Month: November 2011

Whatever is – is Best

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

Happiness permeates my being today as it has consistently lately. I am in love; swept into the rapture of  finding a soulful match with another.  Joy walks with me now, but I know I am not done with sorrow and pain.  The best life anyone ever had was a great deal of happiness with a lot of heartache mixed in.  For all human-time that is the best possible.  To acknowledge the breadth of life experience possible, from pure joy to absolute pain, is to fully come to cherish life in all its dimensions.

Paraphrasing Kahlil Gibran, joy is the mirror reflection of sorrow and sorrow is the necessary companion of joy.  The more of each one I come to know, the more of the other I am capable of knowing.  So when I lament the heartache that has come my way, I soothe myself with the knowing that the hurting is growing my capacity to know happiness deeper and to recognize joy even at its smallest.   I am living proof that the plow of pain opens the furrow for greater happiness to grow.  Hence, I can not hate my past grief and pain, nor can I dread what will yet come.  Simply, whatever is; is best.

“Whatever is – is Best” by Ella Wheller Wilcox

I know, as my life grows older,
And mine eyes have clearer sight,
That under each rank wrong somewhere
There lies the root of Right.

That each sorrow has its purpose,
By the sorrowing oft unguessed,
But as sure as the sun brings morning,
Whatever is – is best.

I know that each sinful action,
As sure as the night brings shade,
Is somewhere, sometime punished,
Tho’ the hour be long delayed.
I know that the soul is aided
Sometimes by the heart’s unrest,
And to grow means often to suffer,
But whatever is – is best.

I know there are no errors,
In the great eternal plan,
All things work together
For the final good of man.
And I know when my soul speeds onward,
In its grand eternal quest,
I shall say as I look back earthward,
Whatever is – is best.

“The Thing Is” by Ellen Bass

The thing is
To love life
To love it even when you have no
Stomach for it, when everything you’ve held
dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands
and your throat is filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you so heavily
It is like heat, tropical, moist
Thickening the air so it’s heavy like water
More fit for gills than lungs.
When grief weights you like your own flesh
Only more of it, an obesity of grief.
How long can a body withstand this, you think,
And yet you hold life like a face between your palms,
A plain face, with no charming smile,
Of twinkle in her eye,
And you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you again.

If your pain is so intense you can barely pull yourself into a new day, know the pain will lessen in time.  If your sorrow is so deep you can’t imagine tomorrow coming, know the morrow and the one after and the one after that will come to find your sorrow lessened.  If your life is so dark you can’t imagine yourself anywhere but in shadow, know the light can not be stopped from returning and it will find you.

Life has taught me to live the most difficult one step at a time, one moment at a time.  Just get through it.  Do the best I can, no matter how feeble my best was that day.   And never stop no matter how much I want to, how miniscule my progress or even if I  back slide.  Just two words:  Keep going.

Thankful I am for what is behind me, for the good that is today and for the strength and wisdom I have been blessed with to help me embrace what is to come.

 I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts,
there can be no more hurt, only more love.
 Mother Teresa

I’ve Made It

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

In the last year a person came into my life who fairly rapidly became a close friend. She is easy to talk to, insightful and in ways sees me with far more clarity than my self view allows. When I was afraid to fall in love with the dear woman in my life now, P. encouraged me. For that I will always be grateful. Frequently she will email a random thought she had that turns out to be right in the strike zone for what I needed to read that day.

Yesterday she wrote: That the reason you had to go through all you went through and worked your way out of is to help others now. Your path in life could be destined to show others the way, the truth, and the light. The added bonus is that this makes you a happy man. You’ve made it, continue to make it. You are being rewarded for 58 years of trying. You have influence on lives you are not aware of. That is a wonderful thing.

For me it is very humbling to read P.’s words. Making a difference has always been a desire in my heart but its daily practice came about because I felt it had to. Uncertainty as to how to explain that fills me. In the last few years recovery from depression and other related “stuff” came through involvement with others. Therapists and such were a big help, but peers who suffer as I have were the greatest help. There is something unifying about relating to a person who knows what one feels. Pain is like that. If I come to know your suffering is like mine, I don’t need specific details. The anguish is already inside me and I relate on an emotional level and feel you as a kindred soul. Boiled down, it’s very simple: Getting better together is much easier than getting better alone.

