We all need a place to make mistakes.
We all need a chance to get it wrong.
The weight of the world can pull us down.
Guilt we feel or forget from breath to breath.
Reactions of others affect us in some way.
Internal systems function or fall apart.
Settings determine levels of impact.
Casualties yield consequences.
Survival of some seems arbitrary,
But it's never that simple.
Practicing for life wherever we can,
Trying to do something well,
We can grow beyond those difficult moments
When we have a place to make mistakes.
Showing posts with label It. Show all posts
Showing posts with label It. Show all posts
Walking the Line
It's the line we walk in every situation we encounter.
It's the guy on the park bench staring at your five year old daughter and smiling. You watch her play and you watch him. Just an old man who sees innocence and can't stop looking, or that lowest of humans against whom every decent adult must defend every child?
It's the guy standing on the corner of your street, ten feet from your house, with his hands in his pockets after midnight. You keep tabs on him out the corner of your eye as you unlock your front door. A young man out for a late stroll, or the lookout while his friends lurk in the alleyway two terraces down, waiting for the right opportunity to assault and rob?
We hope for the best, but prepare for the worst, working to leave the world a better place than we found it, trying not to run out of time.
It's the guy on the park bench staring at your five year old daughter and smiling. You watch her play and you watch him. Just an old man who sees innocence and can't stop looking, or that lowest of humans against whom every decent adult must defend every child?
It's the guy standing on the corner of your street, ten feet from your house, with his hands in his pockets after midnight. You keep tabs on him out the corner of your eye as you unlock your front door. A young man out for a late stroll, or the lookout while his friends lurk in the alleyway two terraces down, waiting for the right opportunity to assault and rob?
We hope for the best, but prepare for the worst, working to leave the world a better place than we found it, trying not to run out of time.
Children in the Rain
Three happy children walk over fallen leaves. When the rain pours down, they seek shelter. But shelter cannot always be found, so they do not always smile.
They grow into adults with different attitudes about the rain. One stands in a puddle, arms to the sky, and lets her hair and clothes get soaked. Another carries an umbrella and dodges gathering streams. The third stays inside, waiting out the storm.
When they see each other they embrace. They talk about old times and new, other people in their lives. But they do not discuss the rain because it has always fallen, and they suspect it always will.
They grow into adults with different attitudes about the rain. One stands in a puddle, arms to the sky, and lets her hair and clothes get soaked. Another carries an umbrella and dodges gathering streams. The third stays inside, waiting out the storm.
When they see each other they embrace. They talk about old times and new, other people in their lives. But they do not discuss the rain because it has always fallen, and they suspect it always will.
Like Gold
We are alive. It's all we know. We don't think about it as we breathe in and out. We don't think about it as we walk down the street in the sunshine or hustle to get out of the rain. But we are alive and making decisions: who to defend, which initiatives to support, what's best for our families and our planet. We argue about what matters. We divide our limited time. We work for love or money or both, we join clubs, we volunteer, we attend weddings and funerals and baby showers. We party. We entertain ourselves in many ways, some free and others costly. We wake up and go back to sleep. We alternately stimulate our minds or kill brain cells. Our decisions are our own as we inhale and exhale. We live moment to moment.
Checking the Weather in Peace
What happens when fear dominates hope? Does fear attract more attention than love?
People open The Weather Channel web site to check the weather, but the weather's not all we'll get. Headlines like "Widespread Severe Outbreak" or "Elevated Tornado Risk" pop up before we even enter our zip codes. Perhaps here fear has value, perhaps it helps people prepare. Or maybe headlines like these keep us on the site long enough that we may notice the Amazon ad to the right of the screen?
People turn to the news to learn about what's happening in the world. And we have myriad outlets from which to choose: television, internet, newspapers reporting on war, crime, suicidal killers … story after story there to scare us every day. How many times do we need to hear the same story, see the same images, read the same headline written with a different twist? We don't need to seek out the news; it finds us at the gym, the airport, a cafeteria, or when we open a web browser.
