My status

Sunday, December 23, 2012

Full Circle.

As I reached the mailbox containing the numbers 206, I stopped. My world had come full circle, the gears within this perpetual stopwatch had finally come to rest. 170,523 hours had passed since we last stood on the same common ground, and she hadn't departed my heart for even a minute of that duration. I glanced at the bright LED lights on my dashboard and recalled the numbers 10:26. As I gazed to my right out of the window, I saw her standing in the shadows. Disbelieving the immediate reality of the moment, I froze briefly, but I still had to see her face. I leaped from the vehicle and as I rounded the trunk, I paused and felt my heart stop. There stood twenty years of loss in full technicolor reality. Her timeless beauty radiated forth with a polished brilliance unlike I had ever seen in any parts of my previous travels. I was not worthy to stand here, not in the presence of such captivation, before such an angelic soul. I summoned my courage, smiled and embraced her completely. There was not a steel clad machine alive that could have separated me from the warmth of that moment.

For once in nearly twenty years, I felt with absolute lucidity what I had been lacking in this life....what kept me from accepting myself, accepting the journey....accepting that I was indeed capable of being at peace. Losing her was more than letting go of a person, it was relinquishing my soul. Throughout the course of the next several hours, I felt as if I had transcended time itself, the borders of this universe had been seamlessly bonded back to an earlier version of my own existence. Everything was identical and eerily moving, down to the piercing stares from her telling eyes, engaging smile and comforting embrace. The fringes of these moments were outlined with our common dreams. Regret coupled with hopefulness were just a few of the acts played out upon the stage. As the twisted hourglass whisked away these priceless moments into mere seconds, I knew my opportunities here with her in the dark were waning quickly. I held her for as long as possible, reeling from the ever-present knowledge that the cruelty of life would gleefully spin this timeless setting back into the darkened closet from whence it arose. As I stepped away from her embrace for the final time before sunrise, I felt my heart rip from my chest and move with her into the pine tree laden shadows behind me. I stood paralyzed in that moment, seemingly attempting to breathe without her....attempting to grasp the magnitude of the emotions that I had just encountered.

As I held her in my arms, I felt as though I was 19 again and perhaps what I envisioned of my life to this point had only been a dream. Perhaps, our penance is finally completed. Perhaps all of what I endured without her was just an cruel illusion. Perhaps, someone was granting us the ticket back to rewrite all of those barren, lonely chapters.

Perhaps, it is now just up to us to author the remaining books ourselves...
Forever seems like a good starting draft...

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Road Home


Brushing the blackened ashes from the shoulder of my wool coat, I press forward into the night in search of the village that I once called home. The path below my cladded leather shoes, now tattered from years of attrition, remains hidden from view. I can still detect the jagged outlines of the aged cobblestone streets now unified with common dirt, as I traverse forward in my quest. My heart filled with anxious uncertainty about what lies in wait for my pending arrival. With a troubling unison, the torch I bear in my left hand starts to wane with each passing step, bringing more darkness forth and into my immediate walk. The cold, violent night air strangles me with its assertive chorus reminding me ever so conveniently of its mastery of this performance.

Carrying all I have left remaining, I stride past the bleakness and refocus my intention on the destination. Hearkening back to times of greater joy, I smile. Knowing that while short-lived in duration, their etching upon my soul was clearly in permanence. Sadly, I have nothing to show my welcoming committee, if there even will be one left to recount or consider my efforts long since past upon my untimely departure. I am longing for just one soul to make my heart complete in this life, and I am hoping she will still be here in this village, waiting.....believing. Entering this arena will not be easy, as when I last breathed this village air, I was essentially a child, at least immature enough to be counted in this resemblance. I was youthful, strong & at least marginally handsome. Alas, time has taken its painful toll on my life, as I am now riddled with scars and aging only exemplifies these battles against natural maturation. However, I worry not about these collateral effects as most would, as it is just me......and to know if I even possess the fortitude to even complete this arduous journey, remains to be seen.

The valleys become deep and dark, but I continue. Weakened, but not dismayed. 
The skies unleash their viciousness and mirror my inward pains of regret and start to cause my walk to falter.
I pause and regroup. Recounting the outline of my destiny, my core radiates with an enriched purpose. 

Extending my hand to the night sky, I clench my fist in defiance against the ones who would negate my happiness, who have for so long mocked my journey and leveraged their own selfishness in exchange for my generosity. Bereft of joy, I have sat disillusioned for too long. Stripped to the bone of all possessions, I am now richer than ever. 

With a new found strength, I proceed. As the valley rises onto the crest of the wheat fields that still remain encased within the stone walls to the east of the path, I welcome the familiarity of the moment. A lone lantern sits atop the feeble wooden gates before me, illuminating the weathered village sign, now hardly discernible to the casual nomad. Piercing through the gates, my eyes quickly define the outline of her cloak in the distance. Her back facing my walk, her silhouette projecting onto the adjacent wooden wall from the candle she holds outwardly from her chest. 

As she turns patiently, in slow motion, I pause out of reverence. Like chess players, being respectfully aware of each other's intention and fluidity, I allow her to complete her movement with anxious anticipation. As the jade Queen comes to rest upon the board of my life, I smile as I recognize the inherent significance. Before me, I now stand 20 feet apart from what once defined 20 years of painful separation. 

