Fork in the Road

Feels like I've been awake for all of it.  One day you're three, swaying about the beginners ballet floor, or popping around the corner off the sidewalk into the driveway on your green machine big-wheel, and the next you're...I don't know, hurting with experience and wisdom.

I'm in this meadow.  I remember arriving but I don't remember the fork in the road.  There must've been one, For some of those that I remember aren't here.

I sometimes can't remember if I travelled in the interstate or the back gravel, or which way was most unique to me.  I think people laughed a bit, warmed by fire and wine.  But then why does skin yellow and flowers die?  Eventually what's left is a pot and a coffin.

I don't remember the fork in the road.  I walked through the forest, and even hiked a few.  I wonder if the cliff-sides turned me away or was it the fear?  When difficult choices slithered into my sphere of influence, I feel as if I opted for different modes of transportation.  One only recognizes the path against the sky where there seems to be none were it not for life up there tracking one through the sky.

Do we lack imagination?  Emotional philanthropy means a willingness to emote by either rote, note, vote, or remote.  But the mechanical, the anecdotal, the confidence, and the distant good intentions will taunt me and you.  only that the life between tutus and tardives proved that I trusted something, and that others are here.

Once I reached the place called "roots" I turned.  I had not wondered what I missed until then.  I'd eaten the golden fruit, and remembered the taste but little else.  God had given me secrets I dared never to share, for fear of tears spilt onto rocky soil.  So I buried them, and could fairly say, hid them surreptitiously.  It seems I even left my memory there.

Until someone shook my hand and thanked me. The job wasn't difficult, but I was there.  And then another, and another.  I turned toward a path I thought had been a hike into the uncharted and unnoticed.  I looked at cartographer's record and compared them with the man I'd helped.  His map was similar to mine, to my chagrin.  Oh, there were differences, and there were territories I had discovered.  Turns out I showed others my own territory, and even allowed them to till my land.  There had been moments of terror, and others of joy.

I remembered.  I remembered more of the path.  I remembered animals, and flowers, and stuff that was unnameable, and became nothing more than lollygags and dooperbugs.

I named my own star.  But I still don't remember the fork in the road.  I just remember how many footprints I saw on my path tread.  I remembered more.  Forbidden fruit made me sick.  Made me look at myself without the forest and the road.  I thought I was the capacitor for my own light.  I shook someone's hand, and thanked them.  I thought about that.  Maybe I had chosen something, but my path seemed a series of planned accidentals.

Ah, faith.  Accidents are really no more than a stubbed toe that probably led to something significant.  Anything seemingly worse arose as no accident at all, but periods of growth and anger.

I named a star, I think I told you that once before.  I remember the name, "Narciss" I called it, because it always forced me to look at myself.  I can't remember where the star is anymore, I've moved on.  An arrogant star with a name shines somewhere, just as it always has.

Maybe looking up, into the infinite was a way to avoid the fork in the road.  I learned that the infinite includes up and out.  Prayer works I suppose, and sometimes wishes on my star wojuld come true.

Prayer is a fork in the road.  It proves that God is still faithful either way.  Prayer keeps us looking out and up.  Is the capacitor and the light. I know that now.

I looked for the golden fruit, and realized it was gone.  My bag was empty.  How could this be? What's mine is mine!  But another shook my hand, and I happened to notice his bag was empty.  I failed to understand then what I know now.  I worried about the fruit because it sustained my own pursuits.  But the reason we were all so happy upon that meadow at the end of the path was the realization that they, we could not have foreseen this meadow, and therefore could not have foreseen any of it.

I realized my name.  Narciss.  I had become a fire that had been consumed within itself, and threatened its life.  But I could not have foreseen the path and a I smiled.  I wondered how we all had come to this meadow, with laughing daffodils, and whispering grass.  My muscles were taut and painful.  Man, I'm tired.  Man I'm tired.  It's been a hell of a thing.  I just want to sit down.

Problem is I believed my story mattered to me and those I could persuade to see me.

I felt a hug, and a rub.  Someone behind me, I tried to turn, but was prevented.  I simply enjoyed this holy massage.  I smiled again.  There were forks in the road, but I was never alone.

I wished upon another star.  "Grace."  The star shone bright, but it's illumination turned out to be her.  My star was again not of my own devices, but an adoption gift.  She stepped outside the tendrils of a star and took my hand.

Faith and meadows, a marriage of love and salvation.  She took my hand, and as always the meadow winds changed and a new path emerged.

We now tread, sometimes carefully.  But suddenly there is a cloud by day, and a pillar of fire by night.  I can look around and stretch my hand to the wonder along the path.  My skin has softened, joined by grace, and my eyes are opened, brushed by the holy.  Her hair is now my constant meadow, her hands my security, and our our faith is our hope, and is His confidence and his promise.

I now look to the stars, the hills, and the path.  I can hear my feet scratch the dirt worn by a new path.  Our breath.  Our breath.  Others are there too.  A calling perhaps.

Until a new meadow, I have my grace.

Unconditional Love Never Needs a Reason

I've spent the half a year really speaking not only of relationships, but what it really means to commit yourselves to them. I've written about myself, my birth defect and my accomplishments. I've written about my wife, her radiance, her beauty, her generosity, her kindness and her love for me and her friends. I've written of the many amazing RAGBRAI riders and how their lives intertwine with others all week long. I've written how none are left alone on the road. I've written how some battle the forces of time by their accomplishments and how others are humbled by them. I've written how the best of men return from battle only to be vilified at home. I've written of their strength while their country turned their backs on them. I've written about how one man, forty years removed from battle, saluted my dad, a Viet Nam Vet and said, "Welcome home brother." I've written about a group of Vets that my Dad-in-law has connected with, and how, even now, their bond brings healing. Even now no man gets left behind.


