Author: James Browning

Wisdom In Triplicate

/ James Browning

(1) Life is too short to wake up with regrets.
So love the people who treat you right.
Forget about the one’s who don’t.
Believe things happen for a reason.
If you get a second chance,
grab it with both hands.
If it changes your life, let it.
Nobody said life would be easy,
they just promised it would be worth it.
Unknown

(2) Remember that things happen for a reason
and if it was meant to be
It wouldn’t have ended.
We should not cry cause it’s gone;
We should be happy that it happened.
Many people touch our lives in different ways;
Some come for a while,
others stay for a season
and show us their magnificent essence
for a purpose and then leave;
And then there’s the people that stay forever,
which ultimately are the ones that count;
so smile and cheer up.
Unknown

(3) Go for long walks,
indulge in hot baths,
question your assumptions,
be kind to yourself,
live for the moment,
loosen up,
scream,
curse the world,
count your blessings,
just let go,
just be.
Carol Shields

Some days my gratitude is general and not specifically focused; its on those mornings that simply being alive seems like such a gift I can’t move to anything more focused. Here at dawn today, I find myself precisely in that spot: flled with thankfulness; brimming with hope; balanced with lessons learned the hard way. I re-typed others words above to remind me of what matters most: life, in all the manners it may come.

Today you are You, that is truer than true.
There is no one alive who is Youer than You.
Dr. Seuss

It’s Only In My Mind

/ James Browning

A bad habit of mine is to wonder if I should be doing something else, have a different job or a different profession, be somewhere else other than where I am or mentally wander off into similar such thinking. In some circles it’s called “future tripping” when what is ahead has a greater focus that what is present. Intellectually I know living happens only in the present; that life is found only in the now; that living in the present well leads to one’s future. But I have human frailties and figurative ‘time travel’ into the future is something mentally I do far too much.

Well I want something to do, to create, to achieve, to whatever…. Something I can’t get enough of. You know something that I can’t wait to get up in the morning to do something I can’t get enough of, something that brings me joy and makes my heart sing. It could be anything, could be more than one thing but something that grabs me. Even a job, if it grabs me so that I could hardly wait to get there. Something that makes me feel good, allows me to be me, gives me freedom to grow and expand, something that grasps my heart, my joy, my excitement and leads me down the path to more joyful things, exciting challenges and challenging things. Klaus Joehle

Each man had only one genuine vocation – to find the way to himself….His task was to discover his own destiny – not an arbitrary one – and to live it out wholly and resolutely within himself. Everything else was only a would-be existence, an attempt at evasion, a flight back to the ideals of the masses, conformity and fear of one’s own inwardness. Hermann Hessee

You must love your work, and not be always looking over the edge of it, wanting your play to begin. And the other is, you must not be ashamed of your work, and think it would be more honorable to you to be doing something else. You must have a pride in your own work and in learning to do it well, and not be always saying, There’s this and there’s that—if I had this or that to do, I might make something of it. George Eliot

When you work you fulfill a part of earth’s furthest dream,
assigned to you when that dream was born,
And what is it to work with love?
It is to weave the cloth
with threads drawn from your heart,
even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.
It is to build a house with affection,
even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.
It is to sow seeds with tenderness
and reap the harvest with joy,
even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.
It is to charge all things you fashion
with a breath of your own spirit.
Work is love made visible.
From “the Prophet” by Kahlil Gibran

All those borrowed words don’t put me any closer to putting an end to my “future tripping”. However, they do help me to know my quandaries are not unique; that wondering about where I am going, what I should be doing; and what livelihood I should be immersed in is simply a human condition. Today I will simply try my best at the work I apply myself to knowing a step at a time today is a certain path forward. I am grateful to realize my direction can be changed at any moment. Even if I feel stuck, I am not stuck. It’s only in my mind.

The highest form of human intelligence
is to observe yourself without judgment.
Jiddy Hrishnamurti

Seasons Of Myself

/ James Browning

I found moving introspection in an old journal of mine I have not come across or opened for at least a couple of decades. Here are a few:

Entry dated December 23, 1977. (24 years old – married two years):
Love for members of the opposite sex will come on you suddenly and probably half scare you to death, but it will be one of the most heightened sensations you’ll feel. At first you’ll like someone and as you get older you will “think” you are in love, only one day to wake up to the harsh reality that you don’t even know what the word really means.