We both smile and step forward knowing without speaking this place is definitely and eternally, home.....








Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Weight of Darkness

Excerpt from Ponchatoula, a short story:

Awakened from a disturbing dream of not knowing the true path of the past and how my hands had affected someone else's journey is both sobering and riveting to say the least. I believed that I have always been pure, but forgot, albeit conveniently, about the times that my blood had been washed away in private from the actions that I would never want exposed, never want tied to my walk. The scenes overplayed and unrehearsed in my mind continue to spin from reel to reel with an ominous metal clacking that hearkens me back to times in which the pleasure of the role justified the guilt that I feel, even today. Could I truly be responsible for increasing the pain of the downtrodden and vulnerable?  I truly did care, at least as much I had the capacity to do so at that juncture. Ashamed of her own past, she hid her home, her kin from my eyes, never believing it was enough, that she was enough. Perhaps in the end, it never truly was.

I even believed for a short while that I was making something better than it had ever been and even gestured about how my white horse would lay peace to the valley that had been riddled with such dismay, famine and abuse. My own arrogance in these moments never ceased to amaze me nor offer allowances for the certain absolution that would never arrive. However at the end of my ride, my steed had darkened, the seals had been removed, and the ashes from the torches that I lit were ever-present upon my pale skin, even at dark from a distance. As the fires burned, and screams of fear played out behind me, I rode away stopping only briefly at the stream to rinse and erase the memories of those moments. For that town, those eyes, I would never gaze upon again...never would passage be allowed back into these parts, and I would forever be remembered with disdain and regret. Alas, news stops at the edge of this village, so I had nothing to fear moving forward.

Restoring order was as simple as never looking back, I surmised.

As I now bear the impact of these misdeeds, I attempt to place weights upon the scales of justice to balance out my own feeble culpability with her own inability to recognize my absence of truth. Perhaps, we both knew where this would lead upon its shaky commencement. Perhaps, I was blinded by the pursuit of my own desires and now I seek forgiveness to soothe my aching soul and to restore balance to hers. Unknowingly, I now stumble restlessly through the night, scribing words of regret upon parchment, believing her words, now in complete earnest......

Truth only resides in the darkness. 

Truth is as rare as it is beautiful. Truth is as revealing as it is sanctifying.
Faith in its presence will truly lead you home and guide you towards forgiveness.

As I close my eyes before you, I ask humbly, please forgive me....











Sunday, December 2, 2012

Director, I am.

Turning away from the well-trodden path painted so brilliantly before my immediate walk, I pause and close my eyes. I press onward, cautiously, knowing something lies ahead, but not possessing the prophetic knowledge to comprehend its revelation at this time. As I glide around a large oak tree, I view the calamity of two paths ahead broken and the immediate challenge presented. Almost expecting a pot of gold to appear, I jovially scan the low hanging limbs for a green-clad figurine with top-hat and magic wand. Alas, nothing here, but my indecisiveness on jumbotron. My life and my choices shining ever-present onto the cloth of reality, each stitch carrying the very sinew of my soul in vivid Technicolor.

Realizing the magnitude of the moment, I crouch down before the screen and watch the performance.
Separating the set and its actors from the stage and the audience isn't as simple as one might conclude.
The blending of reality and fiction is my specialty and at times, I lose track of my role and what is truly my part here to play out before the masses. Who are they expecting? What directs my performance? More importantly, has anyone even bothered to read the script?

Suddenly, I realize with immediate permanence....this performance is live. This is all my stage, all my characters, everything is exactly the way I choose.....Smiling outwardly and with a nod to my father, I comment to myself, "Henley was indeed right. I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul.....Long live, Invictus!"

I stand up confidently in my new found conviction, and walk forward.

Cameras....Lights.....Action.

The stage is prepared......

"I better be as well.", I comment silently to myself.












Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Darkness

"I am sorry for dragging you down into my darkness tonight.....it wasn't my intention", her faint, compassionate voice resonated with shameful guilt and genuine sadness. My emotional rebuttal came forth effortlessly, "I will always meet you wheresoever you are and lead you back home...." Inwardly, I knew perhaps that I was silently worried that I couldn't handle the task at hand, nor that I possessed what she needed to regain the light so often lost here in these trying moments. For I knew first hand how the foreshadowing depths of despair can truly encapsulate your every waking step and cast away the redemptive qualities that once allowed for such unbridled confidence. Emotions now displaced and scattered amongst the tattered remains of the promises that have gone unfulfilled and left your soul as empty as the branches of the barren oak during winter's shedding.

"You are so worthy of this......worthy of everything." I reminded her with soft, supportive words of sincerity and comfort. Turning away in extended silence, I knew once again I had said too much. Never knowing where the breaking points are placed, I stride attentively through her emotions and her subtle nuances like a soldier diligently outlining the path within a mind field, striving so desperately to mirror love and not regret nor sadness back unto her life. Breaking the echoes of silence, I reached for her hand knowing full well that I am simultaneously reaching for her soul, for everything that she had left to lose in this life. I cherish her vulnerability, her willingness to be completely present, and the eternal essence of her heart. 

