Wednesday, August 5, 2015

 But the Sun is Fine

The sky is purple from poisons,
The water an oily green,
Trees are tired and withered,
Rivers and soil bleed.


My friends are black or white,
(untruths)
The rich are bloated blue from their decadence,
The homeless are invisible and out of sight.

The ancient ones are cast aways,
The youth literally live in a virtual reality,
The earth and all our hopes are tied together
Like a twisted ball of yarn. 

The north is red faced with shame,
The south red necked with ignorance,
The women indigo from the exhaustion 
of having to remain young looking,
The men drunk stupid from  focusing 
on money, sex and sports,
No body trusts anyone anymore.

The animals are frightened, 
The plants would flee if they could.

But fear not!

The sun is feeling frisky and creative,
And keeps sending us nothing but warmth and color.
We shall adapt, 
We always do, 
This is the dark before a new dawn..


The world will become as we dream it to be. 

Sunday, August 2, 2015

LOST & FOUND



A VERY LONG GAME OF LOST & FOUND


He isn’t angry any more
Like he almost always was before.
He wasn’t ready to feel the hurt,
He ran and hid and closed the door
For he was just a little boy
Who felt unsafe and lost his joy.

He isn’t hiding anymore,
He’s picked himself up off the floor,
His heart is open,
Raw and sore,
His winged grief
Is free to soar.

He cries now at a drop of affection,
An ounce of attention,
Lost and alone for 
Oh so long,
His truer voice now 
Sings his song. 

It doesn’t matter
How long he’s been gone,
What matters now
Is that he’s coming out strong
To grieve and play
To love and to learn
How to breath and embrace
All the life

For which he’s yearned.

8/2/15

Monday, July 27, 2015

EVERYTHING TOUCHES ME

Everything Touches Me

These waves of sadness
are more like rivers of sorrow
carrying ancient grief
to a healing sea.
They are not attached 
to any wound in particular,
but to all woundings
I pretended never hurt me.

The facade breaks,
the heart breaks…open.

Life returns to me,
I can touch everything
and
Everything touches me.

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Out of Darkness Into Light

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I’d rather share my awareness and my insights than my feelings. That way I can appear wise to others and impress them. Also, it allows me to avoid the pain, the fear, the grief, and the insanity of my usual thinking.

I catastrophize. I learned to view life as an ongoing crisis. I can do laundry in a panic. When i am feeling low, or depressed, or despairing (which is actually the opposite of feeling my feelings), I go to words like always and never-as in; I will never have a romantic loving relationship again or I will never figure this out-how to live freely from my heart and embrace all of life and living with reliable gratitude and joy.

I judge and I do so incessantly. I judge people without even being aware of it. It’s automatic and unconscious usually. I judge events and places and things habitually. I learned to do this from my parents who learned it from their’s. I live in a very competitive (not cooperative) culture so I am almost always comparing and assessing good from bad, right from wrong, stupid from smart, beauty from ugliness.  Just another recipe for sustainable unhappiness. Of course, this incessant judging and condemning is trained on me whenever i am alone and unengaged in some activity that temporarily relieves me of my own self loathing. Keep busy, idle hands and all that shit. 

I used to think that enlightenment was learning to be happy all the time. I have judged that pain, fear, sadness, hurt, loss, loneliness is something to be avoided and it’s easy enough to come up with hundreds of tragic strategies to help me past my discomfort. If i didn’t catastrophize and tell myself that these painful feelings will last forever and never go away if I allow them to come out of hiding….it would be so much easier to risk feeling them. 

For I know from past experiences that when I have opened to these unfavorable emotions, not only do they pass but they “teach” me important things about my self. Like what to do to take loving care of myself. My pain points out where change in thinking and behavior is needed. Exactly like a hot stove teaches me to pay attention and be careful where I put my hand.


So today at this moment I am blessed with some clarity about how I create and sustain my own discouragement and despair. It’s not easy to change patterns after a life time of practicing responses to life and myself that guarantee unhappiness and discontent with just about everything. It is conscious work. It is awareness work. It is sobriety from running and evading or controlling our emotions. And in a world where the bandaids for emotional pain surround us and are even marketed as the solution for pain, it requires friends and fellow pilgrims who have chosen to be on this same journey with us. We travel this often scary road out of a familiar and somewhat comfortable darkness and further out into light, clarity, love and laughter...together.


