You've Got To Believe It's Getting Better

"It seems like the chaos of this world is accelerating, but so is the beauty in the consciousness of more and more people"

~ Anthony Kiedis ~

"When I was a kid I drew like Michelangelo. It took me years to learn to draw like a kid."

~ Pablo Picasso ~

"When I was a child, I spoke like a child, thought like a child, and reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up my childish ways."

~ 1 Corinthians 13:11, International Standard Version ~

Take a good hard look at the quotes above.  The first two are inspiring for me.   The last one, well........for me that's exactly the problem these days.  We're resisting our ability to live in childlike wonder.  We all have an inner child that needs, not stuffed, but nurtured.  It's who we are at our very core.  Stick with me here.

The whole Chik-Fil-A-who's right or wrong-hate-love-chickengate thing over the last couple weeks has forced me to reexamine my entire belief system.  I think it did that for a lot of people.  I can tell you, without hesitation, my beliefs in the goodness of humanity, and the potential for an enlightened and peaceful future (someday) are firmly in tact.  Apparently cognitive dissonance works both ways.  I offered a challenge some time ago to a group of people who follow a particular doctrine, to present me with historical evidence of the validity of their deity's existence, using a source OTHER than their religious reference OR a source that doesn't use said reference as THEIR primary source, and I would rethink my position.  Not one met the challenge.  In fact, I don't think anyone tried.  But I digress.

In the midst of all this surface tension there lurks an undercurrent that I keep hearing over and over.  Like my little 138 number, I seem to be seeing it everywhere lately.  It takes on a couple different forms but goes something like this.  "What are we teaching our children?"  Or  "Our world/country/county/city/whatever is in so much trouble!"  Or still, "We need to get back to biblical values."   Add quotes to any string of words you like.  The bottom line is, there are those among us who believe our population is destined for destruction because we aren't following a Christian/Muslim/Hindu/Buddhist/Whatever doctrine.  "God" is displeased and he's going to bring down the thunder.  I just can't seem to share that perspective and I'll tell you why.

Many people I talk to today think our children are soft, spoiled and unaware.  They're obviously talking to a different group of children than I.  Sure, kids today probably spend more time indoors playing Nintendo or watching TV.  And we've all assumed that's a bad thing.  Granted, it's a DIFFERENT thing than when I was a kid, but who's to say it's bad.  It's how things are.  It's where technology and evolution is leading us.  And here's where the naysayers are digging in.  I'm actually encouraged by the generation of kids we're raising.  It's MY generation that seems to be making a mess of things.

Almost without exception, the kids I have the pleasure of being around today are more globally and ecologically aware.  They get the connection.  They're beginning to realize that borders are ridiculous and survival of the species means a spirit of cooperation.  They're finally beginning to grasp the notion that war is ludicrous at ANY level.  (Yeah, we didn't even come CLOSE to getting that one.)  They ask tough questions and are no longer swallowing ancient lore of any kind without some type of evidence.  Largely gone are the days of "I believe this or that because my parents said so."  Kids want evidence now.  Blind faith is disappearing.  And.  THAT.  Is.  A.  Good.  Thing!!!!  There's an increased love of The Arts, and Science is emerging as a place to explore with that childlike wonder we talked about and not just some class that requires a grade.  And these kids are going to bear children that carry on that legacy.  These kids are getting it.

So you want to know how I know?  I know because the establishment that has kept us under the tyranny of dogma is crying out with a gnashing of teeth.  The thin vail of religion is being questioned.  And that may be nothing new, but the days of killing people for their questions are mostly gone and the curtain is being opened one generation at time.  And THAT, my friends, is called a "threat" to those that live behind that curtain.  I know.  I used to live there, too.  Can you begin to imagine the economic landslide that will take place when the curtain finally falls?  Religion is a multi-billion dollar industry.  Collapse the foundation and you may very well collapse the whole thing.  Many kids today understand that may be exactly what needs to happen.  Our kids may be "spoiled", but they certainly aren't arrogant or naive.  They see the fragility of our existence.

I guess all I'm trying to say is this.  Fear not.  Everything is happening exactly the way it's supposed to.  Whether you're Christian or Atheist, we can probably agree on that.  Every battle line that gets drawn is forcing people from both sides to step towards it, baby-step at a time, whether they realize it or even want to.  Eventually............and it may be many generations from now, an entire planet (or maybe even universe) of people will emerge that stand at the line shaking hands.  We can't be on opposite ends forever.  It just doesn't work that way.  And although it may seem like such a long time from now, man hasn't been around that long.  (Unless you believe that whole "the earth is only 10,000 years old" thing.  In which case, don't even get me started).  We'll figure it out.

