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tornadoday

~ …might I be found in words I leave behind

tornadoday

Tag Archives: spirituality

but for this ~

23 Wednesday Jul 2014

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry, Rambling

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

becoming, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, living, love, memory, old maps, passion, reason, restless, spirit, spirituality, strength, truth, understanding

Recently, a friend posted something about control and it stayed with me through the day. I kept coming back to it, such that I eventually conceded that maybe it was something I needed to write about.  Maybe it was a conversation I needed with myself. so that I understood more clearly.

As with everything I post here, I would expect you to take what you will from it. And if it doesn’t work for you, well, it doesn’t work. That’s exactly as it should be.  I would hate for anyone to see this as anything more than opinion.

Now, where was I?loveme

All of us are familiar with the obvious signs of control, with individuals who insist that everything be done their way. They set the rules for every relationship they have, with only a cursory concern for anyone other than themselves. But there are other ‘less obvious’ things that I have come to view as control, and I’ve struggled with coming up a definition that works (that expresses my thoughts). Maybe, for me, it’s a grey line that ultimately comes down to expectations.

If you do something nice for me, with an expectation that I will do the same, that’s a form of control because your heart isn’t concerned as much with the giving as with the getting back. If you wash my car because you’re planning to ask me to watch your dog on Saturday, I view that as a form of control and the kind act is somehow lessened. Of course, I realize that I could thank you for the car wash and still refuse to watch your pet, but that’s a bigger pill to swallow because it requires us to ignore the kindness. See?

Yet, this stuff happens all the time. It’s a give and take (o, the games people play). Even the best relationships are filled with these subtle interactions (dance), as perhaps they should be. That’s why the line is so fuzzy – because it’s not so easy to see when a gesture becomes a job – when a kindness becomes a debt – when a good relationship becomes not so good. From my perspective, the line is the expectation.  At the precise moment that I thought less of you because you didn’t respond or react the way I wanted, it stopped being about my love for you.

I’m not perfect (yeah, I’ve said that before), and I’ve behaved in very unloving ways at times. I regret those and, in retrospect, I can see the instant I crossed the fuzzy line. In some cases, I just wanted someone else to feel as badly as I. In others, I was convinced that tears or ultimatums would somehow swing the odds in my favor. But, if I look closely (and honestly), those were times when the only thing that mattered was that I got what I wanted.

And that’s a control issue, no matter how easily it might be to defend.

If I refuse to keep your pooch, and you blow up, reminding me of how you washed my car……..well, there you have it. If I get angry because I don’t get my way and somehow make it all your fault, that’s a control thing. I am absolutely sure of one thing – if you wish to see who someone really is, watch what they do when they don’t get what they want.

“Anyone who loves in the expectation of being loved in return is wasting their time.”  From my personal experience, I might even argue that they just think they’re loving.

As you would expect, many of my students are experts in the art of control. Family and friends are manipulated by the notion that their loved one will be homeless, without food, or even suicidal if they don’t pay the electric bill, keep the kids, or buy them clothes for a date (with the guy who is going to change everything).  It’s not hard to understand why so many are without any support at all; they’ve become masters at burning bridges.

I rarely have a class where someone doesn’t approach me with a need of some kind, and by need, I mean something beyond that which I’ve openly offered.  Those who know me might wonder how I could ever say ‘no’, and yet I’ve come to understand that (sometimes) in helping, the only thing I’ve done is delay the lesson.  I’m not even sure they notice how their perceived need has become something more – a means for measuring.  They’ve done it so long that they’re oblivious to the demands they make on the people who love them (as proof of that love).

It’s everywhere. Employees tolerate an ogre of a boss because they’re afraid of losing their job; men so afraid  of losing everything that they settle for a co-existence rather than a relationship built on love; women who trade their voice for nicer kitchen cabinets and granite countertops.

The world is filled with takers, those who can spot a kind heart across a busy freeway. The really sad thing is that there are kind hearts out there who want so badly to be loved that they will accept whatever they’re given.

