deep seeded versions

I want to know how you are, and not the gift wrapped version.

I’d like the truth not the ‘suck it up buttercup’ trend.

I wish one day you might listen to me rather than just what you want to hear.

I hope I might see you again someday and not just simply who you want to show me.

I think love is real and we prove that by being so unrealistic today.


©️ Thom Amundsen 8/2021

Losing Our Identity

Have you ever looked in the mirror and wondered what your life is really about? When the day may well have been spent trying to abate the confusion, and regain the confidence necessary to go along with the tasks at hand. Have you ever wondered why your mind feels compelled to ask forgiveness for all of your pain? I sometimes wonder what it is that causes me to feel sorry for myself when I look upon worlds around me with vastly different living moments of survival. We all live on one planet but our ideals and ability to function have such a wide range of clarity.

I spent the last 20 minutes trying to fix my vanity mirror. I got so frustrated I was about ready to throw it across the room. Fortunately I problem solved enough to look up the model and see if I could find a solution. I so discovered that there was a certain clamp missing that helps secure the angle of the mirror. I went back to my bathroom and I searched everywhere for the missing clamp because why would I throw something so obvious away – it is about a 1/2 inch long. I had to see it disappear one would think. I’ve come to the realization now it might have been missing from the beginning. I could have pulled it out of the box and ignored the clamp might have loosened from the figure and just held itself in place because I seldom moved it. Do you see how much time I just spent explaining something that is rather urbane to the regularity of my day? That is speaking to how it is I let my preoccupations run my world.

That mirror took advantage of my state of mind, and one could argue I lost 30 minutes of my life trying to solve the puzzle. The bigger question in my mind now is how much does that issue matter in the bigger picture of my life? We seem to choose our battles and mine right now being reduced to that of an object in my bathroom pales to the greater contemplations that run my day. Most of the time is spent worrying about who I am and what my future holds. I’ve done this for so many years that decades have flown by and suddenly I’m left with only a few remaining, if not a couple as a dear friend suggested we both have left in our lives.

I spend a lot of time rehashing the mistakes I have made in my life, wishing I could have do overs in so many realms of my world. I sometimes find I am regretting my actions, and then I turn around and blame the society around me rather than take personal responsibility. I consequentially come to terms with what I am doing in my own head, and though quite often it isn’t easy, I begin with a new day, even though going to sleep at night is a challenge because I am afraid to face the next morning. That is inevitably my hardship, and tonight I grew more curious because I thought about how ridiculous it is that I would care so little about the world around me and spend my night worrying about the loss of a clamp on a mirror, like that clamp represented my sanity.

I think this opened the door to let me think about the bigger issues in our world well beyond my own. I would have to admit watching a movie tonight about the Sudan refugees put me in a vastly different state of mind. My world is worrying about a material matter in my home. In contrast is a refugee spending their night worrying about their next meal, a safe place in the desert to sleep, a fear of being beaten to death before morning. Those are not things I worry about and I am thinking about that tonight.

I don’t concern myself with the color of my skin. I haven’t lost sleep over my sexual identity. I spend a lot of my time worrying about my finances, not that I won’t be able to eat and sleep and have shelter, but more how I match up with my neighbor or a colleague or a person driving past me in a more sleek model of car than my own. Those are my worries, those are my concerns, those are the pains that drive my day, and I have no business believing that we all live relative lives when I imagine a Sudanese child fighting for their freedom to breathe.

So I will go to sleep tonight and think about all these things. I will crawl into my kingsize bed with clean plush sheets and a comforter and hope for sleep that brings someone I want to be close to in my deepest dreams. I will worry about everything that makes me fear my life and will completely forget about the lives of those less fortunate and then I will measure my happiness and express my lost privilege rather than raising my awareness of someone without nearly the provisions I might have to live a healthy and satisfying life.

God, I wish I could find that damn mirror clamp before I go to bed. I would sleep so much better tonight.


