What Really Means Love Today

Lately the news has been grim. We seem to be riding on this roller coaster of misinformation that draws our compassion in far too many directions. It really appears that on any given day we could lose sight of what is really important to us, based upon where we see our world headed. At least for me that is a fear. Sometimes I wonder if it just self- persecution or if my insight is really trying to match up with my intuitions.

I’ve always been a feeling person, one that operates from the heart. I can sit in my home and feel tears when a dad is making sure his daughter is ready for college, because that same emotion impacted me when my little girl started her first year of college away from home. I remember, I cried all the way home, a two hour drive where I really thought I had lost my world and I wasn’t ever going to have it back. But fortunately she did return a stronger and more confident, now, young woman, whom I am so very proud of.

My son has had a similar effect on my life. I have a picture of him and I standing on the shores of the Temperance river – me kneeling and he standing next to me with his Twins cap and a smile – pressed lips smile. We were together and we had just had a lot of fun and it was a moment frozen in time that for many years afterwards I would struggle because I wanted that time back. He grew up, found his own life and moved into the next chapter of his young adulthood. I thought I lost him, and there were many nights when I cried myself to sleep. But now today, he’s a strapping young man, and he has a good life, one that I can be extremely proud of.

It is those moments of reflection that I do understand the meaning of love. It is such moments that I look at the world around us and I wonder if everyone feels the same way I do. I wonder if people watch the news and they sometimes lose hope because there are so many wrong things happening, that our minds cannot wrap ourselves around them soon enough. In trying to do so, we forget those moments in our lives that have greater value. It is the people we love that we are close to and count on knowing and seeing throughout the various chapters of our lives.

I think that’s the piece we have to stay focused on. What is important is to know the love we already have and can feel in our family, our loved ones, those friends we are closest to, the people we know we can trust and count upon on a daily basis. I think by doing that we can by example be representative of a good, peaceful march upon the negativity that surrounds us.

I think we all need to practice love.

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The Beginnings of How We Believe

A young boy looks out to sea from the shores of the Greek islan

I suppose there has to be a little peace,

the mind in a restful state,

oh and music offers a solace,

an avenue to draw the heart

along a wonderful path of sweetness.

 

I remember as a child

there was this hilltop,

can’t call it a mountain,

but the anyway was the reach,

a gravel path to the cityscape.

 

I would sit there for morning,

often afternoons,

the evenings find me again,

it was a place where I would sit

in wonder about all the things I did.

 

I reflect today on that patch of gravel,

the rocks and stumps I chose

to sit upon, or perhaps a lean to

on a tree nearby, and I wonder

if I knew now what I worried then.

 

There is a certain beauty in finding peace,

when we can believe,

we know in our hearts the right thing,

the world of humanity,

is designed around the concept of love.


Photo found on savethechildren.org

 

 

Summer Daze Alone

A familiar air,

cloudless sky,

Listen to the sounds of a backyard,

tree trimmers, grass cutters, BBQ-ing neighbors,

listen to the children with innocent screams nearby.

 

He would understand,

their natural allegiance to the land

around them being an open playground,

his own did the same,

decades earlier,

on similar days,

a cloudless sky,

the sounds of summer daze.

 

Yet there is a familiar air,

perhaps we call it the resistance,

we felt it when twelve years old looking out the picture window,

a light rain, yet friends gathering,

and him,

staying inside,

pretending to not exist,

though experiencing all of the psychological trauma,

that associates our lives with the living.

 

He would find himself in that place again,

today,

while the world outside embraced the summer skies,

his mind in a fog,

wondering about time, wondering where,

curious just why he falls into this mental cavern of

indecision,

it is the time he remembers as a boy,

wondering in the moment,

not knowing beyond the day,

yet now, in the quiet midnight,

the same question remains.

 

 

I Wandered Home

I’ve come here often,

when I could remember fear,

often,

when time seemed to stand still

I would look over the horizon,

picture running through fields as a child,

suddenly thrown into my teens,

those places I would weary my return.

I wonder about people

those I knew,

those I wished I might never know again,

I remember why it is I sometimes don’t really like people,

not everyone of course – I do love you.

I just

just when I might begin the next year,

I wonder sometimes why it is we continue to return to that place

we began to fear

when time allowed us to question ourselves,

when we had far too much energy to worry about who we

might have been, had become, wanted to seem,

where it was we all remember this might begin,

little flashbacks,

idioms of pain,

little moments of reckoning,

stir the anxiety in our mind,

while returning home,

where there is love, where we unwind.

home

love

time

we all do return after all,

it is sort of ironic really,

how quickly we begin to wonder again.

Tuesday Afternoon Lives

I was with the Moody Blues the other evening,

my apartment, a place I could create my own dreams,

I listened to their soul speaking to my fear,

they could soothe my mind, allow me so near

the places I really wanted to be,

where we could all be together,

with our idiosyncratic notions,

without feeling as if,

as if we might somehow need to,

find a different way to cry,

instead of seeking an outlet,

a reason why.

I was once a young man, walking through the forest,

when certain things could scare me, the snap of sound

off in the distance, always playful, always silly,

miles away from my own sense of balance,

trying to find my way,

again.

I’m an older man today,

and I do indeed think life is strange,

when in the constancy of trying to understand,

we do lose ourselves in the mechanical wares

of understanding the energy within,

that human condition

that …

reality.

If I Pretend, Will They Too

We want that,

we wish and pray,

like to believe in that

we all would like it this way,

mild confusion, yet,

what steps in the

middle of our sudden circumstance,

suggests we’ve lost our

ability to freely take chance

with what we believed up until today.

~

When I grew up I realized

I had slowly lost my way,

when all of my years of trying to find

the solution toward that which I pray,

I cannot get over how deep the ravine

of indecision, has continued to fall.

I want to believe,

truly like you, we all do, somewhere inside,

want to recognize our human frailty

might be …

To be vulnerable in our world is to indicate weakness.

when playing on the school grounds,

I didn’t want to play,

and rather than be left alone,

I wanted you to ask me,

then,

to play.

I didn’t want to figure it out years later,

with some bookend that appeared to imagine

what I felt inside.

Such bullshit to believe we cannot allow ourselves

to need,

instead we are asked to always amend,

our weakness so they can recommend

that answer that everyone else seems

already well ahead of the game of …

slipping slowly

unravel the dreams

to expose the fear,

that piece I believe

I seldom show

yet you might argue

is always there,

unmasked in artificial

burial grounds of

gin, liquor and bloody mary,

further less protected by

acts of random ignorance.

There is a sea of disparity that awaits my soul,

and when I arrive,

will the laughter remain,

or perhaps,

will all my anxieties, my intuitions of doom,

will every ideal that I ever believe

suddenly vanish in the misty shorelines

of deceit and depravity,

that arena of justice,

that seems so apparently there,

just waiting,

asking,

playing for the right moment,

when silent in the afternoon sunshine,

I suddenly feel like everything,

my world, theirs, and all of ours

instantaneous gratification,

bears its unruly head,

to suggest …

we all pretend.