a beautiful jet-lagged day
with a snowy forecast
on the horizon
that will not dampen
these feelings of joy
it's been far too long
we've been too far apart
my soul craves yours
as yours does mine
winter comes too quickly
temporary displacement of
my everyday life is what
my soul craves
as does yours
the days ending ubruptly
the smiles and giggles
the conversations in whispers
of subjects so unbecoming
those of our maturity
but I value this above all
I see my future self
in you
do you see your younger self
in me?
are we each other,
out of place,
out of time?
can we dream of
what the other has?
is this how it is now?
will we always be reaching,
me into your future,
you into my past?
is that even an issue?
for I have other minutia to attend to
other itches to scratch
for me,
for now,
this is enough.
deafening.
this silence is deafening
your presence in
your absence
the heaviness in the clouds
the whispering in the trees
your name written across the sky
this silence is awakening
your absence in
the present
sunlight just over the hill
illuminates the cold morning
bringing warmth to a new day
this silence is transformative
this daybreak in
the evening
like a thousand voices singing
like a thousand bodies dancing
like a thousand words unspoken
this silence is transfixed
time frozen in
this moment
anticipation of movement
where no movement exists
only stillness, only turmoil
this silence is burgeoning
demon unleashed in
this barren forest
no hope of rescue
no hope of escape
no hope of salvation
this silence is beginning
and ending
and beginning again
not wanting to get burned.
to say that I couldn't live
without you
is certainly an overstatement
is definitely crossing a line
is 100% true
even as I close my eyes
to sleep
I know I will wake up to you
I will feel you and taste you
and that makes me smile
do I dream of you?
who's to say?
it is no one's concern
it is nobody's business
but mine, yours, ours
to say that you are my only
reason for living
sounds odd, in a way
but like you and all you are
it is strangely satisfying
your scent awakens me
in the morning
the aroma of you beckoning
the longing to taste you on my lips
hands warmed by your very being
and while I am still half asleep
and groggy
you are already downstairs
getting ready for the day
and you call to me
feeling my way in the morning
half-light
into the kitchen
following your siren song
to where I want to be
I can't help but smile
once again
you are sitting on the counter
ready to be taken
and so I do
reaching out for your warmth
your beautiful scent
hitting my nostrils
my eyes widen
my mouth waters
your warmth a deception
for you are burning hot
and so I very carefully
tenderly and gingerly
pour you into my cup
and we sit together on the
back porch
watching the dogs play
listening to the morning birds
you in my hands, against my chest
and touching you to my lips
gently blowing
wanting you in me
but, as with everything
not wanting to get burned.
Trending away.
Great minds speak of ideas
average minds, of events
small minds, of people and things
But me? I speak
of the idea of us
two people
and what we did
and what we had
Blatantly ignoring the signs
I assumed it was me
and I was wrong
But on the drive home
that February afternoon
you asked for forgiveness
that wasn't mine to give
I gave it anyway
Trending always away from
what I thought we meant
of what it meant to be us
But I was confused
there was no us
how could there be?
there was only me
there was only you
We played at 'us' as best we could
never breaking character
always saving face
But when it was time to leave
there was always
someone else
waiting for you
waiting on me
And looking back now on it
it shouldn't surprise me
although it always does
But if I had it to do all over
I know in my soul
that my heart would be
yours to break again
forever and ever
You will always come first
you will always be the one
yes, that surprises me, too
But the past does not lie
nor does it tell the truth
it just is
and continues to be
never changing
Trending always towards
what I thought we meant
which was nothing
But I am confused
and to tell the truth
you never chose me
it was always someone else
it was always somewhere else
So I should pour another drink
cheers to us
and what we never were
But the bottle is empty
and it's far too late
for me to brave the cold
of this Autumn night
for another drink.
Another Day by Debbie Vandenberg
A good friend of mine, Debbie Vandenberg, shared with me this beautiful poem she wrote this morning as she was enjoying the sunrise from her porch, and has given me her permission to share it with you...
Another Day
Sunset gently waking me
Kissing away the night before
Wiping sadness out of my eyes
Then teasing me
To play some more
I take a sip
hot
strong
creamy
I can taste the opportunity
In the warmth
Cup to my mouth
Toying with me
As I hold it in my hands
To make the best of this day
That is all it knows
And this, too, I understand
My clothes hit the floor
I need to be ready in an hour
So the shower takes me in
Washed away
Every ounce of sorrow
Then like a mad man
I let the water go cold
As the shower
Boldly reminds me
It is up to me to decide
Hold on, or let go
My chair wants to be one with me
It is the softest
Space I have
So I bring my legs up from the floor
And relax every muscle that I have
My breath I begin to watch
Breathing in, then I release
A sweet sense of joy surrounds me
My chair shows me how to find peace
It is time now for the mirror
Without the above
I could not face
In there I see lines of wisdom
And eyes that have seen
What it is to find grace
Now I am walking out the door
The world is mine to
Explore
I thank the
sun
shower
chair
mirror
For waking me,
Cleaning me,
Holding me,
And letting me see the truth
Now I have the power
To face another day.