Likewise, I cherish the times in this darkness...for when the sun cannot shine, you must generate your own warmth, your own solace. You must become your own source of light, of direction and guidance......You must transform into your own star for which to navigate back into the light, back into what God has planned. "Take my hand. Take my heart. You have always had all of me, and it truly scares me how much I love you", her words bit down deeply into the soft marrow of my soul reminding me just how blessed I am to be here in this, irregardless of the conditions surrounding us both at this juncture.

I push forward holding her hand firmly knowing that I would lay down at the doormat of death before releasing this sacred love back to the wallows of time and regret. Assured, I feel her warmth radiating back through our coupling and know without a doubt that we will make it back unto our path....back to where this was always intended....back into the basking, healing light of love and its promises that transcend all darkness, forevermore.

Walk with me always.....through the Darkness and the Light. 

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Sadly Inept.

Drown me. The incessant emotions coupled with my inability to help you relinquish your pain, paralyze my steps. Watching the cathartic burning of your past and the growing anxiety of present are almost too much to bear witness to at this point. Ineptly, I respond to your words, your pleas for understanding...for clarity and support through the darkness....

I am here. Sadly, I know that is not sufficient. 
I am here. Believing it will be just enough to keep you together...
I am here. Longing to hold you and convince you that this process is for your own healing.
I am here. Believing in you and all you are and all you are not, equally.
I am here. Through the darkness and the light.

For you, I remain here. Reeling from the waves that attempt to capsize my presence here in this place.
Knowing this is not about my walk, but the very essence of your survival, I stand steadfast. 

Forevermore, I remain.





Monday, November 12, 2012

Work Space

As I relax in peace, I allow my mind and soul to wander aimlessly this morning. Without intention nor concern, thoughts ramble through my mind like air spun bingo balls waiting to find their intended chute for discovery. Recently, I have allowed myself to grow impatient, tirelessly dependent on the future and the immediacy of decisions to be made. I must remind myself in earnest that everything is in its own time, its own season. The revelation of which will only be materialized in full when the harvest has reached its zenith of maturity and it is truly time for its glorious reveal.

My work space is tidy, my mind and soul at ease for once in many seasons....many days, many moments here in this place. The undue urgency has crafted its own sense of imbalance, its own circus of chaos in a place that should know nothing but understanding and contemplation. For when you are at one with the stream that lies before your path, you feel not the rushing of the water, nor the debris carried on its surface, but simply the flow of its movement through your soul.....through the veins of life itself and the nourishment that it restores to your spirit.

For the rain merely does not dampen the grass, but quenches the soul and its unyielding thirst...
Let it rain today on my life, my path, my tidy work space. I welcome the cleansing and renewal of spirit.

Express yourself completely,
then keep quiet.
Be like the forces of nature:
when it blows, there is only wind;
when it rains, there is only rain;
when the clouds pass, the sun shines through.

Tao Te Ching - Chapter 23

Friday, November 9, 2012

Timeless...


The aged brass patina of the fan blade anchoring the corner of my wooden desk reminds me so vividly of the  inherent affects of time and the merciless way in which it carries us all forward with its own intentions regardless of our individual aspirations. Time has also rendered it own aging to my soul over so many lifetimes here in this place. I cannot turn from the moments that excite my walk, bring fervor and meaning to my heartbeat, enlighten the silent essence of my spirit...those moments all solely defined by the sound of her voice.

Other than the permanence of the aging process, time itself has not existed in this conversation.
I could walk in her embrace for the remainder of this lifetime and still be left wanting with death breathing its final chorus into my tattered existence. For with her, all moments would indeed be worth the sacrifice, worth everything.....to bask in the glory of her love for a lifetime would exceed all other alternatives and all other triumphs and lifetimes.

As I turn to drift back to the immediacy of my current reality, I pause and feel her warmth deep within the marrow of my soul. Smiling, I know that while time has ravished so much of my sanity and structure over the last two decades, it could never touch the depths of my love for her, the reflections of which provide endless hope and meaning for the remainder of my days here in this lifetime.

I do hope in earnest that it is my last visit to this place, that my unsettled soul will finally rest knowing that no greater love could be known, no greater amount of sacrifice nor fortitude could render peace from additional travels to a place I have seen marred by guilt, regret, selfishness, despair and loneliness for far too many seasons.

My forbearing walk has witnessed far too much sadness in this lifetime.

Alas, time has delivered its judicial punishment, now we must stand and bear the consequences of our joint decisions...the choices for which have always been known since the first time my heart found yours.

I choose to walk forward with you, holding your hand through the rest of my days...
For every moment with you...will forever be timeless.
Will forever be worth all of my lifetimes...











Monday, November 5, 2012

Sealed.

Separated from my flock, I still fly.

Isolated from the path of my destiny, I still marvel at the warmth of the sunrise.
Promises made, promises broken. I have never been good at making decisions in the face of fear.

Scratching my way around this nest, it almost feels like home --- at least that is what I am told home is supposed to feel like. I stretch my wings, eager to one day reunite with truth. Is that just an aging dream of an old soul that is always going to reveal its own unsettled, nomadic plight regardless of the path? Regardless of where I stand in this life? Will I always be unsettled? Will my nest never feel like home?