For the second time writing this morning my eyes water up for I don’t see myself as one who makes that much of a difference. Yet when I am told I do it moves me deeply for being a positive influence to others is something I admire greatly in others. Certainly I look up to people who have moved mountains for positive change. My admiration is great for writers and artists who left a bit of themselves behind that enhances living for others. Seeing a person be unusually kind to another moves me deeper than words that come at the moment will allow me to express. But to be thought of as one that makes a difference even a small way is difficult for me to grasp. It has been my affliction my whole life to have an unclear view of myself, often for a good reason like self-protection. To see good in myself is very, very difficult. That’s why being told I make a difference is so meaningful to me.

When a person thanks me for a kindness or expresses gratitude for a little help or encouragement, I mostly brush it off. My manner is to deflect praise as I do not know how to accept it.  Kind words are appreciated, but my ability to express thanks as I feel it eludes me to this day. Why else would I be sitting here typing this through tears? The emotion of the moment is gratitude; great, great gratitude. Humility overcomes me as I wonder how I got to be so blessed to have the life I  have now. Happiness has fully invaded my life to the point I find it almost unbelievable, yet accept it is as true with thankfulness and appreciation.

No longer do I hate the pain I have endured. Inside me there is little animosity any more toward those who have hurt me. The days of being lost in my own dysfunctions I now see as my necessary walk across the hot coals to arrive here and now. I am finding the strength to forgive myself for the heartache I have caused and in letting go of the guilt and shame, I find liberation. Each time I am forgiven and in each moment I give forgiveness the ability to give and receive mercy and absolution grows. Each kind word spoken touches my heart and makes me wish to give that gift back to someone else.  I feel with a greater propensity and depth that ever before.

Years ago I read we see our past lives as moving from one point in a straight line to another point. We see a starting place and a current position when in fact the line from then to now is jagged and twisted. I know well about my detours and getting lost along the way and in spite of all the twists and turns today I too perceive my life experience as a straight line. The difficulties of my youth made me more caring and emotional. The challenges of my adult life made me strong and resilient. The pain I caused others caused me to feel my own pain more fully. And so on to where I am today: abundantly happy, deeply and profoundly in love and humbly grateful for every moment of my life that brought me to this joy I feel today. Yes, P. “I’ve made it!”

Each morning when I open my eyes I say to myself: I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn’t arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I’m going to be happy in it.   Groucho Marx

Life in a Pinball Machine

/ James Browning / 3 Comments

When my life was a mangle of unfulfilled hopes there was far too much time spent imagining the future or pondering the past. Today is quite different. I find myself enjoying “now” the vast majority of the time. The reason is simple. I like “now” more than what is behind me and I am not obsessed with what will be. My image of the future is it will be good because my “present” is good. By choices made now what is ahead of me is honed and shaped. Being awake to what is happening moment to moment is new to me, but I feel confident to have entered the best phase of my life. My best years are ahead!

Was it fate or destiny to have had the life I’ve lived and then to arrive in “the now” as I have? Was the pain, difficulty and heartache encountered predetermined as my life path? That’s quite a question and I am only one of over a hundred billion people who have probably pondered it at least a little. (It’s estimated that 107,602,707,791 people have been born on earth. For details go here: http://www.prb.org/Articles/2002/HowManyPeopleHaveEverLivedonEarth.aspx ).

A definition of Fate/Destiny I found on-line: the universal principle by which the order of things is presumably prescribed; the decreed cause of events which are inevitably predetermined. It’s quixotic to believe life for each person is decided in advance by God or some deity. My beliefs include a higher power that is there to support me along my way. However, I believe to have been given the freedom to choose and though every choice, and I mean EVERY choice, my life is shaped. The quality of my life is affected by me more markedly than any other force. God is with me, but does not decide for me. It was my fate/destiny to be born and one day die. What’s in between is mostly up to me.

When I take a glance backwards, I see myself bouncing around like a ball inside a pinball machine. Each time a pinball hits a bumper where the next impact will be is decided. And again and again it is the same. The pinball does not decide where it goes. The bumper decides. In my life experience each unique choice or “bump” I made seemed to power me to the next bumper and the next. I thought life was being done to me like a pinball bouncing around. I did not see my choices were self-made bumpers.

Neale Donald Walsch wrote: Every decision you make—every decision—is not a decision about what to do. It’s a decision about ‘”Who You Are”. When you see this, when you understand it, everything changes. You begin to see life in a new way. All events, occurrences, and situations turn into opportunities to do what you came here to do.

My clouded past is described well by Marcel Pagnol who said The reason people find it so hard to be happy is that they always see the past better than it was, the present worse than it is, and the future less resolved than it will be. To that my one word response is: “EXACTLY”!

