The rhythm of the world

Sometimes my life moves too fast. I try to slow down. I try to center, meditate, close my eyes and find peace in the rhythm of the world.

The old man sits in the building, silent

his brain races with thoughts of clouds

he hasn't seen the light of happiness

the tension puts pressure against his soul

the earth moves like a slow motion murder

he stares at the wrinkles on his hands

a map of experience, existence

he longs for relief from the echo

he misses the former version of a boy

lost in the storm 

the angels swing on the playground in silence

he has a shovel, polished 

engraved with the names of memories

the cloud seeps through the crack under the door

the string unravels

he closes his eyes, asks for peace

the clouds become a pillow

and the angels sing softly in his head

B

A light that shines from within

“We are shaped by our thoughts; we become what we think. When the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves.” Buddha

I recently had the privilege to spend some time with someone new to recovery. A humbling experience for me to see her joy, her excitement, her undeniable happiness. She discussed the early parts of her journey, her desires, her plan, her commitment. She talked about her challenges, the hard parts. And joy flowed from her like a light shining from her soul. A light which will continue to grow, be stronger, and brighter. 

And as I reflect on our conversation I begin to understand why I need her. I need to be reminded that I am no different, that my light continues to shine. That I deserve joy and happiness. She is a version of myself. A version that is easily forgotten. It becomes easy to obsess over the defects. It’s hard sometimes to sit back and take in everything, to let that light shine...and I am blessed that she reminded me of this!

Thank You N!
B

Why I went to the woods

“what is joy without sorrow? what is success without failure? what is a win without a loss? what is health without illness? you have to experience each if you are to appreciate the other. there is always going to be suffering. it’s how you look at your suffering, how you deal with it, that will define you.” ― Mark Twain

The past week has been very difficult for me to navigate. Things have been very out of balance, very overwhelming, and very hard to keep myself on course. I have been subject to some highly stressful situations and at times wanted to scream, cry, and disappear. Luckily I know how my cycle feels and I have different techniques to help myself. I am able to work through, to stay the course. But what is the cost? I want the world to pause for a minute. To let me catch my breath. I considered a self-imposed time out from the world and this is always an option. But how do I surrender to that? How do I do what needs to be. Knowing helps. Talking to others helps. I have to remember to go into the woods, close my eyes, breath, and be mindful…this too shall pass

B

Secondary Traumatic Stress, When do we quit helping others in need, Four rigs with cocaine residue

This week I have been in several situations where I have been mindful of an underlying conflict, a question, a debate. I have visited someone in jail, participated in a group debate, and helped someone begin to understand. All three situations were very different but contained a question, a desire, resistance, hope, confusion. All three shared a common thought, emotion, and question; when do we quit helping someone in need? What if we encounter someone who has been given every opportunity to make adjustments to their lives, to themselves and they continue to make decisions and behave in a way that is counter to the desired positive outcome? Do we stop helping, do we give up, do we turn away, and do we no longer help? What if the person is incapable of doing what is necessary? What if the person is incapable of seeing? What if they are unable to see themselves in their lives? What if they can’t bear to look at their lives and themselves? What if the guilt and shame are unbearable? Do we give up?

 I have previously written about pain, suffering, compassion and empathy and I don’t want to restate something that I have already touched on in previous post. I want to talk about Secondary Traumatic Stress or “the cost of caring”. I believe the current that runs through all of these questions is a person’s threshold for compassion and empathy. Expressing these can try on a person; they can become a weight on your shoulders, on your mind, your spirit, and your heart. When we experience someone else’s pain we can reach our “limit” and look for an option to break ties. We want that break up to be the other’s fault. We are done, and we shut the door. We want to bury the situation, the person, in a grave of blame filled with shame, disgust, and anger. We are suffering from compassion fatigue. We have reached our limit with the person. This is the easy way out…detachment.