Surrounded, I feel alone...
Inundated by noise, I am silent...
Warm with rushing blood, I am still cold...

Perhaps, I am truly only happy when it rains...
Perhaps, the only magic left is in my own mind.

The fact still remains that at least for this life, my fate is already sealed...
The cards to be dealt are all marked.
I sit at the table and glare impatiently at the dealer.

"One more hand", I say to myself....believing in earnest that this soul has visited for the last time to this place..









Monday, October 29, 2012

On the edge...


As I listen to your words trembling forth from the recesses of your heart, I cannot help but grow somber with my new found impotence in this moment. Culpable, yet well intended I sit here in the darkness pondering the reality of your steps...the angst and frustration of your path....the weight of each breath.
Frustrated with the mundane and unable to focus, I close my eyes and reach for my only bonding solace, the essence of my walk, my heart. I cling sheepishly to what I recall has allowed me to carry onward through this life.....my essential belief in love itself. I walk forward heading towards the edge of the path that lays out before me....shadowing itself with the remaining light left on this cold dusk evening.

I feel your plight through your words that captivate and polish grandeur onto a plate that perhaps was never meant to shine so brightly. For I am not a precious metal, I just an average person with an aged soul. I stand here on the edge of these moments trying so desperately to both remain steadfast and also cloak my walk in silence to overcome the grief and guilt of my steps. Love should never been disguised nor isolated within one's mind, but alas, I cannot fully express my feelings at this juncture for fear of the consequential edge for which I walk upon.

I steady my feet and continue forth even as I dare not look back nor down as I near the proverbial edge of reason. I choose to walk here and not upon the sanctity and security of the worn path, perhaps because it is my destiny to either realize this occurrence completely or face my own tragic demise without fear nor regret. Far too often, I have been content with abdicating my dreams in exchange for the community of the masses, the tranquility of the herd, the reassurances of those also too afraid to ever truly live....ever truly love.....ever truly existing in this life.

I know what I am placing at risk here. It is nothing short of my whole essence... my life and my heart.
Rather to perish with a song of faith & love upon my lips, than bask in the colorless sunlight for decades, I surmise to myself with a new found lucidity.

I step forth.
Confident that the outcome, in either form, is a better place.....





Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Perfect timing.

The harmonic clicks emanating from the antique pocket watch movement placed precariously on the edge of the dark, rustic farm table nearby, distract me, albeit temporarily from the weight of these recent moments. As the metallic symphony of the watch continues in the background, my mind wanders back to better days in this... smiles, laughter, even tears were altruistic reminders of the reality of this walk, the emotions that encapsulated each step, each word was echoed with meaning, with unselfish purpose.

Struggling with the burdens of emotions so deep that I cannot bear to contemplate their net quantification, nor the steps required to ease their transport, I am saddened. Looking down, I cannot help but to envision a pile of dock lines before me, each one saturated in their own layer of guilt, sadness and grief....twisted and tangled so tightly, that hopefulness for their rectification is all but lost...

I was never good with balancing my private world with the reality of domestic affairs. Once the rigors of normalcy settles in, I fear the ambivalence that is certainly forthcoming from the decisions yet to define my next steps herein. I want so much to believe in the magic of these moments, for the faith yet to be fulfilled, the promise that for once, I will be loved by a hand that touches me.

The drama of each passing day unfolds almost with divine consistency. Perhaps when you are in the storm, you don't realize that while each day may be cloudy, lamenting over the presence of those moments is a bit repetitive unless you change your course and plot out a new destination. I choose to be here in the storm with you, holding your hand. Knowing that even without assurances and within the confines of its recklessness and angst, I am steadfast in my love for you.

For now, I am hoping this will be enough. Enough to guide you through the darkness. Enough to strengthen my resolve to remain here regardless of the duration...Enough to complete this journey and find some sentiments of serenity in this life.

I peer back once again to the silver-cased watch lying before me....as I reach for it, I notice it is still ticking strongly.....and keeping perfect time....

For now...



















Sunday, August 19, 2012

Reflections...

Awakened to the clamoring of my heart, I slowly shake the silence from the corners of this solemn, darkened bedroom. Restlessness now equalized between both my soul and the surrounding stifling air, I feel compelled to seek out redemptive understanding...a way for my heart to breathe. As I depart on my lonely midnight walk into the streets of the humid Mississippi summer, the ever present winds and waves echo nearby as gentle but permanent reminders of the inherent volatility of even the most simplistic moments here in this place...

Something has changed. Her words no longer authored with the same depth, nor fervor. The last messages I received, merely shallow dialogue in what was the most compelling, heart wrenching and significant conversation I had ever experienced. If she was now content to let this go...to reconcile her current life, alter her intentions here while abdicating this love, surely she would grant me that privilege, that essential gift. Alas, my heart aches.

Saddened. For the first time in this, I feel utterly mortal. My cape now tattered, my bleeding heart readily exposed to the callous and ungrateful night lying here before me. I reflect on this conversation to determine the source of its unplanned demise. I can only deduce that perhaps my reflection was to blame...

