The Burdens of Another

686786-car-for-a-homeI was driving home from a meeting this evening about 5, stuck in traffic on Colorado Blvd., and the car started to choke and splutter and die – I barely managed to coast, cursing, into a gas station, glad only that I would not be blocking traffic and would have a somewhat warm spot to wait for the tow truck. It wouldn’t even turn over. Before I could make the call, I saw a woman walking out of the “quickie mart ” building, and it looked like she slipped on some ice and fell into a Gas pump, so I got out to see if she was okay

When I got there, it looked more like she had been overcome by sobs than that she had fallen; she was a young woman who looked really haggard with dark circles under her eyes. She dropped something as I helped her up, and I picked it up to give it to her. It was a nickel. At that moment, everything came into focus for me: the crying woman, the ancient Suburban crammed full of stuff with 3 kids in the back (1 in a car seat), and the gas pump reading $4.95.

I asked her if she was okay and if she needed help, and she just kept saying ” don’t want my kids to see me crying,” so we stood on the other side of the pump from her car. She said she was driving to California and that things were very hard for her right now. So I asked, “And you were praying?” That made her back away from me a little, but I assured her I was not a crazy person and said, “He heard you, and He sent me.”

I took out my card and swiped it through the card reader on the pump so she could fill up her car completely, and while it was fuelling, walked to the next door McDonald’s and bought 2 big bags of food, some gift certificates for more, and a big cup of coffee. She gave the food to the kids in the car, who attacked it like wolves, and we stood by the pump eating fries and talking a little.

She told me her name, and that she lived in Kansas City Her boyfriend left 2 months ago and she had not been able to make ends meet. She knew she wouldn’t have money to pay rent Jan 1, and finally in desperation had finally called her parents, with whom she had not spoken in about 5 years. They lived in California and said she could come live with them and try to get on her feet there. So she packed up everything she owned in the car. She told the kids they were going to California for Christmas, but not that they were going to live there.

I gave her my gloves, a little hug and said a quick prayer with her for safety on the road. As I was walking over to my car, she said, “So, are you like an angel or something?” This definitely made me cry. I said, “Sweetie, at this time of year angels are really busy, so sometimes God uses regular people.”

It was so incredible to be a part of someone else’s miracle. And of course, you guessed it, when I got in my car it started right away and got me home with no problem. I’ll put it in the shop tomorrow to check, but I suspect the mechanic won’t find anything wrong. Sometimes the angels fly close enough to you that you can hear the flutter of their wings…

That story has made the rounds for years now. It was touching the time I first saw it although I had no idea if it was true or not. This morning a friend saw fit to place it in my ‘in-box’. Being moved again by the tale, I searched on-line for its validity and surprisingly found the story may be true. For instance, snopes.com called it “undetermined” but noted that a spokesperson for Hospice of Metro Denver indicated “one of its doctors was the author”.

Even with all the imposters, panhandlers and crooks working to fleece people of their money, I still believe there are a few who are honest who deserve help. Just last weekend a friend and I were approached by a man with a sob story about an injured child. Usually I don’t give such people any money, but this time I took a chance with $5 telling the man “if you’re dishonest and just working me for money, shame on you. It’ll be your bad karma.” My intentions were pure and good. Ultimately that is all that matters. I am grateful for my soft and caring heart.

No one is useless in this world
who lightens the burdens of another.
Charles Dickens

My Imperfectly Human Best

1043876_210391202449050_1194153786_nNow that my physical youth is mostly gone, it’s interesting to read what others wrote while young. Usually at the time a youthful writer puts down their thoughts with the belief that his or her vantage point can only be understood by someone about the same age. I once thought that but I was wrong. Much of my writing when I was in my teens and 20’s is remarkably still true here in my 50’s.

If you’re young you’ll find the following by an unknown writer to be quite meaningful I suspect. If you’re older, I have little doubt you’ll relate to what follows as I did. It reminds me that what was once felt as a young person, is still very much alive inside me today.

