and going to bed. My brain has had enough.
So I just sit here at my computer typing aimlessly and hope that I am making some since of the things I say. I look around my room and my apartment and I have so many wonderful things. Things I thought I would never have again. Simple things. A table to eat off of. A couch to sit on. A living room to sit in. A bed to sleep in. A walk in closet. Holy cow, I have a walk in closet! I never had that before. So you see, in many ways I am blessed.
I was at a friends house today and I looked around his place and I could tell that he goes through great lengths to keep it in order. It was nicely decorated and, although I didn't see it, I bet his bed was made too. Then I come home to my house and see things are just in dis-array. Dishes in the sink from last Saturday night yet to be washed. Kids clothes on the floor (what else is new there?) Ironing board out and what the heck is that smell? Note to self...take trash out before going to work.
It really isn't that hard to keep this place clean. It's a small apartment. I'm the only one here 4 out of 7 days a week. Am I really that unorganized? Or is it just laziness? Both? Maybe a little. Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed with it all. When the kids are here it's like a massive whirlwind coming through. By the time they go back to their mothers on Sunday I feel like I have so much to do in so little time. After church it's back to the grind at work and the whole thing starts over again.
So where do I stand? Where am I? Who am I? What is important? Do I sacrifice the things that matter the most for the things that matter the least? Where are my principles? What are my principles? What am I willing to sacrifice and at what cost?
I see other people. Single people. I look into there eyes and hear the sound of their voices. They are different than mine. I feel some since to emulate them. Be them. Have their lives. Live in their world. Drive fancy cars. Drink fancy drinks. Laugh. Move and shake like they do. Seems all surreal. Are they really happy or are they missing something too? Hard to tell sometimes. The last thing I want to be is fake.
I am me. There is no other like me. I was created with me in mind. I am a rough stone. Will I ever be polished? Maybe. I have been beaten and turned around and scraped with all my life's challenges. It is not over. God willing I have plenty of time. Plenty of time to get it together. To let go and be molded into something flawless. So take me as I am. I may not be much but I'm all I have to offer. So with all that said, I'm picking my blanket off the floor and going to bed. My brain has had enough.
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