Entry dated July 15, 1980
In 10 days I will turn 27 years old. Thinking over the last 10 years I think the hardest time was just out of high school. It’s difficult to want so much and yet not understand how to get it. I wanted to be on my own and moved to Colorado. Got a job, but was terrible with money (I didn’t make much anyway). My car was repossessed… walked for six month to my job, hitch-hiked or borrowed roommate’s car. I ran myself down, ending up in the hospital with a stomach ulcer. Since then things have gotten better… but slowly. The point is…
* Beware of the times you think you’re right and those you care about say you are wrong…
* I am a firm believer in a person doing what he or she wants…
* That freedom is priceless and precious…
* But listen to those around you too…
* They’re right sometimes…

Entry Dated March 28, 1981
Life is the answer to its own riddle. You’ll not get it completely to make sense, nor will you ever completely figure it out. Learn what is presented and what you observe, but never let yourself believe you have really figured life out. You never will! Always be searching to understand though… try to be patient.

Entry dated 1973 (I lived in Manitou Springs, Colorado):
You smile and the song begins
And in my mind you enter in.
The lyrics lay heavy on all I feel,
Stabbing sharply with pain so real.

Memories of time lost in life’s confusion,
The song remembers one of life’s illusions.
The melody surrounds and makes me shake
With each soft chord the music makes.

The tempo builds and I run faster
Across the creek and through the pasture
Then stumble and fall hard on the ground.
Quickly I raise my head and look around;
I see no one… can’t hear a sound.

And with the silence’s break
I find myself suddenly awake
From what must have been a dream
Of scars I bear inside… unseen.

What do I feel from reading the old journal? I am older and different, but much the same. In spite of all I have been though, I never lost myself. I’ve grown up and am not nearly so lost and confused, but I am still the same man I started out to be. And for that I am extremely grateful.

We have to dare to be ourselves,
however frightening or strange that self may prove to be.
May Sarton

An Old Cottage of Clay

/ James Browning

When beginning here today my first inclination was to write a piece titled “I am not broken” in reference to myself. I find images can be inspiring, wake feelings within and focus my attention so I often find a few that are good catalysts for the day’s subject. When I searched Google Images for photos relating to not being broken, I was unprepared for what I was about to find.

Growing up I experienced having shoes too small that my parents would split the leather on top so I could still get my feet into them. Clearly I remember wearing worn out shoes with holes in the bottom. But I always I had shoes and realized how lucky I was when I saw the image of the sandals made with flattened plastic bottles and tied on with torn cloth. The photograph pulled me into a dead stare as I fully took in what I was seeing. My eyes watered up.

Down further on the Google image search page was this little under nourished boy crouched down eating bread crumbs off a concrete floor. While my childhood was difficult, I had it really good compared to him.

Then came the little girl with the dirty dress that looked as if it had never been washed. She looks far older than her years and her solemn expression says to me she has likely seen horror far beyond what I can imagine.

The poem just below titled “Poverty” was written by Jane Taylor in the early 1800’s. Now 200 years later not much has changed.

I saw an old cottage of clay,
And only of mud was the floor;
It was all falling into decay,
And the snow drifted in at the door.

Yet there a poor family dwelt,
In a hovel so dismal and rude;
And though gnawing hunger they felt,
They had not a morsel of food.

The children were crying for bread,
And to their poor mother they’d run;
‘Oh, give us some breakfast,’ they said,
Alas! their poor mother had none.

She viewed them with looks of despair,
She said (and I’m sure it was true),
‘’Tis not for myself that I care,
But, my poor little children, for you.’

O then, let the wealthy and gay
But see such a hovel as this,
That in a poor cottage of clay
They may know what true misery is.

And what I may have to bestow
I never will squander away,
While many poor people I know
Around me are wretched as they.

Although I can’t directly affect the lives of the people pictured, I can have empathy for them. By acknowledging their life condition and showing it I take a little step to see they are not completely unknown and forgotten. In spite of their hardships they are not broken and somehow, someway they go doing the best they can. I can’t imagine living a life so grueling and filled with fear. The reminder of how hard life is for so many helped me start my day with a heightened sense of gratitude for how easy and full my life is. Today I won’t complain about a single thing!

Poverty is the worst form of violence.
Mahatma Gandhi

Opportunity to Discover

/ James Browning

The only sounds I can hear is the hum of my computer, the ticking of the old school clock on the wall in the hall and the furnace when it clicks on and off. I live in solitude and no longer despise it as I once did.

