Just A Thought

“There is no death, only a change of worlds.” Chief Seattle

My father-in-law, David, died a month ago, tomorrow, of brain cancer. He had only found out he was terminal in November. Death comes in all our lives, but it had never hit this close to home for me. My grandfather died when I was 18, but he was an old man to me then, so I felt he had lived a full life. David was in his early sixties and I am now in my thirties, so it seems not fair he went so young.
We got the call that he had passed around 6pm. We were at a bbq with some very dear friends. We knew we would have to leave to go to my husband’s parents house, to say our last goodbyes (Dave died at home). My husband and I prolonged it as long as we could, so around 10pm we arrived at the house, to see David’s body in the living room. The family then washed his body as a way of saying their final goodbyes. I realized how far away from death we all are as a culture and felt grateful and blessed to be so close to it.
I then suggested we all raise our glasses to David and then I read the poem, Crossing the Bar, by Alfred Lord Tennyson, which I have copied below. Tennyson wanted it to always be the last poem in any anthology of his poetry. I thought it would be fitting for David’s last night with his family, as a bookend to his life.
Just a thought.

Crossing the Bar

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

-Alfred Lord Tennyson

“Learn what you are and be such.”-Pindar

I had a heard time coming up with a column to write this month. The poem I wrote below, really sums up the state I have been in lately. It will be featured in my second book of poems, Target Practice, which will be out this fall through Summerfolk Press.

The Mind vs. The Heart

“Do it this way, do it now!”
Says the mind, really really loud.

“Go with the flow, enjoy the ride.”
Says the heart, quietly inside.

“I know the way! I know what’s right!”
Says the mind, all through the night.

“Rest now, listen to your dreams.”
Says the heart, over the mind’s screams.

The mind gets pissed and draws it’s jewel encrusted sword.
The heart just smiles and sits on the floor.

The mind is confused, “Don’t you want to fight?”
“I don’t have time for that,” says the heart, “I am listening to the light.”

“Work spares us from three evils: boredom, vice and need.” -Voltaire

I have been in a self imposed hell the last couple of months. It is directly related to my recently graduating from college in December in English Literature and starting a full time writing career. This is a fulfillment of a lifelong dream, yet it has also brought out the worst in me.
I had been waiting for the freedom I now have my whole life, but I found myself miserable. I had finally realized my dream, but the youthful excitement of working towards it, against all odds, had left a void I have been unsure how to fill. My writing had always fit into the stolen moments between homework, or customers at whatever job I had. It was not something that had a central place in my life. It was more than a hobby for sure, but it was not a full time career.
All of sudden I was a college graduate and my life began to settle into a routine, which was essential to being a full time writer. I had to have a routine to get any writing done. I woke up, got coffee or tea, checked my e-mail and then got to work. I wrote as long as I felt the need to and then I attended to the rest of my day, yet I found my days were laced with melancholy. This was not what fufilling my dream was supposed to be about, all those years I spent daydreaming about it.
I then began asking myself if there was anything I wanted to change about my new life. I could think of nothing. During all this soul searching my intuition told me to just stay the course. I did. I woke up and got out of bed, even when I did not feel like it. I wrote even if it was the last thing I wanted to do. Finally after a period of time, I realized what was wrong, a part of me had died. The part of me who strove to accomplish her dream to be a full time writer, no matter how foolish and naive it sounded, was no longer who I was. I was now living my dream instead of dreaming to live.
Gradually I have begun to settle in. I now understand the excitement that comes with the life I now lead. Even with a routine everyday is different. Living my dream in the beginning was not easy, but I kept showing up everyday to life and then thankfully life began showing up for me.
Just a thought.

“We are taught that you must blame your father, your sisters, your brothers, the school, the teachers-you can blame anyone, but never blame yourself. It’s never your fault. But it’s ALWAYS your fault, because if you wanted to change, you’re the one who has got to change. It’s as simple as that. Isn’t it?”-Katherine Hepburn

There are certain people in my reality that I am totally unable to relate to, but there they are. They are not going away, so I have to amend my behavior to be able to not lose my cool, or tell them where they can stick it every time I am around them.
The main thing that drives me the most crazy is that they take absolutely no responsiblity for the way their life has turned out. Nothing is their fault and everyone else is responsible for their unhappiness. If I, or someone else, does something that they don’t like, then we are evil and must be destroyed. I call these types of people the “Poor Me’s” and the “So Sad’s.” They are power strippers and if I am not careful, to much time spent in their force field leaves me depleted. It then takes me a full day (wasted when I have thousands of other things I would rather/need to be doing) to recover my own center of gravity.
I went to see a woman once who told me that people who seek mental health fall into one of two categories: neurotics, who think everything is their fault or, those that take no responsibilty in their lives and blame everyone else. The neurotic can be helped she said. They can be taught that they are not responsible for everyone and their problems. I fell into this catagory. She said the type of people who take no responsiblity are the types that cannot be helped. They think that they are doing nothing wrong and life is just “happening” to them, other people are “doing” things to them, so they do nothing to change. These are the types of people I was always trying to help and attracted in the past, but no more.
Unfortunately, I do have circumstances where I have to be around people who constantly complain about their lives, while doing nothing to change them. I also have to witness people I love trying to help them, to no avail. I watch heartbroken, as the slow deplesion of their personal resources takes place, while the person they are trying to help is so wrapped up in their own drama that they could care less that they are sucking the life out of those around them. I just shake my head in sadness and go about my business, grateful that l love myself enough to no longer be sucked into their power stripping games.
Just a thought.

“A large income is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of.”-Jane Austen

Okay I admit it, finally, I want to make lots of money. I want to have more than enough money to do whatever I want to do. If I feel like flying to Paris tomorrow, I have the cash to do it. If I realize that I would like to take a year off and chill at home, I can. As honest as this is, it really has taken me 34 years to actually say it out loud, because for most of my life I have envied people with large disposable incomes and despised the rich. I became aware of this when the Mercedes symbol came up in my life twice in one week and I mocked it. I realized that I had very deeply embedded memories of that symbol and all that it represented to me.
When I was in elementary and middle school I was friends with a girl whose family had everything my family did not. A pool, cable t.v. (this was when MTV was brand new and music videos were the holy grail) an interior designer had decorated her room, she always had the latest clothes, an overabundance of Oreo cookies and Stouffers pizzas in the fridge, basically a young girls heaven.
But, she was mean. Really mean. She told the boy I liked to ask me out and then tell me it was all a joke the next day (I was in my favorite pink and white striped sweater and pink cargo pants when he told me, which were ruined to wear after this) AND then she told the whole class, who laughed at me when I came in, AFTER the boy had just told me it was all a joke. But, I stayed friends with her, like the little masochist that I was. I just assumed there was a price to pay to have access to all her amenities and the happiness they brought me.
Then one day I had had enough, so I closed the door to her and her world and her father’s Mercedes (which became the symbol in my mind of all it represented). Now twenty some years later and several basement apartments, that smelled like cat pee and credit card companies calling for their money, I have realized that this girl is still bullying me. I pushed her out of my life and any desire for abundance. Yes, I have a roof over my head and a wonderful life in so many ways, but I am not open to making money and living the kind of life I would LIKE to live.
I have now decided to seperate her ugliness from the life she had. This sounds like a desire for material things, but it is not only that. It is the enjoyment I got out of life when I was at her house that I shut out too. Her life felt abundant and in shutting that out I have lived a life of scarcity. I have finally said goodbye to that girl and have allowed the Mercedes symbol to just be what it is, a symbol.
Just a thought.