Friends

Who Lingers in Your Heart – Part II

/ James Browning

A while back I wrote a piece here as a response to a question a friend asked me in an email: “I often wonder in your heart, who it is that lingers there, who it is that still has your love but does not know it.”  https://goodmorninggratitude.com/2011/08/19/who-lingers-in-your-heart/ .  I replied with the most top of mind people who occupy good-sized real estate in my heart.  An interesting phenomenon happens when as idea is planted and allowed to percolate over time; memory and response continually come from deeper and deeper recesses of my mind. 

Now sitting here writing and opening the door on a further reply to the question “who lingers…” those who occupy smaller, yet treasured, scraps of memory surface. 

Linda, the first girl I kissed when I was 13, immediately comes to mind.  Actually she surfaces with some regularity.  On June 21st I wrote about her and our magical afternoon in a post called “ Only One First Love”:  https://goodmorninggratitude.com/2011/06/21/993/

Buddy H., my big friend and protector from high school has his own special place.  He and I were the most unlikely friends.  Music was our only real common ground and I liked him because he was a little “nuts” like me.  Ever tried listening to “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” on 8-track going 120mph?  We did!  Buddy died in a boating accident when he was 20. 

Ricky S. was one of my best friends in 10th and 11th grade.  He was Mr. Studdly Cool and one of our favorite things was to go to dances.  We specialized in going to dances in towns where we did not know anyone and ending up with a date to hang out with before the evening was over.  His was a special manner with girls and attracted them like a magnet does iron.  I benefited from that magnetism when we did our thing and always ended up with a girl on my arm.  Vivid in memory is some steamy heavy petting in Dadeville, Alabama with two girls we had met one evening.  Ricky and his date were in the front seat and I and mine were in the back.  I smile as I remember those sweet moments. 

Dale H. became my best friend in Jackson, Ms for the year and a half I lived there that included my senior year of high school.  For better or worse, he was the person I smoked pot with back in the day.  We almost giggled ourselves to death or overdosed on munchies on a number of occasions. 

Marcia was the makeup artist assigned to me when I had a part in a school play.  “Look Homeward Angel” which was a fairly racy selection to be performed at that time.  She became my girlfriend for a good part of my senior year.  How innocent and tender what we shared was.  I’d run to get to the part of the school she was in so I could walk her to class and then run back to get to my class trying hard not to be late.  Most of the time we’d trade little love notes on scraps of paper.  I wish I had some of them today as my heart swells with the sweetness of the memory. 

Carol was the “older woman” I got involved with when I was 19 (she was 23).  We worked together and she was engaged but that did not stop us, even though it was wrong.  She was the first woman I ever loved with the depth a man can love with. Our relationship was tumultuous and troubled, but also wonderful and ground shaking.  The wounds that hurt then ended up being some great teachers for me.  We went our separate ways after about a few months, but will always remember reconnecting for our last time together.  Close to a year passed without seeing each other.  Then one night came the knock on my door two days before she got married.  We spent the evening in bed and said goodbye at my front door well after midnight.  I never saw her again.  Today I see the wrong and contradiction of of the night we shared, but also relish the memory of the passion we shared. 

Michael was the man, who for six months, I thought was one of the best friends of my life.   That was 13 years ago and he was charming, educated and intelligent.  We were together doing things or hanging out often.  The end result was deep hurt as I came to know that he was just using and manipulating me.  We worked together and I was his boss.  The friendship ended badly with me firing him for very wrong things he did thinking our camaraderie gave him special latitude.  The lesson for me was difficult, but a necessary reminder that it is not just love of a woman that can blind.  Friendship with a man can do the same.  

One the lid on my heart is lifted and a peek is taken within, the many who have been players on the stage of my life begin to surface in ever greater quantity.  My life has been a rich and colorful mosaic of experiences, for which I am deeply grateful for all.  I am thankful for the joy, the good times, the love shared and the painful lessons that came from knowing and loving people.  Frequently those individuals have been some of my greatest teachers.   

In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.  Abraham Lincoln 

Who Am I?

/ James Browning / 1 Comment

Good afternoon gratitude!  At least today that is what you find here as the morning was filled with other things that prevented me from being here to write sooner.  What delayed me was all good.  

I have a friend I have not seen in ten years who, while in town on business, made time to be my guest last night.  Even though we have stayed in touch through email, it is not the same as being in the presence of each other.  We talked all evening until after midnight and again this morning we continued.  Our conversations are always deep and meaningful with time evaporating quickly.  She is one of the more spiritual people I know and like me is a seeker in search of meaning and truth.  However her knowledge and experience covers much more time and ground than mine, so I always learn from talking with her. It did me much good to have my guest room used by someone whose company is always enlightening.  

