Feel it. Alive. Now.

Hey, too long between musings … it’s time for a blog. Quick one.

Sorry for the scattering of phrases and incomplete sentences. But this is how I quickly jotted it down on a piece of paper today. So, this is how I’ll write it. I don’t want to try to explain these feelings too much. I don’t want my written explanations to distort the feelings. They’re too real—can’t possibly explain with a written word.

Here goes …

Feel it.

Almost five years ago I made a decision to put down a bottle. Or bottles. And, suddenly, I picked up my life, and my bliss. The bottles, it appears, were distracting me from realizing that bliss—from realizing my life. My body. My mind. My soul. From realizing it all.

But, now, I continue to feel like never before. I’m fully aware. Of my life. My body. My mind. My soul. All.

And I cherish it. I hold on tightly to each moment. And savor it. And then let it go. And it keeps repeating. Like cotton candy sugar on my lips.

Peace. Bliss. They are internal. Always there. Unseen. Awaiting discovery. By me. By us all.

In the past five years I’ve managed to also lose some of my “self.” Others first. As much as I can. In losing my “self,” I gain so much more. Others’ happiness … that makes me happy.

And I’ve become more fit. Mentally, physically. Emotionally.

On the physical side … endorphins are a wonderful thing. The natural version. Organic. Not sold in stores. The world doesn’t give them. Can’t take them away. It’s inside. All of us. Me.

I’ve always had it. Now I know it. Now I need it. Now I know how to get it.

Give. Be active. For my body and mind. And for others. Motivated.

Write, too. So good for me.

Mostly, love.

Just love.

Ultimately, love is everything.

That was quick, but felt good.

Go ahead. Feel it, too.

Feel it.

Peacelove

T

Gram, You Still Inspire Me ...

This Saturday, June 2 will mark two years since the death of my Grandmother, my Gram. I spoke at her funeral on that day in 2010 with a broken and heavy heart—but with a heart that was also joy-filled and healed many times over by that wonderful woman.

This blog is a transcript of what I said that day at Gram’s funeral with some minor changes. It’s my piece, after all. I’m sure Gram won’t mind. It was as difficult for me to look at this again today as it was to speak it back then. The photo below was taken on New Year’s Day in 2010. This was the last time Gram got to see my sons. What a special day.

Anyway, Gram this is once again for you. It is as heartfelt today as it was at your funeral and always will be. As I told you many times before you went away, “We will always be connected.”

Circa June 2, 2010:

This is one of the most difficult things I've ever done. It's also one of the most important—and definitely the most heartfelt. I stood in this church more than 30 years ago and placed a hand-drawn Fred Flintstone picture in my Grandpa Benjamin Ferrebee’s (Gramps’) casket. Today, I guess it’s just not that simple for me with Gram. No drawing could possibly be enough.

What I’m about to talk about is very personal to me, but the intent isn’t to make it about me. This is merely my way of showing my tremendous respect for and paying homage to a truly beautiful woman who affected me so significantly as a little boy, and later on as a grown, or I should say “growing” man.

I spent the past few days in Washington, DC as a chaperone with my son Ben’s 8^th grade class. With Gram’s health situation the past week, I wasn’t sure if I should go on the trip.  I even called the school principal at one point and told him I would not be going. But, I changed my mind and decided I would accompany the school kids to DC. Gram would want me to.

About 15 minutes into the trip, riding on the bus with the kids, I received a call informing me that Gram had passed. I immediately thought to myself, “Why did I do this? Why did I come on this trip?” But, after thinking it over it became clear to me that Gram wanted me to go. I had told her a long time ago about the trip, so she knew. And, she waited until I was on that bus to DC to start her own journey to Heaven. Gram was watching out for me even in her last moments here.

So, I’ve had a few days to think about Gram. She’s always been “Gram,” but I began to think of her when she was Lona. I thought of her as a young girl, living a life of faith. And, I thought of her as a young woman who would meet and fall in love with Benjamin, also a man of deep faith. I asked Gram once what she missed most about Gramps after he died, and she replied, “His kindness.” How awesome is that? I had to leave the room and go cry.

How happy Gram, Lona, must have been throughout her life, and how blessed she was to recognize and be willing to receive God's amazing Grace so early in life. It was Grace that shaped the very long and meaningful path she walked. That path touched so many, many lives in positive ways.

Gram had literally been there for me every day of my life—in good times and in bad. She comforted me as a child. She took me into her home after I graduated from college when I needed a roof over my head before getting my career started. And, more recently she has been there for me by simply listening to my worries and my joys. A few years ago I called Gram and told her something just didn’t feel right with me. She simply told me, “Change your ways and seek the Lord.” That was Gram. Nothing fancy, no long speech, just basically telling me to find my soul, to find my bliss.

I called Gram almost every day for a long time after that. I was changing as a person and reaching a new level of maturity and faith—finding a new way of looking at life—and it scared me. I think for the first time in my life I was actually growing up. I know God was working on me, and who better on earth to have helping him than Gram. Every day, even when she was in the hospital very ill, she would take my phone calls and listen to me, talk to me, and assure me that everything would be fine. We didn’t solve any of the world’s problems on those calls. We just talked about doing the right things in life, caring for others, trusting God. I really needed Gram’s love then, and her love she freely gave. Once again, she was watching out for me.