Most of the time now I enjoy being alone. I have grown accustomed to it, but do get lonely some time. That’s especially true when finding something I’d like to share but am the only one here. Either I never get around to sharing it with anyone or else have to wait until I have a visitor. Often the initial excitement has worn off by then and imparting my discovery to another never happens. All in all, being alone is okay. Solitude and I have become fairly friends, but do have our falling outs from time to time.

What has living alone for a number of years taught me?

* My eating habits have become a lot better as I am the sole decider of what I put in my mouth.  Part laziness and part awareness, I eat far more fresh vegetables and fruit than ever before. And the crock-pot and I have become buddies!

* Playing music loud and having no one ask me to turn it down is cool. What little I watch television is only the programs I like. Sometimes movies would be more fun with someone to share them with.

* Being alone has given me great introspection and healing that was easier to avoid when I lived day in and day out with someone. Alone it is difficult to constantly hide from my fears and regrets. Many of mine have been resolved in my days of solitude and there is far more serenity than I  previously knew.

* My awareness of the little things someone did in sharing the workload of a household with me are abundantly clear now. Being a ‘one man band’ these days in keeping a home is all up to me. For those I once shared a home with who helped keep things running, please accept my delayed humble thanks.  I never showed my appreciation enough.

* Being alone lets me listen to my thoughts without having to edit them for anyone else. It has helped to get to know myself better. I’ve been surprised, shocked, horrified, amused, impressed, and eventually I have gotten use to most of what I think. Being alone has helped me learn and sort out what parts are good and important and which parts to tolerate or put aside.

* Being alone helps me figure out what I want to do with my time when no one else has the right to make demands of it, when no one else has expectations of me. I can listen to music all day if I want. An entire weekend can be spent reading or watching movies. I can eat popcorn for dinner, though I wouldn’t advise keeping that as a regular habit.

* Being alone gives me the gift of better connecting with people who I never thought much about before. Each chance encounter becomes a little more important. It might be one of the few I have that day, so I pay attention and interact more. The grocery clerk, a neighbor, my dentist, the woman at the dry cleaners, people at work; every encounter opens me a bit more to awareness of the person before me, human and divine at the same time, and the chance to share a little of my light with them and they with me.

* Being alone forces me to face my fears and walk with them to get to the other side. I have come to know most fears are mainly children of my imagination or lingering ghosts of my past. I’ve learned to invite them to come closer and closer becoming intimate with each one until it loses most of their power. Eventually, most fall away, and stay unconscious the majority of the time. What a relief!

Being alone has brought me a connection with a Higher Power not previously known. I’m not a religious person but being alone as brought me to a very spiritual place. I find I have a more consistent connection not only with the divine but with myself, the world around me and everyone in it. My thankfulness has grown, my prayers seem to be answered more and my gratefulness is at an all time high. Life is good!

I think it’s good for a person to spend time alone.
It gives them an opportunity to discover who they are
and to figure out why they are always alone.
Amy Secaris

The Year’s Last, Loveliest Smile

/ James Browning

The first chill of fall has hung around for three days now and there is change in the air. Lawns and bushes are still holding their green, but leaves are coming down. The time of autumn’s grand display is not far away when frost turns most everything into bright yellow, vibrant orange and brilliant red.

The seasons have long suited me in a different manner than is typical where Spring is the first season, Summer comes after, Fall arrives third and Winter comes at the end. Autumn is the season I love best and comes first in line for me. Fall to me is the awakening; a new beginning. Winter comes afterward as a time of growth, study and reflection. Spring growth comes with a general bursting forward followed by Summer which is just Spring in old clothes; over-grown. After all a season with two names, Fall and Autumn, must be special!

Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale. Lauren DeStefano

Squeeze your eyes closed, as tight as you can, and think of all your favorite autumns, crisp and perfect, all bound up together like a stack of cards. That is what it is like… the wonderful brightness of Fairy colors. Catherynne M. Valente

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. George Eliot

Use what you have, use what the world gives you. Use the first day of fall: bright flame before winter’s deadness; harvest; orange, gold, amber; cool nights and the smell of fire. Our tree-lined streets are set ablaze, our kitchens filled with the smells of nostalgia: apples bubbling into sauce, roasting squash, cinnamon, nutmeg, cider, warmth itself. The leaves as they spark into wild color just before they die are the world’s oldest performance art, and everything we see is celebrating one last violently hued hurrah before the black and white silence of winter. Shauna Niequist

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. Albert Camus

Gratitude overflows on these cool days and chilly nights of Autumn. Feeling the fresh air of Fall on my skin and seeing the landscape unfold in an abundance of color is truly one of my favorite things. It is some of God’s greatest art.

