Out of the Present

I find myself often dreaming about the future.  Keeping it in the front of my mind.  Daydreaming; focusing all my attention.  Because the present isn’t something that I like to live in.  

I find myself often remembering the past.  I tell stories about the good times, how good it used to be.  Because it used to be so damn good.  And I took it so for granted.  

My heart carries all of the bad times.  My heart carries all of the hard times.  My heart dwells in its own pain, even when I try not to.  

Common Sense

My mother always said that common sense didn’t exist, because it’s not common.  Everyone grows up differently and develops their logic based on the kind of mental training they have the opportunity to learn through.  So I’m getting kind of tired of people being berated for not using their common sense.

I watched a supervisor berate a subordinate for not using common sense when it was really busy because he didn’t see a label, so he asked a question.  Studies show that logic capabilities are not as strong when a person is under stress.  I work in a high stress environment, especially around this time of year, and I don’t see how anyone can survive if they’re not allowed to ask questions, even if the answer is right in front of them.  What happened to patience?  What happened to kindness?  What happened to caring?
So, as a supervisor, I tried to speak up.  I tried to say something, but apparently defending other employees means that I’m undermining the authority of another supervisor.

I looked up the standards of business for my place of work.  The first thing that is covered is “the way we treat one another.”  And I wish I had read this sooner.  I wish I had refreshed my memory.  Because page one literally says that we have the right to work somewhere free of bullying and harassment.  Does anyone know how many employees have come to me feeling that they have been bullied or harassed?  Far too many.  And I felt that I couldn’t do anything, because my manager won’t do anything about hearsay.  The most important person’s word will always be the strongest, and that will never be me.

I quit my job.  I start my new one soon.  More pay and less responsibility, and hopefully I’ll be out of a depressing and painful environment.  But will it be enough?  I keep wondering if I should do something.  I know that I should do something.  I know what to do.  But I’m scared.  We’re all scared.  That’s why none of us have done it yet.

I have two weeks left.  Two weeks of feeling caught in the middle.  Two weeks of feeling like a pariah.  Two weeks left of trying.  So should I try?  Or will I be shut down?  I guess it’s time to find out.

In the In Between

Somewhere in the in between is where we’re living
Something  between friends and what comes next
Somewhere between secret adventures and just secrets

Terrified of the potential pain here
Between missed opportunity and committing too soon
Between the disappointment that comes with no and the publicity that comes with yes

In the privacy of these walls revelations happen
Between these sheets, new truths are told
And we’ll stay here, in between deception

Honesty and intimacy are holding hands now
Somehow finding safety in this insecurity
As we’ll live here, somewhere in the in between

Time Passes Differently

My mother died almost two months ago.  I’m not really sure where to go from here.  But I have some thoughts.  I always have some thoughts.

I spoke at her service.  I wrote a poem and shared some thoughts, along with a poem that she wrote more than 30 years ago.  It was something personal.  Not something I planned on dwelling on.
But people keep asking me to send it to them.  People keep asking for copies.  And I don’t even have it typed up.  I’m not sure that I was planning on typing it up.  Not for a long while.  I feel like asking that of me is a bit insensitive, isn’t it?  I write a lot of things.  Why is this the one thing people keep bugging me about?

So anyway, after all of the mess, I’ve decided to put it here.  Here’s a poem.

 

There is pain
And there is peace
Pain for something lost that words cannot do justice
Peace, because there is no more pain

Songs are sung freely now
Lungs are not aching for breath
Mountains are climbed with ease, now
No need to stop and rest

Adventures can still be had
She’ll go with you still
With every new experience
Delight is more than real

It’s okay to laugh
I’m sure she’s laughing more
In fact, she’s probably dancing now
Her feet never touching the floor

There is a freedom to be basked in
A joy, lighter than air
A truth in her heart she can finally know
The promised land she always dreamed of

I’ve heard time passes different now
So while we’re down here mourning
She spends no time waiting for time to catch up
Saying “I’ll see you in the morning.”

We have pain
She’s in peace
Words can’t do this justice
But remember her peace, now, as she learns to dance in the rain

In the Anyway

I forgive.  Some would say that I forgive too easily.  But I forgive as I have been forgiven.  I forgive as I would like to be forgiven. Maybe I follow the Golden Rule too closely.
In the midst of all of this mess though, in the midst of all of our mistakes, Christ loved us anyway.

In the Garden, Adam and Eve hid, because they knew they had disobeyed, and they knew God knew.  They had realized their nakedness.  And though punishment did follow, God never ceased to love them.  He loved them anyway.

Moses told God he couldn’t do it.  He needed help.  Aaron had to speak for him, because he believed he couldn’t.  He had a stutter.  In spite of his weakness, God loved him anyway.

Solomon asked God for wisdom.  With his wisdom, he did a lot of great things, but also made a lot of mistakes.  He established high places, and he worshiped other gods.  At the end of his life, he realized how meaningless it all was.  And God loved him anyway.

Israel was such a disobedient, easily manipulated nation.  God let them be taken captive, then restored.  They continued to break his heart.  Yet he loved them anyway.  So much that he sent his son, himself, to die.

Peter denied knowing the messiah.  And Christ loved him anyway.

Thomas had doubts.  Jesus loved him in them, anyway.

Anyway.

There has been an awkwardness, a hurt, in my recent life.  And I could choose to hold on to it, a grudge, that would only hurt my being.  Or I could let go.  I could forgive anyway.  I could love anyway.  As I have been loved anyway.

Blogging Everyday in July|A Poem about Someone’s American Dream

I had a friend who really got crushed before I met him.  It seems I tend to meet people in the aftermath.  Maybe because I’m constantly living in the aftermath.
Anyway, he came to mind after he told me his story about losing his American dream that snuck up on him.  He was ready for it, and it suddenly got pulled out from under him, and he’s still reeling in pain, he just hasn’t been able to accept it yet.
But maybe that was a long time ago.  I just felt like today was the time to share this.

Brick house
Picket fence
American dream

Had it all
Crushed in your palm
Can’t find it anymore

In your searching
It won’t be found
Your heart is still drowning

Time to dive into deep waters
Find yourself
Though this all is terrifying

Pull out your heart
Resurrection
What was lost will find you

It is far too easy
To be swallowed by anger
Especially with reason

You can’t just go back
To the way things were
The future lays ahead

Pride destroyed
Soul exposed
Let time heal you

It’s not fair in the moment
But someday you’ll look back
And smile

With your brick house
Picket fence
More than just a dream

Rose Field

You’re standing in a field
Feeling empty
But it’s full of roses
While you only see the thorns

Find beauty in what is causing you pain
There is no one left to blame
You are joy
Let them find you

You might be begging not to be chosen
Yet in this field
You are in full bloom
The most beautiful rose

Step out
You have grown
No one can see your thorns
Not anymore