Believe what you want to believe.  Whatever it is, it's vital to getting us where we need to be as a species.  We actually need opposing views to find SOLID ground.  Have faith.  Believe.  We're all basically good people.   And I think our children are the first in a long line that are getting it worked out.  I only wish I was going to be here to see it.  But in the meantime.........

Live in childlike wonder.  It's who you are.

Namaste        





Ramblin' On River Odyssey (Final)

"When you think about it, life is really just a river."

~ Matt Leatherwood ~

"Excuse me, sir," I gently inquired from the back of my loaded canoe.  "Is this Nebraska City?"

"It is," he said as he glared down at me from the boat dock as if some hippie had just shown up to invade his quaint little town.

"Is this the only place I can get off the river?" I pressed just a bit further.

"It's as good a place as any," was all the gruff little man trying to launch his flat bottom boat could muster.

"Yes, sir, this is a fine place," I smiled.  "But is it the ONLY place in Nebraska City to exit the river?"

He scratched his chin, now both clearly puzzled and annoyed.  He went on to say something about a bridge a little further down and some giant embankment next to the grain elevator, but I stopped listening.  It was evident.  The river odyssey was over.

I had just rounded the last bend before the site of civilization began to appear.  As the grain elevators, houses, and finally the park and boat ramp came in to focus, I was filled with a sense of accomplishment and sadness.  After many, many years of discussion, dreaming and planning, my trip was coming to a close a full half day sooner than I expected.  I pulled the cell phone from the waterproof case where it had been stored most of the trip and called my friend to see about being picked up.  He said he'd be there in a little over an hour.  He arrived on time, we loaded the gear on the jeep and headed to town for lunch.  After 4 days of fruit and MRE's, I was hungry.

We stood at the counter of a local fast food joint and ordered our food.  As they called out the total, I reached in to my pocket for the first time in 4 days to produce a debit card which I used to pay for lunch.  As I handed the young teen behind the counter my card, the full weight of the trip being over began to sink in.  Like a movie scene where I was being sucked down a worm hole, I became firmly, if not roughly planted directly back in to civilization.

Lest I begin to sound overly dramatic, let me be clear about this.  I get the fact that I'd only been on my own for 4 days.  I hadn't been stranded in the Tundra, foraging for food and melting snow for water.  I wasn't stranded on some deserted island ala Robinson Crusoe for years on end eating only coconuts and fish.  I had merely been basically alone on a canoe, truly not all that far from civilization, for a meager 4 days.  Anyone could do that standing on their head.  There was no inherent danger and I was on charted waters.  Yet, for 4 days, I completely removed myself, as much as possible, from people, traffic and noise.  I'd spoken less than a dozen words to another human being during that time (I DID talk to myself a bit and even asked Eliot a couple questions) and was entirely alone with the voice in my head.  Very few people take the time to listen to that voice, yet we all have one.

I've already told you all about the lessons the river refreshed for me.  Being back in a small town and then finally back in a city like Dallas, Texas was, at first, overwhelming.  Everything was bigger.  Noises were louder.  Traffic was heavier.  My patience was shorter.  Now, I know what you're thinking.  "Where's the gratitude, Matt?  You should be refreshed and alive after a trip like that."  I get that.  I really do.  And I'm grateful beyond measure for the opportunity to experience a childhood dream.  But what really hit home for me upon my return to Dallas (and I'm just being honest here) was the complete insignificance of all that surrounds me in the big city.  On top of that, I felt deep sadness for those that heard only their loud radio, breathed in dirty exhaust and drudged on day after day in a job they hate.

The virtues of labor and responsibility and all that aren't lost on me.  That's probably a discussion for another time.  What I know with absolute certainty after being alone on the river, is there is more than this.  There's more to see, more to appreciate and more to experience.  There are wondrous things out there.  Dear god, how I wish people would stop long enough to see those things.  There are miracles under foot everywhere you turn, but many you'll only find if you're quiet and still.  They don't come blaring a trumpet.

I had this very thought today.  Each and every one of us start at the same place.  And regardless of the paths we choose, jobs we take, mistakes we make or miracles we perform, we ALL end up in the same place too.  It kinda makes all the things in between much less worth worrying about.  "No one gets out alive," is the quip that belongs there I believe.

