i am who i am … and so are you …

This holiday season … well, any season …  sometimes brings out the introspective best in people. ‘Tis the time of the year when most of us reflect back on our lives and take a deeper, more serious, heart-felt look into what we’re all about … what our relationships are all about … and maybe what this whole mish-mosh called life is all about. 

I like to think it’s a good opportunity to look beyond the brightly colored lights, the spontaneous – almost mandatory – cheer, the office parties, the shopping, the gift cards, and the feeding frenzy. It’s a time to put aside (temporarily) the nightmares of the suffering masses, the homeless, the starving people around the world, the children in poverty, the hopelessness, the mistreated and abandoned animals, the wars, and the impending collapse of the world’s economy.

(Geez! … when I put it all together like that it’s pretty frightening … but hold on … I have a direction … I think.)

Follow me.

This is a good time to think about ourselves … I don’t mean it’s a good time to buy gifts for ourselves but you can if you want to … I mean … how we feel about ourselves. Are we at a good place “within” … when we’re all alone with our selves are we content with who we are? Is that person looking back at us in the mirror someone we like … someone we understand? Someone we want to be around?

Are we so involved with our jobs, our friends, our families, our “lives” that we fail to involve ourselves with that most important person ever … our selves? Are we taking the time to mend our wounds and get back on track? Are we ready to stop the constant battle of self-improvement … self-denial … that “we are never good enough” … and see the whole being that we are … that what we are is good enough … and we’re okay that?

Being okay with the way we are puts us in a place where we can be strengthened to embrace the arms and limbs of life that continuously reach out to us. Being okay with who we are enables us to respond to love with gratitude … to respond to disappointment with bravery … to respond to confusion with understanding.

I am not suggesting that we should ignore the pleas of the downtrodden … the desperate cries for help that echo endlessly day after day … year after year. What I am suggesting is that maybe … maybe … if we can honestly say, privately to ourselves, that I am good… that I am okay with who I am… that I AM ALIVE!… we will each be better equipped to participate in this living experience … and the important things in life like happiness and love, and sadness and sorrow … will find their proper and necessary places in our lives.

“Life is glorious, but life is also wretched. It is both. Appreciating the gloriousness inspires us, encourages us, cheers us up, gives us a bigger perspective, and energizes us. We feel connected. But if that’s all that’s happening, we get arrogant and start to look down on others, and there is a sense of making ourselves a big deal and being really serious about it, wanting it to be like that forever. The gloriousness becomes tinged by craving and addiction. On the other hand, wretchedness–life’s painful aspect–softens us up considerably. Knowing pain is a very important ingredient of being there for another person. When you are feeling a lot of grief, you can look right into somebody’s eyes because you feel you haven’t got anything to lose–you’re just there. The wretchedness humbles us and softens us, but if we were only wretched, we would all just go down the tubes. We’d be so depressed, discouraged, and hopeless that we wouldn’t have enough energy to eat an apple. Gloriousness and wretchedness need each other. One inspires us, the other softens us. They go together.” – Pema Chodron

Season’s Greetings …

rescue, adopt, respect, love …

This piece was written for all the animals out there who have been mistreated, abused, or abandoned … and as a homage to the wonderful organizations that do so much to help them.

Links to the recorded song appear at the poem’s end.

You’re Always Welcome Here

You’re always welcome here my friend
When your journey’s at an end
There will always be a place for you
There will always be some time for you
We’re holding out our hands for you.
You’re always welcome here, my friend.

There is always a familiar face
Someone to offer an embrace
There will always be your friends for you
They will always take a stand for you
There is nothing that they would not do
You’re always welcome here.

There will always be an open door
No matter what you’ve done before.
There will always be a burning fire
To keep you warm when you are tired.
There will always be an empty chair.
You’re always welcome here, my friend.

You’ll always have a place to rest
To take the burden off your chest
A place to let your feet touch ground
A place to shelter you from harm
A place to keep you safe and warm
You’re always welcome here, my friend.

A place to go where you belong
A place to go when things go wrong
A place to come in from the cold
A place to go when you get old
A place that you can call your home.
You’re always welcome here, my friend.

Will you bring your stories? Fairy tales?
Did you chart your path with tattered sails?
Did you think that there’d be no one here?
Did you still believe we would not care?
Did you look ahead with vacant stares?
There will always be a bed to share and
You’re always welcome here …  my friend.

 

The song has fewer verses than the poem:
http://www.pawbypaw.com/attachments/File/YOU_RE_ALWAYS_WELCOME_HERE__MY_FRIEND.mp3?SessionID=f491ef94eea0ad31b9be

 

thick and thin …

Some time ago I wrote a song about my father entitled “Peaceful Man”. When I played it for my brother Dennis he said “That’s great. But if you want to impress me, write a song about me.”

Here it is.

It’s titled “Thick & Thin” …  the lyrics are followed by a link to the mp3 file.

I will never forget
We were always more than friends.
Though we went our separate ways
I remember where we’re from.

Stayed in touch through all these years
Watched our loved ones disappear
Some things weren’t always said
Even after such a long time.

After all that we’ve been through
I’m still looking up to you
Of all the people that I knew
I’m so very proud of you.

click here to listen to the song: http://pawbypaw.com/attachments/File/THICK_AND_THIN.mp3

inside out …

The door is closed but I can see through a window shade.
You’re standing there on the inside.
It’s getting cold. I shiver out here all alone.
I’m waiting here on the outside.

On the outside.

You seem to think because I was born on a different street,
We’d have no chance together.
Though I come to you with a different point of view,
We’re both the same on the inside.

On the inside.

(We’re hanging on your every word)

Whisper in my ear your plans to get a way from here.
Will you run with me on the outside?

On the ouside.