© Thom Amundsen 8/2021

The Perils of a Run

I think I watched her run for years. It was not the sort of get away to which people become accustomed. She is someone that pushes life at a rapid rate. She is a person who believes this in a most ardent manner, that we need be strong, always. This persona attracted me to her when we were young adults.

So one day after years of imagining I asked if I might go for a run. She graciously invited me into her world for an exploration of who we might be at this stage of our lives. I felt like I was always trying to catch up, but happily so, I wouldn’t choose it any other way.

When I first began the run I tried to look composed and be as natural in form as she. She was so ahead of the game, I felt honored that she would even give me the time of day. She taught me quite a lot in those early weeks of our run. How to dress, how to live my life in a manner that looked and appeared put together, a reality I had let go of decades earlier. I grew to rely upon her judgment every step of the way. I trusted her skills.

In a short time we were stride for stride covering a lot of ground and our pace quickened with every step. I remember several occasions catching each other’s eyes with a little shock of our speed, realizing gradually we might trip if we didn’t stay focused upon the terrain ahead. As life would have it there are always trails and paths of uneven grade and mastering these levels is part of the beauty of challenging nature’s course together.

We discovered a new balance in our lives that seemed invigorating and we remarked at how wonderful this run had become supporting one another throughout each new journey ahead. We moved so fast though that one day rather than one another’s eyes we looked too closely into the sun, and our vision blinded, steps became unsure. We began to analyze the other side of our run, where in the beginning we loved to expound upon the balance, leaving confusion and insecurity behind. Naturally as life would have it, we became self-aware of recognizing adversity in the knees, the joints and muscles that need tendering in any enduring challenge. The body, can be consumed in a good run, but the mind might handle only so much.

I remember the time I sort of stutter stepped and glanced my hand upon her shoulder for balance, throwing off her cadence and my own. She regained her rhythm and I now fell behind a bit, but she stayed close allowing me to find again my composure. My energy gave her a smile and we immediately thought about the idiosyncratic nature of life and how sudden movement even on a forest path might give our bodies pause, a desire to catch up. I often wonder if I had noticed with more clarity early on what remains vivid in my mind today. I didn’t have to be stride for stride. I could have eased back providing her some space on the road to carry on her will. Such understanding might have kept us both running toward a beautiful horizon that lay ahead.

I stumbled again. This time I reached out with both hands landing on her shoulders hoping to maintain my stride, but letting my foot step upon hers and in a sudden tangle our bodies intertwined, we tumbled upon the soft mossy terrain of a country path. We rolled apart and looked for one another’s eyes, and now too much fear had enveloped us both and we glanced askance of one another trying to figure out how to start again. We decided to wait until the next day.

Increasingly, as we tried to continue our runs, the equilibrium began to slowly break apart, and my reliance upon her grew more and more, and I could see her body language wanting to create separation allowing her the freedom to run again. I was slowing her down, and instead of seeing that, I could feel my own strength overcompensate and with each stride I would suffocate her own motion, until one afternoon exasperated she stopped and turned and looked my way. Her eyes told me she couldn’t run with me anymore, the serenity was being shattered by my own insecurities. I had forgotten long ago the beauty of a run on a gorgeous summer evening and instead began to focus upon the grace of her own understanding. Little did I know then, that now when I find myself sprinting down a pathway, she is nowhere to be found because I forced her to carve out a new trail.

I’ve been running now for some time on my own, and though the balance is there the equilibrium will always lack the beauty of sharing a stretch of nature with the one we love. Instead we try to move forward and find a reasonable gait allows us to keep the run despite constant reminders of once sharing the trail, the path together.

Perhaps serendipity does exist in the miles ahead, yet one thing is for sure – we can’t force ourselves into another’s space. We will trip and feel the perils of a missed opportunity.


