Freedom is a choice
From worry,
For health,
For peace,
From anger,
From addiction or
at least from using,
For life,
For love.
Actively choose
Each day,
Each moment.
I choose.
I choose acceptance, health, peace, calm, sobriety, fun, friendship, love.
Freedom needs action.
Act, move, live, breathe, be real, laugh, be open, give.
Freedom is an active choice that must be made and made again.
Freedom is the present.
I choose.
I am free.
Close to freedom is hope.
Today, this moment, I choose to be free.
And tomorrow, the hope: I will choose again
and be free.
(July 24, 2009)
Friday, July 24, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
My Mother's Peace
I used to write poetry. But as a singer/songwriter, whenever I sit down with a poem idea in mind now, it almost always comes out as lyrics. There is a certain framing for songs and a different flow for poetry (or maybe those are the boxes inside me that I need to breakdown). For me at least, songs are more telling about something than showing something... in the folk genre. Well - anyway - this was a poem that flows more like a folk song.
My Mother's Peace
There is a peace that I know about.
I learned of it as a small child.
A peace that my mother showed me,
In moments ‘tween when I ran wild.
It’s a peace that she firmly believed in,
With a faith both strong and true.
She taught it to me by her actions,
And she hoped I’d pass it on too.
This peace is quite rare; it’s uncommon.
But my mom taught me what to look for.
She told me it wasn’t in headlines,
Or in fame, power, profits, or war.
It’s not something quiet inside you.
And to keep it, you give it away.
It’s the deeds that we do for others,
The simplest tasks we do every day.
It’s a smile to a total stranger.
It’s forgetting our own selfish greed.
It’s a hug we give someone to comfort.
It’s a helpful hand to someone in need.
Peace is in Just deeds we do.
She showed me every day.
Peace is the example we set,
For every child at play.
Peace is not a state of mind,
Nor some lofty high ideal.
Remember that peace is in action,
What YOU do is what keeps it real.
So I don’t keep my mother’s peace,
I give it all away.
“Shalom my peace in all you do.”
It is these words I pray.
My Mother's Peace
There is a peace that I know about.
I learned of it as a small child.
A peace that my mother showed me,
In moments ‘tween when I ran wild.
It’s a peace that she firmly believed in,
With a faith both strong and true.
She taught it to me by her actions,
And she hoped I’d pass it on too.
This peace is quite rare; it’s uncommon.
But my mom taught me what to look for.
She told me it wasn’t in headlines,
Or in fame, power, profits, or war.
It’s not something quiet inside you.
And to keep it, you give it away.
It’s the deeds that we do for others,
The simplest tasks we do every day.
It’s a smile to a total stranger.
It’s forgetting our own selfish greed.
It’s a hug we give someone to comfort.
It’s a helpful hand to someone in need.
Peace is in Just deeds we do.
She showed me every day.
Peace is the example we set,
For every child at play.
Peace is not a state of mind,
Nor some lofty high ideal.
Remember that peace is in action,
What YOU do is what keeps it real.
So I don’t keep my mother’s peace,
I give it all away.
“Shalom my peace in all you do.”
It is these words I pray.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Simply Sucks
I'm sure someone very spiritual and wise once said that, in order to find our way to understanding, caring, wisdom, compassion, contentment, bliss, and balance in life, we must experience every feeling and work through the tough times, decisions, choices, tests.
And that may very well be true. And it may be good for us. But sometimes it sucks during the process. It simply sucks. There must be another way.
Can't I just call it in? From a distance? Without the feeling part?
Oh wait... I did that for a couple years - alcohol worked great... until it didn't; and now it wouldn't and I don't want to go there again. Ok - so clearly not feeling the bad stuff through alcohol isn't the solution.
I could ignore the feelings and any stress they cause. Just think about other stuff. I could sing a happy song whenever times are tough. Just let the tough shit pile up and pretend it doesn't exist. Yeah, well, that would work right up until that old anxiety monster drops by or my body starts showing the stress and feelings some other way. Like a long balloon. Squeeze it at one end, it just builds the pressure at the other end. But the pressure doesn't go away. It keeps searching for an outlet until it explodes. Damn. Ok - so I can't just ignore it.