Life isn't like a river.  Life IS a river.  Every little stream, creek, and river are all flowing to the same place.  Somewhere along the way, they are ALL connected.  Just like people and the way they interact with each other.  Life is flowing and we're all flowing with it whether we're fighting or resting.  As we go, things and people come and go and there simply is...no....going....back.  If you're in a place of calm now, big waves are coming.  If you're in the middle of a giant wake now, calmer water is just ahead.  That's just how it works.  That's the river.  That's life.

Will you do this?  Will you make time soon to sit still and be quiet?  Will you take a trip you've always wanted, or see something you've always wanted to see?  Will you take up that hobby?  Or for the love of god, will you just give someone a hug?  Life is flowing, it's passing and there are going to be periods of calm and storm.  Just go with it.  Live it.  Enjoy it.  You and I started at the same place and we're finishing at the same place too.

Stop sweating the small stuff.  Life is a river.  Go with it. 

   

  

Ramblin' On River Odyssey (Part III)

“As we sail thru life, don't avoid rough waters, sail on because calm waters won't make a skillful sailor”

~ Unknown ~

"It is a mistake to try to look too far ahead.  The chain of destiny can only be grasped one link at a time." 

 ~  Winston Churchill ~

In a recent training operation put on by my local Urban Search and Rescue Team, I learned the significant difference between "information" and "intelligence."  Information, of course, can come from a variety of sources and may or not be useable or even accurate.  Intelligence, on the other hand, is that bit of useful and accurate information found hidden in the mountains of information.  In this particular case, a well-meaning friend who informed me barges were no longer pushed up the Missouri River could be classified as information.  The fact that I actually MET a barge being pushed up the Missouri River would be classified as intelligence.  Unfortunately, that bit of intel was a bit late.

I was still on the final leg of my odyssey and had just waved so-long to my coyote friend.  Overcome with the joy of my trip and meloncholy of the impending end, I settled back in the Ramblin' On for an easy coast to my final destination; time, mileage and speed unknown.  I found a smooth, easy current along the west bank of the river and just let my mind wander.  The view was a little fuzzy at first.  In fact, I wasn't so sure I wasn't imagining things, much like one would after days in the desert.  But as the object grew closer, there was no doubt.  I was about to meet a barge.  Information decoded.  This was solid Intel.

I moved yet closer to the west bank, hoping to pass the tug pushing four large tankers on his port side.  As the vessel approached, it seemed the pilot had other ideas as he loomed closer and closer to the same bank while trying to negotiate a wide, sweeping turn of the river.  It became evident I would have to cross to the east bank or be swamped.  I stowed my camera in the water-proof case and, for one of the few times on my trip, paddled as if it meant something.  I dug in deep and came about for the opposite shore.  I made it in ample time to grab a picture of the vessel as it passed.  And then came the obvious realization:  I was about to come face-to-face with an enormous wake.  There was no avoiding it.

I understand enough about boating to know the best way to handle an onslaught of waves is head on.  In some instances, meeting them at a 45 degree angle is best, but I set the bow for a direct hit by the large waves and braced my feet inside the canoe.  And then they came.  Large, rolling clouds of water pitched the bow of the canoe up and then down, up and then down.  It was actually a nice change to the peaceful floating I had been doing and the initial attack of waves faded quickly.  But the wake on a large body of water like a lake or ocean is one thing.  The waves trapped inside the banks of a river are quite another and I momentarily overlooked that fact. 

As each round of waves passed, they ricocheted off the opposing bank and came back for another round, this time hitting me from behind.  At the same time, waves initially moving away from me, hit THAT bank and came back at a much different angle, eventually mingling with all the other waves and making a sort of hodgepodge of wavery.  It didn't matter which way you pointed the craft, the waves were coming from every direction.  It was only mildly frightening and soon things began to settle.  To my surprise, however, I was MILES downstream and past the barge before the waters returned to their usual calm.  It was in that vortex of waves and the ensuing choppiness of the water that I realized my third lesson.

Life comes with rough waters and they take time to settle.  I feel certain that each and every one of us have been floating along in calm seas only to be met face-to-face with a surprise occurence that left huge turbulence in it's wake.  And I'm betting that in most of those instances, we've chosen to meet the waves head on or be swamped.  That's generally what we do.  It's what we HAVE to do.  But the most important realization about my own recovery from a huge barge in the river of life was the behavior of the waves AFTER.