© Thom Amundsen 8/2021

A Week in the Wood and a Lake

I spent the week in one of my favorite places, along the shores of Lake Superior. I camped in the Temperance river, and fished, hiked, and took a bike ride. But the most telling moments of the week were reaching the summit of Eagle Mountain, and sitting on a rock next to the shoreline watching the sunrise every morning. I don’t know if I could better reach the peace of mind available to us all in these natural surroundings. I know today, hands on how difficult it may be on the psych and the body to return to the concrete of the cities.

A goal of mine has always been to hike up Eagle Mountain. I have heard it to be challenging and especially the last half a mile before you find the summit is quite rock laden, so as they say, wear your hiking boots. I think one of the spectacular pieces of the hike are watching the tops of the trees lower as you further yourself up the mountain. Soon the overlooks begin to occur and they are everywhere with a few steps any direction from the highest point. There is a plaque speaks to the history of the summit, and it was so refreshing to sit there for a minute or two and be grateful to the nature around me. I realize these are soft mountain hikes and there are potentially higher and more challenging ones down the road, God willing.

On my hikes I have begun carrying one small rock in each hand, weight enough to balance my stride when walking. I found a couple at the start of the hike and set them down next to me as I had some trail mix before my adventure back. Once I began I realized I had left them where I was sitting, so I picked up a couple more, as they still belonged to the nature around me. I was told of this idea by a friend years ago, and I have mentioned the practice before, but recently it has had a profound effect on my connection to the environment around me. The walk allows the rocks to maintained that balanced cadence that carries me home, and now they are on a shelf in my home, where I do hope to gather many sets over the next couple of decades. Hiking has become a passion with me that I struggled with for many years. I cannot suggest why it is more relaxing, just that it is compelling and has become freeing.

On Lake Superior I found a rock where I sat each morning and watched the sunrise and observed a different flow of waves hitting the shoreline each time. The first day the water was calm and the second pleasant waves graced the rocks and boulders around the shoreline. On the third day there were quite stunning waves, the sort that imagined there would be surfers somewhere on the lake today, assuredly wearing wet suits given the temperature of this lake.

The fourth brought a calm again, but the waves still indicated a new presence. On that day, the same rock, same time of morning, no one else on the shoreline, I felt tears come and I let them go. There are so many reasons in my life to have tears, and yet so often we don’t allow them to flow. We hold them back. On this morning, I let them go, and I sobbed, and I didn’t wipe the tears, I wanted the feel them on my cheeks, my skin, my body. The moment was truly cleansing and brought by my expressing a gratefulness for the serenity of the lake. I provided apologies, and hopes, and dreams, and a desire to remain present in my life. I thanked the water in a manner of speaking to God, and the moment felt incredibly peaceful. My coffee finished, I got in my packed vehicle and started out my return to the cities.

There is something rather unusual about my time alone lately, camping travels, bike rides, attending events. It feels good, and thus far it feels right. It helps to balance the pain. I am learning how to ‘be’ as a dear friend plead me to do in the early days of the dissolution of my marriage. I am learning how to be ok. But it does take time. I would like to believe I am there, I have arrived, and for the moments I experienced this week on the summit and near the lake, I am confident I met those goals.

I look forward to the next adventure ahead.


© Thom Amundsen 7/2021

Grad Party Moments

After a year of Covid the grad parties have returned. There have been years past where I haven’t attended any of the celebrations of our senior graduates. Last year I made no excuses, we all stayed home. But there have been occasion where I took an all or nothing approach. This year has been different. Perhaps having retired from my school holds precedent. Today I felt tears at a party for the first time in nearly a decade.

For every teacher there is always that student and this afternoon I said a farewell to one of mine. She holds that special place in my heart. One particular display taunted everyone’s heartstrings. She had created, or perhaps mom or dad, a display of her class picture from 1st grade to graduation. My eyes well as I write these words. I think knowing she would be the last person I work with directly on this stage had a tremendous emotional impact on me today.