Why sensationalize the evil in the world instead of reporting on the good people out there doing good things? The media wants our eyeballs, and our eyeballs stick with the negative longer than the positive. Do stories of evil acts make us feel better about ourselves by comparison? Do we change the channel away from feel good stories because they make us feel worse by comparison? What does that say about us?
What can we do to tip these scales? Can we draw attention to positivity? Can we check the weather in peace?
People open The Weather Channel web site to check the weather, but the weather's not all we'll get. Headlines like "Widespread Severe Outbreak" or "Elevated Tornado Risk" pop up before we even enter our zip codes. Perhaps here fear has value, perhaps it helps people prepare. Or maybe headlines like these keep us on the site long enough that we may notice the Amazon ad to the right of the screen?
People turn to the news to learn about what's happening in the world. And we have myriad outlets from which to choose: television, internet, newspapers reporting on war, crime, suicidal killers … story after story there to scare us every day. How many times do we need to hear the same story, see the same images, read the same headline written with a different twist? We don't need to seek out the news; it finds us at the gym, the airport, a cafeteria, or when we open a web browser.
Why sensationalize the evil in the world instead of reporting on the good people out there doing good things? The media wants our eyeballs, and our eyeballs stick with the negative longer than the positive. Do stories of evil acts make us feel better about ourselves by comparison? Do we change the channel away from feel good stories because they make us feel worse by comparison? What does that say about us?
What can we do to tip these scales? Can we draw attention to positivity? Can we check the weather in peace?
Just Imagine
"Dear friends, do you know the secret to eternal happiness? Our team found it and we're willing to share. Imagine yourself imagining a life without borders, a life unrestrained, a life of true freedom. Now imagine imagining that life every day for the rest of your life. Get there mentally. We will show you how to get there in the real world.
Life can be so simple, and yet so many of us complicate our lives. We fixate on the day to day minutiae instead of focusing on what really matters. Sure, we all have to eat. But do we have to torture ourselves every day, work our fingers to the bone, cause ourselves insufferable amounts of stress just to get by? The answers to these questions and many others you may have is: 'no.'
Is there a way to live your life the way you want, every day, do the things you want to do, every day, and be able to support yourself financially? The answer to these questions and many others like them is: 'yes.'
So, how do we do it? There are a variety of ways. You will have to make some decisions that at first may seem difficult: change the way you eat, use different products than you use today or use some of the same products you use today in different ways, move to a different part of the country or perhaps to a different country (what a great opportunity to explore the world!), spend a lot of time meeting in person or speaking on the phone or tweeting / facebooking / instagrammingtoning with a lot of people you haven't met yet (but you'll have an opportunity to meet them soon!) and also with a lot of people you already know, and a bunch of other stuff we'll need you to do that we can talk about later. But then, once we get through all of that hulabahoo, then you'll be part of our team and you'll be truly free.
If you've read this far and you're thinking, where do I sign up?, send me a private message and we can get started today. If this note hasn't convinced you that you need to join us today (though I can't imagine how that's possible), think about the opportunity we're offering you and imagine what you'll be missing if you don't join us. Five years from now, ten years from now, twenty years from now – you don't want to have any regrets. Don't be that regretful, mentally incarcerated person who could've been free. Seriously, don't do it. Join us today."
Life can be so simple, and yet so many of us complicate our lives. We fixate on the day to day minutiae instead of focusing on what really matters. Sure, we all have to eat. But do we have to torture ourselves every day, work our fingers to the bone, cause ourselves insufferable amounts of stress just to get by? The answers to these questions and many others you may have is: 'no.'
Is there a way to live your life the way you want, every day, do the things you want to do, every day, and be able to support yourself financially? The answer to these questions and many others like them is: 'yes.'
So, how do we do it? There are a variety of ways. You will have to make some decisions that at first may seem difficult: change the way you eat, use different products than you use today or use some of the same products you use today in different ways, move to a different part of the country or perhaps to a different country (what a great opportunity to explore the world!), spend a lot of time meeting in person or speaking on the phone or tweeting / facebooking / instagrammingtoning with a lot of people you haven't met yet (but you'll have an opportunity to meet them soon!) and also with a lot of people you already know, and a bunch of other stuff we'll need you to do that we can talk about later. But then, once we get through all of that hulabahoo, then you'll be part of our team and you'll be truly free.