…at some point, you’re gonna sit in your bed all night and cry about everything that’s happened to you that day. you’re gonna have a day where everything goes perfect. nothing is ever going to go as it’s planned. you’re going to have a best friend then find out that they talk s#it about you behind your back. you’re going to meet the most amazing person in the world, fall in love, and then get left behind and forgotten about a month later. you’re going to go on vacation and miss everything about it when you leave. you’re going to have the best day of your life. you’re going to have moments where you feel like nothing could bring down and everything is perfect. you’re going to go to parties, and get taken advantage of. you’re going to get drunk and say something that you regret saying. you’re going to have someone who you share everything with, then slowly fade away from each other and eventually never talk again. you’re going to take pictures and think “what was I thinking?” a year later. you’re going to go on the most amazing trip and meet the most amazing people ever and then never talk to or see them again. you’re going to fall in and out of love. you’re going to tell someone something and it’s going to spread around. you’re going to read something that breaks your heart, but you can’t stop reading it over and over. you’re going to miss someone everyday but not do anything about it. you’re going to have awkward moments where you see someone and remember everything you’ve been through together. you’re going to be a bitch [bastard] to someone but not realize how much it affected them. you’re going to have to act like you don’t care when really, you’re heart-broken. you’re going to kiss people and regret it later. you’re going to miss a lot. don’t slow down. don’t have regrets. don’t live in the future. live for right now. smile. you’re young. and only getting older. don’t let anyone stop you.

The person I was at five, fifteen, twenty-five, thirty-five, forty-five and fifty-five years of age is still very much within me. Life has molded me into a composite of all my ages. There is enough insight gained to know the secret to some measure of contentment is to hold on tightly to the good and let go of the bad as quickly as possible. My silent motto is “learn what is to be learned and move on”. Doing my imperfectly human best at that, my heart, mind and soul has become filled with a wealth of wisdom. Life is still hard, but it is good. I am grateful to realize what matters most is inside me and nowhere else.

Knowledge is like an endless resource;
a well of water that satisfies the innate thirst
of the growing human soul.
Therefore never stop learning…
because the day you do,
you will also stop maturing.
Chidi Okonkwo

Make Some Difference

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Like most people there have been times when I have wondered why I am here and what difference my life makes. While dreams of doing something that could positively change the life of many people all at once are largely gone, I have instead become content to know here and there for one or two people at a time I have made a difference. Each occasion has meaning to a very few, but combined together the small gifts of myself amount to something fairly substantial.

Once upon a time, there was a wise man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach before he began his work.

One day, as he was walking along the shore, he looked down the beach and saw a human figure moving like a dancer. He smiled to himself at the thought of someone who would dance to the day, and so, he walked faster to catch up.

As he got closer, he noticed that the figure was that of a young man, and that what he was doing was not dancing at all. The young man was reaching down to the shore, picking up small objects, and throwing them into the ocean.

He came closer still and called out “Good morning! May I ask what it is that you are doing?”

The young man paused, looked up, and replied “Throwing starfish into the ocean.”

“I must ask, then, why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?” asked the somewhat startled wise man.

To this, the young man replied, “The sun is up and the tide is going out. If I don’t throw them in, they’ll die.”

Upon hearing this, the wise man commented, “But, young man, do you not realize that there are miles and miles of beach and there are starfish all along every mile? You can’t possibly make a difference!”

At this, the young man bent down, picked up yet another starfish, and threw it into the ocean. As it met the water, he said, “It made a difference for that one.” Loren Eiseley

No monuments will be created in my honor. No books will be written about my life. No movies will feature the path I have walked. To hoards of people I will always be nameless, faceless and unknown. But to a handful who took the time to truly know me I hope your existence is better for allowing me to be a part of your life.

My life is better for the people who have helped me learn, grow and heal. Though they be unknown to most, I am deeply grateful for those who cared enough to stop and help while others passed by hardly noticing me, if at all.

The purpose of life is not to be happy.
It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate,
to have it make some difference that you have lived
and lived well.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Gratefulness Is Happiness

gratitude and happiness

Surprise, surprise: gratitude actually feels good. Yet only 20% of Americans rate gratitude as a positive and constructive emotion (compared to 50% of Europeans). According to gratitude researcher Robert Emmons, gratitude is just happiness that we recognize after-the fact to have been caused by the kindness of others. Gratitude doesn’t just make us happier, it is happiness in and of itself!  http://happierhuman.com/benefits-of-gratitude/

Sorry to burst anyone’s bubble, but if you’re unhappy a good bit of the cause is a lack of gratitude. Being focused on what one wishes was different brings nothing but turmoil and dissatisfaction.

So you want to be happier? Then look deeper into life and see all you have to be grateful for. Over time I have seen the truth of how gratefulness brings IS happiness. What a life changer!

Do not spoil what you have
by desiring what you have not;
remember that what you now have
was once among the things
you only hoped for.
Epicurus

Disappointment: Hurt to Gratitude

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With disappointment, there are multiple layers of sadness that one experiences before being able to look on the bright side.

As adults, we do not often face disappointments in manageable doses; as such, we are stuck with the disappointment dilemma. After emotional and even physical preparation when disappointment comes, we are faced with the immediate and aftermath reactions.

