It's here at last, Memorial Day weekend, the unofficial start to summer. If you're like most people, you'll be doing one of two things: camping or getting together with friends and/or family to do a little grilling and perhaps a little more drinking.
I will actually be doing a bit of both. Teresa, Christopher and I will be camping in eastern Oregon this weekend. While we're in our home away from home, I expect we'll do a little drinking, especially some red wine with some grilled steaks on Saturday. I also plan to try my hand at making some apple cobbler in our dutch oven.
I hope each of you has a wonderful and safe holiday weekend. Whatever you'll be doing this weekend, I hope you will take a few moments to remember the real reason for Memorial Day.
Whether you agreed with the specific policies at the time or not (and I disagreed with many of them), take a moment to honor those who did their duty as it was given to them and in the end paid the ultimate price. Because we as people are sometimes unable or unwilling to understand, accept, or tolerate a point of view that does not agree with our own, others are asked to put themselves in harm's way
Perhaps one day, those we remember on Memorial Day will seem to have come from an almost mythical past, somewhat in the same sense that we now think about the medieval era (the legends of King Arthur, for example). Sadly, though, I feel we are destined to continue to try to resolve our differences on the battlefield and that there will be new names to remember on Memorial Days to come. Would that it were not so.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Convergence
These days, it seems as if time is folding in upon itself. Since joining Facebook several weeks back I have been able to engage in an electronic form of time travel.
In the last few weeks, I have reconnected, albeit superficially perhaps, with two people I went to college with years ago (32 and 15 years, respectively), another handful of people I worked with in another lifetime when I was in television, a couple of friends I haven't seen or spoken to in more than a decade, and even a couple of family members I last spoke to seven years ago.
As a result of joining Facebook, my past has come careening into my present. Thanks to joining Facebook, I had the opportunity to meet up with a friend from my days living in Alabama, a visit that would not have occurred if not for Facebook.
Now that this time spiral has begun, there seems no end to the potential pieces of my past I might encounter again. Last night, I got a call from my cousin Vince, whom I had not spoken to in nearly seven years. It so happened he was going to be laying over in Boise and wondered if he could stay the night with us.
We had a nice, although short visit before he flew out for home this morning. I was struck by the fact that he sounded the same as he did the last time we talked but looked more like his dad than ever.
Although his visit was not directly connected to my having joined Facebook, it seems that act has set a whole chain of events into motion. I spent years running and hiding from large chunks of my past. Now it seems Facebook has become one of the tools (along with therapy) through I can stop the running and make peace with the more negative aspects of my past and embrace the good pieces that also got left behind. And that's a good thing.
In the last few weeks, I have reconnected, albeit superficially perhaps, with two people I went to college with years ago (32 and 15 years, respectively), another handful of people I worked with in another lifetime when I was in television, a couple of friends I haven't seen or spoken to in more than a decade, and even a couple of family members I last spoke to seven years ago.
As a result of joining Facebook, my past has come careening into my present. Thanks to joining Facebook, I had the opportunity to meet up with a friend from my days living in Alabama, a visit that would not have occurred if not for Facebook.
Now that this time spiral has begun, there seems no end to the potential pieces of my past I might encounter again. Last night, I got a call from my cousin Vince, whom I had not spoken to in nearly seven years. It so happened he was going to be laying over in Boise and wondered if he could stay the night with us.
We had a nice, although short visit before he flew out for home this morning. I was struck by the fact that he sounded the same as he did the last time we talked but looked more like his dad than ever.
Although his visit was not directly connected to my having joined Facebook, it seems that act has set a whole chain of events into motion. I spent years running and hiding from large chunks of my past. Now it seems Facebook has become one of the tools (along with therapy) through I can stop the running and make peace with the more negative aspects of my past and embrace the good pieces that also got left behind. And that's a good thing.
Monday, May 4, 2009
A Little Wordplay
I was coming out of my therapy session on Friday, and I noticed three or four EXIT signs in the space of what seemed like 20 feet. My mind, being twisted the way it is, started to play around with the word.
After seeing the third EXIT sign, I started to read it as "Ex-It," as in the flavor of the month celebrity. We are big believers in celebrity. The vast majority of us kneel at the altar of fame.
I suppose it's always been that way. In the 1920s, the world went wild for Charles Lindbergh after he flew across the Atlantic. These days, we have massive parades for every sports team that wins a championship in its respective league.
Of course, not everyone can be a famous aviator or athlete, but most of us want our moment in the sun, our time in the spotlight. Leave it to television to provide not one but several "solutions."
First, there was the good old game show. Some, like Jeopardy, require some ability or talent. Others, like Let's Make a Deal and The Gong Show, only seemed to require a willingness to throw all human restraint out the window.
Now, with shows like American Idol, people can combine their quest for fame or notoriety with their need for instant gratification, provided they fit the right age demographic and are prepared to fade from public view almost as far as they arrived.
Aside from Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood, has any winner or finalist from American Idol shown any staying power? Ruben Studdard is now trying to make a living in touring companies of Broadway shows. What about Clay Aiken and Taylor Hicks? Whither they?
Chances are, those who have fallen so fast will not be back. We live in a society searching so frantically for the Next Big Thing we have no time for "yesterday's news." While we say we like a good comeback story, we seldom allow it to happen.
One notable exception, for better or worse, appears to be Britney Spears. For several years starting in the late 1990s, Britney was definitely "it." Her face and voice (not to mention her lack of attire) were everywhere. Then she spiraled out of control and, if anything, became more famous, because if there is anything we like more than a successful celebrity it is one rushing headlong toward the inevitable train wreck.
Yet, just as things began to quiet down and Britney was moving toward "Ex-It" status, she managed to stage what so far has been a fairly successful comeback. Perhaps it is only a temporary reprieve from "Ex-It" status. If that is in fact the case, she will have plenty of company as an "Ex-It."
Isn't it funny the journey one's mind can take just from looking at a sign.
After seeing the third EXIT sign, I started to read it as "Ex-It," as in the flavor of the month celebrity. We are big believers in celebrity. The vast majority of us kneel at the altar of fame.
I suppose it's always been that way. In the 1920s, the world went wild for Charles Lindbergh after he flew across the Atlantic. These days, we have massive parades for every sports team that wins a championship in its respective league.
Of course, not everyone can be a famous aviator or athlete, but most of us want our moment in the sun, our time in the spotlight. Leave it to television to provide not one but several "solutions."
First, there was the good old game show. Some, like Jeopardy, require some ability or talent. Others, like Let's Make a Deal and The Gong Show, only seemed to require a willingness to throw all human restraint out the window.
Now, with shows like American Idol, people can combine their quest for fame or notoriety with their need for instant gratification, provided they fit the right age demographic and are prepared to fade from public view almost as far as they arrived.
Aside from Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood, has any winner or finalist from American Idol shown any staying power? Ruben Studdard is now trying to make a living in touring companies of Broadway shows. What about Clay Aiken and Taylor Hicks? Whither they?
Chances are, those who have fallen so fast will not be back. We live in a society searching so frantically for the Next Big Thing we have no time for "yesterday's news." While we say we like a good comeback story, we seldom allow it to happen.
One notable exception, for better or worse, appears to be Britney Spears. For several years starting in the late 1990s, Britney was definitely "it." Her face and voice (not to mention her lack of attire) were everywhere. Then she spiraled out of control and, if anything, became more famous, because if there is anything we like more than a successful celebrity it is one rushing headlong toward the inevitable train wreck.
Yet, just as things began to quiet down and Britney was moving toward "Ex-It" status, she managed to stage what so far has been a fairly successful comeback. Perhaps it is only a temporary reprieve from "Ex-It" status. If that is in fact the case, she will have plenty of company as an "Ex-It."
Isn't it funny the journey one's mind can take just from looking at a sign.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
As promised and without further ado
I did say I would put up a few writing samples, so here are three. The first is a poem; the remaining two are song lyrics. Don't be afraid to tell me what you think.
Apocalypse
I am walking on a dark deserted road
With nothing to light my way
And no one to break the unbearable
Silence that engulfs me.
I trip, then stumble, reaching out
Into blackness to brace myself
Against thin air should I start to fall.