If you've read this far and you're thinking, where do I sign up?, send me a private message and we can get started today. If this note hasn't convinced you that you need to join us today (though I can't imagine how that's possible), think about the opportunity we're offering you and imagine what you'll be missing if you don't join us. Five years from now, ten years from now, twenty years from now – you don't want to have any regrets. Don't be that regretful, mentally incarcerated person who could've been free. Seriously, don't do it. Join us today."
Desire and Nothing
Desire originating within, influenced by outside forces, aiming in various directions. Survival instinct can go too far. Self awareness fights insecurities revealed around others.
The desire of the moment or of a lifetime: to create something positive. Driving oneself beyond basic needs can lead to threatening levels of excess. Power seduces and the true self fades away, hides away, sometimes too far gone to be found.
To just be can get lost. The privilege of survival and self awareness are often lost with it, but those who hold onto that basic knowledge are rewarded by the knowledge itself.
The desire of the moment or of a lifetime: to create something positive. Driving oneself beyond basic needs can lead to threatening levels of excess. Power seduces and the true self fades away, hides away, sometimes too far gone to be found.
To just be can get lost. The privilege of survival and self awareness are often lost with it, but those who hold onto that basic knowledge are rewarded by the knowledge itself.
A Place to Spill
This is the last stop. This is where the spill will happen, and its shell will go to the dark place.
It shuffles slightly forward and backward, side to side, from time to time. It travels from box to bin, cardboard to plastic. Sometimes it gets thrown onto the floor. It anticipates that moment of true movement when it rises above the others just before the spill, but things do not always go as expected. Pockets lock it in and transport it to a new bin, another place to spill, and it just waits to see what happens next.
It shuffles slightly forward and backward, side to side, from time to time. It travels from box to bin, cardboard to plastic. Sometimes it gets thrown onto the floor. It anticipates that moment of true movement when it rises above the others just before the spill, but things do not always go as expected. Pockets lock it in and transport it to a new bin, another place to spill, and it just waits to see what happens next.
 |
| photo by sugarpacketchad |
Numbers, Emotion, and Energy
To be just a number. A statistic. Perhaps it's all we can ever be, if that.
Some show less emotion than others, but emotion is always there somewhere. Some bury it deeper than others, but it's always there.
There's energy around us and energy within. Some have more than others and it's not necessarily consistent. It ebbs and flows.
Being that number each of us is, pushing against the glass ceiling of our world, we can channel that emotion, seek places to put that energy. None of it may ever make us anything more than a number, a statistic, but we'll feel that emotion and we'll use that energy until that day when we close our eyes for the last time.
Some show less emotion than others, but emotion is always there somewhere. Some bury it deeper than others, but it's always there.
There's energy around us and energy within. Some have more than others and it's not necessarily consistent. It ebbs and flows.
Being that number each of us is, pushing against the glass ceiling of our world, we can channel that emotion, seek places to put that energy. None of it may ever make us anything more than a number, a statistic, but we'll feel that emotion and we'll use that energy until that day when we close our eyes for the last time.
Freakish Growth
No logical explanation existed for the unique life of an apple tree beside Righteous Pond. It grew taller and sprawled wider than any tree of any kind before it or since. And it nearly drained and destroyed the pond.
The tree seemed innocent enough at first. It soaked up the sun, drank in the rain through its roots, and grew at a pace consistent with its surroundings. Apples fell to the ground and into the pond and didn't much bother a thing. The tree reached a typical twelve foot height and could have lived out its days at that size.
But this apple tree developed something other plant life lacked. Its branches liked growing. Its roots enjoyed drinking. When its natural growth slowed, the branches reached out still farther. When the roots felt thirsty, they dug themselves deeper. Eventually the roots broke through the bank of Righteous Pond and tapped into more water than the most torrential of rain storms ever brought. With this new access, the tree learned to manage its own growth.