“What we all want, really, is to be loved. That craving drives our worst behavior.”

The best relationships are defined by those with no ulterior motive for love. True love is never a dependency; it seeks only to be.

“I am surprised how difficult for people is to say “I love you”. They only say the three magic words when they are sure they will hear “I love you too” back. C’mon! Spread the energy of love without expecting anything! Cowards are incapable of expressing love; it is the prerogative of the brave.”

what of this
my heart shall break
and leave upon your hands
the stain
the promise
I was waiting for
is not for want
to come again

. . .

ragged edges ~

11 Friday Jul 2014

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Rambling

≈ 31 Comments

Tags

acceptance, beauty, becoming, conscious consciousness, destiny, faith, family, fearless, forgiveness, grace, knowledge, life, living, love, memory, old maps, passion, reason, spirit, spirituality, strength, truth, understanding, wandering, wisdom

This past week, I was pulled into a conversation quite by accident. I was on my way to the break room by way of the conference area where others were having lunch – mostly women, mostly young. The conversation was on soul mates. Now, my thoughts on that are likely light years from the opinions being shared in that room, and my first instinct was to walk faster. It didn’t work…

Eventually, the conversation turned to something broader – the idea of perfection. Surely you see how the concept of soul mates, would imply for many, an ideal relationship of ideal persons. And yet, how can it be when we are imperfect in almost every way?

I don’t know about you, but I’m happy to be imperfect. Maybe it’s related to getting older, but there is nothing remotely attractive about perfection. I don’t want to be it, achieve it, advise on the process of achieving it, much less sleep with it. If we arrive at a notion that we are without flaw, then what purpose living? How can we hope to learn something new, to grow from the place where a scar used to be?

“The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself.”

Maybe we would do good to focus more on the fact that we are perfect. No, I didn’t change channels on you. This – the beautiful paradox. Even though I have no desire to be perfect, another voice tells me that I am already for I am perfectly ‘me’. This combination of flaws, scars, mistakes, wrong turns, and near misses – it is the formula that got me here. Were it not for the way I came, could I be who I am? Every experience, every burden is for a reason – anticipation for a future beyond our ability to see.

We only have to begin. In my harshest seasons, I’ve returned from the colorless world of heartache by forcing myself to look hard, for a long time, at a single wondrous thing – the crimson umbrella of a weeping plum outside my bedroom window, family around a table holding hands (my hands), the ghost that haunts the surface of the moon.

I’ve become an expert at learning to be in love with my life again. Like a stroke survivor relearning to walk, I have taught myself joy, over and over again.

Soul mates? Aren’t we all – in some form or another? We are tied together by invisible thread, part of an amazing tapestry of other imperfect (perfect) beings. Our purpose, our joy is in allowing those we love to be perfectly (imperfectly) themselves, without the need to make them the same as we are. If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love our reflection in them. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you don’t love someone because they’re perfect, but rather in spite of the fact that they’re not.

Anyone can love someone ‘because’. That’s as easy as folding down a page, or pushing a stray hair behind your ear. But to have love ‘despite’ – to know the flaws and love them as well. That is rare and pure and yeah, that’s perfect.

“We laugh and laugh, and nothing can ever be sad, no one can be lost, or dead, or far away: right now we are here, and nothing can mar our perfection, or steal the joy of this perfect moment.”

I am grateful to be always a work in progress.

. . .

cedar lay ~

03 Thursday Jul 2014

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

cherokee, conscious consciousness, destiny, dreams, fearless, grace, knowledge, life, love, nature, old maps, passion, reason, soul, spirit, spirituality, wandering, wonder

rememberedme

before as now
the path becomes
a place I know of seasons
– a life made good by wonder
blossoms here

knowing stars
alight the night –
beneath the cedar lay
the soul
my story telling
of all that I
hold dear

. . .

