Fiction Imitating Life...an excerpt

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She leaned back in the creaky lawn chair and gazed up at the sky through leaves of the large tree that grew in the yard. The days were beginning to get warm and the sun felt good on her skin. If she could just sit there like that for the rest of eternity everything would be just fine. But she couldn't and it wasn’t.

Slowly she lowered her gaze to the paved driveway and took in the view. An old dresser belonging to her son, a basket of books, a set of china that had been a wedding gift, and had done nothing ever but gather dust. Most of her old work wardrobe, and some children’s toys. It was her whole life, laid out before her like so much junk. Her whole life it seemed, for sale, or worse yet waiting to be thrown unceremoniously into the trash.

That is what the sign on the fence may have well read “Unwanted life for Sale to highest bidder.” Slowly a warm tear trickled down the side of her face, the memories seeping in of happier times. Wiping the tear with the back of her hand she picked up a Pooh Bear out of the basket of toys and remembered the family trip to Disney land when her youngest was just a babe. She never imagined then, what her life would be now.

That old familiar feeling of grief and fear came again; it was the one thing she could count on anymore. Her throat closed up, a heavy weight descended on her chest, and gnawing ache began again in her stomach. The feeling gutted her, everything she thought she knew, the very ground she had built her life upon, was swept from under her. She was now rootless, floating, and lost, and stood weeping in her driveway.

It was strange for her to think of all the bits of her life strewn about the drive, and how it looked like so much junk to someone else. What was the point of it all anyway? Well, she thought, that about sums it up. Unwanted life. She felt as if she would never be able to pick up the pieces again. Defeated, she had hit rock bottom. 

But slowly, the feeling subsided, she knew she would recover. Never again would she be able to look at life with naive innocence and think that it would sit still for her. She knew it would challenge her, bend her, but not break her, not this time. She sat back down again, took a deep breath and again looked up at the blue sky through the leaves of the tree. The sky, the sky would always be there. The sun would continue to shine, the rain would fall and life would go on. She would just have to go on too. 

The Divine Within

I have been deeply moved by words, by music, by dance, and by other forms of art. I know that the really good stuff comes from someone who was willing, who was brave enough to lay bare their soul, to become vulnerable. At these times they are able to tap their divinity.  

I believe there is a part of all of us, at the very core of every human being that possesses wisdom, compassion, a sense of universal connectedness, or divinity, that is beyond comprehension. It’s beyond conscious thought. The brief glimpses we are given, at birth, death, in dreams, and in those rare and deeply profound moments we feel and see more deeply than we allow ourselves on a daily basis, those are our divine moments.

I know I am capable of so much empathy, compassion, wisdom and love, more than my fragile psyche can allow on daily basis. I feel the more life challenges me, the more I am forced to reckon with, the more this becomes true. I feel like it’s a “becoming.”Like I am always becoming something more, something better than before.

This “becoming” has no agenda, it can’t be taught, it can’t even be learned. It just is. The only thing I know is I wish to live in these “divine moments” I want to savor this “becoming.” And more than anything, I want to be given the words to express, my gratitude, to paint a picture of my path to share. I want to move and be moved.

Like a caterpillar, a lowly crawling worm at the beginning of its life, to a beautiful delicate winged being, we all have something inside of us to share, something beautiful beyond words, fragile and fleeting. Just like life itself.

A Fearful Friend

I have made friends with my fear, I know it has purpose. I know it enough to find out what it is trying to tell me. I  know it enough to tell it when to back off. It shows me what I need to know, sometimes laying bare all the dark shadows of my insecurities. It shows me how to be brave, and does not make me lose my way in dark. My fear points me in the right direction, and does not misguide me with doubts.

I have made friends with my grief; I also know it has purpose. I weep and still see that there will be joy. I feel loss and know it is also growth. I am not alone, but know I am tiny part of something greater than me.

Some days fear and grief are my only companions and on those days I know I have denied them too long. I know it is time to listen and be still, to hear what message they have for me to take the next step on my ever winding path. Change is welcome constant, something I have learned to accept, to dissect, to take what I need from, to build a better version of myself.

Turning Your Back

I have realized more and more of late, so much of the world as we perceive it is viewed through our personal lens of experience. Some people are born into what I call small or narrow worlds, and stay there throughout their lives. Their comfort zone is small and rarely do they want to challenge its borders. They refuse to let in anything that conflicts with their belief set.

Others are born into bigger worlds, where their belief sets still remain strong but are more flexible to changing environments. They embrace challenges to the “norm” and opportunity to question the status quo. Their belief set leaves room to understand and accept more variations.

When these two worlds collide it can be ugly. These small world people tend judge harshly, expect others to fit in their strict boxes for the “norm” and are often hypocritical, because of the conflict of trying to fit a unique human spirit into the neat boxes of the perceived “norm.”