Around the time of the tree's fiftieth birthday, it was already bigger than any apple tree in history, over forty feet tall and equally wide in its wing span. Gradually the branches spread out over the pond. The more it grew, the more its growth rate increased, and the more this escalation in growth rate became essential to its happiness. By the time it turned one hundred years old, it was taller and reached wider than any California redwood, defying nature with its freakish size. Its apples grew in size concordantly with its body, falling like small boulders onto the ground and into the pond.
By year one hundred and fifty, its growth was no longer sustainable. It had nearly drunk the pond dry. Branches hung low, strained by the weight of heavy apples, and began to split and snap off. The tree's trunk leaned over the pond and its roots could no longer support it. It was only a matter of time, it was always a matter of time, and one day the tree collapsed, uprooted, and fell into what was left of Righteous Pond.
In the years thereafter, the pond was lucky enough to slowly refill. Water surrounding the dead tree gradually caused the wood to wither away, erasing any evidence of its existence.
The tree seemed innocent enough at first. It soaked up the sun, drank in the rain through its roots, and grew at a pace consistent with its surroundings. Apples fell to the ground and into the pond and didn't much bother a thing. The tree reached a typical twelve foot height and could have lived out its days at that size.
But this apple tree developed something other plant life lacked. Its branches liked growing. Its roots enjoyed drinking. When its natural growth slowed, the branches reached out still farther. When the roots felt thirsty, they dug themselves deeper. Eventually the roots broke through the bank of Righteous Pond and tapped into more water than the most torrential of rain storms ever brought. With this new access, the tree learned to manage its own growth.
Around the time of the tree's fiftieth birthday, it was already bigger than any apple tree in history, over forty feet tall and equally wide in its wing span. Gradually the branches spread out over the pond. The more it grew, the more its growth rate increased, and the more this escalation in growth rate became essential to its happiness. By the time it turned one hundred years old, it was taller and reached wider than any California redwood, defying nature with its freakish size. Its apples grew in size concordantly with its body, falling like small boulders onto the ground and into the pond.
By year one hundred and fifty, its growth was no longer sustainable. It had nearly drunk the pond dry. Branches hung low, strained by the weight of heavy apples, and began to split and snap off. The tree's trunk leaned over the pond and its roots could no longer support it. It was only a matter of time, it was always a matter of time, and one day the tree collapsed, uprooted, and fell into what was left of Righteous Pond.
In the years thereafter, the pond was lucky enough to slowly refill. Water surrounding the dead tree gradually caused the wood to wither away, erasing any evidence of its existence.
Backyard Portal
It looked like your typical city row home backyard. Three walls and the back of the house. Brick patio laid when the place was built in the late 1800s. The walls were newer cinders with curved, hollow centers that allowed people to see through to the yard next door. The neighbors were hardly ever home.
He and his friend played paddle ball for the first time in the yard's tight space on a spring day. The ball flew over the north wall into the north neighbors' yard. Rather than walk through his own house and knock on their door and walk through their house to get the ball, he climbed over the wall.
When he landed on the other side, the air around him had color, a burning orange. He could hear a constant hum, like that of a large power generator vibrating. He felt it was perhaps ten degrees warmer than it had been on his side of the wall. He tried to look back into his own yard but the curved, hollow centers of the wall's cinders were filled with images of his own face – younger, older, much older.
Above the wall was nothing but that burning orange. He felt himself slipping into a trance, paralyzed with intrigue and fear. It occurred to him to get out of there immediately, and he decided to reverse the path by which he came and climb back over the wall. When he landed on brick and saw his paddle ball partner, he knew he'd returned safely.
"Did you get the ball?" his friend asked.
"Ball?" He remembered. "No."
His friend frowned. "You okay?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
"Whether I can trust my senses."
He and his friend played paddle ball for the first time in the yard's tight space on a spring day. The ball flew over the north wall into the north neighbors' yard. Rather than walk through his own house and knock on their door and walk through their house to get the ball, he climbed over the wall.
When he landed on the other side, the air around him had color, a burning orange. He could hear a constant hum, like that of a large power generator vibrating. He felt it was perhaps ten degrees warmer than it had been on his side of the wall. He tried to look back into his own yard but the curved, hollow centers of the wall's cinders were filled with images of his own face – younger, older, much older.
