Don't Give Up

(Lyrics)
When I look into your eyes
It's like watching the night sky
Or a beautiful sunrise
Well, there's so much they hold
And just like them old stars
I see that you've come so far
To be right where you are
How old is your soul?

Well, I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up

And when you're needing your space
To do some navigating
I'll be here patiently waiting
To see what you find

'Cause even the stars they burn
Some even fall to the earth
We've got a lot to learn
God knows we're worth it
No, I won't give up

I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily
I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make
Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use
The tools and gifts we got, yeah, we got a lot at stake
And in the end, you're still my friend at least we did intend
For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn
We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in
I had to learn what I've got, and what I'm not, and who I am

I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up, I'm still looking up.

Well, I won't give up on us (no I'm not giving up)
God knows I'm tough enough (I am tough, I am loved)
We've got a lot to learn (we're alive, we are loved)
God knows we're worth it (and we're worth it)

I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
_______________________________

Appropriate today. Every day. The love and faithfulness of brother to brother, friend to friend, parent to child, family to family... committed, believing.  Those who do not walk away easily, but stay, to make the difference, to love through the mud and rain, and into the sunshine.

Learning... what one has, what one is and is not, and who one is.

Alive. Loved.

Look up.

Is Love...

I close my eyes.

Imagining.

Love wakes me, his voice a low whisper in my ear, “Coffee, baby.”
Languid, I stretch, arching my back, and lazily grin.
Like the coffee’s steam, I rise.
Happy.
As I stand at the kitchen sink, lost in thoughts which float out through the window, a hand playfully grazes my bottom.
Giggle.
Early to work, I open my laptop and find a note “Thinking of you…”
Smile.
Flowers for no reason.
Corrective words in their season.
Kisses on my neck while I’m reading.
Love makes room, expands the circle to let me be me, never constricting but respecting the need for individuality within our bond.
Secure, I grow, reach up and out, and find my way.
Like a vine drawn to the light, I rise.
Nurtured.
Walking the streetside of the pavement, Love protects.
Truck door opened without any prodding.
Love’s lady.
Lady’s Love.
Sheltered from storms, and held in the eye.
Love gives good, and receives good from my hand, my heart.
Small consistent steps make Love’s journey.
The little things.
The “just because’s.”
The longing glances.
Long talks.
Silent steady walks.
The strong hand, warming my cold fingers.
The knowing, and understanding.
Through trial and fire.
Through passion and pain.
In mundane and ordinary.
The “here.”
Love wakes me.

I open my eyes.

Imagining.

Forever Autumn - Justin Hayward

A gentle rain falls softly on my weary eyes
As if to hide a lonely tear
My life will be forever autumn
'cause you're not here...

 -----

 Like the sun through the trees
you came to love me.
Like a leaf on a breeze
you blew away...

 -----

 A poignant melody from my childhood. I remember as a young girl, in the weeks before Christmas, being unable to sleep, and sneaking into our small living room to listen to my brother's record on the turntable. The whole house was asleep. Not I. The multicolored glow from the holiday bulbs was the only illumination, and the soundtrack was the "War of the Worlds" by Jeff Wayne on LP.  Transfixed by the lights, and drawn into the drama and horror of H.G. Wells' work of fiction, it was a heart-wrenching turn to hear the beautiful strains and Justin Hayward's voice so full of sorrow and longing in the middle of the action.  Even as a child, I wanted to reach into the story to comfort him and let him know he would see his love again.  Through the years, I've chanced to hear the song every now and again.  It moves me, and stirs my heart like the chilling autumn wind stirs the crisp leaves of November, just before the winter snows dampen them and they are trodden under foot.

 For those who grieve loss, and are longing, this song depicts November so aptly.

 ...forever autumn.

Through Tears

I ask “why?” so often.
Some questions will never be answered.
There is much I will never understand.
Even in prayer, in scripture, in meditation, and in silent waiting, I have found no explanation.

A little child.
Innocent.
Longing for love, for acceptance, for care, for safety...
Not only rejected, but damaged in indescribable and unspeakable ways by those who should have nurtured, protected, provided, and LOVED.

Why, God?

For what possible reason?

From whence come the blessing in these things?

The Shack, a book recently made into a movie, dealt with some similar subject matter and the loss of a child, dealt with forgiveness and peace after horrible tragedy.  I barely got through the book, and cannot/will not see the film.   I have to get up and leave a theatre, or burn a book I start, because of my visceral reaction if there is any harm or abuse of a child.  I remember becoming ill at one particular scene involving a child in American Sniper... having to hide my face, and make some noise to cover the sounds of it, wanting to throw up and run.

As a parent, I look at my youngest daughter and question how could anyone ever reject such a innocent and trusting angel? Let alone harm her?  She has a fierce protector in me.  I love her with everything I am, just as I love my older two. And yet how many children suffer at the hands of selfish, violent, and demented adults, even their own parents? How many cry into their pillows (if they even have them) at night so no one hears, or have become too numb to cry? How many bear the scars from wounds to their bodies and souls that no time or medicine can heal?