Anytime we're met with rough waters, the initial crash of waves is the most brutal.  Or at least we think so.  They pass momentarily and we think we've made it beyond the worst of it.  And then the second wave comes, followed by a third.  Soon the waves are all crashing around us and we realize that as difficult as the first hit was, there's plenty of confusing, rough, and perhaps more difficult water ahead.  We do our very best to keep our "canoe" pointed in the right direction and hold on for dear life.  After some time, the worst of it IS truly over, but it is miles and miles before our waters return to calm.  That's how we grieve.  That is the process of healing.

If there is one constant in this life, it's change.  If you're drifting in calm waters now, make no mistake.  Rough waters will come, perhaps even when you least expect it.  If you're fighting rough waters now, you can be sure the waters will calm once again.  Just don't be surprised if it's a bit further downstream than you expected.  That's just how life flows, remember?

Don't fear the unexpected or oversteer the boat.  Rough waters will come and when they do, simply do your best and know things will be calm soon.  Use this tidbit of information and convert it to useable intelligence when you need it most.  Because you will.  At one time or another we all will.  And no matter how rough the waters get, try to remember you're still on a boat coasting down river and you're still afloat.  Even at it's worst, that ain't so bad. 

Happy boating.    

  



Ramblin' On River Odyssey (Part II)

"In three words I can sum up everything I know about life.  It goes on."

~  Robert Frost ~

"The past cannot be changed, but the future is still within our reach."

~ AGHS Class of 1979 Motto ~

I, Eliot and the canoe inched along in total silence as we drifted aimlessly down the Missouri River.  There were no sandbars to navigate.  Nothing but open water and smooth sailing required that I occasionally only rudder the boat to maintain direction.  With my feet up and hands locked behind my head, I leaned back in total bliss, enjoying the moment as the morning sun danced off the ripples of the water.  And there he was.

In complete ignorance of the approaching foreigner, a young coyote came to the water's edge seeking food and water.  I came to full attention and tried ever so quietly to sit up, remove my camera from it's water-proof case, turn it on, adjust the settings and prepare for the shot.  After what seemed like minutes, but took only seconds, I turned to zoom in on this gorgeous creature.  But since the river was flowing at a blinding speed of just over 5 miles per hour, he was already a hundred yards behind me.  I did my best to twist in my seat for one last view of the coyote who was now standing on the bank in a puzzled stance, probably having never seen a long silver fish skimming the water.  In desparation I zoomed out to the limits of the lens and hoped for the best, grabbing one of three shots you see above.  And then it was gone.  The moment, the opportunity, the coyote, the experience....................vanished. 

I was on the final leg of my river odyssey before I became aware of two important additional life-lessons, free for the taking from the power of the Mighty Mo.   On day one, of course, I was schooled in the art of going with the flow of the river......of life.  Because of that vital lesson, I spent the next two days of the journey more relaxed, perhaps even more "in sync" with the river.  Sure, there were many more sandbars to navigate, rain and even a thunderstorm to escape, but I took them all in stride.  They were part of the experience and I had been reminded to quit fighting.  Some of my best memories of the trip are of being temporarily stuck on a sandbar and dragging the canoe to open water, or scrambling up the wooded bank of an island to seek cover from an approaching storm.  It was wonderful.

But on this day, my final day, as the coyote and his puzzled expression disappeared behind my relentless progress downstream, I was reminded of my next lesson.  While on this little odyssey, I had observed many wonderful things, animals and landmarks.  Some I stopped to explore.  Others received an idol glance as I floated by.  Yet every experience shared one very important characteristic.  They were behind me.....past......gone.  No matter how much I wanted to go back and relive each experience, it simply wasn't possible.  The river flows relentlessly downstream, remember?

It doesn't take a river trip to see where I'm heading with this.  It's life.  Directly behind my first lesson of life's flow, came the part I simply couldn't ignore.  As life flows, experiences pass.  And then they're gone.  The MEMORY of the experience remains (or at least it usually does), but you can't go back to relive it.  That's the beauty of living in the moment.  We hear about that a lot these days, don't we?  "I'm living in the moment."  Or, "I live each moment to the fullest."

But those are different aren't they.  EVERYONE lives in the moment.  It's not really a choice.  Each of us has only this moment in which to live.  Some of us just realize it more than others.  But I digress.  We were talking about the past.  You know, that thing that happened just seconds ago. 