Certainly there are happenings, circumstances and people that influenced the path I walked to get to the present. Behind me it was easy to place fault on what happened as “a pinball might blame bumpers for where it goes”. However, I am not a mindless pinball. My life should not be filled with only ”bounces” to what is around me. To have allowed the conditions of my life to shape my life experience was a lazy and difficult way to live. I know better now!

Richard Carlson said it well when he wrote circumstances don’t make a person; they reveal him or her. It took a long time for me to “see” what life was trying to reveal to me. Free of that ignorance I now agree with a quote from Nehru: Life is like a game of cards. The hand you are dealt is determinism; the way you play it is free will. And the way I play my hand today is to take responsibility for myself, to live with forethought and morals,to love as I have never loved before, to make good choices and to take life one day at a time. I know the best days of my life are yet to be lived.

We create our fate every day we live.
Henry Miller

A New Lease on Life

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

Yesterday I emailed a friend I felt like I had a “new lease on life”.  That is one of those catch phrases I have used without ever knowing its specific root meaning.  That idea caught my attention and I did a little on-line research.  “A new lease on life” means“a fresh start, renewed vigor and good health.  This term with its allusion to a rental agreement dates from the early 1800s and originally referred only to recovery from illness. By the mid-1800s it was applied to any kind of fresh beginning”.

Often when poking around on-line I will find a side track from the original search and the same happened with “new lease on life”.  It took me to wikihow.com and “the meaning of life” defined as “Seek without purpose.The universe will unfold and become clear when you seek knowledge without prejudice. Knowledge is not a destination, but a journey. Human knowledge is also imperfect. But don’t despair; we know enough to come to firm conclusions. A ‘fact’ can only mean ‘confirmed to such a degree that it would be perverse to withhold provisional assent.’  

Being in one of my ‘thirsting to know’ mindsets I stayed on a pursuit pertaining to “a new lease on life” + “the meaning of life”.  Intellectually well footed in the momentary subject I continued forward until I found myself reading about the Greek stoic Epicurus and his teachings about the “greatest good”.  This wise dude of about 2300 years ago believed the “greatest good” came from seeking modest pleasures, to attain tranquility and freedom from fear via knowledge, friendship, and virtuous, temperate living.  That all sounded good, but when I got to the part about Epicurus believing in complete abstention from sex, I left old “Mr. E” behind.

In recent times sex has been only a memory and the cause was intentional.  My promise to self was never again would I just have “sex” and should the opportunity for physical closeness come once more (which I hoped it would) its form would be “making love” and no other.  For a time I needed a cleansing period and a chance for the “dirt” I mixed into my past life to fall away from me.

Immediately around growing up it seemed every adult was trying to bed another adult and marriage more often than not did not contain faithfulness.  It did not matter that the good in me believed otherwise.  Such thinking was fragile, and as with most “kids”, I learned more from what I saw than what I read or was told.  I became an adult akin to the ones I grew up around, most pointedly, my Mother and Father.

Finally coming to comprehend my path of destruction to others and even more so to myself, I got into recovery four years ago and yesterday was the fourth anniversary of when I finished my five-week stink at The Meadows treatment center.  There I began my recovery in earnest from a diagnosis of P.T.S.D., survivor of childhood trauma, codependency, moderate depression, love avoidance and sexual compulsiveness.  Those without deep issues or not in recovery might be a little shocked I would lay my dysfunctions out so publicly.  The ability to openly express myself this way without fear is a sizeable piece of getting better.  Simply I am no longer afraid of it all and further, none of it is much of a factor in my life any more (and I maintain awareness so it won’t!).  I can not tell you how pleased I am about that!  My life is good and getting better rapidly.

At this point dear reader you must be curious about where a piece is headed that starts with thoughts about a new lease on life and the greatest good then continues to a written monologue about my sex life, dysfunction and recovery.  So go ahead and say it:  “Where the heck is he going with all this?”

Here’s where:  Last night I sat and lay on the couch with the one I love listening to music in a way that was wholesome, sweet and pure.  In an innocent way, she and I “made love”.  We mostly just held each other and enjoyed being close.  We had all our clothes on and desire beyond was never a driving force or one yielded to.  In my present life such a thing is not only possible, it is easy!  In my previous life such an occurrence would have been near impossible as being close to a woman was almost always dominated by sexual meaning.

There is a time and place for everything and last night was appropriate for the moment.  No one’s boundary was surpassed and this morning I am filled with joy and wonder to be able to practice with a woman I love what I worked so hard to learn. I love you K. and am so very, very grateful for your presence in “my new lease on life” and the appearance of the “greatest good” I have ever known.