How do we prevent this? Through self-care. We need to relieve our stress; we need to share with others the burden we experience. We need to laugh. We need to feel safe, understood, we need “cosigners”. We need to separate ourselves at times to let go of the attachment, the emotions. We need others to help us. We need to self-reflect. We need to be mindful. We need to seek positive healthy ways to alleviate our stress, our pain.

We need to be reminded that we should not give up on anyone. 

B   

I didn't want to die but I didn't want to live-by request and censored by request

The first time I cut my wrists,
a great light came over me,
not only had I found a way to release my sadness but I also found the perfect way to illustrate my emotions. I had this mark on my body that conveyed a message for all to see. A message that could only be interpreted one way, I was hurting. My self harm was a perfect complement to my substance abuse, I could intoxicate myself, cut on myself to amplify the high, release my sadness, and send a message to those around me that my life was spiraling out of control and that I had deep rooted emotional issues. I wore the cuts on my body like huge billboards, “I’M HURTING”. I never wanted to kill myself but romanticized the idea that I could cut deeper, more, bigger and come close to death. In fact the closer I came, the better it felt.

The more I cut, the better I felt.

What started as an experiment with emotions and pain quickly developed into an obsession.
I cut on myself everyday; designing patterns of marks that somehow exemplified the number of times I had felt pain. The only problem is I didn't have enough skin. I cut on cuts, I cut on scabs, and I cut and cut. The group of people I hung around were impressed with my cutting. Other kids at my high school, with whom I had never spoken, came forward to compare their cutting to mine, an exchange of desires, dreams, and shared pain; a somewhat intimate exchange. Finally they must have thought someone we can relate to and someone who needs us. I never wanted to gain any relationships from my self-harm, only bring attention and resolve to the destructive nature of my own existence. I became obsessed with using different instruments to cut with razor blades, utility knife blades, broken glass, pins, and needles. As the sensation of cutting began to numb, new ways became a last option. I began to burn “blue circles” into my wrists using a cigarette. I would lie in bed and choke myself. I would punch myself repeatedly in the face and stomach. I didn't want to die but I knew I didn't want to live.
B

Twenty Five Years of tree climbing. A Prologue.

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion." Henry David Thoreau

Twenty Five years ago I began the process of being a “tree climber”. I had spent years in the dust. I had the breath knocked out of me repeatedly. I gasped for air. The air I breathed in was full of dust, dry and dirty. The view never changed. Others came and lay in the dirt, others bathed in the dust to hide. I gasped for air. I could see the trees. I could see the forest. It seemed unattainable. The tree grows from the dust and reaches for the sky. Twenty five years ago, I slowly rubbed my eyes to remove some of the dust. The sun shined through the trees. The brightness made me want to turn my face away as the sun combined with dust caused my eyes to tear. The tears mixed with dust, the view was magnificent and the most frightening thing I had ever seen. The forest, so large, so overwhelming, the trees stoic, brave, rising from the dust like the phoenix. I cried. I spent years standing at the bottom of the tree. 

I knew tree climbing was dangerous, exhilarating, rewarding, but I did not know what the view was like. I had watched others climb trees which lay horizontal with the dust, trees that had fallen after a great storm, and lay to die, to become dust. That view appeared to be equal to lying on the ground.  

Climbing a tree can be difficult. I had to learn from experienced tree climbers. I watched as others stood on limbs that cracked and popped. I watched as limbs broke and people returned to the dust. I stood and watched. I looked around and saw the bodies pile up around me. I watched as some became exhausted, tired, fatigued, and let go. They chose to fall, they seemed to enjoy the feeling of the fall. Others climbed and climbed. They yelled form the trees how beautiful it was, how the view was amazing, others never wiped the dust from their eyes and their view was dust, they fell, they returned. 