Well - what are the bad feelings about anyway? About second guessing if the decision is the right one? Ok so... how about if I just get a clear sign showing which is the RIGHT decision? If I knew for sure which was the right choice, then I could just do it and not feel bad. Oh wait... I knew quitting drinking was the right thing, but I still drank for a long time. And so many other times when I knew the right choice but chose another. Ok - so clearly just knowing the right decision isn't going to help.
So that means I have to feel it, and having surety that I'm making the right choice doesn't necessarily make feeling it any easier. So that means what? I actually just have to go through this shit. Really?
Ok - so now I suppose the spiritual and wise person would say it's all relative, the tough makes the good noticeable and enjoyable, it's the circle of life, it's the process that is the essence of life itself. Learning to cope... is that the lesson? Nope - I know how to cope - even if I don't like it.
Crying, grieving, sadness... all my favorite things.
Maybe I need to back up a step. I've made a huge assumption: that there is a positive in everything. I started with the assumption and advice of that wise person who said that these experiences are needed in order to find the way to understanding, contentment, bliss, and balance (or something like that).
You know what really sucks?! That wise and spiritual (and extremely annoying) imaginary person is probably right. Bastard. I just want to smack the smile right off his/her stupid face.
I'm sorry for anyone reading this and looking for answers, because I'm back to the beginning.
Sometimes the process sucks. Sometimes it just hurts - even if the right decision is made and even if we know we'll learn something from it. Yup - it just simply sucks. What do you think? Please - any insight is appreciated.
LMH
And that may very well be true. And it may be good for us. But sometimes it sucks during the process. It simply sucks. There must be another way.
Can't I just call it in? From a distance? Without the feeling part?
Oh wait... I did that for a couple years - alcohol worked great... until it didn't; and now it wouldn't and I don't want to go there again. Ok - so clearly not feeling the bad stuff through alcohol isn't the solution.
I could ignore the feelings and any stress they cause. Just think about other stuff. I could sing a happy song whenever times are tough. Just let the tough shit pile up and pretend it doesn't exist. Yeah, well, that would work right up until that old anxiety monster drops by or my body starts showing the stress and feelings some other way. Like a long balloon. Squeeze it at one end, it just builds the pressure at the other end. But the pressure doesn't go away. It keeps searching for an outlet until it explodes. Damn. Ok - so I can't just ignore it.
Well - what are the bad feelings about anyway? About second guessing if the decision is the right one? Ok so... how about if I just get a clear sign showing which is the RIGHT decision? If I knew for sure which was the right choice, then I could just do it and not feel bad. Oh wait... I knew quitting drinking was the right thing, but I still drank for a long time. And so many other times when I knew the right choice but chose another. Ok - so clearly just knowing the right decision isn't going to help.
So that means I have to feel it, and having surety that I'm making the right choice doesn't necessarily make feeling it any easier. So that means what? I actually just have to go through this shit. Really?
Ok - so now I suppose the spiritual and wise person would say it's all relative, the tough makes the good noticeable and enjoyable, it's the circle of life, it's the process that is the essence of life itself. Learning to cope... is that the lesson? Nope - I know how to cope - even if I don't like it.
Crying, grieving, sadness... all my favorite things.
Maybe I need to back up a step. I've made a huge assumption: that there is a positive in everything. I started with the assumption and advice of that wise person who said that these experiences are needed in order to find the way to understanding, contentment, bliss, and balance (or something like that).
You know what really sucks?! That wise and spiritual (and extremely annoying) imaginary person is probably right. Bastard. I just want to smack the smile right off his/her stupid face.
I'm sorry for anyone reading this and looking for answers, because I'm back to the beginning.
Sometimes the process sucks. Sometimes it just hurts - even if the right decision is made and even if we know we'll learn something from it. Yup - it just simply sucks. What do you think? Please - any insight is appreciated.