Each and every one of us has "a past."  It's there alright.  It's there in the form of a memory, an experience, or maybe even a life lesson.  But that's all.  You can't go back there physically any more than I could paddle upstream against a strong current to linger a bit longer with my coyote friend.  And even if you could, it wouldn't be the same as when you left it.  Surely you've revisited your home town or old vacation spot thinking you'd be able to relive a past event only to find everything had changed.  Life flows.  Things move past us and then they're gone.

We have a choice, as so boldly pointed out in the quote by our loving Dr. Seuss.  "Don't be sad it's over.  Be happy that it happened."   And that's the truth.  We can spend our lives dwelling in old memories or struggling to relive them.  Or we can simply be happy they happened, add the experience to our inventory, and move on.  I can wish for more time or a better picture of my friend the coyote, or just be thankful I got to see him at all.  Because just like on that river, you can look back for a last glance, or even try paddling back, but life flows and just around the bend is your next experience, your past obstructed from view.

So let's be happy that it happened, shall we?  I know it's easier said than done and I have certainly failed miserably at being happy on more than one occasion.  But I keep moving forward, keep flowing and keep logging a new "past."   Be happy.

What's done is done.

  

    

Ramblin' On River Odyssey (Part I)

"Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it."

~ Norman MacLean ~

"On a river, life's most important lessons are right there for the taking."

~ Matt Leatherwood ~

Had I known that some of life's biggest mysteries could be solved by taking a solo trip down a river in a canoe, I'd have done it years ago.  The truth is, I DID do it years ago, but with other young boys in Boy Scouts.  There wasn't a prayer I'd even begin to grasp the significance of the river's lessons at that young age.  And even as an adult, I'm not sure comparing the river with some of life's biggest challenges would have been as obvious without my long trail of experience.  But the lessons are there alright.  And they're obvious if you know where to look.

Maybe this trip wasn't so much about learning NEW ways to look at life as it was about reinforcing those things I'd learned and forgotten.  Like most people, I learned a few things from my parents.  Well,  at least they TRIED to teach me a few things.  To some advice I listened.  I ignored others and insisted on ambling along lifes path learning things on my own.  That's a little painful, but as it turns out..........necessary.

This 75 mile trip down three rivers close to home was actually over 35 years in the making.  It didn't take that long because of the intricate planning or training involved.  It took that long because, for all those years, I had made other parts of my life more important.  And as it turns out, that's exactly as it should be.  Everything, as we know, happens as it should, when it should. 

The bridge 1/4 west of my childhood home offers passage over Salt Creek, which from there, flows approximately 10 miles to the Platte River.  From the mouth of Salt Creek, the Platte flows (sometimes faster than others) about 35 miles to the Missouri River.  From the mouth of the Platte, the Missouri leads eventually to the Mississippi and then to the Gulf of Mexico.  My trip ceased at Nebraska City, Nebraska, some 30 miles from the mouth of the Platte River.  If my math is correct, that's 75 miles.  It took me just under four days.

With the help of a friend, I loaded and launched my trusty canoe (The Ramblin' On) under the bridge where I had spent so many hours exploring as a child.  Accompanied only by my trusty sidekick, Eliot, (a stuffed Harley Hog given to me by my daughter) I set off down river to parts unknown.  The emotion of actually doing something that you'd only TALKED about doing for so long is difficult to describe.  Surreal probably comes closest, yet doesn't quite explain it fully.

Taking time away from work and family and other worldly expectations doesn't come without a certain level of guilt for me.  I'm working on that.  I didn't actually ask for a sign nor did I expect one, but within 200 yards of leaving my launch site, a clear sign is exactly what I got.  Two fabulous Red-Tail Hawks began circling directly above my head and repeatedly screamed at me with the sound most people only hear in the distance of an old western movie.  They weren't trying to scare me off.  They weren't threatening.  They were welcoming.  It was the most comforting feeling I've had in some time.  I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

For several miles the trip went as planned with only minor navigational issues and short periods of dragging the canoe over shallow waters.  It wasn't until near the end of the day, after basking in the glow of this amazing adventure, I discovered I'd been protected by tall trees on both sides of the river from a fierce wind.   With only two miles (that's an estimate to be sure) remaining to the mouth of Salt Creek, I was met by 30 mile per hour gusts that made navigating the loaded canoe impossible.  No matter how hard I paddled or ruddered, the wind blew the bow of the boat in whatever direction it chose.  I went sideways and backwards more often than I went forward and the wind unwaveringly pushed the vessel towards the opposing shore.  Like a pilot flying "dead stick", I was completely helpless.  Or so I thought.

