Listening Badly

You don’t mean badly of it

Your constant chatter

About your thoughts, life moments

Ongoing strident tones

Filling every silence to brimming

I don’t mean badly of it

Listening half heartily

To worn tires chatting

Over tired pavement

Rhythms rising from empty drums

A Musing Space

The water, hot and welcomed, pounds my shoulders and cascades around my neck, stripping away the dirt and sweat. Anchoring my hands on the shower wall, I let the water work its magic. I close my eyes, exhale strongly, and release my mind. The water envelops me, my senses, my mind...

Are there sounds that are only heard by the deaf? Are there things unseen to those with sight? Might the angst-ridden beauty of artistic accomplishment reveal itself more clearly to those burdened of twisted mind and unbridled emotion?

My life has been one of growing peace and routine more than artistic angst or spiritual distress. For awhile now, I had grown accustomed to percolating emotions, those feelings that lurk, coiled and ready to strike, manifesting malformed action and self-destructive choices. I have found solace regularly in the creative word. The twist of a poetic phrase or the presence of a story unfolding beneath the key stokes often releases much. Now, it seems that I am driven less and less to release my serpents of spiritual distress. This is different. Not good. Not bad. Just different.

I know the truth. I know that there lies deep within me an eternal presence, my creative magical essence that demands to be known - my familiar, my dragon, The lines of poetry, the tales woven in prose, the occasional burst of fire breathed from comments, are all glimpses of a piece of her being: scales of translucent blue, a sapphire eye blinking in the dusk, the sound of a gentle, rumbling breath, a brush of a powerful tail. She is my eternal muse. I miss her, these days. I sense she misses me.

Yet, here in this steam cloud, beneath the relentless waterfall, while all sound is blasted away, I hear her breath, steady and smooth. Through closed eyes, I see again, the cave where she dwells. It is in this moment I know that I could extend my arm and touch her. I can't help but smile, wondering what journeys await.

We live.

A Conversation with Myself

Him – Lets go hiking this weekend.

Her – Sure. I’d like that.

Him – We could go up to Pilot Mountain. The same trail we did last time.

Her – Sounds good.

Him – Maybe we will beat last week’s time!

Her – Why is it always a competition with you?

Him – What? I’m not trying to beat you.

Her – Not me. Why is always about performance, being better.

Him – Huh? Something wrong with wanting to be better?

Her – That’s not the point. Why can’t you just be…

Him – I am…being better!

Her – Not funny. I give up…

Him – Sorry. Seriously, I don’t follow you.

Her – Why can’t you – we – us just be on a hike? Why does it always have to be about performance, accomplishment? Can’t you just be?

Him – Of course. I am being, I guess. You mean like being one with nature? Meditation and all that?

Her – No. Never mind.

Him – Ok. I don’t have to push for a better time. You can lead. You can set the pace.

Her – Fine…

Him – Look, seriously, it isn’t that important. I really just like hiking with you. I like the way you talk about all sorts of things, and I like listening. I really like being with…

Her – Yes??

Him – I just got it.

Her – Good. So we can just hike together?

Him – Yes. But, we still might make good time.

Her – You’re impossible.

While In the Office

seeking a hike

pounding the sod

finding a beat

gathering a song

starting a dance

Walking Free

perspiration trails down jaw lines
the journey of necessity

vigilance
arms stretch outward

balancing
delicate steps along the precipice of doubt
pained


muscles constrict and release in rhythm
a waltz that dances ever

forward
withered cravings scream
threats

rebellion and unwillingness
fear 


wisps of liberated mist rise
once bound to soil and stone now free

rising
supportive hands appear
lifting

forever a small piece of weighty matter
relief

Resolute Living

We are far enough into the New Year that I have heard and read my fair share of New Year’s posts and opinions.  I guess I’ll take a moment and share my thoughts.

Often I find myself looking in to the New Year and thinking about what new things I want to accomplish. Resolutions are often about what we want to make different in our lives: loose ten pounds, run a marathon, get a better job, save money, reduce debt, stop smoking, etc. There are a few things I hope to accomplish this year, and the truth is that my bets hope of accomplishing these new things isn’t a magical New Year’s resolution. 

I do well to look not so much at what I want to change, but what I am currently doing that is working. Even a momentary reflection on the characteristics of my life that contribute to my success reveals simple habits that, while often difficult to follow, are essential to getting anything done. This year I am beginning with a New Year’s Renew list. I am renewing my commitment to the habits and actions that are a part of my success and then looking at a few things I want to accomplish with these proven, daily habits. The difference is that I am focusing on resolute living rather than living a list of resolutions.

Resolute Living

1. Each day I will decide to abstain from alcohol and other drugs. I have made this choice daily since July 10, 1999 and it has made all the difference in my life
   
2. Pray each morning for “Knowledge of God’s will for me and the power to carry that out.”
3. Respect other peoples (and my) time – be where I have agreed to be when I have agreed to be there. I am not perfect at executing this, but I am committed to the value of it.
4. Be mindful of the Rotary Four-Way Test – Of The Things We Say and Do
1. Is it the Truth?
2. Is it fair to all concerned?
3. Will it build good will and better friendships?
4. Is it beneficial to all concerned?

5. Listen to others and seek to understand their point of view.
6. Pay my bills on time.
7. Exercise multiple times each week.
8. Keep my weight between 145-155lbs.
9. Take the medications prescribed by my doctor as prescribed.
10. Hike.
11. Get a full night’s sleep (6-8 hrs) most nights.
12. Read books for fun.
13. Read books for education.
14. Maintain a blog.
15. Save some money each month.
16. Tell jokes (no matter how lame).
17. Read the comics.
18. Volunteer to help others in some way every month.
19. Work the steps of the simple program that I have chosen to help me better live my life.
20. Never take the advice of someone more messed up than I am.
21. Write about the creative ideas and images that move me.
22. Work faithfully and dependably for my income.
23. Take a vacation with my wife. 

Resolutions for 2009 

1. Attend a writing workshop/class.
2. Speak publicly ten times.
3. Submit something written for publication.
4. Hike the Alum Cave Trail.
5. Purchase a new Audio/Video system for the den.

I am sure there is more, but this is what I have for here, for now…

The Last Cicada

The last cicada sings
Into the crisp fall air
A final call of
Fall’s end, winter’s era

Leaves cling
To branches high
Not one wants
To release and die

A father dreams
Of his son’s flight
But silence returns
From this season’s night

[Chorus]
Seasons change
Seasons go
Season remain
Ever so slow

Summer leaves
To find its fall
The stillness breaks
Upon us all

The last cicada sings
The final tear falls
We are cold
We are so small

A baby cries
Her first breath of life
Mother’s arms are gone
An women will live in strife

[Chorus]

Sometimes we must burrow
Deep into the earth
Waiting there, searching
For the matter of our birth

Remembering when we can
That as this begins
We can return as
The last cicada sings

[Chorus]

The last cicada sings
Into the crisp fall air
A final call of
Fall’s end, winter’s era

Leaves cling
To branches high
Not one wants
To release and die


NOTE: in the depths of a hike in SC, i heard a lone cicada. while only weeks before i had heard the deafening noise of thier community screaming, only one remained. the words above come from that last cicada's song.

Hiking It Off

The earth under foot
Passing
Thoughts fade into
Absence
Embraces singularity
Feels
Effortless striding
Forth
Coming homeward
Bound
Less of me resting
Heavy
Burdens dripping
Soaking
Into the soil beneath
Me