Another remarkable part of the morning came at a regular Codependents Anonymous (http://coda.org) Saturday meeting I attend 95% of the time.  Someone who has been coming to the meeting for a few months had a breakthrough.  She had struggled to find her way in the program, yet believed in the process and was determined to make it work.  Today was the day when the pieces began to fit together for her.  Though the refuge and safety she has come to know with the group she was able to share deeply of her self.  It is quite emotional for a person arriving at such a point.  Such an occurrence is touching for those attending who are honored to witness such self-discovery and realization.  I am so glad for her!    

As I have come up out of the rabbit hole where I isolated myself for so long, I am finding a richness not experienced before.  There are more caring and wonderful people of all kinds active in my life than ever before.  Once I began to stop playing the pretend game of being outwardly who I thought others wanted me to be and started to look inward, slowly, ever so slowly, I began to find “me”.  The experience has been everything from wonderful to harrowing, but rewarding.  In general, people are much more comfortable with me as I truly am than they ever were with the old “fake me”.  

As the process of self discovery began in earnest in late 2007, my range of emotions swung widely from pure delight as I came to know being imperfect was OK to upsetting and disturbing as suppressed memories surfaced.  Without positive discoveries to balance the distressing ones I could never have made it to where I am now.   

On occasion others will ask about my growth.  If a person is genuinely interested usually a question comes up verbalized some like “So what do you think has changed about you?”  My answer will always include comments like:   “I have begun to know my true self and find peace with who I am, just the way I am.  The contentment that comes from consistently practicing the principles I believe in is something I have now; not all the time but most of it.”

The content of my answer is further well stated by Jane Collingwood who writes for psychcentral.com.  She wrote: The answer to the question “who am I?” lies in our underlying principles. If we can be true to our core values, we have a compass to guide us through life, and will never stray far from who we really are. But first we have to discover those basic values.

There is more to it than that which becomes more difficult to describe.  What I am stabbing at has to do with the process of slowly but surely coming to know my true self and then allowing others to know me as I truly am.  It’s a tricky process as sometime it brings others closer to me while driving people away at other moments.  Some people I thought of as friends in the past liked me only as I pretended to be.  When the real me started to show, they stopped being around. 

No matter; it is a healthy part of the long-term process of sorting “me” out.  While good and necessary the discoveries bring effects which are damn painful sometimes.  To have people I once loved no longer even speak to me has hurt.  Through coming to know my previously unknown secrets, mistakes, faults and blunders by those people I am perceived as some “fiend or monster”.   Even if that were ever true (and I don’t believe it ever was) that was then and this is now! 

I am grateful to those who have stuck it out through the process of me coming to better know my true self.  I am thankful for their acceptance and their forgiveness as it was called for.   Also, I am also grateful to know the truth about those who are no longer in my life.  Now I know better who is who! 

During good times your friends know you.
In bad times you know your friends.
Anonymous

Morning Letter to a Friend

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

Dear_________,

In many ways you and I are a mirror reflection of each other. What echoes between us is a near exact matching likeness of manner, attitude and beliefs, yet we are very different.  Each of us reflects to the other as a carnival mirror might reproduce an image.  What is emulated back is fully recognizable, yet the likeness is changed and does not match our own self-view.  That is the beauty of being close friends.  We can see one another clearly and are each able to give one another a different perspective of our self.

Often I assume since we are so close you know exactly how I feel about you.  There is much hope you do, but to make sure I am writing you this letter.  You are dear to me in a manner I can not put fully into words, but will try by making a list of how you matter to me:

  • You help keep me honest with myself. When I start fabricating crap you save me from my own BS.
  • You care enough to tell me the truth even when I am hiding from it.
  • You encourage me to go further than I think I can and to do things I am uncertain I can do.
  •  Whenever I need you, regardless of day or night, where I am or what the circumstances, you are there for me.
  • You make me laugh and you can touch me to tears in your own unique way.
  • You encourage me not to settle for less than I deserve even when I am ready to.
  •  I feel ageless with you. We can act like school kids one moment, be serious the next and never miss a beat.
  • When my courage is lacking, you give me some of yours.
  •  When I am ready to give up, you are always ready to give me a “jump start”.
  • You seem always to call or show up when I need you most. I don’t know how you do that.
  • You know my flaws and imperfections yet see value and worth in me that transcends them.
  • When we disagree or occasionally hurt each other, you apologize even when it was not your fault.
  • You openly express to me and others how you feel about me.
  • With you as my friend I know will never go hungry nor lack a place to sleep (nor will you!).
  •  We don’t always agree, but we always hear each other out and respect each other’s point of view.