During our talks these past couple of years, Gram has said some things to me that I’m sure she would want me to share with others. One thing in particular was “Always be happy, Todd.” The last time I talked to her she asked me if I was happy, and she told me she was happy. Once again, wow! I will do my best, Gram.

I find inspiration in books and music, and when I do I make note of it. I heard a song for the first time recently, and I’m pretty certain that it is written about God. But, several of the lyrics in the song apply to Gram for me. The song is You Raise Me Up by Josh Groban.

‘When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary,

When troubles come and my heart burdened be,

Then, I am still and wait here in the silence,

Until you come and sit awhile with me.

 

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;

You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;

I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;

You raise me up: To more than I can be.’

I’m going to close with another reference to a couple of inspirational lines from a book, one of my favorites, M. Scott Peck’s The Road Less Traveled. There are two lines in the book that really ring true and that I think of often. The very first line of the entire book is “Life is difficult.” I think we all know that very well. The other line in the book that I enjoy is “Ultimately, love is everything.” How true these statements ring, especially in the life of my Gram. Life wasn’t easy for her, but ultimately, Gram’s love was everything. She unselfishly gave love to so many, and she never complained.

Three characteristics define what I believe lead to a fulfilling life.

1)    We must be thankful in all circumstances.

2)    We must be humble.

3)    We must love others.

Gram, you demonstrate all three.

I will see you again some day. Until then, I promise, from the deepest core of my being, that I will give to my children and carry forward to others your thankfulness, your humility and your undying love.

I love you so much, so much. Thank you for your truly amazing grace.

Moments and Peace

Long time no see. I’ve been away from this blog for some time, and I’m continuing to use the excuse that I don’t have enough time in my day to spend some of it here. I know that writing, particularly this blog, brings me a great sense of relief and relaxation, a release. It helps me be still, if that’s even possible with me, and brings me to peace. So, here I am again, writing.

As I sit down to begin writing I really have no intention of opining about any theme whatsoever. I’m just going to let the words flow to see what happens. Each sentence is coming from within in the spur of the moment. Nothing planned. No thought beyond this second. My ego wants me to start thinking beyond this second, this sentence, but I’m fighting that urge. The ego wants me to go straight to the last paragraph, to the last sentence, so I can spend time with him and not here, where I am spending time with me, my soul. I’m winning the battle now -- if only for the duration of this blog.

In the past couple of months I’ve been feeling like my insides are going to erupt. This isn’t a feeling of impending doom or a negative implosion of any sort. However, I feel like I’m on the brink of some type of personal growth spurt. I finished up my master’s degree coursework a couple weeks ago and will walk across the stage to get the diploma next month. And, I very recently learned at work that big changes are in store. I’d like to think that those things are part of the reasons for my angst over what I feel inside. But, those are just circumstances, and they will come … and be gone. No, what is inside is bigger than any circumstance. It’s bigger than something that comes and goes. It’s something that I feel will provide me with a lasting peace of mind that we all seek – the eternal kind.

I have spurts of that type of serenity, but then my ego joins the fray and the conflict is on. I know in my heart that to remove enemies from my life translates directly into the removal of anxiety, so why do I continue to let Mr. E back into my circle so regularly? Perhaps it’s because I trust him and not me. Perhaps it’s because my instincts that were tattered as a child are still frayed and need more mending. Perhaps it’s because I am fearful of letting go because I think the results won’t turn out as I wish.

The irony in that is everything will turn out in a manner in which I have no control. That’s not to say that I can’t be an active participant in my life. But, my job is to do the next right thing and to let the ultimate outcome go. It’s called staying in the moment. The moment that I speak of is gold, baby. When I can get there and stay there my brain soaks me with the natural endorphins that reward me when I am still. Like now, writing this. I am frolicking in that high. It’s like that runner’s high we hear about.

Now, some will argue that staying in the moment and being peaceful and finding serenity is a farce. They point to the rose-colored glasses that are sold in every five-and-dime store, the glasses they claim that peaceful folks place on their face in the morning as soon as they awaken. But, as I noted before, I believe that’s the ego bull-rushing its way into their lives the way it often tries to do so in mine. Get back, jack. No place for you here.

I was recently told to write at least 1,000 words a day no matter how busy I am, and I’m going to do my best to begin heeding that advice. As with this blog, I will have no intention with those words. I will write from my core, my soul. I’ll let the words lead me. I will find happiness in that. The ego won’t like that. But, I will pay him no mention because I’ll be lost, if only for the minutes I spend writing those words, in a sense of peace. I’ll be still. I’ll spend time with me.

I have found that peace right now, in this moment. I’ve just spent the most enjoyable 30 minutes of my day lost in myself writing down these random thoughts. I’m not going to count the words, but I know there are many more than 1,000. I guess anything more than 1,000 brings bonus points/peace. None of these words were planned. None rehearsed. None of the immediate words were looking toward the end result or outcome.  Just me. Word by word. And a fantastic writer’s high.

Peace.

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 ...