Life is a journey, not a destination.  Ralph Waldo Emerson

Boys of Shinbone Valley

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

You won’t find anything about him on Google. If you ask around at random in Clay County, Alabama your inquiry is not likely to be met with one who has heard his name. Only a handful of people will even be able to remember he lived at all. His life was obscure but he lives durably in my memory although it was over forty years I saw him last. “He” was Willis Johnson and he was a childhood friend to my brother and me.

There is little I knew about Willis. He did not talk much. He had two older sisters and the three of them lived with their mother in an old rented house. Their origin was not there in rural Shinbone Valley, Alabama and I never knew where the family came from. Willis was a year older than me and for two summers in the early 1960’s we three boys were together frequentlyriding our our bikes and exploring as young boys like to do. We had many fun adventures and vivid memories from those time are catalogued securely in my head.

While my family never had much, Willis and his family had far less. They always seemed to get by though. No one was over-weight in his group because I suspect food was never plentiful enough to allow such a thing to happen. During the school year when Willis still attended he wore the same few clothes over and over but they were always clean. While he suffered from a general lack, I never got the feeling he was abused in any way. We did not share classes and at school he stayed off by himself and spoke little.

We three boys of Shinbone Valley, Willis, my brother and I, rode our bikes over all the country roads within five miles or so of the main crossroads of our community. We also journeyed down miles and miles of dirt logging roads, pasture cattle trails, hillside paths and did our share of “mountain biking” long before anyone had ever heard of the term. Willis knew the woods and about most everything in them. Being the only male in his household he was hunting and bringing home food from the hills at a very young age. My brother and I were always impressed with his knowledge of the land in ways that pre-teenage boys could especially appreciate.

One particular skill Willis had was making an “Indian owl sound” from his cupped hands. With thumbs side by side and hands tightly together like holding something round inside he could blow across the creases of his thumbs and get a “hooting” noise. For two summers I tried and tried and tried to create it. Over and over Willis showed me how to hold my hands but for the longest time all I ever got was the sound of my breath blowing rapidly over my fingers. It easily could have been the one hundredth time he showed me how to hold my hands when I first made a little of the right noise. Rough and inconsistent at first, over time I became proficient at making this prized “Indian sound”. Later Willis showed me how to alternate lifting the fingers of one hand to change the pitch.

When I was eleven years old my family moved much closer to town and Willis was no longer a part of my life. Once in a while when visiting my Grandparents and my Mother’s family in Shinbone Valley I would see Willis and say “Hey” but never much more. By then those innocent childhood years before puberty were fast-moving deeper into the past. He quit school to work as a manual laborer before he was sixteen.

I moved two hundred miles away to live with my Father at seventeen and never saw Willis again. I lost track of what happened to him for a long while. My Brother who kept in touch with family and folks in the valley told me years later that “Willis went wild”. He took to living in the woods by himself living off the land and only coming back to civilization occasionally. No one seems to know exactly why he did that. Willis was always a bit odd and some say he had a mental breakdown. I like to think he simply lived where he was the most comfortable, out in the woods in the highest mountains of Northeastern Alabama near what I call “home”.

I heard they found Willis Johnson’s remains at his “home camp” about 20 years ago. No one knows what happened. I like to imagine he simply joined the spirit world and was taken in there by the Native Creek Indians the valley belonged to for hundreds of years. I am grateful to have known such a unique individual who could easily have been a character in a Mark Twain novel, but instead was very real. Thanks Willis! I won’t forget you.

“I Love You”

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

While rare, there have been times in my life when I can not find the words to say what it is I want to say.  Today I type and the words come on the screen, but not in a way I am looking for.  I highlight the text, hit delete and try again… and again… and a third time.  But I still can’t find the words that go where I want to go.  So this morning, please pardon the use of borrowed words to fill this space.  Others wrote words akin to what I want to express and with thanks, I place them here. 

From timemagazine.com  “What is this thing called love? What? Is this thing called love? What is this thing called? Love”.  However punctuated, Cole Porter’s simple question begs an answer. Love’s symptoms are familiar enough: the mad conceit that the entire universe has rolled itself up into the person of the beloved, a conviction that no one on earth has ever felt so torrentially about a fellow-creature before. Poets and songwriters would be in a fine mess without it. Plus, it makes the world go round. 

Taken from http://www.love-sessions.com/whatislove.htm  What is love? It is one of the most difficult questions for the mankind. Centuries have passed by, relationships have bloomed and so has love. But no one can give the proper definition of love. To some Love is friendship set on fire.  Maybe love is like luck. You have to go all the way to find it. No matter how you define it or feel it, love is the eternal truth in the history of mankind.   