There’s a saying that goes something like “friendship isn’t a big thing; it’s a million little things”.  That’s why even after writing my list I feel it is sorely inadequate.  There is so much more.  Much of what I know about the friendship we share is beyond my ability to express, yet I know the truth of it at the soul level.  I know it best when we can just sit silently and enjoy time together.  My life is so much richer because you are my friend and I will live this life always with gratitude for your presence.

And when we die and float away
Into the night, the Milky Way
You’ll hear me call, as we ascend
I’ll see you there, then once again
Thank you for being a friend
Lyrics to “Thank you for being a friend” by Andrew Gold

Pursuit of Fun

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

Early this week I ran across the quote just below that has deep meaning, especially considering it comes from a TV show (Sex and the City). 

When you’re young, your whole life is about the pursuit of fun. Then you grow up and learn to be cautious, you could break a bone or a heart. You look before you leap and sometimes don’t leap at all because there’s not always someone there to catch you and in life there’s no safety net. When did it stop being fun and start being scary? 

Having slept long and rested well last night, my mind is bright and fresh today so probing into the past is clearer than most days.  The past of the quote that has simmered in my mind this week is the opening line “When you’re young, your whole life is about the pursuit of fun”.  It has been rewarding to think back about what I thought was fun when I was a kid, before the uncertain clouds of my teen years moved in followed by adulthood.  Since most over 40 can probably remember a time before computers, cell phones, movie rentals and video games, I don’t feel like a fossil making a little list of a few things that come from my growing up years. 

If you never got to play ‘kick the can’, you missed out.  It seemed the time we played it usually was late afternoon and the game usually ended with being called in for dinner.  All that running and laughing sure created an appetite. 

“Red Rover, Red Rover…” was a game the teachers had us play in elementary school.  I suppose it has been mostly outlawed now because it was a physical game.  Once in a while someone got a little banged up in a minor way.  It was one of the few playground games where being big or wide or both was an advantage. 

Does dodge ball still get played in schools?  I wonder.  While it was not my favorite game by far, I do remember it well.  In this activity being big or wide or both was a definite disadvantage.  

What happened to merry go rounds on the playgrounds?  I bet insurance companies and school liability concerns did away with the kind I remember.

It was considered normal where I went to school for a boy to carry a pocket knife.  No one ever got stabbed or cut.  It was just a handy tool to have and was essential to play a game called Mumblety-peg.  The game had a series of knife trick moves one had to practice to be good.  The loser had to pull a peg out of the ground with his teeth.  We played it at recess, but the activity would get you suspended or arrested today.

While I was always terrible at it I remember kids playing jump rope of the kind where two people swing a rope at each end.   Then a third person (or more) popped in the middle and jumped the rope as it came around.  It’s been decades since I have seen kids doing it.  I hope somewhere this kind of jump rope is still alive!

Having seen some in a store not too long ago, I know “pickup sticks” are still around.  Do any kids today still play that game or is it available for those with grandkids to buy?  What about chinese checkers? Or just plain old checkers?

I had an electric race track set, my brother had Lincoln logs and we shared an Erector set.  We burned our fingers making creepy crawlers in our Mattel “Thing Maker” but we don’t think we are any worse for it today.   Our time was when GI Joe was new and the girls started getting Barbie’s.  Just about every one wanted or had a Slinky and Etch-a-Sketch.  Hula Hoop and Twister competitions were not uncommon.  There were “Dammit dolls” and stroking their long hair was supposed to give good luck (they were not named for a curse word and instead got their moniker from their inventor, Thomas Dam).  Skateboards were new and so were three speed bicycles from Schwinn.

What a pleasant little journey down memory lane it is to sit here, write and remember those times long ago.  The simpler years of childhood contain some fond memories where some the biggest issues were the girl or boy you “liked” (if you admitted liking the opposite sex at all!) or if one had done their homework.  Those years occupy a much broader stripe in my memory than the quantity of the time they cover.  While not all was good in my childhood, there are many wonderful experiences I will treasure and will have much gratitude for all my days. 

Now where is my old BB gun?

Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when you do you’ll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders. Unknown

The Point is… They Lived

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

Generally speaking, most of us work about eight hours per day, commute for an average of an hour each day, eat for about two hours, watch television for about five hours and about two hours goes to the computer for leisure such as online games, research or social media according to 2010 U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.  All total that’s about seventeen hours and does not include sleep. 

