Wondering Why We Do

I fight this battle,

you see,

it is a visual reality

the need for me

to recognize

my own vulnerability

is ok, it’s alright, it is part of the

game

we all play,

we wake to a different horizon

every morning,

we sleep to a different melody

at night,

or perhaps during the day,

wherever it is we decide

we might wish to land

and resurface again,

when everyone we see

decides upon the rules of

the game.

Advertisements

When A Friend’s Pain Defines Personal Purpose

I have a fairly good life. I am gainfully employed, live in a seemingly free country, with all the benefits of free speech and liberty. I have a family, we are all healthy. Our lives are determined by our actions. Given all of that reward I sometimes question my purpose, and I begin to doubt my ability, and I frame a rather skeptical outlook on my future. I’ll then beat myself up and struggle with the reality of my fortune. However, it is when I hear of the pain of someone in my life, close or connected that I really begin to recognize the gifts I have received. It is then I feel guilty for not appreciating what I have to live for.

That self-serving attitude causes a depression that can more often than not, be debilitating. I used to believe my depression was situational – created by short term events. I have now as I finish the 5th decade of my life realized my depression is clinical. I add fuel to it by recognizing an addictive personality – so many factors of my life have been defined by addiction. I feel fortunate to have responded to recovery in the manner I have. As a friend often says, life is good.

All that said, I believe life doesn’t really happen until you experience someone else’s pain. How many funerals have we walked away from where a person took their own life, and everyone is left with questions. It happens frequently and we are always sad, and for the moment, we do catalogue our own possibilities, and we do recognize how lucky our lives can be. But then reality sets in and life becomes again burdensome, and for me specifically I begin to question purpose.

Recently I was told of a friend’s battle with Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer. This friend is someone I knew in a previous time, and our lives have gone many directions in the last ten years. However, the impact of this news has literally shut me down and made me reflect again on what is my purpose. She is a beautiful person with beautiful children, and I can guarantee she did not choose this path in her final days. She’s younger than me, and today I am faced with the reality of finding perspective.

I spent this last weekend in my hometown, and I watched a music festival that was a lot of fun. My wife and I enjoyed the blues, and I spent rare time with my extended family. Whenever I return to my hometown, I am flooded with childhood memories, couple that with time with my family and it can be precarious. We came home refreshed and in good spirits and the foreboding feeling I receive when returning to my world seemed to creep up slowly. I again began to experience my depression, and the choices I make in my life become centered, and I began to wonder about purpose.

It was then I received an email about my friend. She was diagnosed recently and her condition is untreatable. Here is the quandary. Where I spend the night questioning my purpose and allowing my depression to win, suddenly I hear of this person who has everything in the world to live for and she knows it will be taken away. She doesn’t want that, not now, not in the prime of her life. I thought about her pain all night, and I realized that any time I feel sorry for myself I need to think of my friend and recognize I have chances that other people do not.

People are given windows into the lives of others for a reason. In this case, my friend’s pain is unfortunately my saving grace. I am not debilitated, I am not suffering a terminal illness, I am not losing my mind. God help me that those factors always evade me. Instead I will take her challenge as an inspiration that in her toughness might I show some strength in recognizing I do have a purpose in this life. I do need to move forward if not just for her, for my own well being.

Let’s pray we all might continue to find our purpose and strength to exemplify the life our friends and family might not have the luxury to fully experience.

Lest We Forget, Again

cards_warisnothealthy_detail

For we do that,

oh so often, we do

decide upon a beautiful sunset,

perhaps the rising moon,

a sweet snowfall,

even the rain of a heated summer day,

lets our mind return to the numbing

nature of a human condition

built upon,

the product of denial.

 

But we cannot,

simply look alive people,

please don’t shut your eyes,

there’s a movement,

and this time,

it is your children,

let their voices be heard.

 

Imagine telling a child

you may not skip class to protest

the death of your peer

by senseless gunfire,

imagine telling your children,

I don’t love you enough

to give a crap

about your well being.

Imagine telling a child

when you leave

I’m not going to imagine

a terrible outcome.

 

If we demand our children

stick to the implementation

of a day of lessons

designed in minutia

and instead

forget the very reason,

we brought our child

into this world,

then we have suggested

the concept of love is a fallacy.

 

We are at war,

and the eyes of a child,

certainly contain the heroic passions

of our every tomorrow.

When Will It Happen

When will the day become the reason,

when lives we seem to wonder a loud

become just a natural breeze in the fall.

 

Because we honor tales people create

they seem so simply easy to relate,

and yet, we do every turn complicate.

 

A long time ago, a person listened,

then told the story again, while others

began to recognize some purpose.

 

How many reminders will it take

until acceptance might become

some certain negotiate.

 

Standing outside the same moment,

there will always be a recall,

some symbolic gesture before the fall.

 

While everyone around us debates

a timely reckoning to decide,

the active reality will remain.

 

A long time ago, a certain history

began a repetitive tale of balance.

In the morning stories will continue.

What Rally Cry

Standing alone,

choosing alone,

no dial tone,

seems the last moments

will bend forever

the opportunity

to glance ahead,

beyond the scrutiny

deeply laid inside the victim’s head.

 

and then …

 

There is the question of whose hurt

is more measurable,

the choice,

or the outcome,

the afterward,

or perhaps it is the originator,

who by virtue of the human condition,

isn’t given any allowance

to return the favor of knowledge.

 

We just know the outcome.

On Buying, Sharing, Wondering Love

Oh it is the season now,

and our lives,

torn up, shredded, a certain fodder in the air,

for Man might feel abused,

when in reality,

he ought felt this way,

decades ago,

a century perhaps,

so those followers

could stand a chance.

 

There’s no condemnation

could be strong enough to withstand

the scrutiny of the individual mind.

Oh to recognize the theoretical expanse

of the human condition

taken for chance.

 

If when a cry could send the body reeling,

a ledge perhaps, a modern day semi,

a conductor noticing in a sudden glance,

that life as easily as born,

would become just

an imaginative notion we enhance.

Oh then might the world better understand,

the turmoil in losing our concept on love,

is far greater than the answers we seek,

without the cherished ideal of support of understanding

of forgiveness when fear is our only safeguard.

 

For it is the toys of our world,

we focus upon today,

the frivolous in nature,

the common good toward overcoming the would

of this season

when buying her love is far greater

than actually knowing her sweet elegance.

 

There is lost in the masses of the local bistro,

the purpose in mind,

cell phones inclined,

to keep searching, keep your eyes open,

keep your conscience …

wanting,

we are all in lock-step,

trying to own the sensitive lift,

a spiritual sojourn,

the perfect gift.

The Urge To Move

Felt it?

feel it on occasion,

stuck in traffic seems plausible

in comparison to standing still

unable to navigate the next decision,

next choice,

perhaps a cathartic moment

awaits the imagination,

yet,

for the moment,

the urgency begins to build,

suggesting something has to break …

or are we always in a constant state of projection.