I looked at all the students and families that I was given the opportunity to spend my life with over the last two decades and I am only grateful. The celebration of a graduate is real and profound. In my own life I didn’t have that luxury when I left high school, so now as a teacher for most of my life I have discovered a certain respect for the life of the students that when I was a teenager I took for granted. To be the adult teacher that comes to celebrate their successes is rather humbling for me.

For all the teachers out there that this summer question whether or not it makes any difference for them to say goodbye to their students one last time as they leave the high school hallways, take a moment to give yourself a break. Though there were many times when you felt like you had no impact on their lives, it is clear they wouldn’t be where they are this summer without your love, compassion and guidance. But we didn’t do it alone we all did it together hand-in-hand because that’s what we cared about more than anything else – the success of our children, our students, our families, our community.

To be a teacher has been probably one of the rewarding gifts of my life and I am forever thankful for the opportunity. Seeing the smiles and celebration of my students this summer has been a highlight and offers assurance as I choose another chapter in my life. I only hope I can have as receptive an audience as I did the kids I worked with on stage throughout my career.

Graduates I wish you only the greatest success in all of your future endeavors and I will be right there to watch you achieve so much in your profound lives.

Thanks for letting me know you – celebrate!


©️ Thom Amundsen 6/2021

Humility on a mountaintop

I sat on this peak the other day after a healthy climb of just over a few miles. What you see is quite a satisfying result of the hike. I sat looking over the horizon for about 30 minutes before returning from where I started. I had done this hike several times over the years, but never alone. I was even sharp enough to keep my license in my camel-pack in the event of an injury along the way. Aging I suppose contributes to making smarter decisions, but that’s not really that important right now.

What I do wish to focus upon is the impact this trip had upon my state of mind. To go the miles it took and the strenuous nature of the landscape I encountered was an accomplishment fills me with satisfaction. Living a healthy lifestyle is important to me these days, and the rewards are immeasurable. I could easily have remained at my campground and stewed about my life and the hardships I have to endure, ignoring someone much like me lost in their own world of poverty and sickness without near the capacity I have to take an invigorating hike on a beautiful afternoon in the north-woods. Can anyone relate? I hope so. We can easily find reasons to discount the opportunities that lay before us and rather than ignore them we must put the effort forth to experience life as we know it in the moment.

What I experienced on this hike was the beauty of nature around me. Certainly the vista at the top was the reward, but the walk to get there was as special making the whole a complete adventure. A long time ago a friend of mine suggested I pick up two rocks and carry them with equal weight in each of my hands and let them carry me up the mountain. I remember trying this years ago and it didn’t work. I was too preoccupied with holding the rocks than I was with letting them carry me. I let their weight move my wrists and my arms in such a motion that I naturally felt like I was gliding up the mountainside. I held onto them afterwards, a gift from the nature around me. I decided I will find a set of rocks upon every landscape I walk in the future and recognize the blessing they provide my journey.

The humility I felt when surveying the world before my eyes let me imagine how fortunate my life is what lays ahead of my future. These are the things important to our lives to appreciate life around us. There is beauty and elegance surrounds us all everywhere. Take a moment, breathe in and out, and rest our weary soul. Life has a certain reward.


© Thom Amundsen 6/2021

A World of Measures

We are a measured society. Our actions fall under values we would wish to believe manifest in our background, cultural mores, the manner we were raised, the people by which we surround ourselves. In order to feel a certain sense of security, I want to believe in doing the right thing, living a life of compassion, respect and understanding. I often fall back upon the only attribute I can always count on to help me move forward – the concept of love. We all have a penchant for understanding what kindness might do to enhance our own personal confidence in who we are and how we go about our lives.