How important is my time?  A simple illustration is a modern fable that has floated around the internet for years: 

With a soft voice and loving eyes, a little boy greeted his father as he returned from work, “Daddy, how much do you make an hour?”  Greatly surprised, but giving his boy a displeased look, the father said, “Look, son, I don’t tell anyone how much I make, so don’t bother me now, I’m tired.”

“But Daddy please tell me! How much do you get paid for an hour,” the boy insisted.  The father, finally giving up, replied: “Twenty dollars per hour.”  “Thank you, Daddy? Could you loan me ten dollars?” the boy asked.  Showing his displeasure, the father sternly said, “So that’s why you asked how much I make.  It’s your bedtime.  Go to bed and go to sleep.  I’m too tired for this right now.”  It was already dark when the father arrived home.

A short while later the Dad was thinking about how he had reacted and was feeling a bit guilty? He felt bad he had responded to his son the way he did.  Trying to relieve a little of his guilt, the father went to his son’s room and asked “are you asleep, son?”  “No, Daddy. Why?” said the sleepy boy.  “Here’s the ten bucks you asked me for when I got home,” the father said.

“Thanks, Daddy!”  joyfully said the son, while putting his hand under his pillow and removing a sandwich bag full of change he had stashed there. “Now I have the whole twenty dollars!  I finally have enough” the little boy said to his Dad, who was now looking down at his son with a confused expression.   It was then the little boy made it clear why he wanted the money “Daddy, could you sell me an hour of your time?”

Sometimes it occurs to me I have been so busy trying to move forward in some aspect of my life I forgot to live the life I had at the present moment.  That is absolutely true in my 20’s, 30’s and 40’s.  There certainly were times I was guilty of being too busy for my son like the fable above illustrates.  The same can be said about me for friends, family and even time for myself. 

Always I was aiming toward something, headed somewhere and my efforts were in majority for would or could be.  Other time was wasted looking over my shoulder trying to solve some riddle about my past.  There was a big deficiency in the amount of time I spent on the present moment at any given point.  I am not bitter or beating myself up over it (well not  much), because that realization now in my 50’s has brought me a whole new perspective.  I am much more “present” in my life than ever before.

Every day I do my best to live well centered in the “now” and I succeed quite a bit at it.  When I forget I am acutely reminded frequently that our days are limited by the loss of friends, family, favorite musicians, movie stars and people, famous and not famous, I look up to.  Each of us has no idea when the “off” switch will be thrown on our life.  

A method I use to center myself and gain perspective when I need to, is to think of each day as being a deposit of 86,400 made to my account.   It’s up to me how I withdraw from that balance, how much of it I actually use and how I spend it.  The bad news is that any unused or leftover part of the deposit is taken away every midnight.  The good news is another 86,400 seconds are deposited in my account with the beginning of a new day.  It is with much gratitude I realize whether my daily deposit is used well or how much is left “unlived” at the end of the day is largely up to me.   

…And while Cinderella and her prince did live happily ever after, the point is, gentlemen that they lived.  Grand Dame in the movie “Ever After”

When the Spirit Moves You to Love

/ James Browning / 3 Comments

Over the last six months or so a rewarding pen-pal relationship has developed with a woman down in Texas.  Our communication is on an irregular and infrequent schedule, but when we write there is openness and sharing like you’d expect between two who have long known each other.  Seems a bit odd to say about someone I have never met, but we’ve become trusted confidants and probably good friends.  Maybe it’s the safety in distance that allows us to openly share of ourselves as we do.  However defined, I do know the connection is good.    

Today I received an email from my Texas friend after not hearing from her for several weeks.   She seemed a bit sad and a little troubled, but on the move forward and focused inward to reposition herself in a better place.  She wrote of desiring less of what blurs life and more simplicity in living as she progresses past a near-miss love relationship.  

Like me, she hopes one day to love and be loved again deeply and profoundly.  My friend wrote:   It should be an exciting peeling of layers. Instead flags of red loom in the distance…  I have tried the life of love 3 ways:   heart and mind lead, heart leads, and forget both, just let them lead… In summary, it seems to me I have failed to listen, absorb, apply and discern. But it also seems I will not settle… the challenge remains to never hurt another’s heart. It is impossible… 

I relate to what she wrote.  Being single in middle age with the weight of experience, previous marriage(s), children, protective barriers, responsibility and the like, it can feel impossible that the magic of love will ever sparkle again.  The hapless romantic in me, says it can, but I still get lost and disbelieve a good bit of the time.  Finding this passage by Erika Harris helped:   It is good to feel lost… because it proves you have a navigational sense of where “Home” is.  You know that a place that feels like being found exists.  And maybe your current location isn’t that place but, Hallelujah, that unsettled, uneasy feeling of lost-ness just brought you closer to it.    