Saturday, June 27, 2015

FROM ONE FRIEND TO ANOTHER

The heart makes it own decisions and I trust it makes the best ones for me. Love doesn't come without pain. And pain is both an impetus and a  result of growth. We stretch toward light; the light without and the light within us. Zorba refers to this experience of living as “the whole catastrophe”. I think that about sums it up. We don’t get to pick and choose-it’s all or nothing and it’s taken me most of my life to realize this, and to finally choose to accept it all into my being. Nothing is black and white. The color of wholeness is gray; that is the truth of what we see when we turn our awareness to our own shadows. As Whitman has said, “We are large. We contain multitudes.”  


Perhaps the greatest evidence of love is the ability to endure and transmute the pain we at times elicit from one another without retreating from the relationship. If this is so, then you must know that I will love you forever. 

Sunday, June 21, 2015

FATHER'S DAY

My dad was a very good man. I wish I could go out to breakfast with him today like we’d done many times before. Now that I have sons of my own and they are out there making their own way, I understand why he was so happy to see me the infrequent times I showed up visiting. If I knew then what I know now, I would have spent a lot more time with him. Hidden under a bed in the Ukraine as a child when the Cosacks raided the villages looking to kill Jewish boys to first generation immigrant to America- our gap was more than generational. No wonder he didn’t like the Beatles! Love you pops!

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

WHAT IS "PROFITABLE BUSYNESS?"

It occurred to me recently that in elementary school although my academic scores were good, my report cards always showed two checks under discipline: Conforms to school regulations and Keeps profitably busy. It got me to thinking (everything does..), exactly what is "Profitably Busy?"


KEEPING PROFITABLY BUSY

I have been dropped into this world
Like a stone in a pool of water,
Now I am a random ripple 
Rolling into and over other random ripples
In this thing we call life.

 I feel the pull to do something meaningful,
Something that makes the whole world
just a little brighter and warmer
and safer…

In elementary school I always got two disciplinary checks on my report cards:
conforms to school regulations
& keeps profitably busy,

ironic.
It seems that keeping profitably busy 
is what we do or don’t do.
Who decides what is profitable,
What is worth doing?

When our separate ripples collide,
Is it profitable for both of us,
Or one of us,
Or none?

What do you think is Profitable Busyness?

Sunday, May 31, 2015

LOVE?


LOVE?

I would lie awake next to her and trace letters on her back as she slept. I would write the words “I Love You” again and again lightly as if the love I felt for her would penetrate her skin and caress her soul. I wanted her to know my love for her deep in her bones.. My loving her was no secret to her or anyone. I showed her in many ways: in poems, unexpected gifts and bringing her to special places. 

I loved holding her hand in silence. We might be walking slowly through the park or sitting looking out at the lake. I felt closer to her and surer of her love in our silence. There was no room for lying or confusion in the silence.



We were lovers from a world that didn’t exist except in our making of it. It was I who was the true romantic though, not her. She enjoyed the Walt Disney love story I wrote for her each day. We talked quietly on the phone from our separate rooms in our separate homes. Hanging up was too much like letting go and neither one of us was ready for that so we’d fall asleep cradling the phones.

Each time she began to leave me for someone else it would break my heart and each time just as I began to get over her she reeled me back in. I was her love trout; she was fishing “catch and release”  but I wanted to be kept and taken home for dinner. Without my knowing and until I did know it-we were playing different games. My game had an end and it was “happily ever after”.  Her game had no ending-just a loop of catching and releasing again and again and again.

Finally it ended and ended badly like all first loves’ do. How else could it end? The heart is never given so fully nor broken so completely than the crushing disappointment of that first true loves’ demise. 

And then there is the silver box containing all the real and unreal memories of how “perfect” it had once been. And this box is pulled out again and again to compare with each new possibility of a  relationship. But by comparison, all attempts to recapture the innocence and trust to love that freely had to fail. There is only one silver box.  


