6/13/15 Love Is A Deep Root

Love is not an unknown.

It is just buried deep inside.

Love is not mysterious to the heart.

It is mysterious to the mind.

Love, it is true, is a deep root.

It is something we all must dig to find, choose to tug, and pull up from those depths (and many of you will know), this is sometimes a messy task. Not always pretty, but the dirt and mud on our hands, if we pull enough, is more rewarding than any taproot too painful to explore. For when the hands are washed love is clean and true, if only we accept it.

We come here today to celebrate this capacity.

The love for our friends–the love they have for us.

And, most of all, the love they have for each other.

4/16/15 So You’re Back Together

Tom:  So, I have news.

Sent at 8:40 AM on Thursday

Deb:  go

Sent at 8:41 AM on Thursday

Tom:  I spent some time meditating on this Kyla situation, why she might be reaching out to me, why she’d be calling me at 230 in the morning. What I would need to say to her if we spoke.

I tried to work, but had a really difficult time doing so and spoke to one of my best friends about the situation–I couldn’t really function because I needed to know, one way or the other, what she wanted to say.

So I wrote down some notes about the things I wanted to bring up and told her we needed to talk.

Deb:  k

Sent at 8:44 AM on Thursday

Tom:  We spoke for a couple hours. At first I just told her how messed up contacting me was.

She said the conversation wasn’t going how she had wanted it to. So I gave her the chance. I told her, let’s start over–if I hadn’t said all this, what would you have wanted to talk about.

Sent at 8:46 AM on Thursday

Tom:  We spoke about why she would have treated me in such a way.

Sent at 8:47 AM on Thursday

Tom:  About her fears and insecurities.

Deb:  hang on

ok

and then?

Tom:  She was scared of being rejected, but she wanted to try again.

She apologized a lot.

And I told her my weirdshitometer would be on high alert for some time.

there would need to be some serious trust building going on.

Sent at 8:51 AM on Thursday

Deb:  upshot?

Sent at 8:52 AM on Thursday

Tom:  I believe in second chances, and she wants one.

Deb:  so you’re back together.

Tom:  Yes.

Deb:  k

Sent at 8:55 AM on Thursday

Tom:  I know how to read her better now. I don’t think I’ll ever be manipulated like that again

And while I believe in second chances–thirds are a little more hard to come by… or nonexistant.

Deb:  you don’t have to explain it to me. whatever you want to do, i’m backing it.

Tom:  I knew you would.

4/15/15 I’m Thankful I Understand This

I sit in front of a blank page and don’t know what to write anymore. There’s this long list of ideas in my head and none of them seem worth putting on the page–even when I’ve just been woken, when my mind is less judgemental the quality of my writing. What I’d like is to write small 500 word stories every morning, but that is impossible for me right now. Stress is the creative killer. It creeps into the places between synapses where all your ideas form and then it just takes root there. It courses through your mind so nothing else can fill that space between your consciousness and the matter that makes up your brain.

See: it seems to me there is space in between these places. Between the brain itself and the consciousness it forms. Perhaps this is where the unconscious self lurks, and so too is where the stress builds. The brain are the thoughts. Our feelings will mirror our thoughts. If we focus on negative thoughts then negative feelings will follow. If we focus on positive thoughts, then positives will follow. Here are the positives in my life. Here are some gratitudes.

Last week–well, just on Saturday, ended one of the most stressful weeks of my life. It ended a relationship I had had high hopes for. It left me distraught and if not broken, at least hurt. Instead of getting home and having nobody to talk to I texted my friends in order to hangout. It was, after all, Saturday night. It was like the Thundercats assembling. Everyone rose to the occasion and I wanted to cry, not because I had just been treated horribly by someone I cared about deeply, but because all my friends rallied around me and lifted me up, even if they didn’t know what they were doing. So this is to my friends that have helped me through so much.

Next is to my own bravery. This may seem conceited, but for the last year or so I’ve been continuously dating in a semi-serious manner a handful of women (not at the same time, just in progression). For anyone who knows the dating scene then you know it sucks. But I’ve continued to put myself out there and be open with people. I’ve continued to make myself vulnerable and that takes a lot of guts–because it gives others a lot of power–but through feeling and hurt, I haven’t been broken, but just made more aware how special true feelings are. So, this is to all the feelings I’ve had in the last year, good and bad–they are both precious.

Lastly, it is my words that I love. My words and how they seem to always make things more clear to me, even if not to others. This is to, somehow, I can write the truth of a matter before it is completely apparent to me. It becomes some kind of warning to myself that I have been unable to head. Perhaps in the future I will be able to, but for now–I’m thankful I understand this.