The Passionate You , The whole story

The Passionate You and that other person

It seems impossible that two persons could occupy the same body, at the same moment in time, but I believe we do. This duality existence is as old as our species itself. Two people, one body. Hummm  . . . . . . . Well at least we shall never be alone.

“Life is far too important a thing ever to talk seriously about.”
                                                                                      Oscar Wilde

But seriously, one morning as I sat patiently waiting for the next salvo of words to be fired across the bow of my coffee cup, I braced myself. As she glared in my direction, I was hoping my silence would draw her words out. Two minutes and twenty four seconds later, success! My wife lectured me, again, stating that I was acting just like my father, again. I reminded her that I had spent 18 years living with the man and that the possibility of acquiring some of his traits and habits was not a possibility but a certainty. A sure bet. 100%. I wasn’t acting like my father I was imitating my father. I was reacting or maybe the proper term is repeating the stated actions I had witnessed my father act out. I refer to this phenomenon as “The Parental Rerun Show, sponsored by Memorex.” Like father, like son. It wasn’t me honey, my father made me say those things. Was it my Dad or just my personality?

And just what is my personality? Well, I am unsure just how to describe my personal personality. So, I looked it up at dictionary.com and discovered that my personality is a combination of what I know and how others perceive my actions. My personality is the sum others perception? So everyone perceives us as uniquely different? Hummmm . . . .

Do we have two personalities or one vastly complex personality? I believe that we are all two people in many ways. The primary belief being that we all hold a “passionate you” and “that other person”. Let me explain my thoughts here. The “passionate you” is the child who is always either 1) Chasing Pirates or 2) off on another great adventure of some sort and “that other person” is the frowning kid next door who, while shaking their head with arms folded tightly against their chest yells over the fence “when are you going to grow up?” One is being their true passionate self and the other is being behaved, as dictated by parental and societal influences of the current day. One is fueled by personal passion to capture those pesky pirates and the other is fueled by the desire to be just like, to talk just like and behave just like all the other grown up’s.   Pity.                                   

But wait there’s more; I believe that as one grows older, one’s point of focus changes not their “passionate you”. As I moved from chasing pirates to chasing young, curvaceous maidens my focus did truly change. I was still the same ole trouble I had always been, just refocused. Society and other outside influences mold and shape our viewpoints and narrow our definitions of all things and emotions. As I read the title “unabridged dictionary” I think “yeah, right!”. The unabridged dictionary contains definitions to words that have been voted on and accepted by the committee of our peers for the advancement of proper words for proper persons. How nice of them to explain to us what words are allowed and what definitions are allowed. Now we know, we didn’t even have to use our own three pounds of synapse-laden tissue hidden beneath our skull to figure it out! But not so quickly there my good friend, remember with knowledge comes responsibility. We must now remember to hang up our blinders on the bedpost before we go to sleep. Dreams do not require blinders. They only require our God given imagination. There are no rules or predefined words and thoughts in the land of dreamers. In my dreams I am still chasing pirates and an occasional young, curvaceous maiden. In my peaceful slumbers my personal unabridged dictionary is full of blank pages and I have the only pencil in the world. Oh, yeah Baby.

Dual personalities or dual persons? I believe that we have a complex personality that comes standard with a “personality switch”. In the up position we are sailing the Caribbean with a parrot named Moe on our shoulder, singing along with our first mate, Jimmy Buffet. With the switch in the down position we have adjusted well and our thoughts, words and actions mirror the acceptable norms of the day. If we never get caught with the switch in the wrong position at the right time then we have matured, grown up and possess a well-adjusted personality. Act right at all times and no one knows just how much you like to chase pirates and that occasional young, curvaceous maiden. I always and I do mean always get caught with my switch in the wrong position or maybe I am in the right position and everyone else, all of them shaking their heads and yelling over the fence at me, has their switch in the wrong position, hummmmm, hard to say.

In an article entitled “Dual Personalities” the author stated “Every human being has two personalities: an archaic, primitive, childlike, unadapted personality, and a modern, sophisticated, adult, and, to all appearances, adapted personality.” That definition or what I prefer to classify as an educated opinion, I believe to be true, kind of. This dual personality or dual persona has got me flustered. I believe that we can adapt, change and even evolve. But, do we really? If you think about singing all day long, aren’t you supposed to be a singer? Not an accountant. Why do we live our lives pretending to be what we are surely not? Why don’t we stop pretending and start living our true lives? How bad could it be? Okay maybe the BMW will have to go but does it make you happy, really? No, I didn’t think so. Sell the Bimmer and take singing lessons. You will be happier and your insurance will be half with a Toyota Camry. You know you will be happy and you will be doing it for the most perfect of reasons. Who cares if you don’t win American Idol? You win the game of life, my melodic friend. You will be living a dream, your personal dream. When you are happy, everyone else will adapt, change and yes, evolve with you. Tell me I am lying when I say, “When my wife is happy, I am happy”. Hummmm ? Okay, I am not married now, but I was married and I wanted my wife to be eternally happy so I could be happy. Simple, you don’t need a shrink you need a dream. Sometimes all we need is a little push to flip that switch and get on the road to Happyville, USA.

“Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.”

~Oscar Wilde

 

Consider this little tid-bit of advice from one of the most quoted and respected psychoanalyst of the twentieth century, “Anyone who wants to know the human psyche will learn next to nothing from experimental psychology (Freudian style).  He would be better advised to abandon exact science, put away his scholar’s gown, bid farewell to his study, and wander with human heart through the world.  …. through love and hate, through the experience of passion in every form in his own body, he would reap richer stores of knowledge than text-books a foot thick could give him, and he will know how to doctor the sick with a real knowledge of the human soul.” 