Reflections are intriguingly insightful reminders of where you stand even when your conceptions of reality are both lofty and idealistic. Love makes you believe that emotions transcend reality, that its essential presence washes away all detractors, all imperfections with an uncommon ease. Perhaps, I am a little too unattractive now in my current state of physical maturation. Twenty years can do that to a previously strapping young athlete now nearly four decades in age. I can only surmise with obvious pain that was one of the recent pivot points which has carved out the path of dissolution here.

Ironically enough, my barren feet stand in rigid silence upon the beach that only seven years to the day, Hurricane Katrina battered with 30 foot waves. I feel marginalized and reminded that what is now remains at peace is only a brief respite from what ruins may become....the same water that nourishes us is the very same that destroys us. Love is my nourishment..... Perhaps it was my heart and not my heel that was left untempered and unprotected at the River Stix. For now, I stand vulnerable and alone, just as the homes did proudly during the intense storms, but without the warning allotted to their structures and certainly without the hopes for a promising return to glory after their subsidence.

As I gaze out upon the moonlit water, I feel comforted by an unnaturally warm embrace.
Perhaps this is not about me at all, but just the course of love itself. Perhaps I am just too hard on myself....perhaps in fact, the reflections are just nature carving out its own controlled burn upon my soul....to purify my life, to wash away the essence of my own foundation in order to rebuild and reclassify my petty existence. It would be cruel to believe that all of this conversation was simply a bold wakeup call, but I know better than to question fate and its intentions.....certainly not while standing literally on the shores of the Gulf Coast. The new epicenter of this storm is within my soul. How will I prepare for its arrival? What lessons remain to be taught here?

Who will believe in this long enough to remain standing after the wrath of its pruning has been completed? I turn to leave and notice the sand is blackened without the sun, everything is dark without reflections of light.....ergo, I need to find my own source of light......to ever have a chance of restoring my reflections.......restoring my life.


Friday, August 17, 2012

At the gate....

I stand motionless...trapped in time between where I am, and where I want to be. As my tired hands clench the black iron spindles of the gate before me, the cold hollow bars mirror the restless and deceptively barren nature of my heart. Compelled without consideration for the immediate consequences of being here, my heart remains strong but unbalanced in its quest for fulfillment. Peering past the gate, scenes of dismay, sadness, and frustration crowd the stage and leave me questioning the essential rationale for my own arrival at this place. I remain. I recount the short lived joys just days before of seeing her stand before me, smiling and believing completely in this, in love itself, sanctioned or not by others who would certainly dismiss these emotions as folly and trivial reprieves from the reality of our present walk. As the dark clouds pass ominously overhead, they echo the ever changing present emotions of my soul...The stability of this moment continues to unnervingly vacillate between contentment, even joy, and then equally sorrow and regret.

As she emerges from the darkness and approaches the gate, my heart races with the immediacy of her presence, but protective of her intentions and the strings to my soul that lie exposed on the ground before us both. I am completely cognizant that she can see my vulnerability, but I continue to stand firm and confident in my stance, unwavering.....rooted deeply in my conviction, my essence and faith in this love. She mutters a few words about her day, and I can tell this journey has already sapped more out of her walk than expected. She turns to me with apparent sadness and simply says, "I am unsettled.....majorly unsettled......" My mind races to recount every recent statement, sentiment, even unstated thought that has flowed between our collective souls, and like a super computer scanning every available global database at its disposal, I return with no records, no files, no memories to justify nor validate her commentary.

Chalking it up to innocent but overwhelming stress of her path, I don't allow my mind to accept culpability for its presence, but secretly I wonder if perhaps the reality of her expectations in who I am now standing before her, have begun to alter her desire to be completely present. Perhaps, I am not worthy of her, of this, perhaps I was truly better off as a memory. It pains every last rivet of my mortal shell, but I knew the potential in what showing up here could produce long before I arrived. I turn my head briefly to avoid her viewing my fragility and as the tears cascade down my face, I know my attempts to hide the essential gravity of the moment are completely unavailing.

Knowing our own collective sensitivity and depth of exposure in this, she cannot help but start to cry outwardly, mimicking in unison, the feelings of true love gone lost for so long. I know inwardly it is easier to discount love and its promises, than stand boldly as it attempts to unravel, uproot and remold every last corner of your life for its own altruistic purpose. I touch her hand now balancing her weakened frame against the iron gate carved out between us. "Go, enjoy your evening. Get some rest, try to relax....." , I proclaim quite unemotionally. Selfishly...I want her to stay, knowing I would
stand here at her side forever, but also painfully aware this sanctity is fleeting and her journey is indeed overwhelming. As my fingers lift from their embrace of her delicately warm hands, I know that being here is the ultimate sacrifice.....the ultimate display of faith for us both. For we both are supremely certain it would easier to turn away from this, than ever having the perserverance of seeing it through. Uncertain of the future, I start wondering, pondering in silence what my purpose here truly is. As she turns away from then gate, I record every second of her departure as the waves of my soul churn....wanting so much for her to stay here with me every moment and everyday......but knowing that is not the reality of this conversation, at least today.

I promise to keep returning here...to this gate. For to feel her, even in these minute moments of fleeting joy, surpasses all alternatives. She is worth all of my sacrifice, as she is and has always been my
everything. There is actually no sacrifice in true love, only the innate, unselfish desire to be complete in this painful, burdening and relentless life....