-Debbie Vandenberg, October 2021
©2021 Debbie Vandenberg
at sea
and I've battened down all of
the hatches
and I'm sailing too close to
the wind
and at times I've been dead
in the water
and at times I've held fast on
the right tack
at times I've feel her shot
across my bow
as it screamed and it tore
through my decks
and at times I've trimmed
my sails eastward
in pursuit of the leeway lost
to the west
a loose cannon that meters
deep waters
given a wide berth to pummel
the shoals
three sheets to the wind, maybe
four, maybe five
in dead water it is always
sink or swim
and from atop the lofty
crow's nest
yet again I hear the cry
of land-ho!
and I trim to the aft
just to find
the mirage of the sea
once again
and so by the board
all at sea
and sailing toward that
distant horizon
the shimmering sea that
beckons the brave
and equally the cowards
like me
the salt air and a sail steady
is all I can ask
as I search for the source
of this call
a siren in red who gestures
from close quarters
as the crow flies it is
unimaginably far
as the storms whips my sails
thunder clamps down
and the wind is brutally,
caustically fierce
but I dare not set sail for
the safety of home
there is nothing for me
in that lonely port
better to batten down all of
the hatches
better to sail too close to
the wind
and ignore what it is that
I am becoming
ignoring what I might
have been
August Update II
It’s been a super busy month so far – between ridding myself of useless material clutter and watching two of my kids go back to college for another year, it’s been non-stop action!
The band has added a number of new songs, so I’ve had my work cut out for me there as well.
I’m preparing to get my COVID vaccine booster in the next week, and very excited about that!
I also passed my PCEP certification, and am now a Certified Entry-level Python Programmer – so, one test down, two to go!
The road trip to Providence the last two days has been especially fun! As we raced down I-44 and the local NPR affiliate, KWGS, faded from range, I told Ian about an idea I had for writing a golf game in Python, and he immediately grabbed his laptop from the back seat of the rental car and began coding it, with occasional input from me.
When the battery on his laptop died just outside of Rolla, MO, he put it away, then downloaded a moblie Python IDE to his phone and continued working!
The next morning, as we were leaving Columbus, OH, he explained to me the differences between Cartesian coordinates and the polar coordinate system, and how to convert from one to the other using “simple” (his word, not mine) trigonometry functions. He then went on to talk about vector addition – it was a very educational and entertaining morning!
Once we were checked into our room in Providence, he combined what was on his phone and what was on his laptop into one .py file and let me take a swing at it…pun intended
I must say, I think Ian’s golf game has much potential!
August 2021 Update
Got a lot going on, but not much of interest. You know how it goes – work, dealing with the dog days of summer, worrying about the surge in COVID cases. It’s time-consuming, both physically and mentally.
One thing I have started doing is Joshua Fields Millburn’s and Ryan Nicodemus’ 30-Day Challenge. The idea behind this particular game is that, starting on the first of the month, you rid yourself of one material possession. On the 2nd, you get rid of two things. On the 3rd, three. And so on.
Today is August 10th, and so far I’ve gotten rid of:
1st – donated one bag of men’s clothes to Goodwill.
2nd – threw out two old boxes of X-mas decorations.
3rd – donated three books to the library.
4th – donated four pair of gently used shoes to Goodwil.
5th – threw out five boxes of miscellaneous crap from the garage.
6th – donated six books to two different Little Libraries in my neighborhood.
7th – seven old computer cables that I’ve been hoarding for no reason.
8th – eight old phone cases for phones that will never be used again.
9th – nine old phone and laptop boxes that I could never bear to part with previously.
10th – ten ball caps that I will never wear again.
All of this has made a very small dent in the sheer volume of stuff that I have, but every step is a step forward.
Learn more about the 30-Day Challenge/Game by clicking here.
And as always, thanks for reading.
-Steve
The Heart of Theseus
Modern literature and pop culture is rife with references to broken hearts. From Whitney Houston to Shinedown, from Nora Ephron to Rupi Kaur, from New Girl to Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, you can’t turn around without bumping into someone who has survived a broken heart, is surviving one now, or is about to suffer through the debilitation of having their heart ripped out of their chest and stomped on.