In my life there have been times when I have been lost and I have been found.  There have been times I have proven my courage and other moments when I have shown my cowardly side.  With courage I have helped others and myself, but overcoming cowardice has been the greater teacher.  Today I am a coward about opening myself up to fall in love once more.  One day though I have faith a woman will again move me to my spiritual core and the courage to love will return.   But how will I know? 

There is no logical answer I can give to how I will know when she arrives in my life except to say my spirit will know.  The cue will be my fear of pain and heartache will be overcome by courage that will compel my heart open again without thought to how things will turn out.  Spiritually I will just know.  My spirit is the only force that can bring harmony and balance between my heart and my mind. It is then when falling in love becomes “can’t not do”. 

Often I get lost in my thinking and allow my ego to convince me that I am what I think.  It is impossible to stop my whirring mind, but it is possible to relax my attention to it.  When I am able to do take a few steps away from my constant storm of thoughts through meditation, prayer or stillness, I find there is a softer and quieter awareness within me that has nothing to do with my mind.  There I find a certain knowing without conscious thought that comes from the depths of my being where my soul resides.  My spirit always answers true if I am in tune enough to hear its soft and gentle voice.  

So the advice I give to my distant friend is there exists a fourth way to experience the “life of love”.  It is to spiritually be on the lookout for someone who moves you; one you can willingly and easily risk your heart for.  Let it be when you can hardly stop yourself and when logic makes no sense. When the spirit brings harmony between mind and heart the miracle of true love is possible. Like a magnet to iron, two are pulled together by the magnetism of their spirits through an knowing beyond unconsciousness.  The key is to be aware enough to notice when the spirit is trying to move us. Sometimes a chance for love knocks so softly if our “spiritual radar is down” we can miss it entirely with no second chance. 

I am grateful to whatever force drew my Texas pen-pal and I to share with each other as we do.  She is a good friend.  I am grateful for our connection and the insight writing here today has given me.  And, oh, by the way… I just checked.  My “radar” in “ON”… 

Loving can cost a lot but not loving always costs more, and those who fear to love often find that want of love is an emptiness that robs the joy from life.
(Merle Shan). 

The Flame in My Heart

/ James Browning / 6 Comments

What a range of emotion this past weekend contained.  Friday evening through Sunday morning contained an abundance of good times including three delicious meals and other quality time with a total of six friends.  How very richly blessed my days are to have such caring people in my life and I am exceedingly grateful. 

Being positively charged from the comradery in the first 2/3’s of my weekend, Sunday afternoon I felt poised with equilibrium mentally and spiritually.  Feeling strength and balance I decided to spend the afternoon doing a serious introspective meditation of the sort that digs down deep into the underpinnings of my emotional self.  While these journeys are always good, getting this real and close with one’s self can be painful.  Rarely have they hurt as much as what I encountered yesterday and into the night. 

The subject of my contemplative hours yesterday revolved around a central theme including questions such as:  why don’t I date, why won’t I allow any woman to reach my heart romantically, what holds me back, what am I afraid of, will I ever fall in love again and so on.  An answer came, but it took a good while to peel back the layers to get at it. 

For close to three hours I floated along in meditation without much consciousness of time.  In the opening up to my deeper self came realization of how much I value my friends.  They are my modern-day family.  Digging deeper I contemplated past romantic relationships until I arrived at realization that stunned me.  I came to know that even after much pain and sorrow and the passing of several years, the love for my 2nd wife still burns brightly in my heart.  Yes, I knew I still cared about her but discovering the depth of what remains astonished and humbled me.  

The answer to my self inquiry of “why” is simply in my heart I am still married to A., my second wife; nothing more, nothing less.  There is enormous irony in realizing that is probably truer at this moment than we actually were a wedded couple.  

There is a line that comes to mind which I included three weeks ago in a blog here titled “Unclouded Wisdom” https://goodmorninggratitude.com/2011/08/05/the-unclouded-wisdom-of-youth/ 

Never stop loving someone because you never know when they might start loving you back. But if that person won’t change, wait until your heart voluntarily quits. 

Now I realize I had feelings stuffed down deep within me and had ceased to recognize them.  Of course, that did not mean they were gone.  I had hidden my feelings away in a sort of misguided self-protection.  What was in my heart was waiting to show itself if I ever cared to look.  Now I will continue on with the knowledge that given time the point will come when my “heart voluntarily quits” or resolution will come in whatever form it arrives in. 