I cannot see far enough ahead
To know which direction I should turn
Which way leads to safety?
Which will put me in harm's way?
I expect no answer and am not disappointed.
As I walk, my mind's television
Replays past episodes in a non-stop marathon.
Even knowing how each one ends
They still have the power to shock, to hurt.
Now that's entertainment!
My trip through dusty mental corridors
Is interrupted when, in the distance,
I hear a young boy's voice call out for help.
I walk toward the sound
But it remains ever distant.
Can I close the distance
And reach the voice in time?
Running now, I try to reach him, to save him
From that imagined and unseen Fate
With such power to terrify. Still,
The voice keeps calling to me
But it is more faint, as if resigned
To that unknown which awaits it.
Running, I struggle to reach the voice
When suddenly, the sound is gone.
The voice is silent.
I am too late. The child is gone.
At once, there is awareness
As the all too powerful truth reveals itself.
In that instant, I realize
The child is me. And I am lost.
Broken
See the old man shuffle down the street
He turns his eyes from every face he meets
The things he's done, the pain he feels inside
No one can guess
In Vietnam, he won a Silver Star
But lost his wife because he'd gone too far
Now he locks it all down deep within
And does his best
Broken and beaten down
Patiently hoping things will turn around
But if you listen close, you'll hear the sound
Of uncried tears and unvoiced fears
Broken and bruised inside
Simply searching for a place to hide
From the memories of dreams that died
Lost long ago
See the young girl lying on the ground
Twelve stories later, peace she's finally found
What caused the break, what was the final straw
No one can know
Turned out on the street at 17
She tried to stay nice in a world turned mean
Until at 21, she'd seen enough
And let it go
Broken and beaten down
Finally gave up hope things would turn around
But in the final silence echoes sounds
Of uncried tears and unvoiced fears
Broken and bruised inside
Taking flight to find a place to hide
From the memories of dreams that died
Not long ago
Like a puzzle with a missing piece
A glass that's shattered on the ground
Something left them feeling incomplete
And what they sought was never found
The old man lives life in a private hell
Goes through the motions answering the bell
Searching for answers in a wishing well
They're buried deep
Broken and beaten down
Desparately hoping things will turn around
But if you listen close, you'll hear the sound
Of uncried tears and unvoiced fears
Broken and bruised inside
Simply searching for a place to hide
From the memories of dreams that died
Lost long ago
Memories of dreams down deep inside
He can't let go
Now, to end on a brighter note (think Bruce Springsteen's "Fire" crossed with Dr. John and a little Mardi Gras flavor):
With Arms Open Wide
I saw you standing in the corner -
I thought I'd take a closer look -
And when I got you on the dance floor
You know one dance is all it took -
I thought that this could be forever -
I felt that you could be the one -
But girl, now please don't let me rush you -
I know the fun has just begun -
But when I look into your eyes I see
Something I've never seen before
I see a window into someone else's heart
And right beside it there's an open door
I think I'll take a chance and walk on through
To see what's on the other side
I hope that I will find you waiting there for me
With arms open wide
I know it shouldn't be this simple -
I know that I should shop around -
But I know I'll find nothing better -
Than what I've already found -
(instrumental - horns)
But when I look into your eyes I see
Something I've never seen before
I see a window into someone else's heart
And right beside it there's an open door
I think I'll take a chance and walk on through
To see what's on the other side
I hope that I will find you waiting there for me
With arms open wide
I know it shouldn't be this simple -
I know that I should shop around -
But I know I'll find nothing better -
Than what I've already found -
(instrumental - horns out)
Apocalypse
I am walking on a dark deserted road
With nothing to light my way
And no one to break the unbearable
Silence that engulfs me.
I trip, then stumble, reaching out
Into blackness to brace myself
Against thin air should I start to fall.
I cannot see far enough ahead
To know which direction I should turn
Which way leads to safety?
Which will put me in harm's way?
I expect no answer and am not disappointed.
As I walk, my mind's television
Replays past episodes in a non-stop marathon.
Even knowing how each one ends
They still have the power to shock, to hurt.
Now that's entertainment!
My trip through dusty mental corridors
Is interrupted when, in the distance,
I hear a young boy's voice call out for help.
I walk toward the sound
But it remains ever distant.
Can I close the distance
And reach the voice in time?
Running now, I try to reach him, to save him
From that imagined and unseen Fate
With such power to terrify. Still,
The voice keeps calling to me
But it is more faint, as if resigned
To that unknown which awaits it.
Running, I struggle to reach the voice
When suddenly, the sound is gone.
The voice is silent.
I am too late. The child is gone.
At once, there is awareness
As the all too powerful truth reveals itself.
In that instant, I realize
The child is me. And I am lost.
Broken
See the old man shuffle down the street
He turns his eyes from every face he meets
The things he's done, the pain he feels inside
No one can guess
In Vietnam, he won a Silver Star
But lost his wife because he'd gone too far
Now he locks it all down deep within
And does his best
Broken and beaten down
Patiently hoping things will turn around
But if you listen close, you'll hear the sound
Of uncried tears and unvoiced fears
Broken and bruised inside
Simply searching for a place to hide
From the memories of dreams that died
Lost long ago
See the young girl lying on the ground
Twelve stories later, peace she's finally found
What caused the break, what was the final straw
No one can know
Turned out on the street at 17
She tried to stay nice in a world turned mean
Until at 21, she'd seen enough
And let it go
Broken and beaten down
Finally gave up hope things would turn around
But in the final silence echoes sounds
Of uncried tears and unvoiced fears
Broken and bruised inside
Taking flight to find a place to hide
From the memories of dreams that died
Not long ago
Like a puzzle with a missing piece
A glass that's shattered on the ground
Something left them feeling incomplete
And what they sought was never found
The old man lives life in a private hell
Goes through the motions answering the bell
Searching for answers in a wishing well
They're buried deep
Broken and beaten down
Desparately hoping things will turn around
But if you listen close, you'll hear the sound
Of uncried tears and unvoiced fears
Broken and bruised inside
Simply searching for a place to hide
From the memories of dreams that died
Lost long ago
Memories of dreams down deep inside
He can't let go
Now, to end on a brighter note (think Bruce Springsteen's "Fire" crossed with Dr. John and a little Mardi Gras flavor):
With Arms Open Wide
I saw you standing in the corner -
I thought I'd take a closer look -
And when I got you on the dance floor
You know one dance is all it took -
I thought that this could be forever -
I felt that you could be the one -
But girl, now please don't let me rush you -
I know the fun has just begun -
But when I look into your eyes I see
Something I've never seen before
I see a window into someone else's heart
And right beside it there's an open door
I think I'll take a chance and walk on through
To see what's on the other side
I hope that I will find you waiting there for me
With arms open wide
I know it shouldn't be this simple -
I know that I should shop around -
But I know I'll find nothing better -
Than what I've already found -
(instrumental - horns)
But when I look into your eyes I see
Something I've never seen before
I see a window into someone else's heart
And right beside it there's an open door
I think I'll take a chance and walk on through
To see what's on the other side
I hope that I will find you waiting there for me
With arms open wide
I know it shouldn't be this simple -
I know that I should shop around -
But I know I'll find nothing better -
Than what I've already found -
(instrumental - horns out)
"Face" time
I recently joined the millions of people who are a part of the Facebook family. It is amazing to see so many familiar names already a part of this social network. Even more amazing to me is that Facebook allows me to time travel in a way.
When I first signed up for my Facebook account, I decided to search around and see if I could find some of the faces from my more distant past. To my amazement, I found someone I went to school with in the 1970s, someone I worked with 20 years ago, and someone I went to school with in the mid-1990s.
I'm not sure this is what Einstein had in mind with his theory of relativity and his idea that one could travel in time if they could go faster than the speed of light. But to me it is a form of time travel and on several levels.
First, there is for me the sense of traveling back in time as reconnect with people from my distant past. In this regard, I think there is also a sense of rewriting history as I am able to at least slightly alter the endings of these relationships.
There is also a sense of time standing still or at least a blurring between past and present (and perhaps future) as I move back and forth amongst the people from my past and those of my present. I find myself at times trying to remember what I was like in these other lives and balance that against and with the person I am today.