I learned the process of climbing trees. To start at the base, near the trunk. This was the foundation of every tree. To reach for the first branch, to grip it tightly, to shake it, to determine how stable it was. Will it hold my weight? To ask myself, is this a good branch? After taking a deep breath, pulling myself up into the tree the view instantly becomes different, the dust starts become distant. Slowly, methodically, I began climbing the tree. Uncertain, scared of the climb. I tried limbs that looked, felt familiar, realizing too much time spent on these types of branches would not hold my weight. I looked down, seeing others I knew and loved laying on the ground looking up at me. 

I continued to climb unaware of my destination, the view changed with the seasons. 

Every branch I climbed to, another presented itself. 

I continue to climb… 

Tear drops of self control

I found myself on the receiving end of a violent tirade this week. The person was so angry he was unwilling and truly unable to hear anything that came from mouth, including an apology for a misunderstanding. He confronted me in an exhibit of pure rage including threats of harm to my wellbeing. I sat in my chair, and without hesitation, didn’t move. My hands placed securely on the arms of the chair, my body relaxed, and my face void of emotion. And I sat, and I received his yelling and threats, and I absorbed his emotion, and I resisted the urge to respond, and I refused to engage, escalate, enrage. And when he finished or maybe realized I was not going to respond, he left. This is the most desirable less likely outcome. This could have had many endings, which no doubt would have included me returning to a version of myself for which I have so worked to control. I understand these situations are as much about myself as they are the perpetrator. The work I have invested into making myself a “kinder gentler” version of myself has been a lifelong process. To understand and adhere to a strict doctrine of conflict resolution that is based on nonviolence. I believe this is part of my destiny, to restore some type of balance in my life and the community.  

After he left I was consumed with emotion. . I took a deep breath and began the process of de-escalating myself.  My hands shook, my face was flush, adrenaline rushed through my body, and tears ran out of the corner of eyes. Tear drops of self control.

 

Have a Blessed week, I have...

B

Who am I and Why am I here.

"When feeling sympathy and compassion for those in temptation, a condition I sometimes experience, I have a responsibility toward them. Sympathy always includes responsibility. When I am moved with compassion, I should go to the one in need and bind up his or her wounds as best I can."-unknown

"...when you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight"… " the deeper sorrow carves into your being the more joy you can contain" (The Prophet) by Khalil Gibran page 29

This week has been tough. I have experienced a whirlwind of emotion. I find myself feeling in a way that as I use to describe as “the world moving so fast I can’t keep up”. I have had several people notice the stress, anxiety, maybe panic on my face and in my character. There is not enough hours or minutes for me to catch up, to stop the world around me. I find myself reassuring myself, I am doing well, I am keeping it together.  I spent time discussing everything with someone this week and the question of when am I going to reach my “tipping point” and what will happen when I do? 

Where is my tipping point? How much can I endure? 

I often feel that I am fragile; I look at myself in the mirror and think how will I make it through the day? I see pain, sorrow, and sadness in my eyes. I pray and meditate for strength, compassion, understanding, balance, and peace. I am far from a perfect person. I am a work in progress.  I know my character defects.  I have tried to put myself around others who understand the complexities of my “condition”, who I believe are looking out for me.

This blog has become a place for to share. I know many of you visit and read. I often wonder what you want me to discuss or share here. I really wonder what you think or feel about this. I sometimes feel like I am in a bubble, writing, and posting with no feedback.  If you feel inclined please respond in some way, let me know you are there…

Surrender, 25 years later

25 years ago a 17 year old boy, under the influence, committing a crime consumed alcohol for the last time.