So I openly acknowledge what I now know to be true.  The first step with moving forward with anything is to accept what is.  In spite of the pain acceptance brings me this morning, I know it is a big step toward healing in a way I did not realize I was still wounded. 

What poured salt on an exposed wound yesterday was when I went to my jewelry box to find my wedding band from my second marriage only to find it gone.  Somewhere in my recent move and with workers in and out of my home the ring, along with a few others things, was stolen.  I have no idea when or by whom and can only guess.  There are several possibilities.  There would be no purpose to filing a police report and I care not to go though an insurance claim.  Just too painful.  Maybe it is life’s way of starting me on the break that I need to make to heal my heart.  That at least is how I find a silver lining in a dark cloud. 

Yesterday was a time of tears and the release of great pain.  While it was all healthy for me, this morning I am exhausted and running on the fumes of a few hours sleep.  I know I will be better for the experience but also that it will take a little while for that goodness to come over me completely.  

Of course, you can guess who I reached out to at the peak of my misery yesterday.  Yep, my ex-wife.  In spite of her having moved on with her life, she was exceptionally kind to me.  It had been well over a year since we had spoken and we talked for a long while.  It seemed neither of us wanted to get off the phone. I am grateful to her. 

Life goes on.  People change.  Things don’t work out.  Life is full of disappointment.  But living is filled with enormous goodness as well.  As long as I shall live, life is full of possibility.  I accept fully and openly whatever life has in store for me.  Always I will do my best to live my days well with deep grateful for the joys I am blessed with and thankfulness for the lessons I am taught.  

Change is never easy, you fight to hold on, and you fight to let go. 
from the TV program “The Wonder Years”

“Superb Disputer”

/ James Browning / 3 Comments

Late last week a friend made a negative comment about how I was handling something at work.  Initially the feeling was he was right and I was not managing properly.  What I heard irritated me and I cut short the phone conversation.   From the spark of a though I got from him my mind began adding more non-flattering commenting of its own.  This continued until I was feeling pretty rotten.  I doubted myself and my ability. 

After having my friend’s thought kick around in my head for several days, I concluded he had an incorrect view of things.  Yet, for at least two days I was beating myself up and coming around to his way of thinking although I really did not agree.  To make it worse, I was piling on a bunch of my own negative thinking to what was said.  Combined, it all left me feeling lousy.  

While not always well-practiced, I learned a while ago that my world without is but a reflection of my world within.    My thoughts create the conditions my mind imagines.  Had I continued to accept what was said to me, I would have been misleading myself down a false path.  Realizing I had started doing just that walk was a wakeup call to remember to use something I know about call “superb disputing”.     

“Superb disputing” is a skill that everyone has, but is more apt to use when OTHERS accuse us wrongly.  Like any other skill, it is keenest when used regularly.  When not well-practiced, the skill can take a while to kick in as it just recently did with me.  

“Supurb Disputing “is an effective tool for inwardly sorting out my own thinking.  All I need to do is remind myself that I have a lot of control over what I think.  From experience I know I can sort my thoughts into ones worthy of further attention and the ones that are garbage and proceed accordingly. I just have to not forget I know how to do this. 

For example, I know if a friend tells me I am a lousy employee or bad father I can marshal evidence against the accusation and fire it back at him or her if I choose.  What is most important is that I know, even if I never speak a word of that knowledge to anyone else.  

How well I remember the days when I was almost completely lost in my thinking.  I believed my thoughts were “me”.  It was not that long ago when I made all sorts of negative accusations to myself, about myself many times a day.  Things were common like being headed into a party thinking “I have nothing to say.  Now one is going to like me.  Or I look terrible”…and so on.   

When negative accusations came from inside me, once upon a time I treated them mostly as if they were absolute truth.  It took a long time and consist work to realize the automatic pessimistic thoughts I had about myself were just as irrational as the ravings of a jealous rival or a well intended, but mistaken friend. 

I had to learn that unconstructive thoughts about my self do not necessarily originate in hard fact and often come from criticisms from my past.  Sometime from ones made by a parent in anger, abuse from others, a mean teacher, mocking from other kids and all sorts of life experiences, all absorbed passively.  My thoughts are frequently only my conditioned responses learned previously, mostly while growing up.   

With just a little discipline I can be a “superb disputer” of these untrue thoughts about myself.  When I look closely I often realize much of what I think about myself is utter BS and nonsense.  The process of “disputing”  helps me to stop paying attention to that type of thought.  I know I can not completely stop my mind from thinking what it will, but whether I pay lots of attention or little attention to those mental ramblings is my choice.  