Preparation anxiety: Anticipation can be exciting when we feel the adrenaline rush as we prepare for a celebration, a special date, or even dinner with friends. But what happens when you are let down by a last-minute change or cancellation? Unless you are a pessimist, mild hurt and disappointment set in.

Immediate and aftermath reactions: The most often heard immediate response to serious disappointment is this: “I felt as if I had been kicked in the stomach.” But because someone else was in control, the person who was hurt can do little more than make some feeble statement such as, “It’s alright, I understand.” In many cases, it was not alright, and you didn’t understand. But you said nothing and took the high road.

Resolution or regret: If a person in one’s life disappoints once or twice, it might be understandable. But what happens if it becomes a pattern? It can only become a pattern if you allow it. This is where choice comes in and you take control.

To protect yourself and maintain self-respect, say something in a kind, but firm way. You may even wish to give the other person some wiggle room. But if you say nothing, your disappointment may soon turn to regret.

Regret is a feeling we experience because a personal choice we make does not turn out as expected. But unlike disappointment, making that decision is within our control. From “Disappointment: Three Layers, Hurt to Gratitude” by Rita Watson, MPH http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/love-and-gratitude/201209/disappointment-three-layers-hurt-gratitude

While not a major disappointment with lasting impact, plans for an evening with a dear friend had to be shelved. I was looking forward to doing what we had planned for over a week. However, it was not to be. The reason for the cancellation was not specifically within anyone’s control. Rather, it is an outgrowth of where my friend placed them self. That fact has now become self-evident.

Showing that I am a true friend, I expressed my disappointment and not a lot more (even thought this is the second time my friend has recently canceled long made plans). I am thankful to realize the best thing I could do was show understanding and empathy, even thought initially I wanted to spout off. I am grateful I didn’t!

Disappointment to a noble soul
is what cold water is to burning metal;
it strengthens, tempers, intensifies,
but never destroys it.
Eliza Tabor Stephenson

Pieces of the Past

how soon our time is gone

For the most part I am a strong man. I can keep going through just about anything, but just because I don’t stop does not mean I am not in pain. Many people mistake that ability to keep moving forward as some sort of gift when it’s only a survival skill I learned long ago.

Pain is a relatively objective, physical phenomenon; suffering is our psychological resistance to what happens. Events may create physical pain, but they do not in themselves create suffering. Resistance creates suffering. Stress happens when your mind resists what is… The only problem in your life is your mind’s resistance to life as it unfolds. Dan Millman

About many hurts of the past I am able to let go (mostly anyway) by continuing to move forward and not allowing that pain to drag me down. Then there are those slivers of grief and sadness I don’t let go of. The majority are related to women I have loved and better said, those I have never completely let go of and still carry a flame for. James Frey wrote, “The wounds that never heal can only be mourned alone.” How true!

There are songs that come on the radio that cause me to change station within a few seconds. The words pull me back to another time.

On other occasions it is places that bring up old hurts. A ‘favorite’ restaurant can do it (so I don’t eat there any more).

Driving down a particular road can take me back (so I avoid going that way).

Overhearing a casual conversation of a couple obviously in love can make me start to pine momentarily for what once was or what I hoped would be that never came.

While I know movies are not real life, there are certain ones that come close to my experiences and can wake up my sleeping past. For some reason, I will still watch such a movie to remember (must be a masochist streak in me).

“We are healed of a suffering only by experiencing it to the full” was Marcel Proust’s take on hanging on to the past. Maybe I have not grieved enough over some of the past. However, as I type those words I suddenly realize those little pains are still alive in me because I hang on to them intentionally like a cherished gift. Without a doubt some of my grasp on pieces of the past is because I don’t want to let go. It’s as if ‘what was’ is still alive in some small way as long as I hold on.

Maybe I need to adopt Rachel Naomi Remen’s attitude, “Perhaps wisdom is simply a matter of waiting, and healing a question of time. And anything good you’ve ever been given is yours forever”.  Seems given time there may yet be a way for me to keep a few memories without them hurting me.  I am grateful for all that I have experienced; for each happening that helped to shape me into the person I am today.

Scars are but evidence of life…
Evidence of choices to be learned from…
evidence of wounds…
wounds inflicted of mistakes…
wounds we choose to allow the healing of.
We likewise choose to see them,
that we may not make the same mistakes again.
Marcia Lynn McClure

A Portion of Gladness

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Friends are the family you choose.
Jess C. Scott

The older I get, the more valuable old friendships become. A few new friends along the way are always hoped for and welcomed, but it is the ones of decades endurance that mean the most. For the weekend my friend Sam drove hundreds of miles to hang out with me. We are different in so many ways, but exactly alike in others; the perfect combination for an enduring friendship.