Hummmmmmm . . . . .  I read that and heard a little voice in my personal psyche scream “Flip the switch!” Knowledge is a treasure but true understanding comes from passionately believing in yourself and others. Knowledge comes from the education we receive through studies; true understanding is acquired through the study of its application in real life. Carl Jung, the quoted author, also had some very interesting dreams. Carl recorded his dreams and visions in great detail and once wrote “A leathery brown dwarf would show up guarding the entrance to the unconscious. He was “the shadow,…”

Yes, Carl was very, very special. Well, my dreams don’t include such metaphors, just young, curvaceous maidens and a few pesky pirates. I wonder what Carl would think of that? Maybe, I don’t want to know. For you see I am passionate about my life, others in my life and I want all of us to have the option of flipping that switch without the whole of society condemning us as Unadjusted. I don’t want somebody to classify my personality or put me in a category such as “INFJ which equals Introvert 11%, Intuitive 62% Intuitive Feeling 25% and Judging 1%” or tell me that I should behave this way or that way. I just want to be me. I really don’t need a label to define who I am and how I perceive the world around me. The way I see it, we all are unique in our own right.

“So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.”

Genesis 1:27

God don’t make no junk! We all are unique and yes, it is our God given right to be ourselves. So there, Carl!

 “The pendulum of the mind alternates between sense and nonsense, not between right and wrong.” 

~Carl Jung

People always want to plaster a label on other people. Some folks insist on categorizing our behavior as acceptable or unacceptable. Others view it as either right or wrong. Perception of my behavior from another’s point of view does not confirm my intentions or my degree of adjustment to societal norms. It is simply their opinion of my actions based on their personal definition of those societal norms. I am not God and I try not to judge others.

I simply believe the passionate you is the giggly you, the one who is just dying to get out of that tight little crowded, dark corner of your soul and do what? Yes, that’s right, be happy. What time is it? Why it’s Party time! When you allow that little person to be happy, guess what? You change into a happy person and now we have a party. The passionate you becomes happy and soon all the folks you hang out with see you so gosh darn happy and they want to be that gosh darn happy too! Good going, genius! You have started something that will not be content as a solo ride. Happiness does truly make its own company. So, . . . . Lets Party!

“Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go.”

                                                                                                                        Oscar Wilde

So what will it be? Do you want to tell your Grandkids about all the times that you wish you could have, or you would have this or that? I prefer to start my stories with, Let me tell you about the time I did this crazy thing . . . “Jimmy, Oscar, Carl and I were sailing off the southern Florida coast in hot pursuit of “one leg Betty McGirk” when a shot rang out and then… “

Why do people hold on to old memories and never make it to the present day? They just relive that day over and over. The worst part of this is that they want you to accompany them on that eternal memory cruise ship. Pity, I believe they have lost their dream and somehow are trapped in the past, looking for that life that got away. “If I only could have or if I only would have.” Yeah, yeah, yeah. It didn’t go exactly like you planned, so what? Are you going to live the rest of your life wondering why? Excuse me! This is not a rehearsal my friend, this is a one shot deal. And while you are refocusing your one and only life, a dream in your heart couldn’t hurt. Leave the past in the past. You will never forget it but it doesn’t have to run or ruin the rest of your life.

“One’s real life is so often the life that one does not lead. “
                                                                                                       ~Oscar Wilde

Our lives are far too precious and valuable to be taken for granted. Our lives interact and intertwine with so many others that by living a mirrored existence would be a travesty to ourselves and all those lives we touch. I believe we should be ourselves. In using the words of Oscar Wilde and Carl Jung I hope to convey that they both could have lived very different lives. They chose to be themselves, one with their switch flipped down and the other with his in the up position, even though many persons in this world disagree with their perspective of the world. Their originality has influenced and changed the lives of all who read their works. That influence has lasted for over a hundred years. Shouldn't you and I strive to be remembered for being ourselves too?

Yes we should, glad you agree!

Now where did I put my eye patch?

Another year of happy ever afters

Looking back, it is easier now

Once we gather with friends and heads bowed

To drift away and remember

All the gifts bestowed upon us

All the tidings surrendered

another year has breathed it's last

A Thursday to remember all that has past

Bitter and sweet, the passing years

All the joys sprinkled with tears

Of all the dreams I chased after

I cherish the sprinklings

For they give meaning to the laughter

When grace is softly spoken, 

I look up

I look around

I am thankful for all I have

Their smiles, their laughter

Yes, I am thankful for all I have

Another year of happy ever afters

I wanna smile.

I love the classics, the classic movies that only air during the cold months of my years. Those grainy black and white movies that require a extra large glass of sweet tea, box of kleenex and a good hiding place for the remote control. And just why do I love these movies ? Ah, that is a questions that requires a simple answer my friend. It isn't the movies, it isn't the actress nor the leading man. No, it is the memories.

All my years I have tucked away millions of moments that are special to only me. My childhood is reborn with each viewing of the Grinch that stole Christmas. ( Yes, he stole Christmas not the Holidays!) It's a wonderful life is my one way ticket to the days of my innocence, before I learned of the hurtful realities of life. A vacation from the harshness of half-hearted smiles and half truths. For that brief moment in time . . .  All the world lives up to the advertised promises of there being good in all people.

