Waiting for Time to Pass

Working through the drudgery of the day

It is difficult to see the hands of the clock

As they crawl slowly around the dial. Slowly,

Almost imperceptibly.

I endure the task at hand without joy

It would be so nice to have it done

And out of my way and then, I would be able to enjoy

My day.

I hurry through each opportunity looking 

Wishing, wanting, hoping, for the next big thing

To come to me so that I can escape what I think

Makes me unhappy.

There are times when something anticipated

Weighs upon your thoughts and hampers 

Your ability to focus on and appreciate the opportunities

Of today.

Finally, that anticipated moment arrives,

You examine your thoughts about it

And marvel at how it was so anticipated and how,

It came so quickly.

What is most amazing about it's arrival is how 

You begin to anticipate what is coming next

And, you fail to take the present anticipated opportunity

And savor it.

It's All in Your Head! (An Allegory)

A while back, I went for a bike ride and as occasionally happens, I came upon another cyclist who was ahead of me and out for a ride too.  It was a beautiful day.  I had been enjoying the countryside, the smells, the feel of the air on my skin and just chugging along getting a relaxing workout.  I really like cycling.  I like to read about cycling races.  I look at pictures from the Tour de France and other bike races and I am impressed that these athletes can do what they do.  You could say that in many ways I, with my body of a Clydesdale horse, wish I could be like them and go all day.

So, while I may look like this on my bicycle as I poke along on my bike, because of who and what I idolize, I see myself as this:

Getting back to my story...  

My unsuspecting target continues to ride along ahead of me.  I am no longer out for a relaxing ride, I am out for victory and this person is now my competition.  I shift myself in my saddle, push a little harder and pretty soon, I am gaining on the guy.  The dialogue in my head begins and I start calculating how long it will take for me to overtake my competitor.  Eventually, I do overtake him and smugly call out hello just as I come into his field of vision.  To my disappointment, he is wearing headphones and doesn't seem too startled as I motor past him.

I smugly praise myself as I continue forward that I am a better cyclist than he is because I just owned him back there.  I don't think about what it is that he may be out doing while he is riding his bike and that he obviously has his own agenda for his ride and none of it includes me; and, if he is smart, he'll not allow himself to get sucked into whatever he perceives me as doing or thinking as I ride by.

I like to ride up Mt. Graham for one hour and to see how far I can get up the mountain.  Well, I used to like to try it.  A while back, I was plugging along fighting the good fight with the immutable law of gravity and as I would take a look back now and then, I noticed a van slowly coming up the straight away down by the prison.  I could barely make it out and could not figure out why it was going so slowly.

Eventually, I noticed a cyclist in front of the van.  SHE was gaining on me.  I, being the fine physical specimen that I am, pushed as hard as I could.  But, you just can't change the laws of physics and pretty soon she passed me.  As she continued onward, the person in the van stopped to chat with me for a few minutes.  As my breathing slowed and I could ask questions, I found out that I had not lost my mind.  She WAS riding a cheap single speed Wal Mart bicycle!  The driver was her mother.  The young lady was a competitive cyclist and had decided to ride this cheap bike up every mountain she could find that was over 10,000 ft. and had a road on it.

Needless to say, I have not tried my gravity defying feat since.  Something had changed for me that day and I still have not recovered.

'

What We Each Need

I cringe at the poor feelings I think you have about me.

I want your esteem to be as always.

Yet, it appears that you see me as flawed.

Look into my heart.

Am I a better or a worse man than I ever was?

I came to this spot trying to be unafraid of the truth.

I decided that it was the most important thing to me.

I realize that sometimes the truth isn't what we want to hear.

However, it is what I needed to hear.

I could not live with myself if I knew I had ignored it.

Now, I've come to this point in my life

Where I cannot regress 

From the things that I know.

Can you fault me for being brutally honest within myself?

Are you aware of what pain this search brought me?

Compassion and understanding are what each person seeks.

As we give, hopefully we will each receive.

It is easier to marginalize and see other people as less-than-human

Than it is to seek to understand what needs they have that are not being met.

Don’t we have a duty to love our neighbors as ourselves?

Are we Levites or Samaritans?

When we see the man who fell among thieves 

Do we travel on the far side of the road?

Is it easier to say that a man deserves his fate

Than to help him see beyond it?

If I’m a better person because of my search, 

Then be happy for me.

If I’m worse, please be patient with me.

I’ll try and give you the same leeway

And see you are a work in progress too.

_________________________________________________________________________________

The Sycamore by Wendall Berry

In the place that is my own place, whose earth
I am shaped in and must bear, there is an old tree growing,
a great sycamore that is a wondrous healer of itself.
Fences have been tied to it, nails driven into it,
hacks and whittles cut in it, the lightning has burned it.
There is no year it has flourished in
that has not harmed it. There is a hollow in it
that is its death, though its living brims whitely
at the lip of the darkness and flows outward.
Over all its scars has come the seamless white
of the bark. It bears the gnarls of its history
healed over. It has risen to a strange perfection
in the warp and bending of its long growth.
It has gathered all accidents into its purpose.
It has become the intention and radiance of its dark fate.
It is a fact, sublime, mystical and unassailable.
In all the country there is no other like it.
I recognize in it a principle, an indwelling
the same as itself, and greater, that I would be ruled by.
I see that it stands in its place and feeds upon it,
and is fed upon, and is native, and maker.

Gentle Hope

I look at you sitting across the room

And I cannot believe that I was so fortunate

To have someone like you who would

Be in love with me.

I wonder at the uniqueness our love holds

And I worry that someday,

You or I will be gone and the other will

Gasp at the pain and groan at the loneliness.

I am sure I will cry at various moments,

That will often be unpredictable in their appearance.

When I am reminded of your being lost to me,

Never to warm my bed again.

Those that say they know that there is a forever

Do so with great hope.

For me knowing is not so easy and pondering

Brings very little comfort.

As long as humanity's been able to love

We’ve spoken of it in stories 'round hearths

And whispered while entwined in our dreams,

We hope against the truth that we witness in life.

How could one look at their beloved

And not hope for eternity?

Why wouldn’t lovers long to have

Their joys unending?

Who wouldn’t want to recall

Life’s tender treasures enjoyed together,

The pleasant walks spent talking and laughing,

To forgive a trespass and not hold a grudge?

The truth alone can make life too difficult. 

It would become impossible to get up and go on

Without a sense of hope because we know,

Life always ends badly…

Life’s truths are too harsh.

And its end is too certain.

Truth must be taken in small portions

Or it will break your heart.

Not knowing for certain is a safe place to be.

It is a place for hope to spring up and to grow.

For love is a truth that is as real as a rock,

Feelings trump reason more often than not.

I’d rather have truth in manageable portions

I need the comfort that hope can bring.

I need to be with people I love because this is what

Brings real comfort and allows me to go on.

So, I live for today with all that I’ve got.

As I grow older I know that “for better or worse”

Is no longer an ephemeral promise given by eager lovers,

It now becomes a sacrament to worship at your sick bed.

I’ll not give away today following uncertain promises of tomorrow,

I want to be present and partake of your sorrow.

We can let our hope for forever rob us of today

And those to whom we’ve promised are lost along the way.

Hope is a cruel instrument when it’s wielded by men,

We give away so much for the promise of tomorrow.

If forever is there at the end of our lives,

Our love will be there too and that hope will be fulfilled.

If our souls and love are eternal,

Then how could you believe a capricious God

Would be worthy of worship if He denies

His own children the opportunity to experience love?