I've written how it is we ought to live together. I've written that it's okay to disagree, to quarrel, to struggle. But then I told you that together you must find the way to repair each other.


I've told you what it is to love.


I tried hard to help you to view others in light of their story. I've told you that for your story to be heard, you must first listen to the story of the other. I've tried to help you magnify your joy for the triumph of others, and by your joy they will also share your triumph. I've told you to listen to instruction, to gain wisdom from rebuke and to enjoy rewards together.


the best relationships, the best friends are those that bear the joys and trials of the other. The best relationships and the best friends take us with them no matter where that is. The best relationships and the best friends don't need "permission" to take the other with them on whatever journey is being engaged. And committed relationships and the best of friends accept the baggage of the other. They're willing to lug that baggage with them, and in many cases, lug the baggage for them. The best relationships and the best friends know that baggage sometimes takes a long time to shed, walls are sometimes difficult to knock down and illnesses sometimes take forever to heal; sometimes they never heal. The best relationships and the best friends love you till the ending day and even the days after your last. The best relationships and the best of friends want to be there to watch you shed the baggage, tear the walls down, and fight the most feared battles.


The wiles and wills of mankind are often to walk alone, separate from another. You nor I need work long to prove this.


It is often the wiles of mankind to take every disconnect and to threaten, even in jest, to leave another.


It is often the wiles of mankind to spend more energy giving up, giving in, than living hopeful, faithful lives.


Even my last two stories were intended to help you discover another.


Unconditional love never looks for a reason not to love. Unconditional love never desires a reason to leave.


I won't necessarily move away from this theme, but I'm going to look for different themes now as well. Maybe you'll look back at past posts to help you find the best and most courageous of your own path.


The video below reveals a dance about one of our worst fears...breast cancer. By this dance you can find how the strength of unconditional love bridges the gap between fear and courage. It reveals how, even at the weakest points, even when the hurting wish to give up, to run away, the other will be there for them and with them. It will show you the unending strength of those with hope and the need for the truest friends when it seems there is none.


The dance will inspire you to wake up and live now. And it will inspire you to be the most amazing friend, the strongest heart, and the best of companions. The journey never ends--what matters is that you travel together.


Watch and live.

My Bride

The Bride

A marvelous thing,

Love on this side of eternal life.

Love opened the universe.

Envelopes friendship

Embraces need

Strives for perfection

Forgives and heals.

The breeze breathes

Is like the breath of your

Soul that refreshes mine.

Wind unrestricted

Is my life by yours.

Expanding universe

Explosions of creation

Light from early days

Pierces me today.

God’s hand reaches.

My image is His

and my soul endures

on one side of eternal life or another.

I am tended.

Allow time’s pass

Time is our chariot

To the other side of eternal life

Celebrate and live, strong and courageous.

One side time,

The other eternity,

And both divine

With you and my heart…

My heart affixed to yours

In eternity by God’s hand

In death ne’er shall we part,

By God I am with you

On this side and the next.

My eyes are closed

so that I might see

in vivid color and clarity

all that might be

God's design in love.

I am delighted that He has sought

that we might walk together.

Death and Silliness: A Poem

There may be a day when I'm not there. I may die. That's it. I'll be in Heaven and you'll be here.  

The very same day that happens you'll miss the silliness. You'll wonder why no one is brushing your teeth with his tongue. You'll realize that life isn't a series a events not to be trusted and constantly questioned. You'll realize that experience simply is.  

You'll find my shirts in the closet, and my shoes on the floor. I hope you'll know that all of life is a wild stab in the dark, but that I was your ray of light.  

You'll miss the silliness. Not because you knew it would happen--you did. You won't miss it because it's the only time you couldn't question what something, anything, is. Silliness makes no sense. Because life is a series of plans and habits that help you achieve success or cleanliness, you'll miss the silliness.  

You'll see the half-drunk diet mountain dew in the refrigerator. The remote control will be on the table beside the couch. You'll see my pillow, and ruffled sheets. You'll think about my ball and glove and wonder where we stashed it away. My shaver will be on the shower wall and my toothbrush in the holder. The coffee pot doesn't poor well. I poured coffee today. You'll see my stain tomorrow. But I may not be there and you'll miss the silliness.  

You'll wonder if you saw the good in me today. You'll wonder how many thoughts you had today.  

But you'll miss the silliness. Not because of what it was, or who I am. But because of how you felt when it happened.

Because I love my Wife

This is the second poem I wrote. Last year was one of those years and sometimes I did well and sometimes I did...not do well. But let me be said that in this house my wife should feel safe. She should be allowed to read in the bathroom and work in her craft room. She should feel as if she can say things in her home. She should be able to know that sometimes she doesn't have to cuddle with me because she doesn't feel well, and that I won't critcize her for it. She should feel my hand as we pray. She should see me tending her lawn and washing her windows. She should be able to tell me she loves me in front of a thousand people. She should feel me behind her as we wave guests goodbye, to know that I'm not the one who's leaving. And when she is down to her last breath, she should feel me breath for her...Yes...she should. Therefore, this is me to my bride:

Gladness

I will walk through the waves
Where the sea is made of glass and gladness
Where the water is cool
And the sun is warm.

I will wear her coral colored satin skin
I will lay her back and glide her
across the waters
I will hold love by the waist
and Angels by their wings

I will
So that she can close her eyes
And dream again.
I will.

I will laugh to her soul
And write peace and faithfulness to it.
I will pause in her weary breath
and as my heart ever beats, breathe with her.

I will look upon the jeweled sea
Where angels blink their eyes
Where they give and smile.
I will bear each smile to her lips

And they will pause to behold her.