What I just described is how I live my life. I might go through my day with concern of other’s perception of me, but nowhere in my day have I ever felt a concern for my welfare beyond evaluating my own actions and making the right decisions to maintain a moral and dignified life. I have never felt my reality to be threatened by violence of any sort. Even those bullying moments in my childhood didn’t amount to anything as traumatic as senseless loss of life over and over again. I lost my cousin when I was 12 years old – he and I were six months apart in age, and that tragedy changed the course of my young life. What is important to recognize about that moment is that I didn’t have to get used to loss being right around the corner of all my actions throughout every living moment of my existence.

I am a White man living a privileged life.

When George Floyd lost his life last May during the Memorial Day holiday, I struggled to understand his loss. I tried to imagine the pain his world endured and I could not wrap my head around it at all. I couldn’t go and visit the memorial. I felt like I didn’t belong there. I felt pain and compassion for his loss and the impact on the community, including the horrific repetition of a systemic assault upon the welfare and safety of people of color in our society. I realized the Black community lived in a measured life far different than my own.

Daunte Wright lived a measured life. His every action has been based upon and judged by the color of his skin. His safety was when he was surrounded by his friends, his family, the people he counted upon to always be there for him, to not judge him, to never ostracize his position in their lives.

I once sat in a roundtable discussion of an equity based forum, a group whereby I was one of only a couple of white participants in a mix of a dozen contributors. The end discussion was a share of how we all felt about the last hour of a courageous conversation. I spoke out and suggested this was a fascinating hour and that I needed to process this and probably write about my feelings later in the week. I felt confident I was speaking accurately from my heart. A woman on my right said to me, “I’m glad you are going to do that, to process this day – good luck with that.” She then suggested she will get up from the table and be immediately immersed with a need to survive as she goes about her afternoon. She said “I have to be aware of myself in my every move the moment I walk out my door in the morning until evening when I can return to the security of my own home.”

I was actually a bit shocked, perhaps mortified at my naive approach to the measure of someone else’s life far more impacted by the nature of racism in our society. A woman on the right of me after listening to me rationalize my ignorance then plead, “when are white people going to let go of their white guilt and just acknowledge their role in privilege in our society.” Stunned again I thanked everyone at the table for letting me share in the discussion and allow me to have my takeaways. I was humbled. I was measured in the moment, but that feeling paled to the measure I realized people of color will experience every moment of their lives.

Daunte Wright’s life was certainly measured and he suffered a tragic end to living his life in goodness and flaw. The paramount misperception without question the color of his skin. The evidence would suggest a travesty has occurred, one that repeats itself so frequently there are protesters today walking the streets wearing t-shirts with a dozen names printed in a list of losses our Black society has experienced at the hands of ignorance. The world around Breonna and George and Michael and Philando and now Daunte are rampant with a confusing measure of importance in a country where the color of our skin is on the forefront of everyone’s mind. It is important to understand how measures play a role in perception.

There will be push-back. There always is. I have a good friend whose husband, also a friend is a police officer in the twin cities. She once described to me the fear she has every time her husband has to walk up to a parked vehicle he has pulled over for a traffic violation. I wish that analogy could be as simple and educational as it sounds, but there is a greater argument to be had about discrimination, fear, confusion in a hurting society. We are all being measured, however there is a much greater consequence for people of color in a world that still after decades beyond the civil rights movement of the 60’s continues to perpetuate a thinking of ill-met measure and judgment that has nothing to do with the whole of our humanity.

We are all products of the same nature of human beings relying upon eating, sleeping and communicating with each other to live our lives in a kind, forgiving, loving manner. We all do live measured lives some with greater extremes than others. The truth is we need to be measured the same – we need to leave privilege behind and begin loving one another for whom we are rather than forcing our neighbor to adjust their lives based upon the color of their skin.

We need our measuring stick to endure the confusion and misperception of years of trauma and perpetual ignorance and begin to love one another with kindness and acceptance. We need to be measured by a universal humanity and not one of misguided and horrific judgment.


© Thom Amundsen 4/2021

A response to the tragic death of Daunte Wright, of George Floyd, of Breonna Taylor, of Philando Castile and the countless names that preceded death based upon fear.