After nearly an hour fighting the wind, I decided I'd be better off just dragging the vessel downstream.  I dismounted in an attempt to tow the boat downstream and immediately sank to mid-thigh in mud.  Initially disheartened, but not defeated, I struggled another 1/4 mile downstream taking one agonizing step at a time.  And then I did something I would never have considered 10 years ago.  Maybe even 2 years ago.  I gave myself permission to accept the fact what I was doing wasn't working.  I moored the canoe, grabbed my bed roll and took a nap under a shady Cottonwood.

It was a relatively short snooze and when I awoke, I took a leisurely hike down the shoreline to see if I could spot the Platte River.  It was still out of sight and the wind was still howling.  And then it hit me.  "It's easier to pull a rope than to push it."  In other words, there's nothing in the canoeing manual that says you have to paddle from the back.  I rearranged my gear and paddled from the bow of the boat.  Problem solved.  And therein lies the first and probably most important lesson I took from the entire trip.  Luckily, I learned it (or perhaps RElearned it) on the very first day.

Life is EXACTLY like that.  You're coasting downstream, aglow with the happiness of a life well-planned....well-deserved.  It seems impossible the smile could EVER be removed from your face.  You make one little turn around an unknown bend and WHAM!!!  the wind hits you in the face, blowing you completely off course.  And I can't speak for you, but so many times I have done in life precisely what I did in that canoe.  I fought.   I paddled harder.  I leaned fast on the rudder.  I dug in.  I pressed on, knowing what I was doing just wasn't working.  I became tired, frustrated, disheartened.  But just like on that river, I realize now I have a choice and it's a very good choice.  I can stop what I'm doing...........I can actually do NOTHING and wait for a new perspective. 

Many times I've hoped the new perspective would be calmer winds.  But the truth is, calmer winds won't always prevail.  A new way to navigate those winds just might.  I could have kept fighting the wind which was clearly unconquerable.  I took a nap instead.  With a new perspective, I was able to move forward.  But I learned something else too.  Even as the wind blew and it seemed I was making absolutely no progress, I actually was; steady progress in fact.  You see, no matter how hard the wind blows or how shallow the water gets, the water still flows.....always.  All that time I thought I was getting nowhere, the flow of the river was carrying me downstream ever so slowly.   

And therein lies the lesson.  Life flows.  You can fight it or you can go with it, but make no mistake;  it flows.  No amount of turbulence in the form of trial and problems will interrupt the flow.  You may not recognize it.  You may think your "wind" has stopped your progress altogether.  Take a nap.  Change your perspective.  If you look downstream it will appear as though you're getting nowhere.  But if you look to the shore right next to you, you'll discover you're moving.  You can't HELP, but move.  It's what life does. 

The end of Day One found me at peace, in a small tent without stakes (which I apparently forgot), looking out over the Platte River as the sun set, it's orange glow reflected off the rippling water as I reflected on my day.  Life flows.  Life has a rhythm.  You can go with it or you can fight it.  It's your choice to make.  But whichever you choose, it WILL move on and you will move with it.  Remember that sometimes doing nothing is exactly what you need to be doing.  If you get hit with a high wind and you're tired of fighting, take a nap.  It'll change your outlook.  The river is going to flow anyway.

Lean back.  Lock your fingers behind your head and kick your feet up on the side rails.  It's gonna be ok.  Just go with it.

"It"

"Just get over it"

"You can do it" 

What is this "It" of which you speak?  Who, what, and most importantly WHERE is this elusive "It" to which you refer me?  You can do It.  Time to get over It.  Is It different than This or even That?  As in, "This too shall pass" or "I've been through That."

Many modern-day scientists, specifically physicists, are blowing the doors off Newtonian physics.  What we, in this generation have known to be true, simply is not.  The old laws of physics no longer apply.  Experiment after experiment at the subatomic level have proven beyond reasonable doubt things move at random.....and in order.  Confusing, right?  The Quantum has shown us that we are moving away from a world of either/or to a world of both/and.  It's fascinating.  What is now routinely referred to as the Space-Time Continuum, shows us that all things, at least at the subatomic level, are happening at the same time AND different times......all at the same time!  And guess what?  ALL things are made of subatomic particles........energy.  You and your kitchen table both come from the same place.