LMH
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Drama-hood, down at the corner of Woe and Poor Me
The topic of balance just keeps coming up this week. Today in my head is a vague thought about the balance between our responsibility to help our fellow humans and our responsibility to ourselves.
I have a friend whose life is constant drama. Oh the dysfunction of her family. Oh the madness of her job. Oh the plight of the underprivileged with whom she works. Oh the hurt she suffered from boyfriends. Oh the health issues she has faced. Oh the indignities she has suffered from her always horrible bosses and co-workers at every job she's ever had. Oh today is a Wednesday and that's hard to spell.
Welcome to my drama-hood. Won't you sit and stay for a spell?
Once upon a time, this friend called me regularly to be the listening ear, the shoulder to cry on, the helping hand, to be the problem-solver, to be the only one who understood her. Over and over I helped until I realized that I was feeling responsible for her and was stressed by her unhappiness and my feeling of powerlessness b/c no matter how many problems we solved together, she was still unhappy. And then... then I realized that she thrived on and loved living with this drama. If it was a beautiful day she had a load of internal baggage to bring out and remind her how woeful her life was, stored and packed neatly inside her, ready to bring forth should a quiet moment arise.
Yup, at some point I realized that regardless of my efforts to help her and the times I even managed to fix her problems, the next day she had another one. An endless supply of issues that needed a friend like me. I was frustrated and driving myself crazy. I was making unhealthy decisions because I felt like I needed to drop everything to help her. My gosh, if I didn't help her, she was very clear about the catastrophic outcomes that would occur. And it's easy to buy into that because, hey, it's nice to feel like we're needed or like we are the hero.
My friend is a nice person with a big heart who means well. But it's been 15 years since I was the friend she called regularly when in need. She is still in need... every week... for some crisis... some drama. Years ago, I made a decision to separate myself from this friend and build some space. Now she has a new friend she calls.
I have friends that sometimes call me when they need help. But these are friends that don't live in the drama-hood. They live in a place where sometimes there is drama and sometimes the sun is shining. They don't create the drama, wallow in the drama, or keep the drama around for when things get too quiet. Sometimes I am available on the spot to help. Sometimes not. But I do what I can to offer a shoulder, a helping hand, a listening ear or some advice. I'm not the best friend in the world. But I'm not the worst either.
Is it wrong for me to separate myself from the first? Even if she creates the drama or wallows in it, isn't that a sign she needs help? Doesn't some of the drama actually happen to or around her? Hasn't she been wronged now and again? As a fellow human, shouldn't I continue to offer the helping hand? [I suppose now would be a good time to talk about being raised Catholic with certain views on guilt and responsibility... but perhaps later.]
I think I have learned the answer is that I am responsible for me. I don't mean that in a screw-the-world-I'm-only-looking-out-for-number-one way. I believe each of us needs to try to leave the world better, cleaner, and nicer than we found it. I try not to hurt, intentionally or otherwise, other people. I try to be there when a friend really does have a need. I strive to find the good even while knowing I am jaded about so many things. And please know that I know I'm not perfect and I f**k it up sometimes too.
There has been much drama in my life. I'm sure there is drama in yours. Drama is like shit; it happens. This isn't about avoiding drama... I did that for a long time, pickling myself in a bottle of Chardonnay. This is about facing the real dramas - the ones we don't create - facing those dramas as they arise, but then putting them away. And this is a lesson I am learning still. There are a few dramas in my past that were very real and from which I still suffer. But my focus is turning toward the peace and beauty of each present day. I have hope.
I will not live at the corner of Woe and Poor Me. Go around the corner from there and down a few blocks, turn left and you'll find me. I'm the one hanging out on the swing at Good Street Park. Feel free to join me. But read the sign at the gate: "This isn't a theatre, if you are writing a drama, try Off-Broadway."
My sister got me a refrigerator magnet with a very old quotation on it, and I think I'm starting to truly understand: "First keep the peace within yourself, then you can also bring peace to others." Thomas a Kempis, 1420. I'm nowhere near ready to bring it to others, but I'm beginning to believe there is peace in myself.