You have a favorite movie. song or place in your heart. A trigger that propels you to a time and place where all the good in others become visible and time waits while you wander around. A place that allows you to forget and forgive for just a little while. One that makes you wanna smile.

I close mine eyes and begin to see . . . . . all the favors that have been bestowed upon me.

Yes, I love this time of year. There is a change in the weather and a change in my soul.

I wanna smile.

Not just the Fool and I . . . .

J is for Jester, an old friend of mine. 

I used to love to watch his eyes sparkle as he told the most wondrous of tall tales and short lies. Through his eyes the world was a very amusing place to be. At times though, I could see the traces of tears in his smiling facade. But he always smiled and just laughed off the pain. But I could see traces of the tears every now and then. My good friend even wrote a book about a great personal crusade to find and capture the "Holy grail of human emotions . . . . Unconditional Love" Yes, Jester was quite the fool, a perfect fool I might add. 

J is for Jester, my friend

I do miss him, for he always saw the good in people and believed that they held a purpose in this world even after they began to talk. He seldom heard their words but closely watched their deeds. He once said to me that a person is whom they are and never what they say there are. I agree with him on that, it is what people do not what they say that defines their character, don't you agree? See even a fool can be very wise. Here let me share with you a little Ditty I wrote about his first visit in many many years . . . .



"Yes, I had another visitor this weekend. We are old friends but I haven't seen him in long, long time. We used to be real close but time and life had separated us. I was glad he stopped by because he always has the most wonderful of tales to tell. I was not disappointed. He started out in his usual way.

Once upon a time  . . . .

So the tale began, He took a deep breath and started. Once there was a kingdom with a lovely queen who had the most wondrous daughter. The queen, he stated was a friend of his. He recalled fond memories of all the wonderful times he had spent with the queen. I questioned my friend about the daughter. Wouldn't she be a Princess? A lovely Princess? He told me not to jump ahead and that he was getting to that part. I decided to shut up and just listen. The lovely Princess was very young at this time, around sixteen he thought. He went on and on about the lovely Princess until I couldn't take it anymore and I shouted, “I get it, you were infatuated with the lovely Princess now finish your story.” Silly fool. And so, he continued. He was infatuated with the young lovely Princess but alas she was too young to fall in love and he was too young to know. I interrupted my friend declaring “That last line sounds like something from an old Sam Cooke song”. The fool replied that I should listen when others were speaking. I agreed and on he went. Silly fool. Well, my friend left the kingdom and joined the French foreign legion so he could try to forget about the lovely Princess and get on with his life. I asked if that part was factual. He replied kind-of-sorta. After many years Jester, that's my friends name and occupation, returned to the kingdom only to find that the young lovely Princess had blossomed into a lovely Lady. “Blossomed?” I questioned. Yes was all he said. Silly fool. I know he could come up with a better predicate than that. But anyway, He said that the lovely Princess had married a prince from across the great sea. He paused. Smiling, he just stared at me. I took the hint and said" Okay what sea was it". Why the sea of frogs, of course he said with a silly grin. I just laughed. The prince and his lovely Princess were very happy and they had four lovely children together. But then, my friends face lost all expression and he spoke of dark clouds gathering on the horizon. I leaned forward in my chair as he continued. He told me that the prince had made poor choices in his life and had broken the lovely Princess's heart. I exclaimed "Say it is not so, my dear friend". But with a cheerless face he affirmed that, yes it was true. The Lovely Princess and her Prince of Frogs would never, ever find their own happily ever after.


I told my friend that this was a wonderful tale but what is the point? I'm getting there he mused. I said "Well hurry up". Anyway, my friend had never forgotten the lovely Princess and kept her memory in his pocket, close to his heart. He said he had spoken with her over the years and once he even got to see her. What happened? I asked. “What do you mean?” my friend replied with a look of confusion. What happened with you and the lovely Princess? He said that he was married and she was now living in the kingdom with the children and the grand chariot. So . . . nothing happened, he firmly insisted. I am confused I told him. He continued. I telephoned her on Tuesday expecting the lovely Princess to be as gracious as before and talk with me. My friend’s eyes glazed over and fell silent. I reached over and tapped on his head "Hello", no reply. After a few moments he awoke from his trance and continued. Silly fool. His eyes cleared and a sly smile came across his face. He looked at me from the corner of his eye and said “The lovely Princess had not forgotten the jester, even after thirty-five years". Oh, here we go with the thirty-five year thing, again, I said under my breath. I had heard this line before. Silly Fool. Jester was ecstatic just hearing her voice and he lost it, BIG TIME. To hear the lovely Princess say, with enthusiasm that she had been thinking of him. That was it, the fool rolled over the hill of reason and right off the edge of reality and out of sight. After the first call he said things got worse. All he could think of was the lovely Princess. He even poured out his heart in a letter and to his amazement, she didn't run away and not one of the authorities was notified. Man was he excited telling me this. Twice, I had to physically set him back down in his chair so he could finish. But, alas what goes up must come down. "Enter Little Miss Reality" he said with great disdain. I had to apologize to the lovely Princess and hope she would understand. I was out of touch with reality. And what did she say, I pressed. She still liked the fool but they should be respectful of each other’s feelings and situations. The fool said he agreed. Wow, is all I said. I quickly added, You mean to tell me that you and the lovely Princess are still okay?
Yes, is all he said. I asked if he had regretted making that call due to all the emotional ups and downs he went through. Before he could answer I noticed the trace of a single tear that had slowly drifted down his face. I guess I knew the sad truth. I questioned him about the single tear. Softly, I asked him, “I guess you are upset that you dialed her number?”. He said I was mistaken. Huh? What? He said the single tear was for me. He had no regrets. He wouldn't have it any other way. I begged him to explain about the single tear for me. Jester smiled and said that there were only two people in the entire world who experienced the joy of finding each other after all that time and still had the respect for each other’s feelings as they do. He kept on about this for hours and hours. I remember the one line about only two persons in seven billion people on this planet could say they were there. So, I added, two in the universe my friend, only two people in this ever-expanding universe. Hummmm . . . . . . . A universe of two. Sounds like a pretty good thing to me.