So what exactly does that mean for someone like you and me?  The implications are infinite.  And I can only speak for me at this juncture, but for me, this brings confusion.  What all this science means is that there really isn't an "It" versus "This" or "That".  It means we're all related....all connected.  It means time is relative and what seems like it took so long really didn't and what seems so far away really isn't. 

So in fashion fitting the title of my blog, I've rambled about all that physics stuff to get to this.  My head is completely wrapped around the implications of modern science (I don't GET it, but I see where they're going with it), yet my heart is not.  And therein lies the challenge of the human experience.  In the head vs heart arena lies the challenge of reconciling being human with being spirit.  You see, I completely get that the one I love isn't really so far away, yet my heart aches for her physical presence.  I understand that there truly is no separation in the overall scheme of things, yet my heart feels the emptiness.  My head knows time is not linear and what seems like forever isn't really so long.  It knows that two years went by in an eyeblink, yet it was really a lifetime.  But my heart......my HUMANness, just doesn't understand.

So what does one do when confronted with the advice of those so well-meaning when told "you should get out more" or "it's time to get over It?"  Well........I don't know.  Because for me, there is no It.  There is simply now and the daily "struggle" (I despise that word) to understand being human; to understand the truth that I am only spirit having a human experience.  So as a human, I heed certain pieces of advice and put one wobbly foot in front of the other and check for footing.  Sometimes the step feels solid.  Sometimes not.  But in the wake of not seeing my path clearly, I put faith in the concept of well-meaning friends and science and move forward.  That makes sense, doesn't it?  Well, doesn't it?

This is clearly a rambling of epic proportions.  All my studying, reading, meditating, and reflection make it perfectly clear to me that all is being orchestrated exactly as it should be.  But today my human is weary and would give nearly anything for one more touch, look, or word.  That's just the way It is.  So for today I'll let my head try grasping the wonder of science, while I do my best to embrace the emotions of my humanness and know they're leading me somewhere. 

Life is a wondrous event of learning and growing, but it isn't only that.  It is an opportunity for Joy.  Today I'm missing mine, but it isn't so far, and the wait not so long.  It only seems that way.

Namaste     

This Side Or That?

“Suicide is, after all, the opposite of the poem.”   
  ~ Anne Sexton ~

“All I wanted was a little piece of life, to be married, to have children.... I was trying my damnedest to lead a conventional life, for that was how I was brought up, and it was what my husband wanted of me. But one can't build little white picket fences to keep the nightmares out.”   
      ~ Anne Sexton ~

“I am alone here in my own mind.
There is no map
and there is no road.
It is one of a kind
just as yours is.”   
      ~ Anne Sexton ~

“Anne, I don't want to live. . . . Now listen, life is lovely, but I Can't Live It. I can't even explain. I know how silly it sounds . . . but if you knew how it Felt. To be alive, yes, alive, but not be able to live it. Ay that's the rub. I am like a stone that lives . . . locked outside of all that's real. . . . Anne, do you know of such things, can you hear???? I wish, or think I wish, that I were dying of something for then I could be brave, but to be not dying, and yet . . . and yet to [be] behind a wall, watching everyone fit in where I can't, to talk behind a gray foggy wall, to live but to not reach or to reach wrong . . . to do it all wrong . . . believe me, (can you?) . . . what's wrong. I want to belong. I'm like a jew who ends up in the wrong country. I'm not a part. I'm not a member. I'm frozen.”   
       ~ Anne Sexton, Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters ~

Yesterday, my daughter shared with me the results of a project she did for her Freshman English class.  It was one of the few "A's" given and it was a beautiful tribute/biography on the life of Anne Sexton, a Pulitzer Prize winning poet who tragically committed suicide in 1974.  I was a bit concerned, at first, by her choice of subjects, but she assured me her choice was about Ms. Sexton's style, not her suicidal tendencies. 

After looking over the project, complete with analysis of various stanzas from Anne Sexton's work, I couldn't wait to read some of her writing for myself.  Admittedly, much of it is dark stuff.  But I also found much of it to be extremely raw, honest, and captivating.  This was a woman who, despite her success and talent, struggled her entire life with depression.  Her work reflected her struggle.  In fact, writing was actually prescribed to her by a psychiatrist as a way to deal with her depression.  I guess in the end that didn't work.  I wonder if anything would have.