Conversely, there is also a sense of time rushing past at a rate faster than normal. Having only been a "Facebooker" for a few days, I already see the potential for spending and even losing hours at a time posting, commenting on others' posts, searching for new friends, and checking to see which friends are online.
There is a similar contradiction in the whole notion of the "friend" on Facebook. Facebook offers the promise of connection with others, but I can already see just how illusory that promise can be. If someone confirms you as a friend or you confirm someone else as a friend but there is no subsequent interaction, just how much of a connection is there?
That is the double-edged sword of Facebook. There can be connection to the point of over-saturation, perhaps even addiction. At the same time, there is also the danger of public isolation for all to see. I have already come across a number of people for whom, when I click on their names, Facebook says they have no friends.
At the other end of the spectrum are those who have hundreds of friends, maybe more. (As I write this, I have 12.) Just how connected can one person be with hundreds of others? And just how connected can any one of those hundreds of people feel?
Does having such a large network of "friends" diminish the meaning and the sense of either connection or friendship? Or is this merely the next step in multitasking the many facets of our lives: work, family, friends, leisure? I'll be watching and reading on Facebook to see if I can answer that question for myself.
When I first signed up for my Facebook account, I decided to search around and see if I could find some of the faces from my more distant past. To my amazement, I found someone I went to school with in the 1970s, someone I worked with 20 years ago, and someone I went to school with in the mid-1990s.
I'm not sure this is what Einstein had in mind with his theory of relativity and his idea that one could travel in time if they could go faster than the speed of light. But to me it is a form of time travel and on several levels.
First, there is for me the sense of traveling back in time as reconnect with people from my distant past. In this regard, I think there is also a sense of rewriting history as I am able to at least slightly alter the endings of these relationships.
There is also a sense of time standing still or at least a blurring between past and present (and perhaps future) as I move back and forth amongst the people from my past and those of my present. I find myself at times trying to remember what I was like in these other lives and balance that against and with the person I am today.
Conversely, there is also a sense of time rushing past at a rate faster than normal. Having only been a "Facebooker" for a few days, I already see the potential for spending and even losing hours at a time posting, commenting on others' posts, searching for new friends, and checking to see which friends are online.
There is a similar contradiction in the whole notion of the "friend" on Facebook. Facebook offers the promise of connection with others, but I can already see just how illusory that promise can be. If someone confirms you as a friend or you confirm someone else as a friend but there is no subsequent interaction, just how much of a connection is there?
That is the double-edged sword of Facebook. There can be connection to the point of over-saturation, perhaps even addiction. At the same time, there is also the danger of public isolation for all to see. I have already come across a number of people for whom, when I click on their names, Facebook says they have no friends.
At the other end of the spectrum are those who have hundreds of friends, maybe more. (As I write this, I have 12.) Just how connected can one person be with hundreds of others? And just how connected can any one of those hundreds of people feel?
Does having such a large network of "friends" diminish the meaning and the sense of either connection or friendship? Or is this merely the next step in multitasking the many facets of our lives: work, family, friends, leisure? I'll be watching and reading on Facebook to see if I can answer that question for myself.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Warmer Weather and Other Random Thoughts
It's been a couple of months since my last post. So it is high time I updated this blog.
My last post had to do with our then new to the family Beagle, Oliver, and the impact he has had on me. That impact continues to grow, emotionally and, sadly, financially. This past week I had to take him back to the vet for another ear infections - $200, Ouch! My wife refers to Oliver as the "grand" dog because that's how much we have spent on him so far.
Now that the weather is starting to warm up around here we are dealing with another issue, shedding. So far, Oliver has left us enough hair to knit a fair-sized area rug.
On the plus side, the warmer weather is giving us a chance to find out how much fun camping with a dog can be. We made one trip out April 17-19 and hope to get out again soon, maybe this weekend. I think Oliver made the trip a much more memorable experience for all of us.
Since the last post, I hosted a dinner party for friends at our house. I think we ended up with ten or 11 people in all, and I know I had a great time cooking for everyone. I think they all had a good time eating as well. I hope to do something similar sometime in the fall. I love cooking for others and having the chance to get together with friends and hopefully get to know them better.
In the meantime, I continue the journey to know myself better. It has now been almost five months since I started seeing a therapist, and I feel I have come quite a ways although I am still most definitely a work in progress. I can say, though, that I feel like I am starting to cut away some of the scar tissue left by the events of my childhood.
I'm writing lyrics again, something I did quite frequently in my teens and 20s. I stopped when I got married because I thought I no longer needed to do that. These days, I find perhaps more than ever that writing lyrics allows me to get to some of the emotions long buried in me and to also express what for me are new emotions. Look for samples in future posts.
I could keep going, but I guess I'll save something for the next post. Until then, be well. Be happy.
My last post had to do with our then new to the family Beagle, Oliver, and the impact he has had on me. That impact continues to grow, emotionally and, sadly, financially. This past week I had to take him back to the vet for another ear infections - $200, Ouch! My wife refers to Oliver as the "grand" dog because that's how much we have spent on him so far.
Now that the weather is starting to warm up around here we are dealing with another issue, shedding. So far, Oliver has left us enough hair to knit a fair-sized area rug.
On the plus side, the warmer weather is giving us a chance to find out how much fun camping with a dog can be. We made one trip out April 17-19 and hope to get out again soon, maybe this weekend. I think Oliver made the trip a much more memorable experience for all of us.
Since the last post, I hosted a dinner party for friends at our house. I think we ended up with ten or 11 people in all, and I know I had a great time cooking for everyone. I think they all had a good time eating as well. I hope to do something similar sometime in the fall. I love cooking for others and having the chance to get together with friends and hopefully get to know them better.
In the meantime, I continue the journey to know myself better. It has now been almost five months since I started seeing a therapist, and I feel I have come quite a ways although I am still most definitely a work in progress. I can say, though, that I feel like I am starting to cut away some of the scar tissue left by the events of my childhood.
I'm writing lyrics again, something I did quite frequently in my teens and 20s. I stopped when I got married because I thought I no longer needed to do that. These days, I find perhaps more than ever that writing lyrics allows me to get to some of the emotions long buried in me and to also express what for me are new emotions. Look for samples in future posts.
I could keep going, but I guess I'll save something for the next post. Until then, be well. Be happy.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Therapy of the four-legged variety
It's been a little more than a month since my last post. I hadn't realized how much time had passed. Time for an update.
I've now been in therapy for just over two months. A few things have changed. I feel myself now moving slowly in the right direction. I recognize the journey ahead is a long one, but I feel I am now at least moving.
One big change is the addition of a four-legged member to our family. Oliver is a four-year old Beagle, and he has brought me a great deal of joy since joining our family. Here's a shot of the newest member of the family:
As you can see, he is a real sweetheart. Even though he is four, there is still a little of the puppy in him.
Even after a bad or a hard day at work, Oliver has the ability to brighten my day as soon as I get in the door. Friends of mine with dogs are not surprised by this, but I have to admit I was amazed at just how much of an effect this little bundle of love and energy has on me.
While my therapist and I continue to work on life-ling issues that keep me from truly living my life, Oliver has the cure for what ails me on a day-to-day basis. I am so glad to have him in my life and in the family.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Mixed Feelings and Thoughts on Eternal Life
Is it possible to feel both good and bad at the same time? If so, how does one balance the two emotions to keep from slipping into utter chaos? That is the challenge I wrestle with at the moment.
The good feeling stems from the fact that my wife was promoted last week, on her birthday no less. I am happy for her and proud of her. She certainly deserves it. We celebrated the events (promotion and birthday) by going to dinner with our son to a nice Italian restaurant. No one can say we aren't doing our part to stimulate the economy.
The bad feeling comes from the fact that my best friend lost her job last week. It was a job she took because her existing job had been moved to my location and to me.
When she called to tell me what had happened, she went out of her way to make sure I wasn't feeling guilty about the turn of events. As she rightly stated, her old job was going away whether I was the one who took it or not. I have, though, managed to feel guilty about that fact since she and I first met.