Love is patient, love is kind. It has no envy, nor it boasts itself and it is never proud. It rejoices over the evil and is the truth seeker. Love protects; preserves and hopes for the positive aspect of life. Always stand steadfast in love, not fall into it. It is like the dream of your matter of affection coming true.    Love between two individuals…. It bonds them and connects them in a unified link of trust, intimacy and interdependence. It enhances the relationship and comforts the soul. Love should be experienced and not just felt. The depth of love can not be measured. 

Be together, share your joy and sorrow, understand each other, provide space to each other, but always be there for each others need. And surely love will blossom to strengthen your relationship with your matter of affection. 

 From:  http://www.selfcreation.com/love/what_is_love.htm 

Basic Components of Love
What do you feel when you love someone? If distilled down to it’s core components, what would those be? Yes, love is an emotion, a feeling, a wanting, and a “being”. We know it feels good, but what specific feelings, wantings, and beings are present when we feel love? Here are the common denominators of love…
 
Love is Accepting.
Acceptance is labeling someone as “okay” and having no particular desire to change them. Who they are is perfectly fine with you. You pose no condition on whether you will love them or not. This is called unconditional love. When your love IS conditional, the moment they step outside your set of conditions, love wanes. Consequently, love is rarely a constant state but fluctuates based on our degree of acceptance.
 
Love is Appreciating.
Appreciation is one step beyond acceptance. It’s when your focus is on what you like about another. We look at them and feel this sweeping appreciation for who they are, their joy, their insights, their humor, their companionship, etc. When someone says they are “in love” with another, they mean their appreciation is so enormous for this person that it consumes their every thought.
 
Love is Wanting Another to Feel Good.
We want those we love to be happy, safe, healthy, and fulfilled. We want them to feel good in all ways, physically, mentally and emotionally.
 
Attention
Love expressed is when you give your attention, your time, your focus to someone. Webster defines attention as “the giving of one’s mind to something.”

There are many ways in which we give our attention to another. We use our five senses. Our ears to listen. Being completely present with the one who is speaking. Our eyes, watching another, undivided attention. Tasting/smelling? (I’ll let you figure that one out). Touching, giving a hug, holding a hand, a caress, or sexual expression.

The words above were brought here and placed in this space to dance around the three words in my heart today.  A simple trio of three words were spoken to me last night around 10pm on Friday, November 4, 2011 and without reservation or doubt I spoke “I love you” back to her.  No words are sufficient to express my elation and gratitude this morning for something I had all but given up hope for.  To know the depth of my joy you would have to go inside my heart where “the one” lives there now.  And so it shall be.  

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.  I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way.
  Pablo Neruda

Who Murdered My Dreams?

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

I recall being around four years old and an adult would ask what I wanted to be when I grew up.  My response was “just like Davy Crockett”.  That had a lot to do with my prized fringed gloves like those Davy wore in the 50’s Disney series.  I always felt more grown up when I wore them when actually I looked more like a little kid with silly dreams to the big people.  I saw the giggles and laughs when my dream was expressed, but I just knew they were wrong.  Theirs was not my reality and I somehow knew my dream could come true.

When in the third grade the question from an uncle was what was I going to be when I was a “big boy”.  Ole Davy had been left behind and the gloves had become ratty and lost.  A new response popped out of my young mouth.  “I’m going to be an astronaut”.  The time was the beginning of the space age and those new American heroes were all over the television.  I remember more than once a big part of a school day was watching black and white TV while a launch was counted down, put on hold and then counted down some more.  When answering the “big boy” question I saw the “not a chance” looks on my uncle’s face, but did not care as I knew he was wrong.  I could be anything I wanted to be!

Around my 12th year on the planet I discovered the novels of Ian Fleming.  Apparently most adults had not read them for how else could I be allowed to read books so racy without them stopping me.  While the content was really just “R-rated stuff” there were passages about 007 being in bed with a woman at least two or three times in “Dr. No”, the first of the series I read.  Being almost a teenage boy, such things were of interest to me (OK, strong interest).  My desire to grow up and be a secret agent was confirmed when I saw Ursula Andress as ‘Honey Rider’ in the film version of “Dr. No”.  How much better could it be than to be a hero like Sean Connery leading an exciting life and spending time in bed with beautiful women?  I told no adults about this dream, because I knew they wouldn’t believe me and it would probably get me in trouble anyway.