Bigger world people, being imperfect humans as well, struggle with accepting these small world people in their lives, the narrow minded trying to push them and shape them into something they are not. The two groups often wind up turning their backs on each other.

I would use for example a very old man set in his ways, feels confidant he knows how to live a good life and he should be respected and listened to. Put him in a room with a very young man, free spirited, tattooed, pierced, and ready to challenge the world.  The old man will see a foolish boy screwing up his life with his radical self expression, and the boy will see a stubborn old man, who sees nothing of the changing world and who he wants to hear nothing from.

In actuality, they could potentially have so much to learn from each other. If for a minute they could look at the world through another lens. It's easy to lose sight of what we lose when we turn our backs, experience, relationships, and growth.

This is something I struggle with regularly. I have no desire, or room in my life for those that judge harshly, or stubbornly cling to the idea that their way is the only way. Somewhere in my mind I know I should learn from them, but sometimes it’s easier to just turn away. Ironically I judge the judgers. 

This reflection has come from a recent negative interaction with someone close to me. In a way I should not have been surprised, looking at the big picture I realize this persons reaction was on par for the lens through which they view the world. It's always good to remember this to put things in perspective. This can help you to forgive or let go. You have your lens to view the world and they have theirs, sometimes this will mean walking away. 

Weathering the Storm

Broken hearts and broken dreams 

Glued together at the seams

What once was broken on the floor 

Put together stronger than what was before 

Never again to be the same 

But strong enough to play life's game

All is never lost for good 

When we remember our brotherhood

We wear our scars like badges proud

Because we live and love so loud

When lifes storm will rip and tear 

We hand a friend our load to bear

To share the burden makes it light 

And we can all see our future bright

Little Forever Lights

Sometimes I envision myself as a little spark of energy or light, flitting around the universe colliding with other little sparks. When I collide with the right spark, my energy flames up, radiates out, becomes brighter, at other times when I collide with another spark, I grow dim, my light is paled in the presence of that spark. I can close my eyes and almost feel the buzz of energy flowing through my veins, responding to the energies I am in the presence of. Plants, birds, bees, mankind, all with their little flames of light.

What if that’s really all we are? Little balls of energy flitting around, looking to collide with other sparks that make us bright? Sparks of energy only just barely contained by our cumbersome flesh and bone. Flitting around, simultaneously radiating and absorbing life energy from our neighboring sparks. I would like to think that my spark is one that makes others brighter. I would like to think that that we go on for eternity, little balls of energy.

A Reflection on Christmas

Another Christmas is just around the corner. In my younger years there was nothing in the world that could crush my holiday spirit. And we were poor, never had enough to make ends meet, but we loved our small traditions, and we made the best of it. This went on far into my adult life. My Cheermiestering started the day after thanksgiving and continued until Dec 26^th. I would start baking, several kinds of cookies and sweet breads to freeze. I made homemade wrapping paper, sent out dozens of greeting cards, sang all the classic carols all day long, and drank more than my fair share of eggnog.

But several years ago all that changed. Call it midlife crises, or maybe I just finally gave in to the Scrooge. Looking around at my dysfunctional family, and overwhelmed by the incessant consumerism, I started feeling like nothing I did really mattered. Traditions became thankless motions; everywhere I looked I saw need or greed, both which disheartened me.

I don’t know what caused this change, although I can say it seemed to happen all at once. Suddenly, a holiday I loved, that was filled with joy and family became a chore, something I had to force a smile to get through, doing the bare minimum “for the kids.” It no longer held any meaning for me.

Ever since then, I have been searching, wanting to get back that warm fuzzy Christmas feeling I know exists, but to do that, I now know I have to find its meaning to me. It means a lot of things to a lot of people, and easy if you are Christian, but I am not. But I know it still means something. But what?

This year, it means letting go. Letting go of how things are “supposed” to be, letting go of unrealistic expectations, letting go of perfection. This year it means acceptance and flexibility. To look for that joy in smaller moments, to embrace all of my emotions at this time of year, even if it sadness. To stop with false cheer and look deeper, so when a genuine moment of joy presents itself I can recognize it.

Life is hard, it has so many twists and turns, if there is anything that can magnify that, it’s a holiday where everyone is expected to be full of joy. I am thankful to be in place where I am now open to see things in a new way; I have a sense of hope. I look back at the years behind me and feel blessed to have the life I have led, and lessons learned, and see a new year coming up before me and welcome it, whatever it brings because I know it will teach me something.

So this year, I will put up a tree big or small, fake or real, and love it. I will expect nothing, and love what I receive. I will give of my time freely and with an open heart and joy will find me.