Seems if I were honest, I'd tell the world writing is the love of my life. She's the one I always hold close to my breast and defend to the death. I wrote to you about her after hearing Sting share his story "Fields Of Gold" with me, and I told you this - "I acquiesced to the realization that what he held in his heart he held because beauty happened to him in the realm of warm flesh and blood and that for me, I'll always hold it in my mind in the realm of words, a narrative of a tiny two-paragraph story, and I felt a contentment in this. Somehow, somewhere in my story, my mind can experience a lesser form of his, "See the west wind move like a lover so upon the fields of barley. Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth among the fields of gold". My story will read another way, with other words of less clarity of beauty, but the story will tell something just as nice. Just as my friend will feel the warm sun in some jealous sky somewhere as he presses against and feels the warmth of someone, my mind can reveal to me the same, over and over again, even as many years pass."
Still, I'm not always so faithful to this lady of mine. Sometimes I think I miss her beautiful smile and bright eyes that share with me the brilliance of the sun, moon, and stars. Then I miss her soft skin and gentle body she calmly and patiently pushes against me - while at the same time she knowingly and lovingly soothes me with her soft caresses to my brow, efficiently eliminating all my worries. It's true that in her I know beauty exists in a dark and ugly world.
I was thinking about her even when I was a very young man in the USAF. At the age of 21, I used the beauty of the southern Idahoan woods to help me find an expression for her, I looked inward while I deeply yearned to have her in my life. From my heart, I remember saying something similar to this - "It was a day most beautiful, but more than beautiful, it was as special as if God Himself had planned it that way. Is that a good start? It was early summer and the air in those mountains smelled of the greenest pine trees, its soft blades of grass, and of the flowers that randomly grew here and there. There were birds singing their songs that served to enhance my senses and make those smells more memorable. Beauty was as apparent in everything that day, inasmuch as God, was apparent in everything that day. The skies were as light blue as I’d ever noticed, making me think of water and the joy of being baptized in the Spirit. The proud tall trees gently swaying in the wind spoke to me, letting me know that God was Majestic and worthy of my worship. The mountains which were so big and grand, well they seemed to tell me God was omnipotent and could not be moved. Then Felicity, as I looked at the sun in all it’s glory, I knew that God’s Glory was greater than anyone or anything." So, this was the first time I thought of her and those thoughts were wonderful to think. Still, as great as God had made that day that had inspired my thinking, what was that day without her? What was it without her voicing her own expressions of that day? What was that day that I couldn't hold her hand and talk with her?" Why did it never occurred to me she was already safe in my heart, I don't understand.
I recently shared her with all of you when I wrote and shared this with you - "To move, to positively pass through time, that's so worth it - that's breathing, that's living a life. Fear can steal a breath, end a movement, make an assured step become hesitant. And what do I desire so much that gives gravity to fear? Love, of course; closeness, of course; another, of course. How? Loss of it all. To lose love and closeness and another - that is fear and the gravity that tethers one to it.
But words stay with me until they don't. No words, well no words bring along being scared; being afraid. Then the search. Looking. A feeling, a deep thought, a flood of emotion. Where do I find light? In the Pause. Pause. Pause. In my heart, here. Embrace. Singing, touching with tenderness, being kind. One word, then two, more follow. Poetry in the beauty speaking warmth, calling me, asking me to join in. I desired you with a great desire. All the colors and the places their abundance take me. Stay with me, I want you and your voice where it's written - each and every letter so dear to my heart. Welcome back!" I do want nothing but love and peace for all you Points of Lights; a lightness of being even when, and even while life can become hard, dark, and too heavy to bear alone. I desire to share a painting of light found in a few words I can muster to write, yes for myself first, but ultimately always for you. I really want you to see something beautiful.
I always look for light so I can see all the colors God's Grace has put around me. Why? All because His heart's desire is that I find beauty in those colors. I mean, If you know me, you know I'm always searching for beauty in this world. Janis Ian found her way to share this very thing with me, and in what she shared, I found pieces of me. I'd like to share this with you -
Stars - Janice Ian
I was never one for singing What I really feel Except tonight, I'm bringing Everything I know that's real
It took a very long time for my life to arrive at a place where I felt I could share myself with anyone. To arrive at the place where I allow my feelings to become real, honest, authentic, and transparent. I’m happy I finally arrived.
Stars, they come and go They come fast or slow, they go like The last light of the sun, all in a blaze And all you see is glory
There's plenty of people who have a light to share with you, I stand there in their midst. My hope is the light I share with you is full of color and in this, you'll find beauty. But know this, there are so many unwritten words that go along with all the words of this light, a lot of unwritten words!
But it gets lonely there When there's no one here to share We can shake it away If you'll hear a story
As I shared when I started writing this for you, I’m not always faithful to my own words – I’ll refuse to write. When I live like that, I’m miserable; I’m unhappy; I fret and become anxious. I need a story full of words to paint a word picture for you, to share with you some beauty and happiness. May I put a smile on your face, help you giggle? If so, my heart can overcome most anything!