More recently, Don Cornelius, visionary and founder of the famous program Soul Train, was found dead in his home, the victim of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.  After years of success in the entertainment industry, paving the way for a huge number of black entertainers, at 75 Don Cornelius decided enough was enough.  Enough of what?

According to one source, there were 34,598 suicidal deaths in 2007 making it the 10th leading cause of death in America.  It accounted for just over 11 deaths per 100,000 people and there were 11 ATTEMPTS for every "successful" death.  Staggering.  But it still begs the question, "Why?"  You can read all the risk factors for yourself, but in the end the answer to that question is, "We don't really know."

Since I was a young child, I've been fascinated with mortality.  Perhaps that fuels my passion for old cemetaries.  Who are we?  Why are we here?  Where did we come from?  Where do we go?  Is this all there is?  What....is.....NEXT?  Religion, both ancient and modern have been trying to supply us with answers to those questions since the beginning of time.  None of the explanations have ever been adequate for me.  The truth is, unless you've been there AND back, you just don't know.  NOBODY knows.  It's all just an educated guess.  (Or uneducated.  Take your pick.) 

So why do people like Anne Sexton and Don Cornelius (and thousands upon thousands of others without names or faces) decide to end their life on earth?  Is it a decision or is it simply the end to a long illness, void of any choice?  What brings a person to the point where WHATEVER it is on the other side has to be better than what's on THIS side?  What makes the unknown more attractive than the known?  I've often wondered whether people that get to this point just don't get "it" or if by some odd chance, they're the only one's that do. 

I know this.  Anne Sexton and Don Cornelius were both enormous talents, yet that wasn't enough. What is?  Anne couldn't silence the words in her head that wouldn't come out.  Every one and every thing is interconnected.  It's a universal law.  So what makes each path so unique?  I guess we won't know until we're on the other side.  Anne Sexton's work spoke to me in ways no poet has for a very, very long time.  I'll leave you with couple of her poems.  RIP Anne Sexton and Don Cornelius.  You were enough.  You're still enough.  We believe in you.

 

WORDS, by Anne Sexton

Be careful of words,
even the miraculous ones.
For the miraculous we do our best,
sometimes they swarm like insects
and leave not a sting but a kiss.
They can be as good as fingers.
They can be as trusty as the rock
you stick your bottom on.
But they can be both daisies and bruises.
Yet I am in love with words.
They are doves falling out of the ceiling.
They are six holy oranges sitting in my lap.
They are the trees, the legs of summer,
and the sun, its passionate face.
Yet often they fail me.
I have so much I want to say, so many stories, images, proverbs, etc.
But the words aren't good enough,
the wrong ones kiss me.
Sometimes I fly like an eagle
but with the wings of a wren.
But I try to take care
and be gentle to them.
Words and eggs must be handled with care.
Once broken they are impossible
things to repair.

  



Admonitions to a Special Person, by Anne Sexton

Watch out for power,
for its avalanche can bury you,
snow, snow, snow, smothering your mountain.

Watch out for hate,
it can open its mouth and you’ll fling yourself out
to eat off your leg, an instant leper.

Watch out for friends,
because when you betray them,
as you will,
they will bury their heads in the toilet
and flush themselves away.

Watch out for intellect,
because it knows so much it knows nothing
and leaves you hanging upside down,
mouthing knowledge as your heart
falls out of your mouth.

Watch out for games, the actor’s part,
the speech planned, known, given,
for they will give you away
and you will stand like a naked little boy,
pissing on your own child-bed.

Watch out for love
(unless it is true,
and every part of you says yes including the toes),
it will wrap you up like a mummy,
and your scream won’t be heard
and none of your running will end.

Love? Be it man. Be it woman.
It must be a wave you want to glide in on,
give your body to it, give your laugh to it,
give, when the gravelly sand takes you,
your tears to the land. To love another is something
like prayer and can’t be planned, you just fall
into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.

Special person,
if I were you I’d pay no attention
to admonitions from me,
made somewhat out of your words
and somewhat out of mine.
A collaboration.
I do not believe a word I have said,
except some, except I think of you like a young tree
with pasted-on leaves and know you’ll root
and the real green thing will come.
Let go. Let go.
Oh special person,
possible leaves,
this typewriter likes you on the way to them,
but wants to break crystal glasses
in celebration,
for you,
when the dark crust is thrown off
and you float all around
like a happened balloon.