Above the wall was nothing but that burning orange. He felt himself slipping into a trance, paralyzed with intrigue and fear. It occurred to him to get out of there immediately, and he decided to reverse the path by which he came and climb back over the wall. When he landed on brick and saw his paddle ball partner, he knew he'd returned safely.
"Did you get the ball?" his friend asked.
"Ball?" He remembered. "No."
His friend frowned. "You okay?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
"Whether I can trust my senses."
House Envy
The middle house on the street's east side resented its west side counterpart. Staring at a solid mahogany front door opening and closing so perfectly made it angry and do things like, when there were no people around, shout profanity. Not that people could hear or understand house language anyway, nor could dogs. Cats understood and saw it all, but they were no help - they sat on window sills and listened and meowed. Houses just ignored them.
Limestone headers above metal paned windows on the west side's middle house added to the constant dismay of the east side middle house. For years, east sneered at west. West laughed at east with its peeling paint and water damaged brick. The laughter infuriated east further and its shouting would ensue until a point of exhaustion came, a defeated state of frustration. East felt hopeless to change its situation because no matter how much noise it made, it remained stuck in place. A house could scream and make a fuss, but it couldn’t move.
Years passed and people bought and sold the houses. Neighborhood cats died and others were born and still others were brought along by owners or renters. Dogs came and went too, but the houses paid them no mind. The middle house on the east side couldn't see itself as it underwent renovation inside and got a new coat of paint out front, but it felt the changes as they occurred, and it eyed the reaction of its nemesis across the street. Its nerves were raw in anticipation of something it couldn’t affect, something it had no choice but to accept. It knew everything was okay, though, when it saw the west side middle house cringe with jealousy.
When the east side middle house finally looked across the street with confidence, it missed the drama of the screaming it used to do. Cats missed the screaming too – they slept on the window sills in peace instead of meowing with eyes wide. Dogs went on as if nothing had changed.
Limestone headers above metal paned windows on the west side's middle house added to the constant dismay of the east side middle house. For years, east sneered at west. West laughed at east with its peeling paint and water damaged brick. The laughter infuriated east further and its shouting would ensue until a point of exhaustion came, a defeated state of frustration. East felt hopeless to change its situation because no matter how much noise it made, it remained stuck in place. A house could scream and make a fuss, but it couldn’t move.
Years passed and people bought and sold the houses. Neighborhood cats died and others were born and still others were brought along by owners or renters. Dogs came and went too, but the houses paid them no mind. The middle house on the east side couldn't see itself as it underwent renovation inside and got a new coat of paint out front, but it felt the changes as they occurred, and it eyed the reaction of its nemesis across the street. Its nerves were raw in anticipation of something it couldn’t affect, something it had no choice but to accept. It knew everything was okay, though, when it saw the west side middle house cringe with jealousy.
When the east side middle house finally looked across the street with confidence, it missed the drama of the screaming it used to do. Cats missed the screaming too – they slept on the window sills in peace instead of meowing with eyes wide. Dogs went on as if nothing had changed.
It Two
It's that daily work. It's waking at dawn to take five hundred jump shots. It's left and right handed layups and hitting twenty straight free throws before you go to class. After class, it's an hour of lifting and an hour or running.
It's getting back on the court after dinner. Another five hundred jumpers, left and right handed layups, twenty straight free throws.
It's the fourth quarter and there are three seconds left in the game. It's the tournament and it's your senior year and your team's down by a point and coach calls a play to get you open. It's a shot you've made thousands of times before, but this time you miss.
It's getting up the next day and taking another five hundred shots if that's still what you want to do. It's looking in the mirror and knowing they'll never all go in. It might not be jump shots next year, it may be something else. But it starts early and ends late and it means something to you, whatever it is.
(For a different It, click here.)
It's getting back on the court after dinner. Another five hundred jumpers, left and right handed layups, twenty straight free throws.
It's the fourth quarter and there are three seconds left in the game. It's the tournament and it's your senior year and your team's down by a point and coach calls a play to get you open. It's a shot you've made thousands of times before, but this time you miss.