Frequently I do get good and accurate input from friends and appreciate their caring very much.  However, they are not always right.  Right or wrong, today I am thankful for what my friend said.  It was a catalyst for a reawakening of a life skill .  This morning there is much gratitude for the wake-up call and being reminded to dust off my ability as a “superb disputer”.  

Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.  William Shakespeare

Memories of a Dear Friend

/ James Browning / 3 Comments

This morning I woke up thinking of a dear friend of 30 years who passed away last year about this time.  Ultimately not taking care of himself combined with bad habits and the unmanaged stress of a challenging life did him in.   If he cared about someone he would do just about anything for them.  Like the photo above suggests, he was great fun to be around. 

 His nickname,  “Banger”, began in reference to his first car which was a “beater”  and did not fire on all cyliders consistently.  Hearing the car nearby back firing, his friends would say “here comes the banger” which over time became adapted to be his nick name.

I met Bill at a radio station where he came to work as an Account Executive.  He was good at selling, even selling himself.  A funny story about getting the job was the listing on his resume of spending a year and a half on the road as a wholesale ceramics sales person.  That is a true statement, but lacks the detail to show that job was for a ceramic company that made bongs he peddled wholesale to head shops in the Midwest.  What makes this even more ironic is Bill never used a bong or anything of the sort in his whole life!   

Within less than a year of meeting “Banger” I was at his bachelor party.  He and his future wife had been living together and now that she was expecting he deemed it time to get married.  That was the night he introduced me to something called “purple Jesus”.  I remember clearly him showing me a good-sized new plastic trashcan about a third filled with red liquid with sliced fruit floating in it.  I asked why the name “purple Jesus” and Bill said, “drink enough of this and you’ll go see Jesus”.  After a half a glass of the stuff put me into orbit, I stopped short of going forward to test his prediction.  What was it?  A concoction of red Hawaiian punch and grain alcohol with sliced oranges and limes floating in it.      

Bill would never say exactly, but I have always wondered in what measure was love his motivation to marry as compared to a sense of doing what he thought was right.  I do know he had a high sense of honor and he loved both his children.  By the time he had two sons a few years into elementary school he was divorced.  He never remarried. 

The heart wrenching part of Bill’s life was when his youngest son was diagnosed with Muscular Dystrophy.  The boy was six or seven years old when the doctors made the determination.  Clearly I recall over time watching the disease progress.  One scene vivid in memory was when Bill came to visit one afternoon and both his boys were playing with my son.  All three had gone up stairs which the son with MD negotiated with some difficulty going up, but to get down my friend had to carry him.  Soon the boy was in a wheel chair. 

 Within a year or so Bill was the parent the boys lived with full-time.  He took good care of them as best he knew how and was especially devoted to the younger one bound to a wheel chair whose disease progressed slowly but steadily.  The young man was smart and always quick to smile.  He had a bunch of friends, of which one or two were there just about always when I dropped by.  He shook hands with two presidents and was a “poster child” for MD twice.  What he told his Father consistently was when things got to where he could not breathe unless hooked to a machine; he wanted Bill to let him go.  That time came when the younger son was around 20 and in the hospital only able to breathe with mechanical aid.  He told his Dad it was time and within two days the young man was gone.  

Bill had always been a drinker and as his boy’s illness grew worse, Bill’s intake grew.  He was not someone who got sloshed in public and got into trouble.  Instead he did it quietly mostly in the evening, often after the boys were asleep.  “Banger” smoked and did not watch his weight and became heavier and heavier as the years passed.  By the time he accepted his health was in trouble it was too late except to buy a little time.  Quitting smoking and drinking did extend his life a while, but living with 10% liver function did not present a lot of hope.  Bill was on a transplant list, but was never healthy enough for the surgery. 

For over a decade my friend and I lived hundreds of miles apart, but stayed in close touch mostly with frequent phone calls and I visited him about once a year.  He drove out to see me twice.  The last year of his life hospital visits were frequent, but he always came through .  Some of us close to him swear it was on pure stubbornness!  

Bill passed away on a Tuesday and late the week before my mobile phone rang and answering I heard a soft and weary voice say “how you doing boy?”  I told him I was doing well and he replied “I just needed to hear your voice Brother”.  I asked how he was doing.  His said he was struggling and that even getting up to get to the bathroom was a major chore.  Bill did not give me a chance to say much more.  He said he was very tired and had to go.  Then again he told me he called to just hear my voice.  Some of his very last words to me were “I love you Brother” to which I replied “I love you too “Banger”.  Then with a couple of “talk to you later’s” the less than 60 second call was over.  I know now what Bill did, but probably didn’t consciously know himself; he called to tell me goodbye.  My gratitude that he did exceeds my ability to express it.  