At the time of her call, however, I was not feeling guilty. I have since started to feel that way a little. Somewhere inside me is the notion that this latest job would have worked out if she had not had to divide her time between it and training me. In my head, I know there were other reasons for keeping the old job while beginning the new one, but my heart can't quite escape the guilty feeling.
Worse still, her day had started with her having to have her 13-year old dog put to sleep. For those like her who are able to form special bonds with their pets, having to put a pet down is like killing one of your children. It hurts like hell.
When I was a boy, my cat got into a fight with two dogs and lost. I sat with him for an hour or so until he died. Then I cried for him and for me and what had been lost. Last week, I cried for my friend and for her loss because I knew a little of what that loss felt like.
One thing I asked my friend to hold on to was the memories of the times she and her dog spent together. I told her and I believe that as long as we hold the memories in our hearts, that loved one, whether human or pet, is never really gone, never really dies. I am beginning to think that is part of what eternal life is, what it means to live forever.
The good feeling stems from the fact that my wife was promoted last week, on her birthday no less. I am happy for her and proud of her. She certainly deserves it. We celebrated the events (promotion and birthday) by going to dinner with our son to a nice Italian restaurant. No one can say we aren't doing our part to stimulate the economy.
The bad feeling comes from the fact that my best friend lost her job last week. It was a job she took because her existing job had been moved to my location and to me.
When she called to tell me what had happened, she went out of her way to make sure I wasn't feeling guilty about the turn of events. As she rightly stated, her old job was going away whether I was the one who took it or not. I have, though, managed to feel guilty about that fact since she and I first met.
At the time of her call, however, I was not feeling guilty. I have since started to feel that way a little. Somewhere inside me is the notion that this latest job would have worked out if she had not had to divide her time between it and training me. In my head, I know there were other reasons for keeping the old job while beginning the new one, but my heart can't quite escape the guilty feeling.
Worse still, her day had started with her having to have her 13-year old dog put to sleep. For those like her who are able to form special bonds with their pets, having to put a pet down is like killing one of your children. It hurts like hell.
When I was a boy, my cat got into a fight with two dogs and lost. I sat with him for an hour or so until he died. Then I cried for him and for me and what had been lost. Last week, I cried for my friend and for her loss because I knew a little of what that loss felt like.
One thing I asked my friend to hold on to was the memories of the times she and her dog spent together. I told her and I believe that as long as we hold the memories in our hearts, that loved one, whether human or pet, is never really gone, never really dies. I am beginning to think that is part of what eternal life is, what it means to live forever.
Monday, January 5, 2009
The Three Ages of Man
This is a topic I had considered writing about several weeks ago, prior to what could be termed my emotional meltdown. Somehow, with the onset of a new year and the reading I have been doing in the Conversations with God book series by Neale Donald Walsch, the time seems right to return to this notion and set down my thoughts.
First, let me say that I am not speaking of historical eras, such as the Industrial Age. No, the three ages of man that I am concerned with are internal components of each one of us. Those three ages are: emotional, intellectual, and physical. Together, the make up what could be termed our relative age.
In some respect, each of these ages are moving targets, and they are not always advancing upward, not even our physical age. For instance, how often have you heard someone say they feel like a kid again? Or, perhaps in the midst of an adrenaline rush, they are able to do something they had been unable to do for years.
For some of us, our physical age seems to advance exponentially rather than incrementally. I am 52, but there are days when I feel more like 72 due to occasional hip pain that extends into my knee. Stiffness in my back sometimes causes me to hobble around (at least until I am warmed up a bit) like someone much older.
With regard to intellectual age, how often have you said or heard someone else say "she's wise beyond her years" or "he has the mind of a child"? Then of course there is the child who is so brilliant mentally he or she is able to enter college at the age of 12 or 13. Physically and emotionally, this youngster is 12 or 13, but intellectually, he or she is 18 or 19 or even older.
Finally, there is the emotional age. Often, we hear about this age in a negative sense, such as when a parent admonishes a child for "acting like a two-year old." This age can also be impacted by trauma of some sort in the home, such as when a parent dies or when a child is excessively sheltered.
In my case, this is the age I have the most difficulty pinpointing. Because of my parent's divorce when I was five, followed by living in some fairly abusive relationships as a child accompanied by nearly complete withholding of human affection at times, my emotional age is nowhere near as advanced as my physical or intellectual age.
I often have trouble connecting with people or getting close to them for that matter. In fact, the closest friendship I currently have would likely have never developed if it had not been for e-mail. Face to face, I move much more slowly and defensively, to the point that most people don't take the time, and I don't blame them.
I also suspect that I can, at times, behave in a manner more befitting a 15-year old with a crush than a 52-year old adult. My emotional development has been stifled in some regards, so that it is sometimes difficult for me to know or to recognize when a line has been crossed and behavior begins to border on the inappropriate.
This is an issue I struggle with (as do many, I suspect) as I begin to get more accustomed to the simple idea of feeling and expressing feeling. The balance is not yet there, but with the help of friends, family, and professionals, it will come in time.
The Conversations with God books talk about the idea that there is really no such thing as time, that now is all there is. The implication in this is that each moment is made up of past, present, and future, and that they are in some ways interchangeable. When I think of the fluid nature of age when thought of in terms of the three ages I have discussed here, that whole notion seems to make much more sense.
First, let me say that I am not speaking of historical eras, such as the Industrial Age. No, the three ages of man that I am concerned with are internal components of each one of us. Those three ages are: emotional, intellectual, and physical. Together, the make up what could be termed our relative age.
In some respect, each of these ages are moving targets, and they are not always advancing upward, not even our physical age. For instance, how often have you heard someone say they feel like a kid again? Or, perhaps in the midst of an adrenaline rush, they are able to do something they had been unable to do for years.
For some of us, our physical age seems to advance exponentially rather than incrementally. I am 52, but there are days when I feel more like 72 due to occasional hip pain that extends into my knee. Stiffness in my back sometimes causes me to hobble around (at least until I am warmed up a bit) like someone much older.
With regard to intellectual age, how often have you said or heard someone else say "she's wise beyond her years" or "he has the mind of a child"? Then of course there is the child who is so brilliant mentally he or she is able to enter college at the age of 12 or 13. Physically and emotionally, this youngster is 12 or 13, but intellectually, he or she is 18 or 19 or even older.
Finally, there is the emotional age. Often, we hear about this age in a negative sense, such as when a parent admonishes a child for "acting like a two-year old." This age can also be impacted by trauma of some sort in the home, such as when a parent dies or when a child is excessively sheltered.
In my case, this is the age I have the most difficulty pinpointing. Because of my parent's divorce when I was five, followed by living in some fairly abusive relationships as a child accompanied by nearly complete withholding of human affection at times, my emotional age is nowhere near as advanced as my physical or intellectual age.
I often have trouble connecting with people or getting close to them for that matter. In fact, the closest friendship I currently have would likely have never developed if it had not been for e-mail. Face to face, I move much more slowly and defensively, to the point that most people don't take the time, and I don't blame them.
I also suspect that I can, at times, behave in a manner more befitting a 15-year old with a crush than a 52-year old adult. My emotional development has been stifled in some regards, so that it is sometimes difficult for me to know or to recognize when a line has been crossed and behavior begins to border on the inappropriate.
This is an issue I struggle with (as do many, I suspect) as I begin to get more accustomed to the simple idea of feeling and expressing feeling. The balance is not yet there, but with the help of friends, family, and professionals, it will come in time.
The Conversations with God books talk about the idea that there is really no such thing as time, that now is all there is. The implication in this is that each moment is made up of past, present, and future, and that they are in some ways interchangeable. When I think of the fluid nature of age when thought of in terms of the three ages I have discussed here, that whole notion seems to make much more sense.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Looking Forward to 2009
The new year is upon us, and what a year it promises to be. Global economic meltdown, war and unrest nearly everywhere you turn, in short, not much cause for celebration.
Yet that it what many people around the world did last night, and in my own quiet way, I was among them. On a macro scale, there may not be reason for optimism, but on a micro scale there is, for each new year brings another chance for renewal. This year, I intend to take it.
When I was younger and somewhat idealistic, I made New Year's resolutions, ten of them each year, systematically, right at midnight. As I got older and less idealistic, I stopped making resolutions because I found I was unable or unwilling to keep any of them.