In high school I developed an interest in sciences through chemistry and physics classes.  I amended my “gonna-be-when-grown-up” goal to a combination of Albert Einstein and James Bond.  I knew it had to be possible.  I had seen pictures of Albert with Marilyn Monroe taken at parties.  So I could be as dashing as Bond and better looking than Albert.  Even with thoughts of such things I was beginning to become aware of adult realities.  A rugged home life,  a darn near evil stepfather, a heartbreak or two and the civil strife of the late 60’s was teaching me that life does not turn out how it is dreamed to be.

Before long I was caught up in trying to survive, get by and fit in.  Finding a way to support myself and bettering my lot in life became necessary driving forces.   I began to stop dreaming and started to become practical and realistic.  My heart was broken several times. I got fired.  I moved to new places and experienced severe loneliness.  I mismanaged money and my car was repossessed twice.  There was not enough money and I did not know how to manage what I did have.  There was no family support, save that of my younger brother a thousand miles away and he was having his own survival issues.  I can could say my dreams died a slow death but truth is in my early 20’s their demise was rapid.  I simply stopped dreaming of what might be.

Seven or eight years later, there was a little spark of a dream that began to take hold.  It was the fancy of being a great photographer.  There had been a little of it late in high school, but that little “almost dream” got buried then before it fully sprouted.  In my late 20’s that daydream found some new life. This dream grew and then climaxed prematurely in my late 30’s and early 40’s with a home studio and darkroom for about eight years. I started to dream again, got published, had a showing at an art gallery and for a little while thought I was on my way to a life as a fashion and fine arts photographer. Then I relocated, did not get to build the studio in the back yard I hoped for due to a divorce, digital overtook film and even my prints had to be stored away because I took as a partner a woman who saw any image I had taken of a female model as a threat. She even ripped up my primary portfolio of about fifty 11×14 prints some years ago. My dream of being a great photographer died and then got stomped on.

Who have been the murderers of my dreams:  ADULTS!  When we give up our childlike wonder and youthful hope, we begin to die a little quicker and wither away a bit faster.  When we are children, grownups mean no harm when their usually but not always hidden scoffs show toward childish dreams.  Simply adults already believe almost all children will give up their dreams one day, just like they did.   And who has been the most brutal murderer of my dreams?  ME!  But no more!

There is something about the feeling of possibly falling in love that rekindles bright and youthful things within, not the least of which is thoughts of lasting, rich and fulfilling endearment with another.  With that real possibility in my life it is through my heart my thoughts are passing these days.  That view is awakening my dreams.  Through hard work, therapy and recovery I am now happy, truly happy for the first time in my life (and its not drug induced either!).   Happiness is fertile ground for love and for growing dreams.

Today my thoughts of being like Davy Crockett, James Bond, Albert Einstein or even an astronaut make me smile to remember.  Such fantasies are only remnants of the past that do however remind me that dreams have to be a little impractical to be real.  Many dreams do not come true, but none come true that are not dreamed!  And so today, I realize it is the dreaming that matters most.  Seeing them come true is meaningful, but to never stop wishing and hoping is most important.  I am grateful to feel that truth ringing soundly within me.

No Longer Swimming

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

While standing in water it’s hard to have a sense of being wet. Yet when dry and sticking a toe in, it’s easy to feel the wetness of the water. That describes the new retrospective view I have for my feelings about a relationship that ended a few years ago. I can see now I was standing in a blended pool of emotions like love, grief, guilt and loss yet hardly knew I was “wet”. No longer swimming in that soup, I can see that I was doing what I was unable to see at the time.

I remember my years in hell well. I couldn’t act like a normal human being and thought people should not expect me to. There was sadness underneath every thing I did. Going about each day heartbroken, tainted everything I touched. At times when I was not actually feeling the pain in my head and heart I felt so tired I was completely drained. My mind became numb to any meaningful thoughts except about what I had lost. The heartbreak was always in the back of my mind somewhere just waiting for me to brush up against something random that caused me to immediately be back thinking about the breakup. Thoughts of anything else seemed only to be a temporary space between the next thought of her that would come along. At times “talking it out” with someone felt good but an hour or two later such talks seemed to only add fuel to the pain and frustrations. When the thoughts of the heartbreak where not on me, I was actively doing something to get my thoughts away from thinking about it. And on and on and on. Everyone has felt these feelings at one time or another, most just don’t wallow in them as long as I did.

It’s said the three toughest things in life to bear are: death, divorce and getting fired. To that I will add, experiences vary dependant on the particular occurrence and the person effected. I have faced death of people dear to me (family and friends) and mourned their loss for a good while and recovered. There is a saying in my profession that goes something like “you’re not a pro until you have been fired at least once or twice”. Experiencing it three times gives me something of a master’s degree in termination and I know how to bear it. One divorce over a decade ago did little to prepare me for a second end of a marriage where my love was deeper.