He that is thy friend indeed,
He will help thee in thy need:
If thou sorrow, he will weep;
If you wake, he cannot sleep;
Thus of every grief in heart
He with thee doth bear a part.
Richard Barnfield

Who Lingers in Your Heart?

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

I have a very insightful friend who wrote me an email yesterday and in it she said:   I often wonder in your heart, who it is that lingers there, who it is that still has your love but does not know it.  Whoever she is, she is lucky and hope one day if it is God’s will your hearts will connect again and it will be so great for you James.  I know you are not looking, but I feel inside you hope for her.  I do not know this, I just have a feeling you have someone you still love and cannot get out of your heart, probably because she still belongs there…   

When I read what my friend wrote, with hardly any thought I knew the answer to her question.  It was simply “Yes, there is one who lingers in my heart and the name is______.”  Initially my thinking went just to one person but quickly afterwards came the realization of varying sized pieces of love remain in my heart for many others as well.  My thoughts widened from at first thinking only of romantic love to a broader view of the many that have a place in my heart.  

I am first and foremost who I am genetically who has been molded and shaped by my life experience.  After that I am a collection of bits and pieces borrowed from a myriad of different people.  Some things borrowed are buried within me to where my awareness no longer touches them.  Others left a legacy labeled within me clearly with their name. 

From “Love is never a mistake” by Z. Smith
Love is never a mistake, never wasted, nor lost, even if it seems to go nowhere… Love has divine, everlasting qualities, and rewards beyond measure…  Love, and loving feelings are divine expansions of your own true nature, and always good and worthy and right…  

I have been blessed to have loved and borrowed and learned from many people I cherish.  The scope and meaning varies from large to small, but in no particular order here are some people I loved and learned from, each in a specific way. 

From a young teacher I idolized in 6th grade I borrowed his habit of wearing a wrist watch “upside down” with the watch face on the palm side of my arm.  He taught me how much fun learning is.   

From my beloved Grandfather I borrowed a saying: “Putting things in writin’ keeps friendly folks, friendly”.  That has always been especially interesting to me since he could not read or write and my grandmother had to read everything to him.   From him I learned about imperfection and honor. 

From the first girl to find her way into my heart and broke it when I was a teenager, I borrowed the knowledge that relationships end, but some of the love always remains.  She opened the door to learning what love is. 

From my business “father” and mentor in my 20’s I borrowed a saying that he had framed and hung on his office wall (and now hangs on mine): “There is nothing that can’t be accomplished as long as we don’t care who gets the credit”.  From him I learned how to be a leader of people. 

From two old friends, now passed on, I borrowed good feelings for the holiday season.  My friend Bill, who had a very difficult life, always signed his Christmas card with “Happy Hoot and Holler Days”.  Just typing that makes me smile inside and out with delight.  My friend Jan who, always wanted children but was never able to have any, loved Christmas so much that decorations were up year round in her home and during the season there was a tree of some kind in every room, including bathrooms!  From both I learned the power joy has over sadness.  

From my 1st wife I borrowed how to take care of and support someone from the way she did me.  I learned about helping another find some order and sense about life.  I learned from her about giving.  

From my 2nd wife I learned what it is like to love with all of one’s self.  Even through all the pain involved in the ending of the marriage I will be ever grateful for that lesson.  From her I learned loving without reservation. 

Through my son, I learned how to love without any uncertainty.  Since the day he came into the world there as never been a question of my feelings for him and there never will be.  From him I learned how to love fully and wholly.  

From my best friends  M. and C., I borrowed how to be a best friend to someone by the friend they have been to me.  Any time of the day or night I know either would be there for me no matter what.  From them I learned that friendship isn’t a big thing – it’s a million little things.

There are so many I could mention here, but space allows me to go no further.  Yet, I realize this is a good subject to revisit in the future and acknowledge others who left a thread of themself in the fabric of who I am.  For those mentioned here and those not yet written about who helped shape me into the person I am, I say “thank you”.   I am very grateful. 

I almost forgot…. Who is the “one” I thought of when reading what my friend wrote and included at the start of this blog?  I will only say I am very grateful to that person and will write one day here about them.  Just not yet, but I promise I will. 

Love is never a mistake it is either a very good relationship or an even better lesson. Sariah Lynne