There was a moment during my life when complete truth never felt more real. Sure I had been experiencing truth constantly and these were the things that I wanted to escape, ignore, avoid, and run from forever. The onset of knowing that I did not know how to deal with day to day existence as a human being, nor did I want to. The truth that I was severely depressed and never sadder, and I found myself grounded in the idea that this is who I was and I could not change it. On December 27, 1987, the owner of the business had caught me inside his building. Technically I had broken in even though I had previously stolen the keys to the business, and let myself in. He was angry and threatened to shot me. He had his arm around my neck and a handgun pointed to the side of my head. This had little effect on me, not only had I been under the aim of a gun previously, but I had been living to die. The thought of this unknown person threatening to shoot me in the head had a calming effect on me. Not because I had been subdued, but the thought of a stranger completing the task of ending my pathetic existence seemed unfair and out of line. I was angry and sad. A stranger had placed himself into a position that I had been for so long. He probably never knew the value of this position. 

I was blessed with the understanding that I wanted and was going to die. I could have struggled, I could have fought back, I could have asked him to do it. But I surrendered myself to fate, to the world, to the consequences, to the rebuilding, to the suffering, to the unknown, to everything...I surrendered.

On this day 25 years ago the haze of insanity began to lift...

He is I

He is I

For a long time he has been with me.

I don’t remember how we met.

I was told he was here.

I see him occasionally

But I don’t look for him.

When I look into other’s eyes

Sometimes he is there.

We never speak

A simple acknowledgement only

But I don’t look for him.

He will always be with me

They say He is very complicated

I don’t want him

He would have you believe he is I

And I am he

But I don’t look for him

We wake up together some mornings

We walk together some days

We keep each other up through the nights

But I don’t look for him

We used to fight

I wanted him to go away

And there he would stay

He hates me some days

And wishes I would go away

We both give

And we both take

But I don’t look for him

Who would I be without him

And who would he be without me

They say we can have a meaningful relationship

Because he is I

And I am he.

 

 

"And there was a kid with a head full of doubt"- AB

This week I had the opportunity to visit a medium security prison and spend the day not only speaking to about 100 guys, but spent individual time with many of them. The prison is about an hour and half from my house and I had to be at the gate house between 8 and 830a.m. (which meant an early morning for me). During the drive I attempted to clear my head and focus on what I would say to them. This can be overwhelming as I usually walk into a gymnasium or commons area and they are there waiting for me to walk in and start talking. One of the ways I try to get myself focused and centered is through music. My music interests span many genres and time frames. However I recently have been listening to the Avett Brothers for my long drives at work and to relax when at home. There is one specific song “Head full of doubt/Road full of promise” which I found to be appropriate for this mornings commute and preparation. The lyrics of the song are:

 "Head Full Of Doubt / Road Full Of Promise"

 There's a darkness upon me that's flooded in light

 In the fine print they tell me what's wrong and what's right

 And it comes in black and it comes in white

 And I'm frightened by those that don't see it

 

When nothing is owed or deserved or expected

 And your life doesn't change by the man that's elected

 If you're loved by someone, you're never rejected

 Decide what to be and go be it

 

There was a dream and one day I could see it

Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded that somebody free it

And there was a kid with a head full of doubt

So I'll scream til I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out

I met many men who have spent 20 or more years locked up, many of which are murderers. They shared the same nervous anticipation that any person would have in their position. A scared of what the world is like after 20 years disposition. They shared stories of their children who were toddlers when they went away, who have grown up, got married, had their own children, and continued on with their lives. And I reflected on my last 20 years being in recovery, being free, and having a life. During the speaking part of my day I was in a gymnasium with about 100 men sitting in the bleachers, all dressed in the same state issued blue uniform (made by prisoners, wore by prisoners) and I talked about  many things including dreams and doubts. I know many of them will not make it once released. The burden of life on the outside is too much. The problems that lead them to incarceration remain, some have continued to grow. And I talked about it. I discussed what it means to be part of a community and the debt they must someday payback to their towns, their families. I talked about the responsibility they have to themselves, their children, their mothers, and their community. A shared responsibility we all have to be citizens.  We discussed plans, goals and more importantly I discussed dreams. I challenged them all to look inside themselves and find their dreams and use those desires to succeed, accomplish, conquer motivate and guide them to make better choices.  And I talked about a desire for something different
B