The end of a relationship that was built on love is hard. More than that, it ripped me open and exposed the naked fibers of my being. The future image I held for myself became shattered as many of my hopes for the future were left to wither and die.

It’s damn difficult to look into the mirror and realize many of the marriage problems were “me” when all I wanted to do is blame “her”. Reassigning responsibility outside my self was well-practiced and began in childhood as a way of survival. As an adult I lacked the realization I was not just surviving anymore and such ways of being while once necessary, should be long out grown. Others who were healthy could see, and stayed away. However, those as unhealthy were attracted to the similarities they saw thinking it showed compatibility, when it fact they should have flashed “danger”.

Today down the road past my heartbreak and grief the image in my rear view mirror is easier to understand. This is ONLY true because I took the time to bear the emotions necessary AND because I worked and continue to work on my dysfunctions that were huge contributing factors in this and other painful relationships. Things had to change within me. Otherwise, all of those feelings, beliefs, patterns, decisions and behaviors that made me “me” – energetically and emotionally – would stay the same. Without growth and change I would continue to attract similar experiences over and over and over.

That was then and this is now! Today I have a glad heart, joyful soul and open mind. I’m free! I can move on and am glad that “she” has gone on with her life because I do want her to be happy. But from now on it’s living my life and my happiness I am going to focus on. Jumping for joy I can truly say, I am a very grateful man this morning!

The heart is the only broken instrument that works. T.E. Kalem

May Have Already Begun

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

Yesterday I realized a part of me had decided what was left of life to experience was that of slowly becoming “decrepit with old age and die”.  It was sobering to realize such a view had developed to be a fairly robust assessment of my life possibilities.  Clear in thought as I write now is the belief that is NOT what I want.  Instead, the concept “decrepit with old age and die” was a notion I was trying to sell myself because…. here it comes:  “The belief was growing in me that no beautiful woman I was attracted to would ever find me attractive again”.

Where the hell did that come from?  Actually that is not a mystery.  It was spoken to me by a man I know from London whose life experience is similar to mine who, like me, was being divorced by a younger woman at the time.  Both of us had, for a while, had wives 15 years our junior.  While I would hesitate to go through the pain of it all again, I would still have the relationship in my past life if I had the choice.  Why?  I would not be where I am without it.  The strife of it all smoothed me and helped hone my thinking and feelings in ways nothing else but pain could.

After a mental wrestling match with “decrepit and die”, I concluded with confidence what I hoped for was someone I could love and who could love me.  However, there was still hesitance of truly accepting that because of the fear it would not happen.  With a little help later in the evening I was able to move past my flawed thinking.

What crazy little mental games we play with our selves in our thinking that spins like a hamster running on a wheel 24/7.  When usually I can intentionally see my self-induced BS to be what it is, BS, that faulty philosophy gets put away or at least greatly diminished.  This time I needed help to accomplish that.

With some renewed bravery about the possibility of love, I went skating on the internet yesterday to see what the “experts” had to say about the subject.  Boy is there a bunch of stuff on-line which tells me I am one of millions who daily do a search on a subject like “falling in love”.

A portion of my search on-line comforted me concerning my “old guy” image I had of myself. Here’s a tidbit that helped from Professor Arthur Aron of State University of New York at Stonybrook.  He was asked how does our appearance factor into the equation of falling in love. His response was we have found that if you are very unattractive, it can hurt you a lot in forming romantic relationships. However, being attractive doesn’t help that much.  OK, I felt a little better after reading that as I think I look “decent to pretty good” for my age.

Professor Aron was then asked “how do you explain that” and then he said We have found that two important characteristics, kindness and intelligence, are extremely important in the process of falling in love. And attractiveness is not connected to these things. These two attributes are things that people learn about someone from knowing them over time. Intelligence is important in all aspects of life, especially in love. But kindness is the strongest indicator for a successful long-term relationship. 

One of the best effects to come out of my life experience is today I value kindness, both getting and giving, as one of the best possible behaviors of a human being.  That combined with being decently intelligent aided even more my move beyond my old concept of things as I read the thoughts of Professor Aron.

While the “decrepit and die” conviction was not completely erased by yesterday’s search and related thoughts, I do feel much better today.  Remember I said “I had help”?  There is another major reason I feel differently today than just 24 hours ago and it is a “she”. Someone beautiful who is interested in me told me I was wrong to think that way.  And even better news is she is one I believe given time I could probably fall in love with. Amazing how a little bit of reality from someone else can shift the thinking going on in our heads beyond just information and show how erroneous our take on things can be.