And yet, this imagery has never rung true with me. The most glaringly silly example that I can think of is Padme dying of a “broken heart” at the end of Revenge of the Sith, and I’m not the only one who thought this was silly, albeit for different reasons.
The imagery of a broken heart carries with it the idea that something inside of you is broken and in need of fixing, when the opposite is actually true. When someone betrays you or acts in such a way that is contrary to what you were expecting, it is not an indication of some short-coming within yourself. It is in indicator of something missing within them.
Setting aside the fact that your (emotional) heart is located in your head and not your chest, I prefer to think of the heart – that part of you that feels and cares and loves – as an ever-evolving entity that is constantly changing and growing. It is not stagnant; it learns new things, forgets old pains, overcomes previous prejudices, perseveres onward.
When I was young, my mother and step-father tended to punish my sloppy ways by yelling at me or threatening me with a beating with one of my orange Hot Wheels tracks, but occasionally they’d get fed up with trying to correct my behavior, so they’d gather up all of the comic books I’d left lying around and throw them in the burn barrel. My ten-year-old self was traumatized by this betrayal, but it didn’t break my heart. It was an experience I internalized.
When my first marriage ended, I truly felt broken. Not in the “oh-how-will-I-go-on?” sense, but more in the “what’s-wrong-with-me?” sense. I felt I had failed in one of the most basic tasks in life, making a home with a partner. How could I possibly be successful in any other endeavor if I couldn’t do this one simple thing properly? However, I was still able to fully function on a day-to-day basis, so obviously I wasn’t that broken.
Over time, I have come to realize that the heart doesn’t truly break. It takes on more experience, letting old situations go in favor of new ones. My heart is not the same today as it was when I was ten, or thirty. And yet, it’s the exact same heart I’ve always had. How is that even possible?
When something is broken, it doesn’t work any longer. Well, that’s not entirely true – even a broken clock is correct twice a day. But for all intents and purposes, a broken clock is useless for anything more than decorating the wall in the guest bathroom.
The heart, I’ve found, is more resilient than that. With apologies to both John Mayer and Celine Dion, rather than being broken and in need of repair, the heart goes on, continuing to feel and care and love despite all indications to the opposite. And with each new joyous experience, an older, more painful experience is expunged, until one day you feel whole again, and capable of once again giving your heart to someone. Your same old heart, though experience and attrition, has become something new.
That’s been my experience, anyway.
prisoner.
I remain a prisoner
my own jailer
trapped in a tapestry of
my own tastes and
my own desires and
my own self
a self that doesn't exist
I have freedom, to be sure
free to act how I wish
free from constraints
free to think
to act
to believe
but I am still a prisoner
and left to my own devices
my own preconceived
view of right and wrong
of good and bad
of black and white
of shades of gray
I remain imprisoned
victim of my own thoughts
my own fears
my own dreams
prisoner to my own view
absent of clarity
absent of context
chained to my day
while freedom is just a
breath away
I reject the notion that
I can just let go
as hard as I try, my
attempts end in vain
and move forward
for even in the letting go
there is expectation
that does not dissipate
it eats at the fringes of
my restful mind
questioning all
doubting everything
never reaching that
blissful, settled state
that promises relief from
doubt
fear
anger
angst
busy, monkey-mind
won't release its grip
on the banana
whirling around in circles
on to the next stop
when this one is
incomplete
always starting
never finishing.
bed.
awaken to the sound
the gentle swell and release
of the ocean just outside
my window
of the ocean just inside
my phone
smell the coffee brewing
thank god for timers
the scent of vanilla
wafting up the stairs
the scent of cinnamon
filling the house
log in and grimace
so much to do
take a deep breath
but the stress remains
shut the laptop
drink the coffee
randomly chosen mug
I watch the words
resolve to a sentence
and I think
me too, mug, me too -
I'm definitely
going back
to bed
after this.
20820
as I begin the long, slow
slog towards fifty-eight
(and beyond, hopefully)
with a mind that is clear
and a heart that is full
(or at least more clear
than a year ago
and at least more full
than yesterday)
I have learned to not
look back in anger or
resentment or fear or
melancholia or
wistfulness
what happened yesterday
or last week or month or year
is set in stone
unchanging
and I can gain nothing from it
but to learn from it
I have learned to not
worry about the future
adopting a fluid view
of what can be and
what cannot
and so as I start
day two thousand eight hundred
and twenty
I breathe in and note it
and focus on the now that is
foremost in my mind
(at least more so
than a year ago
at least more so
than yesterday)
and let go of the anger and
worry that they lied
to us, for
they promised us jetpacks
and yet I remain grounded
here on earth.
pensiari a caso 