This year, my 53rd on this planet, I have decided to make some resolutions again because I know in heart this year will not be like any other I have lived. For me, that will be a good thing.
The end of 2008 saw me begin therapy and begin a journey into myself. That journey will continue in 2009 as I work to tear down the inner walls that have kept me from achieving all that I am capable of, loving others more fully and more deeply, and truly being a part of the human condition.
I am lucky and blessed to have the love and support of a wonderful wife, Teresa, who has stuck by me through good and bad for 15 years. She has seen what was possible in me and waited patiently for me to see it too.
I am equally blessed to have the encouragement, support, and friendship of perhaps the best friend I have ever had. Heidi's encouragement and caring nature helped me to find the road back to myself and to begin the journey toward inner healing.
I am very lucky to have two truly special women in my life. For them and for the others who share a part of my journey, I want to make 2009 my year of change. I want to begin the work toward becoming the best me I can be. Toward that end, I have made six resolutions for the coming year:
Yet that it what many people around the world did last night, and in my own quiet way, I was among them. On a macro scale, there may not be reason for optimism, but on a micro scale there is, for each new year brings another chance for renewal. This year, I intend to take it.
When I was younger and somewhat idealistic, I made New Year's resolutions, ten of them each year, systematically, right at midnight. As I got older and less idealistic, I stopped making resolutions because I found I was unable or unwilling to keep any of them.
This year, my 53rd on this planet, I have decided to make some resolutions again because I know in heart this year will not be like any other I have lived. For me, that will be a good thing.
The end of 2008 saw me begin therapy and begin a journey into myself. That journey will continue in 2009 as I work to tear down the inner walls that have kept me from achieving all that I am capable of, loving others more fully and more deeply, and truly being a part of the human condition.
I am lucky and blessed to have the love and support of a wonderful wife, Teresa, who has stuck by me through good and bad for 15 years. She has seen what was possible in me and waited patiently for me to see it too.
I am equally blessed to have the encouragement, support, and friendship of perhaps the best friend I have ever had. Heidi's encouragement and caring nature helped me to find the road back to myself and to begin the journey toward inner healing.
I am very lucky to have two truly special women in my life. For them and for the others who share a part of my journey, I want to make 2009 my year of change. I want to begin the work toward becoming the best me I can be. Toward that end, I have made six resolutions for the coming year:
- To be more open.
This is a somewhat open-ended resolution, and it is meant to be. I hope to become more open to my feelings, to new experiences, and to those around me. I will work to not close myself off from others and make myself distant and unapproachable. - To make new and more connections with others.
I have had a number of wonderful people pass in and out of my life through the years, and I have managed to lose touch, lose connection with all of them. I am now fortunate to know some wonderful people, a few of whom I call friends, others whom I hope to be able to call friends in 2009. That will require me not closing off from others. - To release the writer inside me and to make the time to write.
For years, I have always said I wanted to be a writer, but outside of a few spurts here and there I did not write. I spent more than a decade in broadcasting because it gave me a writing outlet, but I never pursued much writing beyond that. Lately, I have begun writing lyrics and poetry again. This blog is also an extension of my rediscovered desire to write. In 2009, I intend to continue this blog and to extend into short stories and perhaps other fiction. - To grow as a husband, as a father, and as a friend.
These three areas represent my greatest shortcomings in the past, as I have not been all I could be in any of these areas. That will change in 2009, even as it began to change at the end of 2008. Teresa and Heidi have already given me opportunities to grow in two of those areas. My son will, no doubt, provide ample opportunity to grow in the remaining area. - To open the door to my life and to be the change I seek.
This resolution comes out of reading the Conversations with God series of books by Neale Donald Walsch, which I highly recommend. One of the themes that runs through these books is the idea of believing you already have whatever it is you seek and you will find that you have it. - To take better care of myself and of the gifts I have been given.
I have abilities I have never taken full advantage of or used to their fullest capability. 2009 is the year that starts to change. The care I speak of is three-fold: physical, mental, and emotional. I have begun the process toward taking better emotional care of myself, which will also help bring my mental side into better balance. As that occurs, I will then add in the physical component so that I can better enjoy the people and the things around me.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Merry Christmas
The last gifts have been wrapped and put under the tree. My son and my wife have both gone to bed, and I sit here early on this Christmas morning and ponder what it is I truly want this year.
For most of the run up to this Christmas I have been dreading the day and its arrival. Now that it is here, however, I am at last ready for it. I am ready for the anticipation and the joy in my son's face when he opens a package to find something he asked for as well as the disappointment he will no doubt express when he doesn't get everything he asked for.
There will probably be a few packages under the tree with my name on them, but I have already received the best Christmas gifts I have ever been given - an opportunity for redemption, a chance to redeem my life and live it as it always should have been lived. Not in fear or guilt but in love and joy.
What made that gift possible was a possibly even greater gift - the gift of one person to another. One person who could easily have treated me with resentment and even hatred but instead showed kindness and compassion. She gave of herself and of her self. In the process, she pointed the way to my self and helped to set me on the road to wholeness.
Heidi, mere words of thanks do not seem adequate. You rose above your own cares to offer me encouragement and friendship. That gift is beyond measure. I truly believe you were sent by God to help me find my way out of the wilderness. For that, I will always be grateful.
My wish for everyone this Christmas and in the new year to come is that each of you will find such a friend. They are hard to come by, but when you do find such a friend you are truly rich beyond compare. This Christmas, I count myself amongst the richest men on Earth. I have a family that loves me and a friend who encourages me and allows me to be more than I have ever been. I am truly blessed.
Merry Christmas!
For most of the run up to this Christmas I have been dreading the day and its arrival. Now that it is here, however, I am at last ready for it. I am ready for the anticipation and the joy in my son's face when he opens a package to find something he asked for as well as the disappointment he will no doubt express when he doesn't get everything he asked for.
There will probably be a few packages under the tree with my name on them, but I have already received the best Christmas gifts I have ever been given - an opportunity for redemption, a chance to redeem my life and live it as it always should have been lived. Not in fear or guilt but in love and joy.
What made that gift possible was a possibly even greater gift - the gift of one person to another. One person who could easily have treated me with resentment and even hatred but instead showed kindness and compassion. She gave of herself and of her self. In the process, she pointed the way to my self and helped to set me on the road to wholeness.
Heidi, mere words of thanks do not seem adequate. You rose above your own cares to offer me encouragement and friendship. That gift is beyond measure. I truly believe you were sent by God to help me find my way out of the wilderness. For that, I will always be grateful.
My wish for everyone this Christmas and in the new year to come is that each of you will find such a friend. They are hard to come by, but when you do find such a friend you are truly rich beyond compare. This Christmas, I count myself amongst the richest men on Earth. I have a family that loves me and a friend who encourages me and allows me to be more than I have ever been. I am truly blessed.
Merry Christmas!
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Two Steps Forward . . .
My first week of therapy is now behind me; today was my fourth session in just eight days. It has been quite a roller coaster ride already, and I feel as if I am enrolled in an intensive crash course designed to explore the psyche.
Oddly enough, I measure how good a session was not by whether I feel better afterward but by whether I cried during the session. Today I cried.
Monday I did not cry, and I viewed the session as a bit of a setback. My therapist (it still seems odd to me to use that phrase) said she sensed me teetering on the verge of closing off again from my feelings. I knew it as well. I was retreating back into myself.
But as my friend reminded me, we had discussed the probability that there would be times when these reversals would occur. And I had already concluded in my own mind that on any given day it did not matter whether I moved forward or backward as long as I kept moving and did not stand still. For to stand still is to stagnate and to stagnate is to die.
I think my biggest challenge in the early going is not to expect too much out of these sessions and also not to expect too little. I have always tended to do one of two things in my dealings with the world around me: set myself up for disappointment by creating impossible expectations or protect myself from disappointment by setting my expectations so low that I am willing to settle for nothing.
My expectations or at least my hopes started out high because I looked at this latest attempt at therapy (having tried a few times in my 20s) as a fight for my life. Not so much whether I live or die but whether I truly live or merely exist. I tempered those expectations by remembering how many years I have lived in pain, in fear, and in loneliness: hurt by the crimes against my youth, afraid of what I'll find inside me or what others won't, alone because I could not get close to others and could not seem to let others in.