the way we fit ~

26 Thursday Jun 2014

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

becoming, breath, connection, destiny, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, home, life, living, love, memory, old maps, passion, postmark, relationship, sometimes you, southern, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, value, wandering, wonder

theplaceyoukeep

when morning wakes
I dare my soul
to speak aloud of places
– of somewhere
I been going for a while

on roads
no one would notice me
as barely getting by –
footprints melt the same
without the snow

without the only map I have
for leaving –
I’ve forgotten
the way we fit
when everything made sense

except for how
the roses grew
from april thru december
with silver horns
and petals known
to stain
the window seal

signs
I never thought to read
foretold another future
moths are busy
knitting
winter sheets –

keep my sleep from knowing
where you’ve gone

. . .

returned as stars ~

25 Wednesday Jun 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

becoming, bliss, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, faith, fearless, forgiveness, grace, gravel roads, home, knowledge, life, living, love, nature, old maps, postmark, reason, restless, resurrection, soul, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, wandering, wisdom, wonder

SONY DSC

where began
my way to blossom –
was once a light
the darkness braved
but for the hope
of my surrender –
fell across the night
to save

these lowly tears
are sweet permission
fill the bath
to coming home
a soul returned
as stars to wander
backwards unto bliss –
my own

. . .

memories of falling ~

19 Thursday Jun 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

bliss, connection, destiny, dreams, faith, fearless, grace, life, love, memory, nature, old maps, poetry, reason, sacred intimacy, seeing in the dark, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, wonder

hometokeep

these wing’ed ones
of angel tribe
are dusted from their beds
as sunlight now
their downy dreams invade

with memories
of falling
as fearless as the dew
to sit within the dark
atop the blade

. . .

hands ~

17 Tuesday Jun 2014

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry, Rambling

≈ 21 Comments

Tags

breath, cherokee, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, faith, fearless, grace, life, living, love, mtb, old maps, passion, postmark, reason, resurrection, spirit, spirituality, understanding, value, wisdom, wonder

chances“Einstein said the arrow of time flies in only one direction. Faulkner, being from Mississippi, understood the matter differently. He said the past is never dead; it’s not even past. All of us labor in webs spun long ago before we were born, webs of heredity and environment, of desire and consequence, of history and eternity. Haunted by wrong turns and roads not taken, we pursue images perceived as new but whose provenance dates to the dim dramas of childhood, which are themselves but ripples of consequences echoing down the generations. The quotidian demands of life distract from this resonance of images and events, but some of us feel it always.

And who among us, offered the chance, would not relive the day or hour in which we first knew love, or ecstasy, or made a choice that forever altered our future, negating a life we might have had? Such chances are rarely granted. Memory and grief prove Faulkner right enough, but Einstein knew the finality of action. If I cannot change what I had for lunch yesterday, I certainly cannot unmake a marriage, erase the betrayal of a friend, or board a ship that left port twenty years ago.” — Greg Iles

A week or so back, I watched a program on the history channel which chronicled World Wars I and II. At a point in the narrative, there was mention of an incident which occurred early in WWII, when a young German soldier came face to face with a British soldier. The German was unarmed, and in an odd twist of fate, the British soldier went against all his training, and allowed the German to go free. Under ordinary circumstances, it might have been reason to celebrate – a moment when war was ignored. But in this instance, the man allowed to live was Adolph Hitler.

Even the narrator commented on the passing of a moment that would have changed history, and likely the world as we know it.

For days, it left me thinking of the role chance takes in our life; choices and circumstances that, in retrospect, seem to have adjusted to our path rather than the other way around. Only a fool would dare to believe in something as mundane as coincidence.

“Sometimes I remind myself that I almost skipped the party, that I almost went to a different college, that the whim of a minute could have changed everything and everyone. Our lives, so settled, so specific, are built on happenstance.”

Just last week, my brother posted a picture of my parents to his Facebook page. The photo was taken in the mid 50’s, my dad’s arms wrapped around my mother as they stood at the back of his 55 Chevy. In a conversation with my mother, I told her how much I liked the picture, but my favorite was one that sits on my mantle. The pose is similar, but my parents are standing in the middle of a cemetery, flanked by a tide of blossoms. My mother is pregnant, and filled with grief.

beyondtheseplacesI knew the story. The picture was made the day my grandfather was buried (his birthday) a little more than a month before I was born.

