The Holidays and "Me"

The holiday season is always a time of deep reflection for me. That being the case, it's also one of the most emotional times of the year. I don't often let myself dive too deeply into these waters, but I know it's good for my soul to do so now and then. I end up laughing, and I end up crying (not at all ashamed to admit that) when I ponder the joy and happiness I've been blessed with and the pain and sadness I've endured. It's the book of my life, and I gratefully accept it all.

I could write many separate blogs about the chapters in that book, but that could take years and cost millions of lives (so also sayeth Otter, in Animal House for you fellow AH lovers). So, for the purpose of this blog, I'm going to touch on just a few very sharp points that have always jabbed at me, more so during this time of the year and the sentimentality associated with the season. Hopefully there's a dab of entertainment and a dribble of "Hmmm" in them.

I'm not putting these thoughts on paper for applause or pity. No, I pen these thoughts exclusively for my own sake, to help me more appreciate the good and to better accept the not-so-good. I don't often sit down and discuss these things with anyone face-to-face. So, this blog also provides a sounding board through which--if only one other person reads this--I can officially share a piece of myself with another, and that is always beneficial.

Yep, the "stuff" I'm about to mention has shaped me into the man I am today and I'm pretty good with me right now. I'm not perfect--don't want to be. But, I'm in a place in my life where I make humility a priority, where I know I'm happier when I think about others before myself, and where my zeal for and awareness of life is at an all-time high. I am definitely alert.

Oh, how I love this place, but I remain cautious. You see, I want others to be able to get here, too, and in that desire I find myself judging and criticizing many who seem to be wallowing and can't quite make it. So, I tread as lightly as possible so I don't sink back into that mire.

OK, OK, enough of that. Let me now get into some of those lingering thoughts from the aforementioned book of my life. Consider this the CliffsNotes version. Some day, perhaps, I'll write the actual book.

One: I literally get sick to my stomach when I read about, see or meet someone who is struggling to put food on the table for his/her family. Growing up, there was no silver spoon in my mouth. Contrarily, I've eaten meals made from items received at church food pantries and through government assistance (aka Food Stamps, back in the day). Come to think of it, I thought those giant blocks of "government cheese" were pretty tasty. Times weren't always completely lean, but there were periods when it just plain sucked. That sick-stomach feeling I mentioned worsens tenfold during this holiday season. I can barely read print articles or watch television news stories about those who suffer through the holidays. It shakes me to my core. God bless the needy.

Two: My stepdad was a mean, drunken SOB. One of the very first emotions I had in my life was fear. Fear of him, and fear of his wrath. Children need love--they should not be the enemy. He didn't provide love and I still feel that void today. But, I use it to my advantage. I use it as motivation to help me remember the importance of offering kindness whenever possible, especially to children. You never know what the circumstances of a child's life might be, especially behind the doors of his or her home. I can at the very least let children know that I care. Because, I do! All this being said, I don't hate my stepdad. I don't wish evil upon him. I feel sorry for him. Through all that mess, I had and still have so much love to give, and he missed out on that. I would not want that existence. As with point One above, the holiday season always kicks the thought of my stepdad into a higher gear. I hope he has a tree. I hope he gets presents. I hope one of those presents is hope. That would be a start toward his own peace.

Three: My children enable me to see the face of my God. I know, I know, the subject of God makes some people uncomfortable. Not me. My mind, as noted in previous blogs, is a literal speeding roller coaster--restless at times, to say the least. God is someone/something that has escaped my full understanding my entire life, and I don't like that at all. It's that wily beast named The Ego trying to surface. Mr. E thinks he knows it all! One thing I do know deep down inside, however, is that I'm not meant to fully understand. That's what faith is for, to let the mind rest knowing that all is well and all will be well. Back to the face of God ... I firmly believe that God has manifested himself/herself/itself in my children. We've all heard the saying, "God is Love." My children fill me with love and a happiness and a feeling of ecstasy that nothing in this world can equal. As with the previous two points, during the holiday season my appreciation for that love and happiness is greatly magnified. Drops me to my knees, literally. It's gotta be God. Gotta be.

Four: I start each day with "Please." I end each day with "Thank You." For too long, I welcomed only the good days and shunned the bad times. But, I now know better. Some days, like the long-gone days of eating government cheese ... grrr. Some days, like the ones that include a thousand smiles and the non-judgemental and unwavering affection from my children ... ahhh! They all shape me. I have to feel it all. Experience it all. Process it all. This holiday season, I place special emphasis on the "please," so that I may always welcome joy and sadness each day. I place special emphasis on the "thank you" so that I am sure to fully express thanks to God, to others, to the good, the bad, the happy and the sad--the many things that help fill me with empathy. Oh, one more quick thing ... I say the please and the thanks while I'm on my knees. My Gram taught me to do that. Such a simple gesture that lends even more humility to the process.