As I have relayed some of the events of my youth and their effects on me to my therapist, the tears have flowed freely. But the telling and the crying take a lot of energy, so on Monday I pulled back a little. Whether to give myself a rest, to protect myself in my vulnerability, or for some other reason, I do not know.
What I do know is that today I cried again. The things I talked about, the feelings they stirred in me hurt deeply. But the tears felt good. I was hurt but I was alive. So today's was a good session.
Oddly enough, I measure how good a session was not by whether I feel better afterward but by whether I cried during the session. Today I cried.
Monday I did not cry, and I viewed the session as a bit of a setback. My therapist (it still seems odd to me to use that phrase) said she sensed me teetering on the verge of closing off again from my feelings. I knew it as well. I was retreating back into myself.
But as my friend reminded me, we had discussed the probability that there would be times when these reversals would occur. And I had already concluded in my own mind that on any given day it did not matter whether I moved forward or backward as long as I kept moving and did not stand still. For to stand still is to stagnate and to stagnate is to die.
I think my biggest challenge in the early going is not to expect too much out of these sessions and also not to expect too little. I have always tended to do one of two things in my dealings with the world around me: set myself up for disappointment by creating impossible expectations or protect myself from disappointment by setting my expectations so low that I am willing to settle for nothing.
My expectations or at least my hopes started out high because I looked at this latest attempt at therapy (having tried a few times in my 20s) as a fight for my life. Not so much whether I live or die but whether I truly live or merely exist. I tempered those expectations by remembering how many years I have lived in pain, in fear, and in loneliness: hurt by the crimes against my youth, afraid of what I'll find inside me or what others won't, alone because I could not get close to others and could not seem to let others in.
As I have relayed some of the events of my youth and their effects on me to my therapist, the tears have flowed freely. But the telling and the crying take a lot of energy, so on Monday I pulled back a little. Whether to give myself a rest, to protect myself in my vulnerability, or for some other reason, I do not know.
What I do know is that today I cried again. The things I talked about, the feelings they stirred in me hurt deeply. But the tears felt good. I was hurt but I was alive. So today's was a good session.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Thoughts on Therapy
Yesterday, I began what promises to be a long journey toward better self-awareness, self understanding, and perhaps most importantly, self forgiveness and self love. I started therapy.
The first visit, an assessment, I was told, was painful and covered a lot of ground and a lot of feelings: feelings of abandonment, of failure, of hopelessness, even of dying. So much for small talk.
I have come to see this as my journey back to life, and I know it will not be an easy one. As my wife has said, there may be times when I take one step forward and two steps back. I know that and I think I am ready for it. As long as I keep moving, then the journey will continue. It is only in stopping that danger lies for it means I have retreated to the familiar, even comfortable status quo because it is pain I know.
It is said that without pain we cannot know joy. As I bring the pain of my youth and my adult life into the light and hold onto that in hopes I will one day know the joy.
A friend of mine sent me a picture of her and her boyfriend smiling and embracing life. They are my model for they have shown me what happiness looks like and what is truly possible. I hope one day to return a picture of me and my family smiling back at them. May it be so.
The first visit, an assessment, I was told, was painful and covered a lot of ground and a lot of feelings: feelings of abandonment, of failure, of hopelessness, even of dying. So much for small talk.
I have come to see this as my journey back to life, and I know it will not be an easy one. As my wife has said, there may be times when I take one step forward and two steps back. I know that and I think I am ready for it. As long as I keep moving, then the journey will continue. It is only in stopping that danger lies for it means I have retreated to the familiar, even comfortable status quo because it is pain I know.
It is said that without pain we cannot know joy. As I bring the pain of my youth and my adult life into the light and hold onto that in hopes I will one day know the joy.
A friend of mine sent me a picture of her and her boyfriend smiling and embracing life. They are my model for they have shown me what happiness looks like and what is truly possible. I hope one day to return a picture of me and my family smiling back at them. May it be so.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Random Thoughts
I've always had a hard time making friends. I suspect that is because I see a friend as someone more than a person to talk sports or politics or music with. To me, a friend has always been someone with whom you could share your deepest hopes and fears and dreams, even more than perhaps you can with your spouse.
I am at present lucky enough to have such a friend. How long the friendship will last, given the intensity of the things we sometimes talk about, I won't try to guess. She may decide the friendship needs to end in order to preserve her own sanity, and who could blame her? Certainly not I.
Tomorrow, I begin the journey of a lifetime as I begin what may be weeks, months, or more likely years of therapy to help me dig up and expose to the light issues that date back to my childhood. My friend has been a support and encouragement in this process that lead to my decision to seek help.
As I told her, for too long I have been treading water, and I am now starting to get tired. Therapy is my chance at a life preserver before I get too tired to grab it. While there are no guarantees in therapy, I am certain I am lost without it. I look at this as the fight of my life and for my life. My friend believes I can make it, and I am very appreciative of that belief in me.
For too long, my life has been nothing more than going through the motions. For some time to come, it will be a day by day process, but with the help and support of my family and of my dear friend, I can come out on the other side and one day walk in the light instead of hiding in the darkness.
Be well.
I am at present lucky enough to have such a friend. How long the friendship will last, given the intensity of the things we sometimes talk about, I won't try to guess. She may decide the friendship needs to end in order to preserve her own sanity, and who could blame her? Certainly not I.
Tomorrow, I begin the journey of a lifetime as I begin what may be weeks, months, or more likely years of therapy to help me dig up and expose to the light issues that date back to my childhood. My friend has been a support and encouragement in this process that lead to my decision to seek help.
As I told her, for too long I have been treading water, and I am now starting to get tired. Therapy is my chance at a life preserver before I get too tired to grab it. While there are no guarantees in therapy, I am certain I am lost without it. I look at this as the fight of my life and for my life. My friend believes I can make it, and I am very appreciative of that belief in me.
For too long, my life has been nothing more than going through the motions. For some time to come, it will be a day by day process, but with the help and support of my family and of my dear friend, I can come out on the other side and one day walk in the light instead of hiding in the darkness.
Be well.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Slippin' Into Darkness
The title of the old War song seems appropriate these days, as that is what I feel is happening to my life.
I don't know how to explain it except that it feels a bit like walking in a fog with limited visibility. Each step must be planned and taken carefully lest you slip and completely lose your balance. That is my life at present.
I have been unable to explain to my wife or my son what is going on. I don't really know how. So we dance this uncomfortable dance of trying not to say or do the wrong thing, dancing to a tune none can hear.
Instead, I have burdened the one true friend I feel can understand these things to the point where if she were to tell me should could no longer be my friend I would understand and probably tell her she is doing the right thing. Assuming, of course, I could stop crying long enough to get the words out.
Crying has been one of the more interesting and frightening aspects of this descent. I have never been a very emotional person, always saying what I thought was the right thing but never really feeling anything. I had all but assumed I could not feel, I had buried things away for so long.
But in the last two weeks I have cried, more than I have in the last 20 years, I suspect. Two boxes of tissues in two days. If I'm not at rock bottom yet, I can see it from where I wallow.
And when I am not crying, I'm nearly comatose. I look in the mirror and I see the epitome of what they used to call Buster Keaton, "The Great Stone Face". Only sadder.
I am now in full-blown survival mode as I try to get from one day to the next until my first of what i suspect will be many sessions of professional help. To those who are standing by me, thank you. I'm sorry for what I have put you through. If God believes in me, perhaps things will one day be a little brighter. Until then, I struggle to find my way through the darkness and the shadows.
I don't know how to explain it except that it feels a bit like walking in a fog with limited visibility. Each step must be planned and taken carefully lest you slip and completely lose your balance. That is my life at present.
I have been unable to explain to my wife or my son what is going on. I don't really know how. So we dance this uncomfortable dance of trying not to say or do the wrong thing, dancing to a tune none can hear.
Instead, I have burdened the one true friend I feel can understand these things to the point where if she were to tell me should could no longer be my friend I would understand and probably tell her she is doing the right thing. Assuming, of course, I could stop crying long enough to get the words out.