Autumn…the year’s last, loveliest smile.
William Cullen Bryant

Life Began To Like Me

/ James Browning

A time comes in your life when you finally get it… When in the midst of all your fears and insanity you stop dead in your tracks and somewhere, the voice inside your head cries out – ENOUGH!

Enough fighting and crying, or struggling to hold on. And, like a child quieting down after a blind tantrum, your sobs begin to subside, you shudder once or twice, you blink back your tears and through a mantle of wet lashes, you begin to look at the world through new eyes.

This is your awakening…

You realize that it’s time to stop hoping and waiting for something to change, or for happiness, safety and security to come galloping over the next horizon. You come to terms with the fact that he is not Prince Charming and you are not Cinderella and that in the real world, there aren’t always fairy tale endings (or beginnings for that matter) and that any guarantee of “happily ever after” must begin with you and in the process, a sense of serenity is born of acceptance. From “The Awakening” by Sonny Carroll http://www.inspirationpeak.com/library/awakening.html

Oh, I wanted to be pampered and I wanted to be
petted;
I thought that Life should run to me with comfort when I
fretted,
And so I used to wail for joys I had no means of
buying,
But Live went on about its work and never heard
me crying.

I used to fly in tantrums when some pleasure was
denied me;
I fancied everyone was wrong who raised a voice
to chide me.
I thought that Life should run to me with pretty
things to show me,
But Life when on about its work and never seemed
to know me .

I know not how the thought began nor why so long
it lasted;
I wanted cake and pie to eat while others bravely
fasted;
I wanted easy talks to do, high pay without the
labor,
But Life, I noticed, passed me by to visit with my
neighbor.

Then suddenly I faced about – stopped my senseless
whining,
Took disappointment with a grin and loss without
repining;
I found that woes were everywhere and some would
surely strike me;
I strapped my burdens on my back – and Life
began to like me.
“Awakening” by Edgar Guest

While there are still some moments I regret what’s behind me, the strength of the yearning to do it all again lessens within the new awareness of recent years. Even though I am uncertain frequently of my precise direction, the way forward is a much wider view; one I’m open to in whatever guise it comes. All I have to do is keep going. With my head up and an open heart and mind, being alive comes without much struggle today. I am grateful the days of arm-wrestling life in a storm is behind me. My awakening in 2007 was a second birth on this Earth, one I embrace with much gratitude and thankfulness.

The tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon,
but that we wait so long to begin it.
W.M. Lewis

Stuck Like Song Lyrics

/ James Browning

It’s autumn’s first cool night,
And a chill rides upon the air;
The sort that wakens memories
Some sweet; Some old; some fair.
So come; come one, come all
And sit by the fire with me,
And listen closely with your heart
To Poe’s sad story of “Annabel Lee”.
James Browning

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
Edgar Allan Poe

Stopping by a chain bookstore today I spent time browsing some editions of literature they carry that are beautifully and ornately hard-bound. One particularly striking book I purchased as an early start of my Christmas shopping (for my son). Another striking book I picked up, thumbed through and laid down. I picked it back up and laid it down three times. Each time “The Works of Edgar Allen Poe” opened to “Annabel Lee”. On the first two glances I read just a little, then thumbed to other pages. The third time I stopped and read the poem all the way through once then twice.

I am grateful his “ode to love” touches me as it does and makes my heart soar. A sad story for sure, but the bitter-sweet kind in just the correct measure to make one feel delight in its telling. Hours have passed but Poe’s words still sing in my head, stuck like song lyrics there.

Every heart sings a song, incomplete,
until another heart whispers back.
Those who wish to sing always find a song.
At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.
Plato

A Gift You Give Yourself

/ James Browning

I am mostly me, but bits of others people are mixed in. For some habits and tendencies I know exactly who I intentionally copied them from. Then there are those I picked things up from simply being around others; some good, some not.