People lust for fame Like athletes in a game We break our collarbones And come up swinging
Some of us are downed Some of us are crowned And some are lost And never found
But most have seen it all They live their lives in Sad cafes and music halls They always come up singing
I’ve lived a full life. My brother once said of me that I'm the living embodiment of a Winston Churchill quote that says "a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma." I mean, yeah! I can tell you this is very much a truism... “Life isn’t simple nor can it be simply understood.” There was a time in my life I felt like a wisp of smoke no one noticed. I felt the things I said or didn’t say and the things I did or didn’t do mattered to no one. But that’s actually a part of an amazing resume in this amazing life I’ve lived. It’s a part of a story I get to tell.
Some make it when they're young Before the world has done its dirty job And later on, someone will say "You've had your day
Now You must make way"
But they'll never know the pain Of living with a name You never owned Or the many years forgetting What you know too well
In the section of my blog, “Being Fiercely Honest”, I shared this – “I think about how funny it is that you can't see life lived as you live it. I did know I was going to give this part of my life short shrift even while its importance is, well, pretty significant. Looking back, though, I only know this is the point in my life in which I was so empty inside I didn't notice much beyond what was right in front of my eyes. Even then, if I were to recite an account of whatever my eyes observed literally with every intention of being completely honest, the account was likely to come out in complete opposition to reality. I said “literally” for this reason: I know I don't have solid memories from that dark time. I can definitely say I didn't notice the subtleties and nuances of life happening around me, either. That's really sad, considering that subtleties and nuances paint the most beautiful portraits - Monet, anyone?”
That the ones who gave the crown Have been let down You try to make amends Without defending
I like to think these words can’t speak to reality, but… this too is from the “Being Fiercely Honest” in my blog - "It doesn’t end up bad though, my kids have been my heroes, my Superwoman and Superman. There was a day my daughter gathered herself up, girded her loins and left me to myself. Had she not been Superwoman, she’d not have been able to do that, that thing that was so needful. She felt Willis Towers were meant to be enjoyed when looked at or while standing on their inside while being fascinated with the sturdiness of its floors when you’re 103 stories in clouds. What she did hurt, but I knew what I had to do. Her dad, me, I had to find the better part of me.
My son kept in contact during this time in his dad’s life. It was as if he had the task of being Superman, a part he did so well as he propped up my legs and helped me walk. Want to smile? Come with me inside the memory part of my mind for a moment so I can show you something. Look over there and you’ll see a little boy walking around the house then toward a tree in the middle of the yard. He’s wearing pants and a tee-shirt, as he should. But he’s also wearing an oversized belt around his waist. On one hip, tucked into that belt you’ll notice a plastic sword. Look at his other hip, there it is, something else tucked into his belt, I don’t know what the heck it is but I can imagine whatever it is he’s going to use it to do good! Now here’s what I really want you to notice, look at his neck, see what’s tied around it, lying across his shoulders and flowing down his back. He’s taken a beach towel and tied it around his neck, but, I’m not lying, it’s an honest to god cape. Isn’t it? That’s my son you’re looking at, my Superman.
It’s been a while, I’ve cried, I've fallen on my knees, I've finally found me. It would be fair to say Superwomen and Superman together saved their dad's life. I know I’m never going to fly with clouds between my knees, and that’s okay. I mean on Sunday, on Father’s Day I can still celebrate knowing real heroes, and that’s a pretty damn good thing!” Amends to them and so many others in this man’s long amazing journey.
Perhaps pretending You never saw the eyes Of grown men of twenty five That followed as you walked And asked for autographs Or kissed you on the cheek And you never can believe They really loved you
It’s too easy to see nothing in yourself that’s of worth. But then we find Terpsichore was always listening to us.
Some make it when they're old Perhaps they have a soul They're not afraid to bare Or perhaps there's nothing there
Transparency is alright by me. Everything I am I offer freely.
Stars, they come and go They come fast or slow They go like the last light Of the sun, all in a blaze And all you see is glory But it gets lonely there When there's no one here to share We can shake it away If you'll hear a story
Some women have a body Men will want to see So they put it on display Some people play a fine guitar I could listen to them Play all day
Some ladies really Move across a stage And gee, they sure can dance I guess I could learn how If I gave it half a chance
But I always feel so funny When my body tries to soar And I seem to always worry About missing the next chord
Sometimes I get in a sulk - where I sulk. It seems there’s room for one in a sulk. In this sulk, I think and worry about myself. Then anxiety and depression overwhelm me. In this state I forget to write, forgetting about the one who loves and consuls me.
I guess there isn't anything To put up on display Except the tunes And whatever else I say Anyway, that isn't really What I meant to say I meant to tell a story I live from day to day
Stars, they come and go They come fast or slow They go like the last light Of the sun, all in a blaze And all you see is glory But those who've seen it all They live their lives In sad cafes and music halls We always have a story
So if you don't lose patience With my fumbling around I'll come up singing for you Even when I'm down
If you don’t lose patience with me, I’ll always have a story, a word painting to share with you; and it’s all thanks to the one I love, hold close to my breast and fight to the death for. I’ll not lie, sometimes my heart will bumble and fumble the words that are most needed - just as I’ve done here, but please be patient with me and I’ll try my best to recover. My heart’s not always good; sometimes my heart's intentions are less than honorable, but that’s always on me. Get me a chance, an opportunity; let me reflect on what’s real and needful. Allow me the right to find glimpses from the slivers of light in my life so that I might find even more light, color, and beauty in the words my love wants more than anything to give me. I can promise you that’ll turn into the ultimate share I’ll have to give away- to you.
As always, with all Love and Peace Tod w/one d
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