"You will not be unsettled forever......I love you...." , I whisper to the wind before departing...


Saturday, July 7, 2012

Garden of Hope.



Scanning the dew-covered grass laid out like carpet before me, I ponder what mysteries this day will uncover. I can no longer bear to live without hearing her voice, her words or feeling her soul move mine in some type of symbiotic Gregorian accord. Dismissed as chance or folly by some I am certain, my fervor in this doesn't disappoint, but rather enhances my existence...renewing my soul.

Walking along the water's edge of the placid pond just overstepping the reach of the sod, I try to imagine myself holding her hand and feeling her heart, albeit more tangibly than just words this time, but I know for now, this is but a desire. Shunning reality again out of sight like an unwelcome guest to this glorious celebration, I choose to allow my mind to relapse to more meaningful memories. After all, it is all I have left in this at this juncture. Memories, sacred memories that are as lucid today as when they were imprinted nineteen years ago... Just like my love for this moment, they have proudly withstood the abuse of time with an uncommon ease.

How did I stand to go for nearly two decades without a muttering, a sign nor a single word of this perpetration on my soul, but now, I long each day for one of those simple gifts. As routine as looking for the sun at dawn, I seek out her soul. Like a hummingbird who has finally discovered a colorful new patch of Verbena hidden in the desolate landscape, I return each day for my renewal and my spiritual feeding. I also long to continue planting the flowers as much as I enjoy taking from their harvest. For it is when we give, we are so truly blessed in our offerings.

For now, I will continue to believe in the sanctity of this moment, this adventure that validates the very sinew of my soul. The essence of love itself and its eternal opportunistic gift. I know not what tomorrow holds, nor if these flowers will ever cease their consistent bloom, but I know I will keep returning....longing for their embrace, their nourishment, their presence in my life. Likewise, I will keep planting, keep believing that this garden of unconditional love, support and solace will lead to a future rich in promises for what lies ahead.....

As I turn away, I pause to allow the sharp wind to glide across my face...I never want to leave, however I am not certain of my place. Looking down and across the fields extending from this garden, I see heavily worn trails and various footprints... I now realize that neither one of us ever truly left this place....we only arrived at different times without speaking.

I smiled...
Until we meet again, I will continue to carry your smile on my soul.
Faith and Smiles always.





Friday, June 29, 2012

Selfishly Unsettled...


Her words rang through my mind like a morning alarm clock without the luxury of a snooze button anywhere in sight.

"I am selfish for wanting this... for stepping out of bounds, for creating turmoil in your life....", she proclaimed boldly with obvious regret and discouragement in her voice. The position I was now placed in emotionally was neither envious nor redeemable to even the slightest degree. How could I quantify her remarks into something that would even begin to rationalize my feelings? My soul dropped with her pleadings of sacrifice and dismay like a child being admonished for lying about their favorite flavor of ice cream. It wasn't fair. Not here and not now are you going to interject reason into this love story. My heart raced and without careful pretense I responded, "Selfish? Are you selfish for wanting to be happy... to be loved by someone who has always cherished you? To have meaningful conversation in your life?.."

Pausing sharply, I knew I had probably said too much. Her reaction to my words was immediate and unrehearsed. I had overloaded the circuits of disciplined routine and crossed the proverbial line of emotional stability. As she walked away in obvious grief, I could hear her quietly sobbing to herself, "I am so confused......Why does something so right have to happen now?" I knew aligning her true feelings with the reality of what was present was a risky juxtaposition, that I didn't foresee. Before my words were released to the air shared between our souls, it was over. Apologies for what had transpired between us were the only remaining participants left to play out the performances on this tired stage.

As the mortar of my essence began to crumble, I held onto the promise of what this truly had become. This was more than just romantizing about the past, more than reliving something good in midst of the routine of marriage. This was truly that elusive second chance in life...to reconnect, rediscover and reinvent your life with your one true love. One last opportunity to play out that hand that was stripped away so unmercifully two decades prior, so unjustly. We both knew that this moment wouldn't be without tremendous cost. The obvious challenge remained. Who would be willing and able to burden the expense to reap the reward of its harvest.

Did either of us trust in the power of love to that extent any longer? Did we truly believe in this?

I knew the return of her presence in my life would be as much about my own pruning as it would ever be about my prosperity. I tried to look away, partly to hide my own tears. I knew that this was all too much to shoulder and perhaps losing her a second time would indeed become the darkest finality of sorrow in this lifetime. I pleaded outwardly, "Don't walk. Don't rationalize this away...." ---- I had just exposed my own desperation. I was naked, alone & vulnerable. However, I was at peace with this moment of humility with her, as she had already seen my truest self and loved me anyhow.

I was torn. As much as love prepares you for its bounties of richness and beauty, it also requires nothing less than every bit of nerve, sinew and sacrifice that is contained within your soul....I knew this, but I was still not prepared for the moment playing out before me. Gazing over to my love now sitting on the grass in a solemn but gentle peace, I wondered what she was thinking. I gazed inwardly at my own soul and pondered, "Was I ever worth any of this to anyone? How could I be worth so much to her now?"... These discounted thoughts of self-value entered my mind, as tears carved out transparent rivers of sadness onto the ground below me.