Crying has been one of the more interesting and frightening aspects of this descent. I have never been a very emotional person, always saying what I thought was the right thing but never really feeling anything. I had all but assumed I could not feel, I had buried things away for so long.
But in the last two weeks I have cried, more than I have in the last 20 years, I suspect. Two boxes of tissues in two days. If I'm not at rock bottom yet, I can see it from where I wallow.
And when I am not crying, I'm nearly comatose. I look in the mirror and I see the epitome of what they used to call Buster Keaton, "The Great Stone Face". Only sadder.
I am now in full-blown survival mode as I try to get from one day to the next until my first of what i suspect will be many sessions of professional help. To those who are standing by me, thank you. I'm sorry for what I have put you through. If God believes in me, perhaps things will one day be a little brighter. Until then, I struggle to find my way through the darkness and the shadows.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Happy Birthday to Me
Today is my 52nd birthday. With apologies to Charles Dickens, it is the best of birthdays; it is the worst of birthdays.
The best: I have a friend who has helped me try to reconnect with my inner self, which has been closed and shuttered for so long. I have a family that loves me. And I am lucky enough to have a decent job in these job economic times.
The worst: The realization that I am a self-destructive individual who tries to sabotage everything worthwhile in his life (including, I fear, said friendship) because of a deep-seated feeling that I do not deserve anything good in my life and a long held sense of worthlessness.
I am supposed to go out tonight with friends to celebrate my birthday, and I worry about which side I will show them. Will I be able to show them a happy side? Or, as I fear, will they see the way I feel: like a car dangerously close to being out of control whose brakes have already failed as a steep downhill approaches?
Right now, I have no clue. When I don't feel like crying I feel, in the words of Pink Floyd, "comfortably numb".
Because of that up and down, part of me feels there are better days ahead. Another part, however, senses that the worst is still to come. Then the fight truly begins. God give me strength.
The best: I have a friend who has helped me try to reconnect with my inner self, which has been closed and shuttered for so long. I have a family that loves me. And I am lucky enough to have a decent job in these job economic times.
The worst: The realization that I am a self-destructive individual who tries to sabotage everything worthwhile in his life (including, I fear, said friendship) because of a deep-seated feeling that I do not deserve anything good in my life and a long held sense of worthlessness.
I am supposed to go out tonight with friends to celebrate my birthday, and I worry about which side I will show them. Will I be able to show them a happy side? Or, as I fear, will they see the way I feel: like a car dangerously close to being out of control whose brakes have already failed as a steep downhill approaches?
Right now, I have no clue. When I don't feel like crying I feel, in the words of Pink Floyd, "comfortably numb".
Because of that up and down, part of me feels there are better days ahead. Another part, however, senses that the worst is still to come. Then the fight truly begins. God give me strength.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
A Birthday Gift
In two days, I mark my 52nd birthday. (Celebrate seems a bit too strong a word at the moment.) My wife has asked me what I want for my birthday, and I can think of no thing I need or desire, except that which is currently out of the financial realm of possibility. Plus, a motorhome would not fit easily into a box.
Actually, I have probably already received the best birthday gift I have ever been given - the gift of another person's friendship. Given the circumstances under which we met (as explained in an earlier post), it is surprising that we became friends. The speed at which we became friends is perhaps even more surprising.
Today, I got the news from my friend that she will be leaving the company for which we both work January 2 to take another, hopefully more lucrative job. It is sooner than I would hope for, although I certainly understand and support her reasons. Thankfully, it is a little later than I was afraid of. I believe we will remain friends, although the circumstances will change as I will no longer have the instant gratification of being able to pick up the phone and call her as we are both working. That may be a good thing, at least for her.
For several years in the 1990s, I was in the habit of throwing my own birthday party, cooking dinner for those who came, and giving them presents rather than receiving them. In the spirit of that somewhat short-lived tradition, I want to give a present to my newest and deepest friend. It has been some time since I tried my hand at poetry, so I hope it will not offend or come across as too cheesy.
Actually, I have probably already received the best birthday gift I have ever been given - the gift of another person's friendship. Given the circumstances under which we met (as explained in an earlier post), it is surprising that we became friends. The speed at which we became friends is perhaps even more surprising.
Today, I got the news from my friend that she will be leaving the company for which we both work January 2 to take another, hopefully more lucrative job. It is sooner than I would hope for, although I certainly understand and support her reasons. Thankfully, it is a little later than I was afraid of. I believe we will remain friends, although the circumstances will change as I will no longer have the instant gratification of being able to pick up the phone and call her as we are both working. That may be a good thing, at least for her.
For several years in the 1990s, I was in the habit of throwing my own birthday party, cooking dinner for those who came, and giving them presents rather than receiving them. In the spirit of that somewhat short-lived tradition, I want to give a present to my newest and deepest friend. It has been some time since I tried my hand at poetry, so I hope it will not offend or come across as too cheesy.
Ode To A Friend
When inner darkness threatens to engulf
That which beats within me
You bring much needed sunlight
And shine it on my icy soul.
Your understanding countenance
Rekindles the fading spark inside
And breathes new fire into dying embers
Saved from myself again.
I am rescued from despair's dark depths.
Your kind thought, verbally caresses
Restoring in me the strength
To do battle once more and face the coming day.
You selflessly give the greatest gift,
Accepting me, warts and all, this unholy, ungodly mess
And show me my better, most possible self.
Whether Philia or Agape or some of both, I do not know.
You hold me tender in your thoughts and words
And I am washed clean by my tears
Raised up by your kindness
You honor me more than I deserve
This crowning achievement made possible
By a gentle heart I can never hope to repay.
My meager gift so sparse compared
To all that you have given
But I give it freely, gratefully, with thanks.
For what special tribute, far-reaching accolade
Do I wax so freely and without abandon?
No more and certainly no less than this -
You called me friend.
This badge of honor I most proudly wear
Today and all of my tomorrows
Until that which flows within runs to dust.
This gift you offer me I now offer back
and call you friend.
To be so much and nothing else, it is enough.
For I am rich beyond compare.
Happy birthday to me.
Monday, December 1, 2008
The True $pirit of Chri$tma$
The temporary insanity know as the Christmas shopping season is upon us. The day known as Black Friday in the retail world came and went with better than expected sales and just one minor disruption: a man's death.
A temporary worker at a Long Island Wal-Mart was trampled to death, not because he refused to honor a rain check or a competitor's ad but because he could not open the store's doors and get out of the way fast enough to avoid dozens of crazed shoppers trying to be the first ones to save 25-percent on next year's "Oh, I forgot we even had this" item.
Wal-Mart will rightly come in for its share of criticism and condemnation for not anticipating and properly preparing for this type of situation . Based on the events of the last several Christmas shopping seasons, any responsible retailer could have foreseen that it was only a matter of time before someone was killed.
In fact, several other retailers, such as best Buy, did foresee this possibility and were prepared appropriately. Wal-Mart, however, rolled back common sense when they rolled back prices for the start of the shopping season.
But the blame is not Wal-Mart's alone. We as consumers are as much to blame. Our need to always have the latest and greatest whatchamacallit fuels these shopping frenzies and increases the likelihood each year that such tragedies can occur until this year one finally did.
For a number of years it has been all over but the shouting. Now it is official. We have truly lost the meaning and perhaps as importantly the spirit of Christmas. The holiday is at last best marked with "Merry Xmas" rather than "Merry Christmas".
Christmas, of course, began as a day to mark and celebrate the birth of Christ. But even atheists celebrated the season as one in which to promote peace on earth and goodwill toward humanity. The Christmas season was a time when we each stopped to reflect on our better sides and on our hopes for a better world.
Now, all of that seems gone. A man has died. Unlike the first Christmas-related fatality two-thousand years ago, this death will not be followed by a resurrection.
A temporary worker at a Long Island Wal-Mart was trampled to death, not because he refused to honor a rain check or a competitor's ad but because he could not open the store's doors and get out of the way fast enough to avoid dozens of crazed shoppers trying to be the first ones to save 25-percent on next year's "Oh, I forgot we even had this" item.