And as I walked away, smiling, I thought to myself sometimes there is wisdom in the words of a fool. Yes, sometimes even a silly fool can be very, very wise. "

But, there are the traces of tears on all our faces. 

Not just the Fool and I.

The One

There is someone for all of us, The one who would love us for the simplest reason of all . . . it was meant to be.

"There was once a Lovely Lady who only existed, for her life had ended and she simply existed in a cave of sorrow. The cave was without light, hope and barren of the love she once held so close. She lived, maybe I should say existed for the Lovely Lady was not living, as we all know it, alone there except for her memories and the misplaced guilt of a deed she never committed. Alone and afraid she simply drifted through the days as time passes for one who waits, painfully and slowly. Why is she here and why does she stay? I asked myself that very question and then pondered the possibilities. All my reasons were wrong. The Lovely Lady had given all that was womanly possible of one soul to give to another. He was the one, the one who would love her for a lifetime or maybe two lifetimes. That love was the one, the one love that would be endless and timeless. This time love would transcend the bonds of human mortality and echo through the ages for a second lifetime after they had left this mortal world. This love would shine through the ages mirroring the eternal light of the stars above.  Never again would she have to think twice about the subtle differences between her lover and herself, for he was the one. They were one, two souls who lived and loved through the one love of a lifetime. Two beings transfixed and transformed by the flames of passion and forged into single shinning soul. He knew what to say and what to do, for he was the one. Her one, and for her there would never be another. He will always be the one love of a lifetime.

Forever Love, that was the title spoken in the Lovely Lady’s mind to describe this love. She never had to speak the words “Forever Love” for they were her companions, eternally. Not just simple letters etched upon a page or spoken in time but an endless mural of the life that would be. This time it was forever, for he is the one love of a lifetime. No matter what may come, together they would find a way through the darkened forest of worldly tribulations. No matter what words were spoken or if her heart was broken, somehow they would find their way through the darkness and into the light of a never-ending love of their lifetime. This time she would make it right; do all she had to make it right, for he was the one. She would give all she possessed in the world and within her soul for he was hers forever. He would always be there for her as she promised herself to be there for him, hopefully.

The pain would pass but not the hurt from the realization that her “One love of a lifetime” was not mirrored in the world as he was etched into her memory. She did love him so very much. Why wouldn’t she, for wasn’t he the one?

You and I know that you can never say Good-Bye to the Love of a lifetime, never. They seem to always return at the oddest of moments just to remind you of what used to be. Caring for another to that degree of hopelessness is always trouble. We give to them all we hold within our souls only to be short changed in the receiving end of love and dedication in return. But as Rod Stewart sang in his hit song Maggie May “You stole my heart, I couldn’t leave you if I tried” and we never will. Their memory will always be there. Sometimes I can’t tell if the memory is being truthful towards me, maybe I just created their memory from all the treasured traits and what I prayed they would be. The saddest part of this whole mess is that we possess the memory and not the person as it was written in the lines of our perfect life with our one love of a lifetime. Maybe, their memory possesses us. Maybe, we knew that to be true but we just can’t confess to our soul that we had been a fool for love, once again.

Oh my, my my . . . . . . . Where did we loose our way? Once lost in the darkness, a soul must believe in someone if they want to find the light again. Searching our personal history from yesterday we look for the one who cared for us or maybe the one we cared so much for. The one who loved us without conditions or limits. That memory is simply that, a memory of what used to be. We believe as the Lovely Lady did that they will love us like they once did, with all their heart and soul. But, that thought too is just another carefully constructed memory. A memory created in the right side of our brain, in the area known as wishful thinking. Careful who you choose to lead you from the darkness. Careful who you give your trust and your heart to. Those memories in the past have aged here in the real world even if you believe them to be as they were once upon a time. What was can simply not be again, you just can’t go back. But in our minds we never left, we just put that love of a lifetime on hold until we could continue our lives, with them at our side. That love only lives in our mind never here in the day-to-day world just in our memories. No, you just can’t relive what really never happened.

Some souls are doomed to wander the darkness for all their lives; they are here to lead you astray. They promise the gift of knowing the way home only to lead you into the light and then back into the darkness, once again. These souls are doomed to spend all eternity in damnation and could care less. They are here for the game, not for the prize. They play the part so well because they have forgotten whom they are and have evolved onto the very false-faced fool they pretend not to be. Ah, their lines have been rehearsed so well and they deliver the spoken phrases with perfection. You and I know that perfection takes practice, a lot of practice. Could it be they have been practicing their delivery of false promises to others? No, for they are the one, the one who will lead you home, so they say.

I, like you have lived in the darkness of my soul for many years. I found no one to lead me into the light, I just stumbled through the night and spent my days looking for a savior. Anyone who would take my hand and listen to my cry. I too wanted to go home. I called into the darkness for someone to please answer my cry. The answer was always as before, silence. That thunderous silence that never wavered, simply echoed in my mind. No one answered and one day I just stopped asking. I tried to go back and just made a fool of myself, once again.