Certain Days of the Year

I’ll wake up tomorrow morning and thirty two years will have gone by in a flash. I’ll try to remember different events that occurred on this day and they will be one distant fog. Oh, there will be the dinners, maybe a movie, occasionally a live show, maybe a concert wrapped around the date of the year. Tomorrow I will celebrate alone, and though I am told we shouldn’t feel bad about feeling bad, it is rather difficult not to feel rather sad.

Someone if I gave them a chance would say to me with discern ‘it’s just another day, get over it.’ That’s all a person is really left with when nothing else is allowed to interfere with the reality of this manner of grief. Always a week before Christmas, always time to set up some kind of a holiday treat. One year it was Handel’s Messiah at Orchestra Hall, another it was the New Standards at the State Theater – lots of visits to the Guthrie, Broadway on Tour, U2 on the floor, live music – Davina and the Vagabonds. One year a surprise birthday party and we woke to a blizzard reducing our numbers from around a few dozen to less than ten. Every time was meant though, to be a celebration, as will tomorrow be as well. We are meant to celebrate our lives and not criticize a person’s happiness.

This year my friend has experienced loss, the sort of which none of us wish to go through, hard decisions, the loss of a social life and finally the departure of her mentor, the woman that taught her everything there is to know about being a woman in the society she was raised. There will be angels circling her aura throughout the day to offer her peace of mind and good will. I pray for the same as much as I wonder in my own mind how all of this time has gone by and suddenly here we are, sending out incorrect addresses to friends and walking past single family homes knowing those days are behind us. Now we simply go forward, just another day, a low temperature winter morning without any snow. Just another day.

I’m listening to my favorite Dire Straits album right now and my favorite song is about to play. ‘Why Worry Now’ is a song that makes me want to cry. It gives me the opportunity to do so, therefore I will take advantage of the moment and have a good cry. There was a time when the artistry of the eccentric was an attractive attribute to carry around in my life and somehow I just forgot to allow that part of me might manifest itself in a positive manner. Instead there are more days than not that I allow myself to be a shell of my true inner being, and I just cannot seem to find a way to change the course of the river that flows right through me.

I was married to the same woman for a very long time. Thirty years is half of my life, half of our lives, and suddenly tonight all it is is a reflection of who we once were culminating in who we are now today. I was just walking outside with my dog and I had an epiphany that if one day I was penniless I would still care about a woman I knew for three decades of my life, a woman whose day I would celebrate tomorrow every year for the last thirty years, for the remainder of my own years. That is a tradition, not an expectation.

That’s what makes birthdays special – really – another day in our lives. Happy birthday ‘twelve seventeeners.’


© Thom Amundsen 12/2020

A Stirring Conversation

So, I have been feeling poorly recently – what an exciting start right? A real grabber. My point is though I was feeling bad for myself because any type of illness I immediately imagine Covid, and I go through the motions of the test and it comes back negative – well that is my assumption this time around. Chest cold, flu, earache, swollen glands, sore throat – every ugly combination. So I complained about that to my friend.

She asked me to take a minute and think about it. Imagine being homeless with no shelter knowing the cold winds are ahead with winter looming, little to eat, no fresh water. Go a step further and live the life of a displaced refugee stranded without food and medical care and essential living needs. Think about anyone that feels their lives are in jeopardy due to a chronic illness, terminal diagnosis, and then reflect back upon my common cold. Please do not imagine I diminish the tragedy of Covid in people’s lives in any manner. The words were just rather humbling, and did make me step back and feel a pang of embarrassment, guilt, remorse. I’m turning those toward more reflective ways to ponder upon our lives. Someone out there will say quickly, life is relative, don’t try to measure it.

I do live a fortunate life. I think I will step out briefly today and pick up some Tylenol and tissues.

I’m sorry.