Noted sociology Professor Francesco Alberoni states the theory that falling in love is a process of the same nature as a religious or political conversion.  Alberoni believes that people fall in love when they are ready to change, or to start a new life.  He goes on to say it is a launching of oneself towards the future and change, and fundamental to the formation of a romantic partnership. Falling in love transforms their whole world; it is a sublime experience, an act of folly…the discovery of one’s own being and one’s own destiny.

Now I can see that falling in love can happen at any age and am grateful to have had my view amended.  Frankly, I am ready for my “conversion” and it may have already begun…

Love is… born with the pleasure of looking at each other; it is fed with the necessity of seeing each other; it is concluded with the impossibility of separation!  Jose Julian Marti Perez

Oh Wow, Oh Wow, Oh Wow

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

There’s an interesting article making the rounds about the recent services for Steve Jobs. His sister, Mona Simpson, shared in the eulogy she delivered at the late Apple CEO’s memorial service that his surprising final words from his deathbed were, “Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow.” 

That sure makes a person think and wonder what he was experiencing at that moment.  Did he see “the light” that is described by those who have had near death experiences?  Did he get the grand question of life answered?  Did he finally discover for himself the meaning of life?  What experience was he describing?  Guess as we may, we can’t know for certain until our time comes as well.   

From the website howstuffworks.com comes a description of “Near Death Experiences” that is the closet thing to the death experience we’ll ever know on this side of life.  Maybe it is some of what Steve Jobs was experiencing during the last moments of living on Earth. 

  • Int­ense, pure bright light – Sometimes this intense (but not painful) light fills the room. In other cases, the subject sees a light that they feel represents either Heaven or God.
    Out-of-body experiences (OBE) – The subject feels that he has left his body. He can look down and see it, often describing the sight of doctors working on him. In some cases, the subject’s “spirit” then flies out of the room, into ­the sky and sometimes into space.
  • Entering into another realm or dimension – Depending on the subject’s religious beliefs and the nature of the experience, he may perceive this realm as Heaven or, in rare cases, as Hell.
  • Spirit beings – During the OBE, the subject encounters “beings of light,” or other representations of spiritual entities. He may perceive these as deceased loved ones, angels, saints or God. ­
  • ­The tunnel – Many Near Death Experience subjects find themselves in a tunnel with a light at its end. They may encounter spirit beings as they pass through the tunnel.
  • Communication with spirits – Before the NDE ends, many subjects report some form of communication with a spirit being. This is often expressed a “strong male voice” telling them that it is not their time and to go back to their body. Some subjects report being told to choose between going into the light or returning to their earthly body. Others feel they have been compelled to return to their body by a voiceless command, possibly coming from God.
  • Life review – This trait is also called “the panoramic life review.” The subject sees his entire life in a flashback. These can be very detailed or very brief. The subject may also perceive some form of judgment by nearby spirit entities. 

Once upon a time I thought I was going to be a scientist and in those days I saw things more in black and white complete with a fair certainty there was nothing after death.  That was a perspective of youth, peppered by religious abuse by a mean stepfather.  Years of living and experience since have taught me much and opened my mind to a much broader perspective.  As I get older seemingly inching slowly but surely toward my last breath, it has become much easier to envision a life after death.     

I once told my son something like this:  “If my beliefs about spirituality and there being an existence of some sort after death is not true, my life will still have been better for my beliefs”.   I stand firmly behind that thought today stronger than ever. 

 Mellen-Thomas Bendict is a man who went through a profound near death experience.  Part of that experienced he described this way:  The light explained to me that there is no death; we are immortal beings. We have already been alive forever! I realized that we are part of a natural living system that recycles itself endlessly.

Steve Job’s sister who is professor of English at the University of California also said in the eulogy “Steve was like a girl in the amount of time he spent talking about love. Love was his supreme virtue, his god of gods.”  There is one thing I have learned for certain that causes me to agree strongly with what she said.  Love is the solution to everything and I do mean EVERYTHING.   Peel the layers of anything far enough and love is always the answer. 

This morning I am grateful for my life and thankful for my beliefs that the experience of living has given me.  My gratefulness extends to Steve Jobs who I always had respect for.  With his last act of life he gave us a morsel to encourage thought and discussion of what lies on the other side.  Today because of those simple words he said I am a little less afraid of what lies in the great beyond.  Thanks Steve! 

 I respect more the person who struggles with his faith than the person who is confident in his skepticism.  Robert Brault