I think that's enough for now. Fear not, there are plenty more emotional and insightful tidbits where these came from. But, that's another blog, or perhaps a book. The book of my life. And I freaking love it.

OK, now time to cry. But it's all good.

Sanity, or madness?

I've been thinking a lot lately about the infinitesimally fine line that separates sanity from madness. Uh-oh, you better hang on tight ….

I imagine the brain as a series of long and winding corridors that seemingly go on forever. Those corridors open the second a thought comes to mind. From there, the journey begins.

Winding through the brain, thoughts starts out slow, easing their way through corridors—much like a roller coaster ascending an opening hill. When the thought gets rolling and potential energy turns kinetic, off it goes, moving rapidly through the maze until it reaches an end point, where it slows and then ultimately stops.

To me, that end point is a wooden door. On the other side of it sits a nice little man who keeps watch to ensure no one makes it through. Because on the other side, you see, the corridors really become more winding and the slopes more slippery—tough to navigate—the place they call Madness.

However, that wily little fella who watches the doors in my brain, the gatekeeper, occasionally steps away to get  a drink of water or to use the bathroom, and he leaves the doors unprotected. When he does so my thoughts throw a mega party. Everyone welcome, no holds barred. Quite simply: watch out!

They steamroll through the corridors and smash through the unmanned door. Yikes, slippery indeed. I see that it just might be in this place that sanity and madness become separated—that aforementioned infinitesimally fine line.

Once my thoughts crash the party, I then wonder if I perhaps really am mad or if I have a rare uber-creative imagination. I like to think of it as the latter, but I could be wrong. In fact, some people have told me that I AM wrong (wink).

It is on that other side where a walk down the sidewalk to my car after work turns into me tackling a purse snatcher, who then escapes my grip and starts shooting at me as he runs off, only to see me chasing him again into the busy intersection, where a car rams into us both and throws us into the sky and ...

Get the point?

The other side also takes me to a place where I have amazing peace and stunning calm. Here, I imagine a world that is not divided because of different beliefs. A world in which the strong help the weak, the rich help the poor. A world in which "love" is the only word in the pledge of allegiance.

Sanity or madness?

Regardless of the direction my thoughts take, and how near or far they travel, I hope the little gatekeeper continues to get thirsty and occasionally has to pee. I like going through that door to the other side. I'm not really sure if it separates madness and sanity, but I do know that door is an infinitesimally fine line that separates me from so many other people.

The People I Meet

This will perhaps be the most rapidly written blog of all time -- for me. Typically, when I write, I jot down some thoughts, look at them, think, jot down some more thoughts, look at them, write some more, think, and so on and so on . This process can take hours, but I enjoy it.

But, I've not written anything here for several weeks, and have been thinking how much time I haven't had time to write anything here. So, for the sake of writing something here, anything, I'm doing this one in 10 minutes. I know that will help jump start me to share my thoughts, which ultimately cleanses my mind. Refreshing.

Sooo ...

Fate is a funny thing.  I often take a moment when meeting someone to think about fate and why that person has entered my life. Some folks get a quick, "Well, that was nice." Some get a, "Hmmm, interesting." And others get the, "I have got to find out more about this person and his/her connection to me."

I have 7 minutes left to finish this ...

When pondering those connections of others, my instincts say, "push and find out more." Another smaller part of me says, "let it run its course." Such contrast. But, ultimately I try to go with "let it run its course." That wasn't always the case for me in the past, as my internal anxieties (instincts noted above) so many times would fight their way forward and try to flush everything out as quickly as possible.

But, I am increasingly realizing that it will eventually become clear to me the role and meaning of others in my life if I am able to just "be." If I can peacefully do that, just be, I'll see the answers. Could be nothing, a passing meeting. Could be someone who brings an interesting perspective to my life. Best yet, might be someone who says or does something that brings peace.

As I said, patience hasn't always been a strong suit. Why else would I try to write a blog in 10 minutes? (This one took me 20, by the way.) But, I know today that the ebb and flow of people in my life is really a wonderful thing. Washing up on shore to meet me like the waves of the ocean I so enjoy.

As a friend I met years and years ago once told me, "Brotha, let it be."

Gramps

Funny what spending time with your grandpa can do for your soul ...