I have a friend whose life is constant drama. Oh the dysfunction of her family. Oh the madness of her job. Oh the plight of the underprivileged with whom she works. Oh the hurt she suffered from boyfriends. Oh the health issues she has faced. Oh the indignities she has suffered from her always horrible bosses and co-workers at every job she's ever had. Oh today is a Wednesday and that's hard to spell.
Welcome to my drama-hood. Won't you sit and stay for a spell?
Once upon a time, this friend called me regularly to be the listening ear, the shoulder to cry on, the helping hand, to be the problem-solver, to be the only one who understood her. Over and over I helped until I realized that I was feeling responsible for her and was stressed by her unhappiness and my feeling of powerlessness b/c no matter how many problems we solved together, she was still unhappy. And then... then I realized that she thrived on and loved living with this drama. If it was a beautiful day she had a load of internal baggage to bring out and remind her how woeful her life was, stored and packed neatly inside her, ready to bring forth should a quiet moment arise.
Yup, at some point I realized that regardless of my efforts to help her and the times I even managed to fix her problems, the next day she had another one. An endless supply of issues that needed a friend like me. I was frustrated and driving myself crazy. I was making unhealthy decisions because I felt like I needed to drop everything to help her. My gosh, if I didn't help her, she was very clear about the catastrophic outcomes that would occur. And it's easy to buy into that because, hey, it's nice to feel like we're needed or like we are the hero.
My friend is a nice person with a big heart who means well. But it's been 15 years since I was the friend she called regularly when in need. She is still in need... every week... for some crisis... some drama. Years ago, I made a decision to separate myself from this friend and build some space. Now she has a new friend she calls.
I have friends that sometimes call me when they need help. But these are friends that don't live in the drama-hood. They live in a place where sometimes there is drama and sometimes the sun is shining. They don't create the drama, wallow in the drama, or keep the drama around for when things get too quiet. Sometimes I am available on the spot to help. Sometimes not. But I do what I can to offer a shoulder, a helping hand, a listening ear or some advice. I'm not the best friend in the world. But I'm not the worst either.
Is it wrong for me to separate myself from the first? Even if she creates the drama or wallows in it, isn't that a sign she needs help? Doesn't some of the drama actually happen to or around her? Hasn't she been wronged now and again? As a fellow human, shouldn't I continue to offer the helping hand? [I suppose now would be a good time to talk about being raised Catholic with certain views on guilt and responsibility... but perhaps later.]
I think I have learned the answer is that I am responsible for me. I don't mean that in a screw-the-world-I'm-only-looking-out-for-number-one way. I believe each of us needs to try to leave the world better, cleaner, and nicer than we found it. I try not to hurt, intentionally or otherwise, other people. I try to be there when a friend really does have a need. I strive to find the good even while knowing I am jaded about so many things. And please know that I know I'm not perfect and I f**k it up sometimes too.
There has been much drama in my life. I'm sure there is drama in yours. Drama is like shit; it happens. This isn't about avoiding drama... I did that for a long time, pickling myself in a bottle of Chardonnay. This is about facing the real dramas - the ones we don't create - facing those dramas as they arise, but then putting them away. And this is a lesson I am learning still. There are a few dramas in my past that were very real and from which I still suffer. But my focus is turning toward the peace and beauty of each present day. I have hope.
I will not live at the corner of Woe and Poor Me. Go around the corner from there and down a few blocks, turn left and you'll find me. I'm the one hanging out on the swing at Good Street Park. Feel free to join me. But read the sign at the gate: "This isn't a theatre, if you are writing a drama, try Off-Broadway."
My sister got me a refrigerator magnet with a very old quotation on it, and I think I'm starting to truly understand: "First keep the peace within yourself, then you can also bring peace to others." Thomas a Kempis, 1420. I'm nowhere near ready to bring it to others, but I'm beginning to believe there is peace in myself.
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