My life is a paradox.
I am a true introvert, but I love people. And I love being with people – with certain limits and controls. I like to be alone, just not by myself. I like company in my quiet. I like shared solitude. Coupled contemplation.
And I dislike conflict, though I never seem to be without it.
I say I dislike conflict. But it’s really unresolved conflict that I dislike. And conflict that seems unresolvable drives me mad, because it’s my nature to solve, to mend, to heal, to redeem, to find peace and harmony. And I find it hard to understand people who don’t seem to mind the discordant strains.
However, I could argue that I have thrived in conflict, after all. Because it’s all I’ve really ever known. Even all those times that I thought I was just surviving, I was growing in endurance. I was building metaphorical muscle to handle a strongman competition.
When adversity comes to you (whether by your own hand, or by forces outside of your control) you can either lie down and give up, or rise up and fight. The first choice leaves no room for success, but the second is a gamble. However, if your desires reside on the other side of the struggle, only one option is conceivable.
Looking back, I can see how the struggles that have come have created a stubborn resilience in me that has allowed me to handle some tremendous difficulties.
Though I believe I have family and friends who probably wouldn’t let me become homeless and destitute, I have had an independent streak since I was a teenager. Therefore, I have always found a way to re-mediate any crisis I found myself in without leaning on anyone (as much as possible). Therefore I have worked a variety of jobs, and picked up some diverse skills and knowledge throughout my years. I’ve learned that I can do almost anything if I need to. And now, if I don’t know how, someone has put up a YouTube video that will show me how.
The secret is in the why. If your why is greater than the obstacles, you will find a way to overcome them. And if it isn’t, then why put forth the effort at all?
I just happened to find a great why. And it is my HOPE. And I will never give up my pursuit.
I may never be able to give you the world, but I can offer you mine.
I may never be able to show you any of the seven wonders. But I can take you out to the country beyond the streetlights, and throw a blanket on the ground where we can lay on our backs and wonder at the greatness of creation, and our part in it all.
I may never be able to buy you diamonds. But I can remind you that the contours of your face and limbs were chiseled by one who makes any master diamond cutter look like a novice in comparison; and that you are of far more value to me than any jewel, no matter how rare or exquisite.
I may not be able to take you to as many concerts as I’d like, but I’ll sing you karaoke love songs with abandon, as you blush.
I may not be able to buy the biggest house on the lake, but I’ll fill each room that I can afford with love and presence.
I may not be able to take you to dance in a grand ballroom where others can fawn over your beauty and grace on the dance floor. But I can dance with you in the kitchen at 3 AM, and tell you how grateful I am to be able to hold you so close.
We may not be able to visit an exclusive spa, where you can be pampered as you so richly deserve. But I can put on some soft music, pour you a glass of wine, and rub your feet while you relax and let go of the day’s worries.
I’m not likely to ever take you to a Nascar race, but I’ll race go carts with you. Then I’ll take you for a celebration/consolation dinner for the winner and runner-up.
I may not take you to a casino, but I’ll stay home and play cards or board games with you, and fix you snacks.
If we don’t get to see all the latest movies that come to the theater, or ever get to go to a Broadway musical, I’ll share a blanket with you as we stream a movie on the TV, or as I read to you from a book that you would enjoy.
The decisions I make do not usually lead me down a path to worldly riches, but they make my life rich in relationships – because that’s where I choose to put most of my investments.
I may never be able to give you the world, but I’ve already made you mine.
There’s a room in my heart with a perpetual reservation in your name.
An open invitation. Always.
It has been stocked with all the amenities to make your stay comfortable no matter how long.
There you’ll find an assortment of music to listen to, and movies and T.V. shows to watch – all of which were picked for your liking. There are books to read – both for pleasure and for growth. I add to them as I find others I think you would like, or find challenging. Or there’s even a deck with a clear view of the moon in the late night. Come by any time. Kick off your shoes. Adjust the thermostat. Poor yourself a glass. And make yourself at home.
I check in every day. In fact, I check in often throughout the day every day, making sure everything is just right, and looking for signs that you may have stopped by. Most often it is just as I last left it just moments before. But sometimes…sometimes I feel your energy…I smell your fragrant scent lingering as if I’d just missed seeing you. I look quickly to see if anything is out of place, proof that you were here. I touch everything you might have touched, to absorb any residual traces of your aura. Then I sit back in a familiar comfortable chair, close my eyes, and breathe you in.
In my mind I see you clearly. I can look into those deep eyes, and see the dimple in your smile. I tell you how I feel, and that I’ve missed you. I ask questions, and you answer. I reach out and touch you. I hold your hand. I ask you about your day – what has frustrated you, and what has made you smile. I hear your passion and your laughter. I invite you to dance with me, and you take my hand and rise to your feet. I hold you closely and smell your hair as we gently sway to the strains of our own soundtrack. I feel the warmth of your body as you relax into mine.
I am lost in an embrace that as far as I know only I am able to feel.
Then I wonder…do you ever hear my voice when I speak to you? Do you feel my prayers going up for you? Do you feel my love radiate across the expanse between us? Do you feel the strength and comfort that I send to you?
I spend so much of my time in this room that others may think me a recluse. But this is my favorite place in all the world – even though the vast majority of the time spent here I spend alone. It is after all, the only place I see you.
I spend my time trying to make this room more appealing to you so that you might want to spend more time here as well. I clean and dust. I add music to the playlist, and movies to the queue. I even hang a new picture from time to time. I pay attention to what I know you like, as well as what I suspect you do. In the process of making the atmosphere better for you, I make it better for me too. Which is good, because I spend so much of my time here.
I often don’t realize how much time has passed. But I am always eventually jarred from my thoughts by some pressing responsibility. My phone rings. An alarm goes off. As I open my eyes to attend to the present, I realize that my eyes burn and my face is wet. I collect my thoughts – savoring those from which I was awakened. I rub my eyes with the palms of my hands and dry them on my jeans. Then I rise, put on the smile that makes others more comfortable, and leave this warm abode to take care of whatever requires my presence.
But I’ll check in again very soon. As always, I HOPE to see you then.
There are events that change the course of our lives forever. Once experienced, there is no going back. A new course must be assumed, and all future decisions are necessarily affected. Those events become marking posts that identify new beginnings, as well as burial plots containing the decayed remains of beliefs once thought immutable, traditions no longer meaningful, and relationships found to hold us back rather than hold us up.
Today is the third anniversary of my first blog post, “Why Disturb the Cat?“. And, though I’ve let the cat get a little comfortable as of late, I’d be remiss not to mark this important date in my life. I am grateful that my words get your attention at all. If you are reading these words, I thank you. And know that I am not finished. There is more to come.
With warm coffee keeping company, and morning sun hidden,
A single lamp chases shadows of desolation,
Momentarily holding darkness at bay.
Sounds of wind-driven rain fill an otherwise silent morning,
Displacing discordant drivel with white noise.
Unending thoughts reduced to whispers, not to disrupt the notes of melodious harmony.
Loneliness becomes respite, and alienation, a time of solitude.
I attended a workshop for my writers’ group this past Saturday. Our first exercise was to write a poem. We had just about 15 minutes to come up with something and write. One of the things the author taught us was to follow the rules of the type of poem we were writing. I had two problems: I don’t know the rules; and I don’t always follow the rules that I do know – especially in writing. I thought I would share what I wrote. Critiques are welcome.
4 digit code,
8 by 8 cubicle,
10 oz styrofoam cup,
contents at 180 degrees.
He sits and stares past a pile of papers on his desk, to a yellowing map of the U.S. Interstate system. Points of interest marked with Post-It Notes.