The Lovely Lady listened to the promises. She believed the words then and tomorrow she would grieve for them once again. We don’t hate them, the false faced fools who made fools of us. We accept our portion of the blame and we let the guilty wander away. The Lady knows all too well, they were to blame. They were the one who played the game and broke the rules. The Lovely Lady pardons that one love of lifetime and he scurries away with her heart tucked quietly under his coat. Pity, I say to myself, she should have seen what was to come. Life without parole in the cave of despair. She refuses to admit it but she knows in her heart that she sentenced herself for a crime she never committed.

Simply existing in the Darkness

I chanced upon her there, in that dark place. She tried to not to show it but the tears were written all down her face. I came not to save her. For we all know that we can only save ourselves. She holds the sword to slay her personal dragon, not I. I hoped to love the Lovely Lady, nothing more and surely never anything less. I offered her a shoulder to cry on and my ear to bend. I knew that she would enjoy the light, once she basked in the warmth of friendly smile and the melting powers of a gentle touch. I knew she was the one. I knew when first I saw her that she was The One. The Lovely Lady is trying to adjust to the light. There are strange customs here in this illuminated land. She is unfamiliar with the phrases here too. Ones like “unconditional” and “undying love”.  The Lovely Lady is trying hard to adjust. She sometimes filters my words through memories of what used to be. Giving old hurtful meanings to common phrases such as,  “I love you” and “I promise”. In time she will learn the true definition of those phrases through deeds not false words. To tell the truth, The Lovely Lady is more beautiful in the light than she ever was in the dark past of yesterdays. And, yes I love her, unconditionally, forever, Amen."

A little bit of "The pinnacle of Passion" by yours truly

Spanky knows, she knows what time it is.

I have a dear friend who goes by the name "Spanky". And yes she is the physical definition of that self proclaimed title. But then there are times when she is not so spanky-ish.

As the sun peacefully settles in for the night, Spanky never does.


Softly closing her eyes, hands clasped tightly with fingers intertwined Spanky prays once again for his promise of forever. As she lies under the covers she holds so close, her prayer ends with "Please Lord" and then she prays anew. The clock on the wall reflects the passing of time in her world but not in her heart, minutes feel like days. Spanky finds herself dreaming, wandering lost in dark sea of trees aptly named, yesterday. Lost in that forest of loneliness, praying for him to guide her home. A home that he promised her over and over again, in her bed. She asks herself why, why doesn't he love her in the light of day. She feels so used but in his arms . . . . it feels so right. In his arms she rejoices in the love in his eyes and the warmth of his gentle touch. It feels so right, just like in her dreams of a perfect life but, he never stays. No matter how much she asks, begs or needs him.

As the clock crashes to the floor, she hides her tears in the covers. At that moment she knows, what time it is. Spanky doesn't need a clock to tell her. Time to . . . .


Time to ask that lady in the mirror what are we doing? Where will this road lead us? How long can we bear this pain? But, what if ..... this is as good as it gets?

Spanky knows, she knows what time it is.

Ever felt that way my friend? I believe we have all been in Spanky's high heeled shoes. In love with someone who only lives in our mind. They don't live in the light of day only in the darkness of our mind.

Time to turn on the lights. In the truths revealing light we begin to see, see our world as is truly is.

"We don't have to live this way"

Stay, recorded by Sugarland

No, we don't have to live this way.

Jennifer Nettles

Inspired by the song Stay, written by Jennifer Nettles, recorded by Sugarland

Sorry, I misunderheard you . . . .

Misunderheard-a-tation

You were saying . . . . Something?

Me: Yeah, I was trying to tell you what I was thinking.

Them: Oh, you can think?

Me: I try

Them: Okay, Next time don't try so hard!

Nothing is more irritating or frustrating than being misunderheard. Taking time to explain a thought, an idea or even a simple human sentiment only to have the other person reply "What did you say or even worse . . . . huh?". The ultimate is being Misunderstood. Speaking of the present only to realize that your significant other heard you babbling on about some old girlfriend that you had. Arrrrrrrrgh!

Did you know that eyes fill in a blank or blind spot with objects that surround the blind spot? When people start to loose their hearing their ears replace the silence with noise? The words you just read . . . . your mind doesn't read the entire word only the first and last letters and fills in the middle. When people speak to us, a part of our brain known as Brocca's area anticipates what the speaker will say next? Funny, isn't it?

Now I forgot what the hell this post was suppose to be about, Dag nabitt!!!!

Dreams, madness in a logical fashion.

Visions of what our lives are meant to be. A calling from the playful side of our minds, cloaked in unfamiliar colors and written in a unspoken language. Dreams for short.

I love the study of dreams, maybe it is the imaginative side of our minds that fascinates me so.

All dreams are a cinematic production of one's own mind, written and cast by the same. Each line, scene and plot is of our own hand. We dream as our logical mind sleeps and washes itself of the toxins, both physical and mental. When righty has his shot at center stage he waste no time in bringing to you the best he has to offer. Our right side, imaginative mind, speaks in metaphors of our own creation. Funny, people ask me what this means and why they dream of that. I tell them that they wrote the screenplay, it is all parts and pieces of their lives both lived and imagined. The light comes on when they start to think about their dreams in context with their lives today. What is unsettled in your mind today will be in your dreams tonight. Lefty can not deal with fantasy, no not at all. Lefty deals with logic broken down to its simplest form. One piece at a time, in a logical order of course. Righty, well . . . . . there are no rules, no social standards and no box to limit his production process. He gives us a wild and creative screenplay and laughs as we try to decipher the madness in a logical fashion.