What did I get from my Father? I look a lot like him and stand sometimes like he often did. He was a womanizer and with the best of intentions to be otherwise, I found myself in adult life following in his steps to a point. However, how he made a mess of his life went far deeper.  In his late 40’s and 50’s came a slow suicide with alcohol and hard drugs. The addictions were picked up trying to be “cool” with 20-something women he liked to have around. He was attracted to truly “bad girls” who were a perfect fit his addictions. Dad got sober and straight the last year and a half of his life, but I never spoke to him during that time. He died at an Alcohol Anonymous meeting from a heart attack.  I don’t hold anything against my Father any more. I actually feel sorry for him.

Then there is my Mother who taught me how to be truly selfish simply from watching her behavior. She was eighteen when I was born and not even 21 when my brother came along. By twenty-five my Father got another woman pregnant and left to be with her. Mom went kind of crazy after that and became highly self-absorbed. She was attractive and “easy” with a steady flow of men. From her antics I saw and heard way more about sex than any 8-year-old kid should be exposed to. She was completely oblivious to how she was screwing up her children. Like pets one might keep, she saw that we didn’t go hungry, had a dry place to sleep and went to school. Past that my Brother and I took care of each other but grew up starved for parental affection. My Mother is still alive but to my knowledge has never admitted any regrets. I have not spoken to her in 20 years and it’s a toss-up if I ever will. I pity my Mother and the mess she made of her life, but forgave her a long time ago (mostly anyway).

Forgiving our parents is a core task of adulthood, and one of the most crucial kinds of forgiveness. We see our parents in our mates, in our friends, in our bosses, even in our children. When we’ve felt rejected by a parent and have remained in that state, we will inevitably feel rejected by these important others as well.

The sins of parents are among the most difficult to forgive. We expect the world of them, and we do not wish to lower our expectations. Decade after decade, we hold out the hope, often unconsciously, that they will finally do right by us. We want them to own up to all their misdeeds, to apologize, to make heartfelt pleas for our forgiveness.

Getting to a forgiving place, finding the forgiving self inside us, is a long and complicated journey. We have to be ready to forgive. We have to want to forgive. The deeper the wound, the more difficult the process—which makes forgiving parents especially hard. But when we get there, the forgiveness we achieve will be a forgiveness worth having. From the May 2003 issue of “O”, the Oprah Magazine

For my own sanity, I forgave both my parents long ago. I forgave my Father for abandoning us and my Mother for not even trying to protecting my Brother and I from the evil stepfather she brought into our lives. I am grateful to have found some peace and light within memories that once were filled with darkness and fear.

Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself.
Suzanne Somers

Someone Somewhere for Everyone

/ James Browning

Some say a hapless romantic is hopeless; always searching, but never finding. They believe an insatiable yearning for ‘someone else’ afflicts some people to the point they can never be fully content with one person. I believe they are wrong and there is at least one ‘someone’, somewhere for everyone. I find inspiration, hope and even joy in the possibility of what Tom Hiddleston wrote:

When I love someone’s character, over time I’ll see that personality, I love so much, shining through their eyes and fusing with their appearance, turning them in the most beautiful girl in the world.

It’s not about appearance, it’s about someone’s beautiful, amazing, wonderful, fantastic personality, you’ll see every time you look at her.

It’s about the fact that when you look in her eyes, you just feel home…

You forget all your problems, all your fears, you just feel safe, you feel like you’ve finally found a place where you belong…

A place you can spend an eternity, where you will spend an eternity, cause those enchanting, beautiful eyes will slow down time and make every second; looking in her beautiful eyes, right into her amazing personality, last more than a lifetime.

It’s about the fact that the whole world, the whole universe just looks so much more beautiful!

All of a sudden everything looks different and your heart will just start smiling.

That’s what love is all about… the moment someone you only “liked” before, changes into the most aesthetically pleasing girl in the world.

The moment you realize how blind you’ve been all those days, how you were living in a fake universe, never knowing that the only thing your life is all about, the only thing that keeps you smiling, was all the time right next to you.

I am grateful my youthful heart is still alive in this middle-aged body and capable of appreciating, even feeling joy, at just reading such words. Truly blessed am I to be so open to love.


My whole body sank forward into his arms.
His lips moved against mine, exploring my mouth so gently.
I tried to mimic his movements–slowly,
uncertainly, until I didn’t have to think about it at all.
It just felt right. He cupped his hands behind my head,
pulling me closer until I couldn’t tell where my mouth ended
and his began. A liquid sensation swooped throughout my stomach.
It was the most amazing thing I’d ever felt
and it kept growing,
the vibrating heat expanding outward.
I was surprised I was still able to stand.
Heather Anastasiu