Without warning, she lifted her head and gazed at me. Piercing my soul, I felt her eyes telling me she was still here.
She was still in this with me now, ready to believe in this dream --- as least as far as it would ever take us both. Bracing the forces of fear, resentment and rejection, I walked to her. I took her hand and we both smiled.

We had passed the first test of true love returning...
How we would fair in the next arena of battle was yet unknown...













Saturday, June 23, 2012

Rain in the well.



This well has been dry for quite some time. As I gazed inwardly I felt my heart move slightly with the notion that my barren soil, just received a drop of rain. This cannot be happening... This land was forsaken, sold to bidders who didn't cherish its existence, its heartbeat long since departed from its tired, arid veins. I cannot shake the moments that have brought me back full circle to the technicolor reality of the past. The most meaningful and moving corners of my entire life archive were now being summoned to the present. Within the walls of its deceit, I felt displaced in time to a place where my life's course changed so drastically...so abruptly, so unwillingly, so permanently? Rekindling these memories, I feel as if an old 8mm reel camera springs to life... its wheels still vibrant and obedient, but what scenes will be left on the tape to play and who will be watching this performance? More importantly, how will it end? Can I handle another failed repeat performance of this act that just kept spinning without end in my soul for the last 20 years?


Living torn, knowing that I cannot change the past, I sit contemplatively trying to understand the moments that define my recent days... If I stay here at this well, will the rains continue or is this just a sick, hallowed oasis in my own mind trying to deceive my last bit of sanity? Hold the tape. Not this memory, not the most cherished set of recollections I have ever known...I know the risk in placing these reels on the projector of my life, but like the proverbial moth, I cannot ignore this flame either. I just cannot look away. Perhaps, I secretly believe in the omnipotent power of love and the beauty & calmness that still resides in this place.


Perhaps, I am just mad...


Perhaps there is one more performance left...


Perhaps we better be careful. This slope is mighty slippery.


Give me your hand...


...................................................................................................................


It is just a walk, it is just me...












Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Moment.

Driving without intention nor destination, my mind continued to race. Cycling through the myriad of memories presenting themselves upon the stage of my frontal lobe, as if someone tossed a hundred Polaroids into the air without care, I was captivated in the moment. I hadn't heard her voice in nearly two decades and the now the veil of silence had been lifted, albeit for a moment. I felt instinctively that my sight had been restored in some discounted way that I cannot explain. Cherishing the purity of the moment, and not the quantitative value of the experience, I smiled.

There are no ordinary moments, I pondered to myself.


I feel that my life is reaching a crossroad, and while I am not certain to what degree my path will be altered, it is still the journey that matters. My heart has not been whole in quite some time, but I have no one else to blame at this juncture. I never envisioned that I would ever be complete, not in this lifetime with the decisions I had already made. I never believed that I was ever truly understood and valuing the richness of your own worth, must came from within before the patronization can ever truly matter, if it ever should at all.


The future doesn't matter, as I have no definitive plans ---

Every second and every word. That is all I remember.

Cheers.




Saturday, March 24, 2012

Saints - Declaring War on New Orleans?

Resolve and the perils of declaring war on the city of New Orleans.

My ancestors first arrived in the port of New Orleans in the late 1700s. The earliest one on record was Victor David from Bordeaux, France whom at age 16 founded his own mercantile hardware store in what would be considered Jackson Square and in spite of the many challenges of the day, managed to excel in his trade. The Victor David house still stands as a historic moniker, a testament to his ingenuity & ambition, next to Le Petit Theater and just a stone toss from the nearby St. Louis Cathedral.

 On the other side of town, in Bayou St. John, my grandfather thrice times removed, Christoval Morel, was an established attorney of the day and taught sword fighting in what is known now as the bloody oaks of City Park. He was what you might consider a refined scallywag, a true swashbuckler shrouded in linen suits, and in actuality was the legal counsel for pirate Jean Lafitte himself, the most gloriously renowned adventurer ever to grace our Cajun coast.

 To say that adventure, mystique and penchant desire for rebellion is in my blood would be an understatement.
It was indeed known that the King of France presented the Fleur de Lis to the Morel family in their home in Bayou St. John and this symbol, this icon talisman, would later become our own personal seal of identity not only for ourselves, as New Orleanians, but also bestowed upon our professional football franchise, established in 1967.

 Hurricane Katrina did not define who we were, it merely exposed our tenacity and our resolve to the world on a public scale. People of New Orleans are some of the most feverishly proud, deeply spirited & most resolute citizens of this planet. This culture is not for the faint of heart. It is bold, spicy and untamed - deeply rooted in its own twisted past of lore spanning a myriad of races, ethnicities & styles, but it is all New Orleans. Carrying a bite equal to its jazzy bark if shown disrespect to its intention, or its people. Its soft-underbelly is merely the gentile nature of its inhabitants. We would rather respectfully nod and share a drink than quarrel, but if your aim is to battle, we don't back down either.