But there was something I didn’t know. In talking about the photo, my mother remarked again at the pain of losing her father; that it left her broken and as if her tears would never dry. She often wondered whether her baby might drown. She said the stress caused me to arrive early. A child expected on November 11th showed up on October 22nd.

Later, I played back over our conversation and wondered how my life might have been different had I been born in November rather than October. I’d have lived my life as a Scorpio instead of Libra. I’d have started school a year later, likely changing the names and faces of lifelong friends. Different schools; different parties. The butterfly changes colors.

But what if I had been born right on time because my grandfather didn’t die in September?

One of my favorite movies (ever) is It’s a Wonderful Life. The story is one of ordinary lives and ordinary failures, and moments strung together to make a remarkable life. In moments, we live (always), stitched into the rope that is time.

Perhaps love is nothing much more than a string of coincidences that somehow become miracles.

the arms of a king ~

16 Monday Jun 2014

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

bliss, connection, destiny, dreams, faith, family, fearless, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, love, memory, old maps, passion, reason, relationship, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, value, wisdom, wonder

7325_158448646274_2488873_n

From the first man
to hold me –
I learned how to love.
Was patience
taught me to stand.
I’ve seen the whole world
from the throne
of your shoulders –
wrapping my heart (with your heart)
in your hands.

A faith
ne’er regarded
as less than was due –
a purpose for life (for love)
to repay.
A story so rare –
it could never be told
– yet blessed (o so blessed)
by the giving away.

For love
of a woman –
no more than a girl
removed from the path
of goodbyes –
found in your heart
a destiny come
by the way
your hair
fell (like stars)
to your eyes.

Wealth never
counted
by quarters and bills –
is held to the heart
so fragile (so few)
as a life
made to matter
in moments of love –
photographs faded
and worn nearly through.

Was more
than a promise
to love without end –
what was given by grace
to your name.
From seed
grew a garden
of dogwood and briar
– blackberry,
cedar, and thistle
the same.

What worth might
I gather –
no greater than this
is calm for my soul –
(as a shelter
of wings).
There’s nowhere
I’ve found near as sweet –
as riding to dreams
on the arms
of a king.

. . .

It doesn’t take much effort to be a father; but
o, what it takes to be a daddy.  ❤

 

but for me ~

09 Monday Jun 2014

Posted by tornadoday in a time for telling, Poetry

≈ 17 Comments

Tags

breath, connection, conscious consciousness, destiny, faith, fearless, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, love, memory, passion, reason, relationship, soul, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, wandering, wonder

missing

on this rainy dawn
I am barefoot on a narrow stone
looking out through eyes blurred by emotion
seeking an unknown part of my past
and a place I must have known
would find me here

with no one yet to answer
but for me the purple buds are tempted
another week to stay

sorrow comes easily
as in the counting still –
of friends he seems
more willing than the rest
to listen as my heart concedes
I knew not when to break
or what of verses uttered now
would yesterday
forsake

silent
raindrops
welcome my tears
a hundred times – of listening
volumes unconfessed
across a lifetime
separated –
mourning
words of love

. . .

Author’s Note: My grandpa, D. B. George
June 13th – 45 years since they told me you were gone.

pull of hearts ~

08 Sunday Jun 2014

Posted by tornadoday in Poetry, Storytelling

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

bliss, breath, cherokee, faith, grace, gravel roads, healing, hearts, knowledge, life, living, love, mystery, nature, old maps, passion, poetry, silent beauty, southern, spirit, spirituality, truth, understanding, value, wildflowers, wonder

beautyuntouched

tempered now
the pull of hearts
as one into the beating
became of oceans
rivers down below
as moonlight
on forgotten fields
where wild
the blossoms swimming
are held as one
without an eye to see
or soul to sense
their mysteries
much deeper than the seed
a solace of surrender –
where breath becomes
the breeze

. . .

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Poetic Thoughts

Benjamin Grossman

Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic

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