If you think of the meaning of the word BLUE, what comes to your mind? The sky, the Levi's you are wearing, a friends eyes, the ocean ? Each of us has a dictionary in our minds and a self defined definition for every word we know, cognizantly or not. That kind of puts the word "reality" in double jeopardy don't you think? No two people hold the same meaning for one word. It is a wonder we can communicate at all.

And yes, I made up the word cognizantly. But then you can define it any way you like!

Pleasant dreams my friends

I put a name on your tombstone

Some old memories seem to hang around a little too long. Just like a hangover, you had a good time but you surely will pay for it later. Like a song in the phonological loop of my mind, playing over and over. A restless soul with no way home. Well . . . . I gots me a cure for this one.


Memories, dreams and all those other haunting thoughts in our head are simply seeking a place to call home. Unresolved issues at the alter of reason. You gotta put them where they belong. Problem being that they all believe they are at some masquerade party. Heartbreak is wearing her low cut dress, looking just like love. Players resemble old dear friends, dragging you away as you become part of their game. Over and over again. There must be someway out of all this craziness.

Time to get out the chisel and hammer. 

Assessing imaginative thoughts with a logical mind only leads to madness, for sure. The masquerade party is over, the masks have got to go. All those revelers need to be stripped down to reveal their true intentions. All those old homeless memories need a final resting place. Time to get out the chisel and hammer. 

Here is what I did one night, not too long ago. I put the Eagles on the eight track and played Lying eyes over and over. Then I got out the chisel and hammer. That old flame who hung around my heart for all those self doubting days . . . . . . I chiseled " Too bad you never loved me. Sleep in peace . . . Shameless hussie!" Friends who only needed me for what I could do for them . . . " Here lies the Player . . . Hell has a table for you, Bonn Appetite!" 

And that first love who couldn't or wouldn't love us in the same degree . . . . . .

"Here you lie

Just as your memory lied to my heart. 

You do not love me now nor then

Never a lover nor a friend

Rest in Peace, Sweetheart"

                          Yes, everything and every memory has a place. 

Sometimes the shadows of my heart gets in the way of truth's enlightening glow.

Let your heart be your voice

The swelling of emotions curled over me and crashed upon my heart. 

As the hurt flowed from  her eyes, my words sounded as if someone else was speaking for me. Yes, my pride had over ruled my heart, again. As she asked why, my silence only added to her pain. My pride stated his case in cold hard facts in his usual self serving way. I loved her and here I am saying goodbye, knowing I couldn't let her go. My pride patted me on the back stating "Nobody treats us like that, never!". Forty years later, I whisper farewell to the both of them. 

True story my friend, for forty years I believed all my lies and the cold hearted voice of my pride. I left her crying and turned and walked away. My unyielding pride comforting me with all that macho real man rhetoric. A real man would have cold cocked his pride and wiped her tears repeating over and over he loved her. But that was then my friend, today that moment is a just another lesson learned. Seems like we are never too old to speak for ourselves.

So . . . . . Fare thee well, Julie. 

I am so sorry I didn't wipe away your tears.

If you ever hear that voice in your head speaking for you . . . . . Remember, pride is immortal we are not. 

Always let your heart speak your mind. 

Never, and I mean never, let your pride be your voice.

Words that hold no meaning

There are words that posess no definition nor do they hold any meaning. These orphan words are tied to specific people, places and events. Mister Weber, I am sure, would agree that these words are just filler, inert matter and wasted time.

I knew a young girl, once upon a time. Her words of affection never reflected her actions. Those words were just a wisp of truth, a ghost of a lie and hollow. When I see her or even when another mentions her name, I recall what was never there, her words of love and trust. I am sure you know somebody who always starts out a lie with "Honest, this is the truth". Every word that follows holds no meaning, only to the liar do lies belong.

Sometimes words are just not needed, at all. When my Lovely Rose looks into my eyes, mine ears capture the vibrations in the air. My mind is absent and all the words fall upon the floor, unused and unheard.

Yes, my friend it is what you do and never what you say . . . . that defines our words.

Waiting for the doorbell to ring

 I don't believe in Beatles

I just believe in me

Yoko and me

And that's reality

John Lennon

It is our faith, our beliefs that bridge the waters of doubt.

When logic and reason fail to answer the question, faith always will.

To believe in the unknown is to see with one’s eyes closed.

Where does your fountain of faith flow from? Your God, yourself or maybe your faith lies in others. Think about how many times you knew you couldn't do something and then . . . . . you stood back and marveled at what you had achieved. Pretty proud of yourself, weren't you. Me too!

Faith is a unyielding  river, drowning known reason and logic just to prove that what we believe today will be tomorrow’s ancient history. I swim in the river every day because, I believe. I believe that one day soon my dream of being the man I was always meant to be . . . . I shall become. I have only a penciled outline of that person, I leave the details to faith. For you see, I do not possess a finely drawn painting of myself. For I have been many different persons all my days. Now, I am simply me. I don’t try to make others happy through deeds aimed to please them. I focus on doing what I believe is the right thing. Always and in all ways. I allow others to perceive my acts as they will. I hold no map of my future. For I only know for certain what was and is now. Tomorrow everything could change and then what? Maybe I can explain myself in another manner. The self-portrait I am painting is only black lines on a white canvas. Faith will fill in the colors from the palette of tomorrow. I can’t wait to see the colors I never even knew existed, today.