The only hope for the future was that someday the silver would begin to tarnish and reveal the dark foreboding cloud that was there all along. Others saw it and warned me but I was too blinded by the romantic fantasy I created and fueled. Maybe I never really did love her and if I didn’t love her, maybe I have never loved anyone. Maybe what I really loved was “love” itself. 


otterssong.blogsppot.com
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Friday, May 22, 2015

A NEW DAY!

The New Day

is ablaze with possibilities,

this is light beckoning light,


stop resisting your self,

shine bright!!


Thursday, May 14, 2015

WHERE THE LIGHT IS..

There is always light at the end of the tunnel, around the corner, hidden at times entirely behind the clouds. It is there when we cannot see it and are ready to quit. Don't quit. It's at that very moment that your fear screams the loudest. Feel your heart. Listen for the quiet, calm, sure voice of your soul that resides in the very center of who you truly are. That brightest of lights is inside you. The light at the end of the tunnel is...you!


Tuesday, April 7, 2015

HOW DO WE FORGIVE OUR FATHERS?

Missing my father today just as I missed him while trying to grow up and become a man without him. The following poem is to me deep, powerful and truthful and conveys the uncertain dance between all fathers and their sons. It is from a wonderful film called "Smoke Signals"; author os unknown to me.
             





HOW DO WE FORGIVE OUR FATHERS?

…maybe in a dream,

Do we forgive our fathers for leaving us too often
Or forever
When we were little,
Maybe for scaring us with unexpected rage
Or making us nervous
Because there never seemed to be any rage there at all.
Do we forgive our fathers for marrying
Or not marrying our mothers,
For divorcing
Or not divorcing our mothers.
And shall we forgive them
For their excesses of warmth or coldness,
Shall we forgive them for pushing
Or leaning,
For shutting doors
For speaking through walls,
Or never speaking
Or never being silent.
Do we forgive our fathers
In our age
Or in theirs,
Or in their deaths.
Saying it to them
Or not saying it.
If we forgive our fathers

What is left…


Monday, April 6, 2015

REFLECTION



     

REFLECTION

Nothing is missing here..

i am freed of all ambitions
having only the gentle signals of my body
guiding me to care for myself:

food and rest and roof,
everything else is 
 icing on my life,

i have evicted false ideas of who I am, 
Exiled all my shoulds
And am left now with an
infinite silent emptiness,

i am that perfectly still surface 
of the pond 
reflecting the vast unmoving sky,
now i am the vast sky, 
and now, 



I am what lights the sky.

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

NO MORE ROLE MODELS PLEASE!


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When I was in high school my hero and role model was Clint Eastwood. So cool he didn’t even speak!  It was very important for me to be accepted and approved of by my peers so I put forth a very cool exterior-at least what I then thought was cool. 

Then, after a break up with my high school sweetheart and a couple other punches to the heart my new role model was Spock; I chose to live in my head and close my heart off from future pain and disappointment. Heartbreak as they like to say. So now I presented myself in the world as someone invulnerable-someone who could handle life and whatever came my way. Or didn’t. Unhurtable. But as far as intimacy was concerned , incapable. I wasn’t aware of it at the time but this closing of the heart rendered me depressed for quite a while. No pain but no joy either…

Time marched on and circumstances changed and I found my self (gladly) a husband, father and employee in a job I loved. i was lucky to have been steered by the universe in spite of my attitude. 

25+ years later I find myself without a job, a wife and young children to define me to myself; things that gave me a sense of worth and solid roles to play. The question and situation now creates this question for me-“without roles, who am I-what defines me. 

Interesting as I look back I see that even while getting clean and sober after years and years of use and drug abuse, I still managed to put forth an image (of my current perception of cool). My new role model became Ghandi. A man of peace, generous with his time and love for others. This looked like the veteran Recovery Guy who sounded like he was very honest wise and happy in meetings. And I went to lots of meetings the past 15 years. The high achiever/low self esteemer was compelled to always keep up a false front because I didn’t think I could be loved/cared about by anyone unless I seemed fine. 
Pain wasn’t allowed in my family growing up. I know I’m not unique-just telling my story here for my own clarity. 

I’ve been propping up my ego all my life in order to appear okay, even happy. The truth is…I never developed a clear sense of identity or worth and these facades I live behind no longer work at all. 