“A Friend’s Greeting”
by Edgar Guest

I’d like to be the sort of friend
that you have been to me;
I’d like to be the help that you’ve been
always glad to be;
I’d like to mean as much to you
each minute of the day
As you have meant, old friend of mine,
to me along the way.

I’d like to do the big things
and the splendid things for you,
To brush the gray out of your skies
and leave them only blue;
I’d like to say the kindly things
that I so oft have heard,
And feel that I could rouse your soul
the way that mine you’ve stirred.

I’d like to give back the joy
that you have given me,
Yet that were wishing you a need
I hope will never be;
I’d like to make you feel
as rich as I, who travel on
Undaunted in the darkest hours
with you to lean upon.

I’m wishing at this… time
that I could but repay
A portion of the gladness
that you’ve strewn along the way;
And could I have one wish this year,
this only would it be:
I’d like to be the sort of friend
that you have been to me.

Years have taught me how to love better and more openly, whether it is my son, a romantic interest or a dear old friend. I am grateful for the handful of friendships I hold most dear, but none more than my visiting friend. I am grateful for every year I’ve known him and every minute we have shared and yet will share. Thank you for being my friend Sam!

Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead.
Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow.
Just walk beside me and be my friend.
Albert Camus

Anniversary of Our Declaration of Independence

First posted on July 4, 2011 by James Browning

IN CONGRESS, July 4, 1776.
The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen United States of America,

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When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them…

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it…

We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled… solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown…

Ever wondered what happened to the fifty-six men who signed the Declaration of Independence? Here are examples of the price some of them paid:

Five signers were captured by the British as traitors, and tortured before they died. Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned. Two lost their sons in the revolutionary army, another had two sons captured. Nine of the fifty-six fought and died from wounds or hardships resulting from the Revolutionary War.

Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the British navy. He sold his home and properties to pay his debts, and died in rags.

Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British that he was forced to move his family almost constantly. He served in the Congress without pay, and his family was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him, and poverty was his reward.

Perhaps one of the more inspiring examples of “undaunted resolution” was at the Battle of Yorktown. Thomas Nelson, Jr. returning from Philadelphia noted that British General Cornwallis had taken over his home, but that the patriots were directing their artillery fire all over the town except for the vicinity of his beautiful home. Nelson asked why they were not firing in that direction and the soldiers replied, “Out of respect to you, Sir.” Nelson quietly urged General Washington to open fire, and stepped forward to the nearest cannon, aimed at his own house and fired. The other guns joined in, and the Nelson home was destroyed. Nelson died bankrupt.

Francis Lewis’s Long Island home was looted and gutted, his home and properties destroyed. His wife was thrown into a damp dark prison cell without a bed. Health ruined, Mrs. Lewis soon died from the effects of the confinement. The Lewis’s son would later die in British captivity, also.

“Honest John” Hart was driven from his wife’s bedside as she lay dying, when British and Hessian troops invaded New Jersey just months after he signed the Declaration. Their thirteen children fled for their lives. His fields and his grist mill were laid to waste. All winter, and for more than a year, Hart lived in forests and caves, finally returning home to find his wife dead, his children vanished and his farm destroyed. A few weeks later, John Hart was dead from exhaustion and a broken heart. Norris and Livingston suffered similar fates.

New Jersey’s Richard Stockton, after rescuing his wife and children from advancing British troops, was betrayed by a loyalist, imprisoned, beaten and nearly starved. He returned an invalid to find his home gutted, and his library and papers burned. He, too, never recovered, dying a broken man.

William Ellery of Rhode Island, who marveled that he had seen only “undaunted resolution” in the faces of his co-signers, also had his home burned.

Only days after Lewis Morris of New York signed the Declaration, British troops ravaged his 2,000-acre estate, butchered his cattle and drove his family off the land. Three of Morris’ sons fought the British.

When the British seized the York house of the wealthy Philip Livingston, he sold off everything else, and gave the money to the Revolution. He died in 1778.

Arthur Middleton, Edward Rutledge and Thomas Heyward Jr. went home to South Carolina. In the British invasion of the South, Heyward was wounded and all three were captured. As he rotted on a prison ship inSt. Augustine, Heyward’s plantation was raided, buildings burned, and his wife, who witnessed it all, died. Other Southern signers suffered the same general fate.