I never worry, because I know that my worries are based upon what I know today. I don’t know what tomorrow may bring to my door. I just wait for the doorbell ring.

Unforgiven, for all my days

Forgiveness is the key to locking the door on the past. 

There are times when we find ourselves bound to an incident that caused another grief, pain or sorrow. Tied to a moment in time like a ball and chain. The very sight of the person hurls us back to that moment over and over again. For without their forgiveness, we can never sever the bindings of that hurtful moment.

I shall be unforgiven for all my days. I carry the weight of those chains like a ghost in a fairy tale, endlessly in life and most likely beyond. The forgiveness can never be granted for they have shed this world and left me bound and unforgiven. I tell myself that they would have forgiven me, someday. That is a sunrise I shall never see.

In a funny way. I am thankful for the cast iron ball and these cranking steel chains. See, they remind me to forgive and forget.

I would never forgive myself if I were the one, the one who left you in chains, never.

DA Keene

"Forgotten is forgiven"

F. Scott Fitzgerald

A leaf upon the floor of my forest

I am unsure what time of year it is. 

Should I bring flowers for sorrow or happiness? 

Should I celebrate the rebirth of the Terra Firma or morn the passing of summer.

The once complete crown of foliage has given way to the stars, the moon and the sun. They all glow through the once complete and impenetrable canopy above the Forest floor. The arms of the elms and oaks reach out to catch the rays of light, but they are few and the light is endless. I admire their fortitude and their will to do what all their forefathers could not. They are a persistent lot for sure. Wandering through my sea of trees, one becomes lost in thought and in direction once again. It is of no matter nor concern for the way home is always behind us. A soul simply has to turn around and retrace their footsteps.

Listening to the silence, I am moved by the song of serenity in the key of contentedness. Time is asleep in my sea of trees and worries are his bed coverings. Both are absent in mine eyes and in mine heart. The world is small here and ends just beyond the rise or possiblly past the bend of the melodious stream. The flowing waters has broken the rule of silence but she is always forgiven by the inhabitants and the lost. Resting upon a fallen warrior, my ears are overflowing with the cries of all my winged friends headed away from my forest. They couldn't bare the emptiness of the branches and the falling of the leaves. In time, I too will turn to trace my own footsteps. My pockets bare no more emptiness nor space for they are overflowing with the moments of the forest. As is my mind.

In the Autumn of my life, I hope that my life will have been as a tree. 

I hope to have weathered the rain and stood strong against the wind

Not as a leaf, lost among the masses upon the floor of my forest. 

If you speak the truth, people call you a fool.

If you speak the truth, people call you a fool. If you speak of the known and accepted beliefs, you are a inntelligent and wise person. 

Huh? 

What the hadies is that all about? 

A fool I shall always be, because . . . . 

The only difference between the saint and the sinner is 

that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.

Oscar Wilde

I am a sinner, yes I am. I am a fool and a sinner in the eyes of those who see the world through very thick glasses made from the popular beliefs of others. In their eyes I am a bad little boy who only wants attention from others. Pity, though . . . . I thought that one could speak of what is not and dream of what should be. Isn't that what life is all about? Achieviving the unimaginable. Seeing what is not and blazing a path toward it through long held beliefs from days past. The problem with most folks we meet is simple. They believe what they know to be true, period. They are realist, they believe in what is, today. My answer to them is very basic and real. In the days before electricity and automobiles, those who dreamed of and spoke of such things were simple fools. Now there are visionaries who made life so much more enjoyable and convenient. 

My my my . . . . funny how things change as dreams become a reality, don't you think? 

Let's all be bad little ones in need of attention. Maybe someone will listen and hear what we have to say.

Through mine eyes, I see the world as a stark blank page and I have the only pencil!

That bad little boy

In the shadows of my soul . . . . an island of light, me.

 "One morning as I sat patiently waiting for the next salvo of words to be fired across the bow of my coffee cup, I braced myself. As she glared in my direction, I was hoping my silence would draw her words out. Two minutes and twenty four seconds later, success! My wife lectured me, again, stating that I was acting just like my father, again. I reminded her that I had spent 18 years living with the man and that the possibility of acquiring some of his traits and habits, was not a possibility but a certainty. A sure bet. 100%. I wasn't acting like my father I was imitating my father. I was reacting or maybe the proper term is repeating the stated actions I had witnessed my father act out. I refer to this phenomenon as “The Parental Rerun Show, sponsored by Memorex.” Like father, like son. It wasn't me honey, my father made me say those things."

DA Keene

Sound familiar? Someone stating that you are just like someone else, acting like them, behaving like them, thinking like them and of course the ultimate . . . . "the spittin' image".

Funny how others view our actions and words through historically tainted glasses. Constructing a image of you and I from only what they know or believe to be accurate and true. ( in their opinion)

All of us are guilty of the above stated crime. We all perceive others through the same glasses of perceptual reality. But, what if  . . . . . we are all to blame for all the erroneous beliefs and half truths we hold due to the wearing of corrective lenses? What if . . . do I dare suggest this? We simply take off our glasses and see the person for whom they are , today. I don't need corrective lenses to see clearly who is standing in front of me, I need to believe what I see and hear. What someone does is what they believe not what they say. What someone says is whom they want to be. I say . . . . .