It's getting up the next day and taking another five hundred shots if that's still what you want to do. It's looking in the mirror and knowing they'll never all go in. It might not be jump shots next year, it may be something else. But it starts early and ends late and it means something to you, whatever it is.
(For a different It, click here.)
It Didn't Matter (performed by Brian Kremer)
(I wrote this flash fiction in the form of a lyrical poem, and asked my friend Brian Kremer to set it to music and sing the words. The audio link below plays Brian's resulting work: a 2 minute, 18 second song! In addition to teaching the unique Kremer Voice Design curriculum he developed, Brian is a member of the Voice Faculty at University of the Arts in Philadelphia. Click here for his web site, here for his facebook page, and here for his twitter account. This flash fiction is better on the ears than the eyes, so be sure to use the audio link below and enjoy Brian's piano playing and voice.)
It didn't matter at all
But it mattered to me
It was September that Fall
We were just watchin' tv
You didn't wanna be poor
Wanted the world and for free
Your tone of voice made me sore
Alone in my mentality
It didn't matter at all
But it mattered to me
I stopped by at your house
After working all day
You didn't wanna go out
I told you I couldn't stay
I quit my job the next week
'cause you only wanted to play
It didn't matter at all
[No it didn't]
But it mattered to me
It didn't matter at all
But it mattered to me
We were each part of a team
I just had to stay in line
You didn't wanna be seen
Together we were something divine
It fell apart at the seam
Crossed over that borderline
It didn't matter at all
[No it didn't now]
But it mattered to me
It didn't matter at all
[No no no no]
But it mattered to me
It didn't matter at all
But it mattered to me
It didn't matter at all
But it mattered to me
It was September that Fall
We were just watchin' tv
You didn't wanna be poor
Wanted the world and for free
Your tone of voice made me sore
Alone in my mentality
It didn't matter at all
But it mattered to me
I stopped by at your house
After working all day
You didn't wanna go out
I told you I couldn't stay
I quit my job the next week
'cause you only wanted to play
It didn't matter at all
[No it didn't]
But it mattered to me
It didn't matter at all
But it mattered to me
We were each part of a team
I just had to stay in line
You didn't wanna be seen
Together we were something divine
It fell apart at the seam
Crossed over that borderline
It didn't matter at all
[No it didn't now]
But it mattered to me
It didn't matter at all
[No no no no]
But it mattered to me
It didn't matter at all
But it mattered to me
It
I can find it. Not consciously, another way. It’s out there and when I find it I can be at peace.
To reach that place. Mind set free in a confined space. Leave the key in the house and just sit in the driver’s seat. Can’t turn the ignition without the key. No danger.
It happened long ago. If only I could remember. I was in no state to remember, thought I’d always know. Now I’m stuck searching. Friends, lovers, parents, my brother and sister, they don’t know. They’ll try to help. Big hearts, good intentions. My fault when they leave, not theirs.
Or it’s in a future I once foresaw, in a dream I can’t live. Can’t wait for it, how could I? I’ll seek it every day. Everything will make sense when I find it. Then I’ll matter.
It’s ethereal, surrounding me. It’s infinite but fleeting. Feeling for it with unnatural senses, heightened but must go further.
Bottom of the bottle. Didn’t find it today, maybe tomorrow. Blind faith until I see it, no room for doubt. I know it’s real. I’ll find it or die trying.
To reach that place. Mind set free in a confined space. Leave the key in the house and just sit in the driver’s seat. Can’t turn the ignition without the key. No danger.
It happened long ago. If only I could remember. I was in no state to remember, thought I’d always know. Now I’m stuck searching. Friends, lovers, parents, my brother and sister, they don’t know. They’ll try to help. Big hearts, good intentions. My fault when they leave, not theirs.
Or it’s in a future I once foresaw, in a dream I can’t live. Can’t wait for it, how could I? I’ll seek it every day. Everything will make sense when I find it. Then I’ll matter.
It’s ethereal, surrounding me. It’s infinite but fleeting. Feeling for it with unnatural senses, heightened but must go further.
Bottom of the bottle. Didn’t find it today, maybe tomorrow. Blind faith until I see it, no room for doubt. I know it’s real. I’ll find it or die trying.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)