As I see it. I have to get real and part of that involves revealing to others, myself and whatever God happens to be in my neighborhood-how I really feel, ALL of who I really am. Having a role model to emulate created a necessity of being who I am not. Then I would should and beat myself up every time I fell short of being what I imagined the particular role model to be. I'm done with roles and grateful that the curtain on this play has come down. 

Sunday, February 8, 2015

RANT

i am a recovering editorialist. I've come to the conclusion that the world basically has always operated this way. Who has the money has the power to control the society. They can afford to buy protection for themselves by hiring armies, police, and write the legislature that creates the laws that insure they won't lose their wealth and power. Think Kings and serfs, emporers and conquerers. Wealth has always been unequally distributed and we middle class folk will never really get involved in protesting until they are poor enough to lose their comforts and conveniences. We are addicted to our comforts and it results in middle class complacency and lower class hopelessness and crime when hungry enough. When you get to write the laws that society lives by, well....what would be considered a crime by any ethical person is simply put into laws and tax loopholes and all the rest of the set up. I actually have begun to accept the unpleasant realities of human kind's behaviors and the less I protest, the happier I choose to be. Works for me. Unfairness has always existed for humans. I am complacent enough to relax and appreciate and enjoy the standard of living I am blessed with. Wealth doesn't guarantee happiness (many underdeveloped cultures have much happier people than us); they are socially connected and cooperate and support each other rather than compete. I know the line that's coming...it's better to be rich and unhappy than poor and unhappy. Then again "Freedoms just another word for nothin left to lose" is the experience of many". Remember ur youth and the adventures and connections with others that came out of it. 

Friday, January 30, 2015

OUR SADNESS

The Sadness

it comes in waves
the sadness does

we think there is no end to this
and there isn’t

as long as your heart is opened to the world
you will feel all this sadness

we are disconnected from our true selves
you’ve heard this already
a million times

when you hide your sadness
you hide your heart

when you hide your heart

you imprison your joy


Grieve for your losses,
Grieve for all our losses

We are in this thing together
We are connected to one another

Whether we feel it or not. 

Saturday, January 3, 2015

I'M MY OWN GRANDPA

As I was writing my memoirs this morning (yes, I'm still a legend in my own mind), I revisited my childhood basement which housed among other things..a poker table, pool table and a jukebox. The juke box was the coolest and we didn't even have to put money in it to hear it play. Early Elvis' Heartbreak Hotel is one of the two songs I do recall and that would place the year around 1955(?) or so. But the most fun song and a brain breaker was "I'm My Own Grandpa". I guess these lyrics describe an actual relative (pun intended) possibility but see for yourself:

"I'm My Own Grandpa" lyrics

WILLIE NELSON LYRICS

"I'm My Own Grandpa"

Now, many many years ago
When I was twenty three
I was married to a widow
Who was pretty as could be

This widow had a grown-up daughter
Had hair of red
My father fell in love with her
And soon the two were wed

This made my dad my son-in-law
And changed my very life
My daughter was my mother
'Cause she was my father's wife

To complicate the matters
Even though it brought me joy
I soon became the father
Of a bouncing baby boy

My little baby then became
A brother-in-law to dad
And so became my uncle
Though it made me very sad

For if he was my uncle
That also made him the brother
Of the widow's grown-up daughter
Who, of course, was my step-mother

I'm my own grandpa
I'm my own grandpa
It sounds funny I know
But it really is so
I'm my own grandpa

My father's wife then had a son
That kept them on the run
And he became my grandchild
For he was my daughter's son

My wife is now my mother's mother
And it makes me blue
Because, she is my wife
She's my grandmother too

I'm my own grandpa
I'm my own grandpa
It sounds funny I know
But it really is so
I'm my own grandpa

Now, if my wife is my grandmother
Then, I am her grandchild
And every time I think of it
It nearly drives me wild

For now I have become
The strangest case you ever saw
As the husband of my grandmother
I am my own grandpa

I'm my own grandpa
I'm my own grandpa
It sounds funny I know
But it really is so
I'm my own grandpa

I'm my own grandpa
I'm my own grandpa
It sounds funny I know
But it really is so
I'm my own grandpa





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