 Fast-forward to 2012. The Saints. Some might consider the recent decision of the commissioner to punish our franchise, its head coach, players & management to be a coup de grĂ¢ce to our 2012 football season. A heavy-handed way to extinguish any chance for a Superbowl victory at Home in the Dome. I believe this action just may grow to become larger than the aforementioned tragedies of Katrina, igniting the passions of the feverishly loyal, insanely proud & notoriously underestimated city and its hallowed gridiron gods.

This, my friends is our time for a WHO DAT NATION battle cry of epic proportions. This is US versus the world, not just mother nature, FEMA nor City Hall. Not just the 9th Ward, Garden District, Lakeview nor Marrero, this is all of us united. The entire nation of NFL rivals including the executives of this very sport have declared war on our team for transgressions of our recent past. Punishment should fit the crime and the allegations are indeed heinous, but our collective past never should have justified this level of damnation. This was personal, and we all know it. Roger Goodell could have cancelled Mardi Gras and received less incensement from the people of New Orleans.

If history of living as a true New Orleanian has taught us anything, it is that we always recover, we always get back up to fight another day. We have a deeper layer of grit, pride and determination than most and this is going to be unleashed in the upcoming 2012 football season on our opponents. Bounties? Nothing new for people descending from blood lines of pirates. Declaring War on our Saints? A epic showdown of rebellion and pride from a city more united than ever.

Goodell should have been more careful in his methods. You simply don't declare war on the people of New Orleans and expect us to surrender in peace. Blue tarps or not, our foundation has been shaken once again. Now "Let's make it Right" WhoDat Nation. Let's bring home the ultimate bounty in the Dome on February 3, 2013.


See you back on the ship.... Section 638.







Monday, February 20, 2012

50 more years?

50 more years?

Randomly, I received an email from a friend today with a link to a "Life Span" calculator. Supposedly, based upon family history and baseline inquiries involving health, use of recreational drugs & smoking, the magical genie told me that I had another 50 years to live.

Today is my birthday. I am 38. Not sure how I feel about birthdays anymore, but I don't celebrate them with the same revered ode of joy nor fanfare, as perhaps I once did as a child. I am just happy to be here among the living I presume and surprised that I have made it thus far.

I definitely feel that I have changed since turning 30, but in so many other ways I feel that I have remained the same. 30 feels like a lifetime ago. I can still recall the surprise dinner in Covington, LA with friends and family. Alas, so much more happened that year including filing for divorce and losing my children. I still cannot fathom that it has been that long nor that the occurrence of all of those events transpired within the same calendar year.

My daughter, Katey, just turned 16 and my son Nicholas is now 9, so I guess the dates are correct. I pause to ponder internally with a strange solemnity now, replacing the innocent vigor & jovialness that once accompanied the commencement of this posting just a few short minutes ago. No, not today. Not anymore. I cannot bear to shoulder the burdens and the miscues of the past any further down this jagged path of life.

I am officially letting go of the memories of the past to allow myself to live in the present --- completely and openly without reprise, regret nor indecision. My journey ahead has so much more to reveal to my soul, which itself is still searching for true purpose, truth & fulfillment.

Alas, I can feel the change, almost tangibly in my presence --- I know this year will be a moving testimony to life itself and the magic that still remains in my soul waiting patiently to be unleashed in its full glory and intention. I have been shrouded from the light for far too long, not believing that I still deserved to be counted in its warmth & solace.


50 years..... I can only imagine the adventures that await.

I live this day with these words on my heart...

"I love her and that's the beginning and end of everything."
F. Scott Fitzgerald

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Gaining Ground




You know sometimes when you travel, you think about the long road ahead, the inherent frustrations of the journey itself, and this makes you question the significance of the entire process. Most of the time, I admit, I feel remotely pessimistic about my own path and where this caravan of life is taking me.

Alas, there is a breaking point for me so far in 2012. I feel calmer, perhaps due to the fact that I am chronologically getting older, and just perhaps a tad bit wiser, but outside of those two imponderables, I finally feel that I am gaining ground in my walk. I sense the purpose of my step, perhaps the mortality in my veins in a more lucid light, but I am truly shedding my skin this year and it feels cathartic & hopeful.

Perhaps, my butterfly will finally emerge victoriously from this tired, aged & nearly broken chrysalis that has been my life for the last 20 years or so. I have to find a way to unleash my true purpose herein and cease my idling and I believe in earnest this is the year of that rebirth.

I cannot vividly recall a moment in time that felt so aligned with my own vision of my walk and my soul so prepared to be unmasked. Truth be known, I have felt shrouded from the light, content to survive inconspicuously in the darkness, never realizing that for true growth to occur, you need both sides of the proverbial coin ---- the yin and yang of life and the elements of God need to shower & nourish equally. Water without sunlight will not yield a good harvest.

Too long I have remained in the darkness, meditating, believing and seeking its truth, but now I need to allow God to enrich the fertile ground of my life in His glorious light, the light that needs no shadow, no shade & no allowance for abdicating my fears. It is time to position myself towards the greatness that God has intended.

Feeling a comforting warmth in my soul, I know this year will be uniquely special and if it is the end of all time, then so be it likewise, my Mayan friends.... at least, I will go out with a glorious bang of enthusiasm and contentment in my soul. I don't fear dying at this juncture, only not truly living.....

Cheers,
Andy