Be yourself, everybody else is already taken. 

Oscar Wilde

I don't act like my father, I act like me. I don't speak like others, I speak to others of mine own beliefs. There are only so many words and ways to position those words, so . . . . speak in your voice and just let others think what they may. You and I know that we were speaking the truth and that sometimes our words are tainted by others perceptions. 

Who is this man in the picture? I once referred to him as the "Charlie Sheen of the Victorian era". The original wilde and crazy guy. My current favorite is "The original Cat in the Hat". I think I will get me one of those hats, I really like it. But, I digress ...... again. Oscar Wilde is famous for his one liners and his original view of the world around him. He is quoted all the time and seldom given the credit for the words, his words are memorable but his name not so.

"A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, 

and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world." 

Oscar Wilde

"Ain't it the truth, ain't it the truth? "

The cowardly Lion

Solitude is no friend, my friend

Solitude is no friend

Do you remember the last time you were alone? I don't mean by yourself for a limited period of time, I am speaking of being alone . . . . by yourself . . . . no one else around . . . . your only companions are your self doubts and the tinge of fear in the air . . . . Alone.

People often tell me that they love being alone, no one to bother them and no one to interrupt them. I call that "Me time". Time that a soul takes for themselves. Time to do the things that you want to do.

I do spend time alone, every now and then. The dive into the abyss is a reminder of what we all fear, being alone. But then that is the whole purpose, examining ones self to understand that we are social beings and when we stray away . . . . well, Mother Nature reminds us that we are alone and vulnerable. Like a sheep upon the hillside. Lost and alone. or maybe . . .  A snow white ewe upon a emerald dinner plate. That's the wolfs point of view. But isn't that the way we all feel when we realize that we are truly alone?

I know someone who spends too many hours alone. I try to stop by and visit. I never have the time to stop by so I simple take the time and stop by. I like that. And do you know what? I never missed a single moment in my own little life by taking the time to be social, to be human.

Maybe that is the reason we hate being alone. 

More than what I have

The oaks and maples are releasing their foliage yet once again. Little paratroopers descending upon the earth in a show of auburn, gold and brown. They are here to remind me that a wisp of change is in the air, a fragrance of fall for the eyes to behold.

Yes, it is walking time.

A time to stroll through the crisp air and fill mine eyes with all of the wonders Mother Nature has to bear. These woods are mine, for today. I love to wander through the these woods and become lost in both mind and direction. In my mind, I take all of portraits home with me to enjoy again and again. I fill my pockets with the aroma of the forrest. I pick each and every sound from the sky and tuck them neatly away in my memories, for I will need them later when the silence of winter blankets these woods. The treasures I have stolen from these woods are mine forever.

Then, like a chilling January breeze . . . . it occurs to me.

These woods are here all year long, waiting for a soul to come and visit with them. Maybe, I should take the time to visit more than I have. Maybe, then I would have . . . . more than what I have.

Close mine eyes and see . . . .

A while back, there were these two guys who wanted to change the world. A couple of dreamers, I suppose. They spoke of what is and what is not, dreams and the cruelty of man towards his own brother. You don't hear much about them these days, those dreamers from the past. Just a dusty page from an old dustier history book. 

Then I closed mine eyes and see . . . . . 

I see the two brothers talking outside the oval office, voicing their opinion on how to right the wrongs of the world. Speaking in terms of what will be never stating that what is will remain. Yes, I see the two brothers but more important is that I see the dreams. The dreams they shared with each other out on the lawn of the White house, a long time ago. I see their dreams through mine eyes of today and realize that dreams do come true. I see that I have taken for granted all that I have. For without the dreams, the courage and the faith of two brothers I would be shackled to a world of silent and barren nights . . . a world without dreams.

"Some men see things as they are and say why. 

I dream things that never were and say why not."

To quote the third brother . . . . 

"Those of us who loved him and who take him to his rest today, pray that what he was to us and what he wished for others will someday come to pass for all the world."

Yes, I too pray that what they dreamed could be, will someday come to pass for all the world.

A time for tears

Something to believe in , Someone to love

If you look closely at the little girl in the picture . . . . you can see the sadness in her heart and the tear in her eye. She has her left hand over her right in a classic "I will never let you go" grasp. She is holding on to the moment so tightly that the little boy's head is in a unnatural position. She doesn't want him to go. The little girls eyes are focused on the moment, her mind on the past. For at this precise time in her life, time stands still. She has her world wrapped in her arms and will never let go.

Yes, there is a time for tears. But at the moment the picture was taken, time stood idle and her life was within her grasp. The next moment was the time for tears as her world slipped away.

Each moment last a lifetime when put into perspective of the moment. Just as each moment ends all too quickly leaving us in a time for tears.

Hold on tightly my friends for the next moment . . . . well, you know.

A little secret about our lives

Always and in all ways . . . .

That is my personal motto when I have a decision to make. The matter of the choice is not important, only the impact of that choice is what really matters. In making my choices I consider the impact it will have on my family, my life and of the utmost importance, my Mary Anne. I think of her always and in all ways. Simple. I always get by, in life, finances and in love. My happiness depends on the lady in my life, so . . . . Always and in all ways I think of her first.

That special someone in our lives never tires of hearing us speak their name. If you are like me, there have been times when my silence seemed like a thunderous roar to them. I didn't speak their name and I thought of them after the choice had been made. But that was then and not now.

So my gift to you is my hard earned secret of life. 

Think of that special someone in your life . . . . Always and in all ways.