This Sunday Morning

We are starting to contemplate what it is we have done this year, one so very unique to our world, our lives, our state of mind. I think we all began the year in much the same way, dealing only with our personal needs and always aware of the world around us. Some of us championed resolutions, a few of us cleaned out chapters of our lives, and many woke up and believed it was just another day in succession of many. Why wouldn’t each of those directions make complete sense as we imagine our day today.

It is Sunday, a day that at the start of the year I had begun returning to Mass after many decades of sporadic holiday attendance, I was liking the opportunity and its meditative balance on my life. Then a few weeks later, I was not. I was not alone. This time it wasn’t because of lack of interest, none of us could. On top of everything else in our lives, we were now asked, suggested, mandated to isolate ourselves for the safety of others. I remember in the early weeks of shelter at home, I would run off to the grocery store, a limited activity, and as the sun was setting in the west, I would look at the horizon and imagine zombies beginning to line the hills. Everything was so quiet, no one except for people like me getting groceries or essentials milled about. The moment was eery and unsettling.

Eight months later, I have become a rather good cook. I seldom would make meals in years past, except for the occasional breakfast, or an intriguing recipe, or holiday foods. In the last year though, I used to want to emphasize I hadn’t gone out to eat for weeks, turned into months. But then I had to come to terms with the fact that no one had. When I get out of rehearsals for high school theater, I would often stop for a bite to eat. Now those little moments were part of my grocery run. I’ll call it a win, because the food is better and the advantage is a healthier body.

This summer I needed to go outside. Thankfully we have the woods, the hiking trails and just the open country for walks and bicycle rides. I remember thinking in the early days of Covid19 what if someone a quarter of mile in front of me sneezed while I was bicycling into a head wind? That really went through my mind, much like taking my dog to the dog park and worrying about other people wanting to pet him, and thereby bringing their germs into my home. Nobody knew, some of us cared, some thought it was and still do believe it a hoax. I’ve seen the numbers of people who have died, not by choice. I have been a believer from the beginning.

Our lives are all unique and yet we live them quite similarly to one another. We need a good sleep, a warm meal, a favorite book or piece of music, a companion nearby. All of this sounds rather normal right? The thing to recognize is there are many that do not have all or any of the opportunities or lifestyle habits I just mentioned. There are people who are alone and haven’t sometimes the strength to endure this rather unprecedented and certainly sad and frightening time in our lives. This is a time of year when often we are suggested to raise our awareness of those less fortunate than ourselves. Now more than ever.

We do come upon that time of year in America where we will celebrate the holiday, the essence of family being together to share the love we all have created in our lives. Many question our ability to have feast in that manner of tradition and we find ourselves quietly confused, making different plans. We do come upon that time of year in the world where we celebrate the truth of universal love in however manner our cultural strengths bring us together. What is important is we do remain focused on what will alleviate some of the anxiety and disorientating nature of this temporary period of our lives. Acts of kindness and a simple element exist.

There really isn’t anything traditional about this year moving into the holidays except for perhaps one common denominator: Love. We all know kindness and the smile it puts on our face, the safe remedy an emotion provides our need to feel.

This is a Sunday morning, and I am in my comfortable chair with a favorite music playing, my dog wandering about checking on me thinking of his next walk in the coming hour. I’m sipping my coffee and looking forward to watching a ball game this afternoon. Tonight I will plan the week ahead. Life remains normal as long as we can allow ourselves to realize there is goodness during this temporary period of our lives. Though we must be conscious of the reality being we are not alone, all of us in our circumstance hold an energy lets us know we are together miles away or nearby.

When we can, as long as we are able, reach out, for there is something substantial being passed upon one another than simply memory not realized. We all exist together, kindness and love being symbolic of that grateful nature of our humanity. We can this year celebrate with an even stronger recognition than during a normalcy we haven’t known yet taken for granted for quite some time.

Love. Be Kind.


© Thom Amundsen  11/2020