These were men who believed in a cause far beyond themselves. These were not wild-eyed, rabble-rousing ruffians. They were soft-spoken men of means and education. They had security, but they valued liberty more. Standing straight and unwavering, they pledged: “For the support of this Declaration, with firm reliance on the protection of the Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other, our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor.”

My entire way of life and the freedom to live it I owe to those 56 men. I am deeply grateful for their courage, fortitude and sacrifice.

Read the full Declaration of Independence at: http://www.ushistory.org/declaration/document/

Government is not reason, it is not eloquence.
It is force; like fire, a troublesome servant
and a fearful master. Never for a moment
should it be left to irresponsible action.
George Washington

Doorway to a More Brilliant Reality

romeo-and-juliet

I used to think Romeo and Juliet was the greatest love story ever written. But now that I’m middle-aged, I know better. Oh, Romeo certainly thinks he loves his Juliet. Driven by hormones, he unquestionably lusts for her. But if he loves her, it’s a shallow love.

You want proof? Soon after meeting her for the first time, he realizes he forgot to ask her for her name. Can true love be founded upon such shallow acquaintance? I don’t think so.

And at the end, when he thinks she’s dead, he finds no comfort in living out the remainder of his life within the paradigm of his love, at least keeping alive the memory of what they had briefly shared, even if it was no more than illusion, or more accurately, hormonal.

Yes, those of us watching events unfold from the darkness know she merely lies in slumber. But does he seek the reason for her life-like appearance? No. Instead he accuses Death of amorousness, convinced that the ‘lean abhorred monster’ endeavors to keep Juliet in her present state, cheeks flushed, so that she might cater to his own dissolute desires.

But does Romeo hold her in his arms one last time and feel the warmth of her blood still coursing through her veins? Does he pinch her to see if she might awaken? Does he hold a mirror to her nose to see if her breath fogs it? Once, twice, three times a ‘no.’

His alleged love is so superficial and so selfish that he seeks to escape the pain of loss by taking his own life. That’s not love, but infatuation. Had they wed ― Juliet bearing many children, bonding, growing together, the masks of the star-struck teens they once were long ago cast away, basking in the love born of a lifetime together ― and she died of natural causes, would Romeo have been so moved to take his own life, or would he have grieved properly for her loss and not just his own. J. Conrad Guest

Clearly I remember at sixteen going with my friend David to see Franco Zeffirelli’s movie “Romeo and Juliet”. My young heart swooned at what I then thought was a magnificent love to be admired. Heartbreak, grief, contentment and joy have conspired together to teach me how foolish Shakespeare’s characters would have been in real life.

Love should be a bit foolish, irrational and even unwise, but not simplistically childish like I now perceive Romeo and Juliet in the story told of them. Beautiful tale, but a horrible example of love in real life. I still believe in the magic more than ever but not how portrayed in the Shakespearean story. In coming to my present point of view, I am grateful for every heartache and beautiful moment loving ever brought me. Such feelings have been my tutors of the truths of love.

It is having once believed in fairy tales, then seeing beyond them while retaining their essence that has given my heart its ability to love best in the real world.

The fairy tale is not the conclusion,
but the doorway to a more brilliant reality.
Pushed onto a pedestal as the final answer
their worth is misshapen and distorted.
Natalie Nyquist

A Baker’s Dozen

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Here’s my list of thirteen thoughts to start another wondrous day filled with adventure, intrigue, reward and struggle.

~ We are always too busy!

~ Kindness multiplies back to the giver.

~ Being allowed to often get dirty makes a child grow up more healthy.

~ You have to get hurt. That’s how you learn.

~ To truly appreciate what you’ve got, at some point you need to have had nothing.

~ The average person hasn’t smelled a flower in months or noticed the moon for weeks.

~ The longer you carry a worry, the heavier it gets.

~ The future is an illusion; the past a delusion. Neither is even close to reality.

~ The kindest people have fought the toughest personal battles.

~ Running in sprinklers or playing in water makes a sad child feel better (adults too!).

~ We’re usually most creative near 18 months old. By twenty-one 90% of that is gone.

~ People who usually arrive very early or quite late are often the controlling type.

~ Within every person are many questions and even more answers.

And there you have it; a random baker’s dozen of simple wisdom I have chosen for my day; extras for my mental ‘toolkit’ for living. All won’t stick well and some will not fit today’s situations encountered. However, I am grateful my day will be better by filing these thoughts away. Sooner or later all will be useful, if not today, then before long.

“We’ve got facts,” they say.
But facts aren’t everything;
at least half the battle consists
in how one makes use of them!
Fydor Dostoyevsky