Don’t be afraid of the choices that you’ve made.
They’ll all work out on the outside.
I took some time to tell the world that you’d be mine,
Here with me … together.

Together.

 

 

 

 

this song can be heard via the website www.pawbypaw.com ..

tymor park …

I am driven by the winter. Ice on my skin … Ice in my hair. My feet crunch through the frozen snow.
I am walking with friends who speak gently and softly. They take me on a journey to the fields, where the birds fly in wide circles and the wolves run wild. The sky is overwhelmed with clouds and the trees embrace each other to fight the cold. I wipe the frost from my face and eyes to better see this vision as I am led along trampled walk ways around and up the hill. I’m compelled to march with short steps more left and right than forward to keep from losing my stance. My shortness of breath stalls me but briefly as I imagine why I’m here. I can’t remember ever being anywhere else. I should have worn warmer gloves. The tips of my fingers are numb. My companions turn silent and offer no explanation for the numbing cold, as if there was never anything else. As if the bitterness was always there.

 

Glancing at them, I wonder if they feel the same. Do their bundled fingers hurt like mine? Have they become immune to the harsh elements?

 

Without knowing, the hilltop is beneath me. The air has become deafening with its emptiness and I am alone. Where have my guides escaped? Why have they left me? Spinning around, the tree tops blur and the horizons fall further into the distance. The sun has fallen to dusk. No sounds. No souls. My legs become soft rubber. I close my eyes and fall to my knees, sobbing. Something has surfaced from deep inside that I thought was gone … a memory and a feeling. I grimace to bring the experience in more clearly but can only recognize small slices of it.

 

Blocking out the outside world I assembled the pieces into an incomplete picture, and I was able to roughly discern the image of my lost friend, Katie. Katie is walking through the trees, her golden coat blending in with the summer’s foliage. Intermittent slivers of sunshine contrast the dark green forest and spotlight her luscious fur, as if she was a movie starlet, snaking through crowds of admirers. She stops every so often to see if I am still watching.

Of course, I am.

 

Her dark eyes telling me, speaking to me from the dense: “I cannot come to you now, but I am here with you. I hear you when you call my name, but I cannot come to you, now.’ She sniffs the ground, and noses the shrubs. Her tail is like a fiery flag following her every step. I narrow my stare to track her as she winds through the brush. Here and there, she disappears. I call her, but she cannot come to me, now. She has wandered off and I am again, alone ….

 

I feel wasted and drained, and weakly get to my feet. The chill has returned and the hours have passed. The sky is black, spotted with speckled light. The birds have nested and the wolves have begun their nightly hunt. Lunar light edges the rock hard path and the trees have become a curtain, framing the way back down the hill. My steps become heavy as the descent pulls me back to the fields. I can hear the voices of my friends as their forms emerge from the shadows and they are calling my name … gently offering to take me back … to the winter.

 

i have to get something off my chest …

You know … I’m an average kind of guy living an average kind of life I guess. I like to sleep late … I hate working out … I shop at the mall … love my dogs … I keep my paper money in the left pocket and coins in the right. Just an average guy … Meat and Potatoes.

 

Now there’s nothing wrong with that because no one expects anything special from an average guy … I keep plodding along doing average things. I don’t rock the boat or do anything that will stand out.

 

I heard a quote the other day from Andy Rooney: “The average dog is a nicer person than the average person.” Thanks, Andy. That’s encouraging.

 

Now the thing about being above average is – -Everyone does expect something – special. Hit a longer golf ball. Make a lot more money. Have nicer hair. Drive nicer cars. You all know the type. Us average guys could never be like them. The pressure is too much. We just can’t be above average on a consistent level – like those guys. They’re the ones who walk – no, no, parade – into the bar and – we shake our heads and say to ourselves – “Great! Now I get to feel a little smaller than usual and no one’s gonna pay any attention to me and just look at what I’m wearing, and … on and on.” What are ya gonna do?

 

Well, I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do! I’m gonna walk up to this guy – look him straight in the eyes – and – buy him a drink! That’s right. Then I get to hang around with him for a little while and people will see us together and maybe they’ll say – “Hey look! Phil’s hanging with — “Chad” — maybe Phil’s not as average as I thought he was!”

 

Then there’s the two of us standing around – you know, with me trying to look above average …chatting about above average things - and of course “Chad” doesn’t hear a word I’m saying – he’s looking over my shoulder for another above average guy to bail him out. Let me tell you something: It’s a sick, vicious cycle.  

 

But … thankfully for us average guys the natural balance of things tips in our favor once in a while.

 

Just when we’re feeling a little down with our average lives, like nothing’s ever gonna change … like everything’s going to stay the same for ever,   just when we feel like giving up… along comes … out of the misty fog of inferiority – – like a cloud on a sunny day … you guess it! … a below average guy!

 

He’s got worse hair than me. He’s got worse clothes. He’s shorter than me. He’s fatter than me. And … maybe … just maybe … if there’s any justice in this life at all … he’ll manage to stumble in my general direction … stare blindly into my eyes … and … (chuckle) buy me a drink.

 

Wouldn’t that be something!

 

Maybe that’s what they mean by: When you’re average, you’re just as close to the bottom as you are the top.

 

Thanks. I feel better.

(originally written as a 3-minute monologue)

winter …

I close my eyes so I can see your face
It comes to me from out of nowhere.
A faint outline and then your eyes,
Your long gold hair, and then your smile.

It’s so dark when I close my eyes.
Is it dark for you as well?
Do you see me like I see you?
Do you feel the way I do?

Is your heart heavy with sadness?
Does it crush you like a winter storm?
I feel buried under the evening snow
And I can’t feel a thing.

All I can do is close my eyes
And hope to see you again.