I quite often think of my deceased grandfather, affectionately known as "Gramps," and what he might think about me today, and what our relationship would be like. He went to a better place many years ago, when I was much younger. But, during the short time I had him he always soothed me and made me feel wanted and loved. He knew how much I needed him.

I miss him so much.

After all these years, though, I can still smell him. I can feel his seemingly permanent five o’clock shadow whiskers on my face. I see those whiskers contrasting against the white sink when I shave each morning. I can sense his arms around me, comforting me with his kindness.

I once asked my grandmother what she missed most about him after he died, and she simply replied, "His kindness." So powerful. So true. Nearly brought me to my knees when she said that.

I remember when Gramps died, and my Mom woke me up on a Saturday morning to tell me. I remember it like it was yesterday. I cried for days. I was terribly sad, and only as I have gotten older have I realized just how much I miss and need him, then and now.

Writing this, thinking about him, I wish I could run into that place far away from here to see him so he could hold me close again. To smell him. To feel those whiskers. To feel his embrace, his comfort and kindness. I know that is impossible, so I conjure up the memories. I find great solace in knowing that wonderful man saved me ... back then, and still today with the sense I will always have of his touch.

When I see my father-in-law embrace my sons and love them, I feel Gramps nearby. That permanent emotional bond surfaces. I am so grateful for those moments. He's here. I know it. I see it. I feel it.

Funny what thinking about your grandpa can do for your soul ...

Ocean Healing

I penned this several years ago during a moment of stress, when I was thinking about the ocean and the peace it brings me. Needed to revisit it just now ...

Sweltering! A million degrees. Fiery enough to force sweat from my exposed pores while I relax, totally unaware of any existence, baking in the sun.

I enjoy the steam, though, as I watch the miniature beads of clear, sticky sweat drip from my arms, shoulders, and stomach. I find strange pleasure in watching the sweat glide across my skin, through me. They drop one by one silently in front of me, to the side, everywhere. Slow motion into the white powdery sand, where they evaporate instantly, not making a sound. I watch every one of them.

Perhaps there was something, but the waves breaking into the sand near my feet overtake all other audible sensations. I occasionally stand and stride slowly into the welcoming warm blue water to refresh. My body literally becomes one with the salty sea, and I am lost in myself and the moment as I drift effortlessly under the water in the absolute silence.

I am invisible to everything and everyone but my soul, which rejoices in this calm. My essence begs me to stay here, and I surrender hopelessly.

Like the beads of sweat before me, I evaporate into this safe place.

Listening to myself ...

I recently read a friend’s blog http://randomdunbar.blogspot.com/, and it inspired me to jot down some of my own thoughts on a regular basis.

I'm taking on this task mostly to simply listen to myself and to clear the daily cobwebs. When I write and then read my thoughts, it often helps me to better understand exactly what’s going on inside the brain that never sleeps. Perhaps, too, someone just might find a bit of inspiration in my reflections. Another might see himself or herself in me and realize that he or she is not as alone as once thought.

My friend spoke in his blog of how he has evolved as a person over the years, and how the man he once was is now but a memory. I find this topic to be one of the most interesting aspects of life—how we change and evolve into new beings over time. 

I always thought I was changing as I aged. But, those thoughts were passing ones. About four years ago, however, I experienced something dramatic that has changed me forever. I swallowed a good dose of pain and it took me to my fearful core. Which, quite ironically, is precisely where I now know I needed to be--at that core.

There, so deep inside, was a person I ran from for too many years. He made his way to the forefront and said, "Here I am. Deal with me!" Not an easy task. But, I managed to look directly into that boy's blue eyes and figure him out, if only somewhat. 

I saw a fearful young child trying to overcome a distant past framed by turmoil. I saw a terribly confused teen who felt betrayed by the world that wouldn't help him find his way. I saw a rebellious young man who was too rambunctious for all the wrong reasons. I saw all of those people, felt them all profoundly.

I can't fully explain what happened after that, but there was a rapid and distinct movement, a "change"--imagine that. Acceptance. That once fearful core had so suddenly evolved into one of peace. It now embraced me, held me tight, soothed me, and gently said, "It's OK. Go do something good." Literally amazing. Such overwhelming relief, spiritual to say the least.

Today, as a result, I am the greatest "me" I have ever been. Oh how I know I have changed. Not perfect by any means, but more compassionate, caring, unselfish and humble than ever. It feels good. It feels rewarding. 

The excitement of this evolution is tangible. But, I can't stay in and rely on this moment to carry me on. It, too, will pass. The difference for me today is I am not afraid of what awaits in the future--of the person I will become because of my past.