Wal-Mart will rightly come in for its share of criticism and condemnation for not anticipating and properly preparing for this type of situation . Based on the events of the last several Christmas shopping seasons, any responsible retailer could have foreseen that it was only a matter of time before someone was killed.
In fact, several other retailers, such as best Buy, did foresee this possibility and were prepared appropriately. Wal-Mart, however, rolled back common sense when they rolled back prices for the start of the shopping season.
But the blame is not Wal-Mart's alone. We as consumers are as much to blame. Our need to always have the latest and greatest whatchamacallit fuels these shopping frenzies and increases the likelihood each year that such tragedies can occur until this year one finally did.
For a number of years it has been all over but the shouting. Now it is official. We have truly lost the meaning and perhaps as importantly the spirit of Christmas. The holiday is at last best marked with "Merry Xmas" rather than "Merry Christmas".
Christmas, of course, began as a day to mark and celebrate the birth of Christ. But even atheists celebrated the season as one in which to promote peace on earth and goodwill toward humanity. The Christmas season was a time when we each stopped to reflect on our better sides and on our hopes for a better world.
Now, all of that seems gone. A man has died. Unlike the first Christmas-related fatality two-thousand years ago, this death will not be followed by a resurrection.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Being Lonely versus Being Alone
I sit here typing in the middle of a deserted campground - deserted save for me, my wife, and my son - the three of us in our tent trailer, the only inhabitants of this state park campground. As I sit and type, I realize I am lonely.
I was often lonely when I was single, so I always equated the feeling of loneliness with being alone. Yet I am not alone here. Still, I feel lonely. A sense of melancholy hangs over me as I realize how little I fit in with those around me even when there is no one around me. This feeling was eased a little when a couple other campers set up in this campground, but it did not go away entirely.
For instance, what does it say about me when the person I see as my best friend, the person with whom I feel the greatest sense of connection in the outside world is someone who lives more than 300 miles away in another state and is someone I may never actually see again? Whatever it says, I can't imagine it is all that good.
When I was single, I always had the excuse of being alone to explain my loneliness. There was some comfort in that because it created the sense that I could end my loneliness simply by being around other people.
That is how I have always dealt with that loneliness - by putting myself in a setting where I could surround myself with others. Yet I never really made a connection with any of them or them with me. I was still lonely, and I still felt alone.
I managed to escape that feeling or at least delude myself that I had escaped it after my marriage. I was busy enough trying to be a decent husband and later a decent father that I rarely had time to feel lonely or alone.
Lately, though, that has changed. I changed jobs and have yet to make any friends in my new position aside from the aforementioned friend in another state. Part of that is the new workplace itself. Everyone is usually very busy, and that makes it hard to make a connection. The other part of it is somewhat geographical. I sit all but alone in my area of the department. The nearest people to me are almost all managers.
The third part of it is something lacking in me. I am not by nature an extremely warm or outgoing person. As a result, people do not tend to gravitate to me. At times, I suspect I come off as cold or aloof.
At other times, I may come across as too needy because I do recognize this giant hole in my life. For whatever reason, there are times when my wife and son are unable to fill this gap. Because of that, I think I end up distancing myself from them and making my problem worse.
Some might label this depression, and perhaps they are right. Perhaps it is the feeling of growing old and not having accomplished anything I thought I would. Or perhaps it is simply the onset of the holiday season and realizing that again this year we will not see friends or family over Thanksgiving or Christmas. Perhaps it is all of the above.
After all of that, perhaps there is no real difference between feeling lonely and feeling alone, merely scale. (The physicality of being alone is another matter.) And right now, the scale tips way out of balance.
I was often lonely when I was single, so I always equated the feeling of loneliness with being alone. Yet I am not alone here. Still, I feel lonely. A sense of melancholy hangs over me as I realize how little I fit in with those around me even when there is no one around me. This feeling was eased a little when a couple other campers set up in this campground, but it did not go away entirely.
For instance, what does it say about me when the person I see as my best friend, the person with whom I feel the greatest sense of connection in the outside world is someone who lives more than 300 miles away in another state and is someone I may never actually see again? Whatever it says, I can't imagine it is all that good.
When I was single, I always had the excuse of being alone to explain my loneliness. There was some comfort in that because it created the sense that I could end my loneliness simply by being around other people.
That is how I have always dealt with that loneliness - by putting myself in a setting where I could surround myself with others. Yet I never really made a connection with any of them or them with me. I was still lonely, and I still felt alone.
I managed to escape that feeling or at least delude myself that I had escaped it after my marriage. I was busy enough trying to be a decent husband and later a decent father that I rarely had time to feel lonely or alone.
Lately, though, that has changed. I changed jobs and have yet to make any friends in my new position aside from the aforementioned friend in another state. Part of that is the new workplace itself. Everyone is usually very busy, and that makes it hard to make a connection. The other part of it is somewhat geographical. I sit all but alone in my area of the department. The nearest people to me are almost all managers.
The third part of it is something lacking in me. I am not by nature an extremely warm or outgoing person. As a result, people do not tend to gravitate to me. At times, I suspect I come off as cold or aloof.
At other times, I may come across as too needy because I do recognize this giant hole in my life. For whatever reason, there are times when my wife and son are unable to fill this gap. Because of that, I think I end up distancing myself from them and making my problem worse.
Some might label this depression, and perhaps they are right. Perhaps it is the feeling of growing old and not having accomplished anything I thought I would. Or perhaps it is simply the onset of the holiday season and realizing that again this year we will not see friends or family over Thanksgiving or Christmas. Perhaps it is all of the above.
After all of that, perhaps there is no real difference between feeling lonely and feeling alone, merely scale. (The physicality of being alone is another matter.) And right now, the scale tips way out of balance.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Giving Thanks
It is that time of year once again when young and old alike gorge themselves on a traditional Thanksgiving dinner, whether it be turkey or ham (in our case, turkey), with all the trimmings. Then, they'll collapse on the sofa to watch the traditional Thanksgiving football blowout and watch a bunch of other overstuffed men run around and get exercise for them.
Despite recent economic events, we are lucky to live in a country where so many of us have reason to be thankful. I invite you to take some time on Thanksgiving to make a mental list of those things for which you are thankful and then give silent thanks for each of them. Here's my list:
I am thankful for my family, first and foremost. They ground me and give me sanctuary from the emotional storms in which I sometimes find myself.
I am thankful that I live in an area that lends itself to outdoor activity and that I have the ability and desire to enjoy such activity, whether it be camping, bike riding, or snowshoeing. In fact, we will be camping over Thanksgiving.
I am thankful for new friends, old friends, and lost friends. Each has been an important part of my journey. I remember lost friends fondly even as I mourn their loss. I cherish the people who are part of my life now and hope they will remain a part of my life for years to come. I relish the new friends I have made or will make and pray I will not abuse or squander the gift they have given me.
Yet I know that there are also those who will struggle to find something this Thanksgiving for which they are thankful. I hope you will join me in saying a kind word or in thinking a good thought for them as you sit down to your holiday meal this year.
May you find plenty for which to be thankful this year. May you have even more for which to be thankful in the year to come. Happy Thanksgiving.
Despite recent economic events, we are lucky to live in a country where so many of us have reason to be thankful. I invite you to take some time on Thanksgiving to make a mental list of those things for which you are thankful and then give silent thanks for each of them. Here's my list:
I am thankful for my family, first and foremost. They ground me and give me sanctuary from the emotional storms in which I sometimes find myself.
I am thankful that I live in an area that lends itself to outdoor activity and that I have the ability and desire to enjoy such activity, whether it be camping, bike riding, or snowshoeing. In fact, we will be camping over Thanksgiving.
I am thankful for new friends, old friends, and lost friends. Each has been an important part of my journey. I remember lost friends fondly even as I mourn their loss. I cherish the people who are part of my life now and hope they will remain a part of my life for years to come. I relish the new friends I have made or will make and pray I will not abuse or squander the gift they have given me.
Yet I know that there are also those who will struggle to find something this Thanksgiving for which they are thankful. I hope you will join me in saying a kind word or in thinking a good thought for them as you sit down to your holiday meal this year.
May you find plenty for which to be thankful this year. May you have even more for which to be thankful in the year to come. Happy Thanksgiving.
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