Why, God?

And what can I do? I tried to work in the field before but could not bear it for long, as my heart broke every day. How does one detach their heart (or hands?) from children who just want to be loved, especially as all my heart wanted to do was take them in my arms and love away their tears, wash away their pain, and see them whole?

I hear a cry, a scream, a pleading... and my heart aches in the dust, breaking.  The anger in me boils, wanting retribution for those who cannot defend or protect themselves.

Where is the blessing in those tears?

Why?

Waiting for an answer,

Allyson

You may never understand

Tongue-twisted and torn
Tempest tossed amid
Tornado turbulence

Tears

Time.

Tempted to turn

But truth!

Quiet and Tacit

Wait!
Fortitude
Strong
Determine

Trust.


A lot of alliteration to illustrate a heart.

Grace... and thanks

"They say beauty comes from a spirit that has weathered many hardships in life and somehow continues with resilience.  Grace can be found in a soul that ages softly, even amid the tempest.

I think the loveliest by far is the one whose gentle heart bears a hundred scars from caring, yet still finds a way to pick up the lamp, one more time, to light the way for love."

- susan frybort

This quote chokes me up, and causes my heart to swell in my chest.  

I think of my mother, and her precious spirit, who gave out of a scarred heart, never keeping a tally, never tiring in her prayers and devotion.

I think of the grace extended to me by those others may ridicule.

Beauty.

What is beauty to you?

Where does it reside?

Is it the face? the form? that which can be seen and desired?

or

Resilience?

Perseverance?

Grace?

Softly aging, even among the tempests?

Loveliness?

Gentleness?

Caring?

Finding a way (where others may see none)?

Lighting the way?

This is beauty.

This is love.

You may note that many questions, often rhetorical, are asked on this blog.

The author is inquiring, always wondering... and therefore asking.

The subject matter may seem all too similar.

Well... it is the path my thoughts tread.

Faulty, scarred, ugly even...
Yet aspiring to be counted among those like my mother.
Full of grace.

Heartfelt thanks to those who have continued to light my way to Love.

Watch love burn?

Haunting...

This song is magnetic and sensual, while simultaneously repulsive.

It amazes me what we can do (or not do) in the name of love... and what we call love.

Oh, but we romanticize the sexy struggle of self-made drama, the violence, and the turn-on of illicit "love."  All while scorning fidelity, commitment, and trust, passing these off as boring and dull.

Some take abuse, some give it, under the guise of love.
Some sacrifice all, some take all, for the sake of love.
Others lay down their lives, their hearts, while the object of their love walks over it, boots muddy...
Some speak words, some use fists, and say it is love.

Some call it a feeling.
I call feelings fleeting.
Some call it a choice.
I call it a conviction, an act of will.

Some mistake sex for love.
Saying passion defines the heart.
But sex is not love.
And passion has many faces.

Love is not pain.
Pain is pain.

And lies are not love.

Familiarity - Lamentations of the Heart

This is entitled "Lamentations of the Heart."  It sounds very much like a song I wrote back in 1988 when I moved to South Africa. Of course, Philip Wesley is a much more accomplished pianist than I, and he took his instrumental piece to the next level.  My song was written from the heart of a 18-year old, missing home, missing the one she left behind that said he would wait for her.

I never wrote the sheet music for it, but once in a while will sit at my mother's ancient upright piano, and my fingers well remember, and some of the words come back to me...

Groveling

In the past three days I have received phone calls and texts from close friends who are in very painful circumstances. These are some of the most capable, compassionate, intelligent, and cultured friends in my circle.  Having been through my share of challenges, and remembering their often hard-to-swallow exhortations ("Don't be a marshmallow, Allyson!" "Grow a spine!" "Have some self-respect!" and "You do not need to beg for crumbs, honey!"), it is somewhat strange to echo their words back to them.

One's spouse has cheated on her (with his ex-wife!) throughout their marriage, squandered her money, and flaunted his indiscretions among their community.  This man wants his cake and kibbles, too, and knows she would never initiate a separation or divorce.  My friend wants so badly to believe he will change, end his affair, and become the unicorn husband she thought she married.  Hopium is addictive, I know...

Another has enabled and given to her drug addicted sociopathic narcissist daughter til it hurts, only to have her love trampled upon, her generosity abused, items pilfered from her house, and attempts by her daughter to frame her with the law.  My friend wants a relationship with her daughter so badly, and admitted to begging, crying, and pleading with her daughter to let her "try to make amends, to make things right, and that she is so very sorry." (My friend's only "sin" was to finally set a boundary in her own home.)

We are wired for relationship.  It is intrinsic to our nature.  Wanting to love and be loved in return is part and parcel of the human condition.  Be it husband and wife, father to child, child to mother, siblings for each other, or friend to friend... relationships are where we find acceptance, sharpen each other, and (hopefully) experience meaningful bonds that see us through all the joys and sorrows of life.

This strong desire for relationship can often mask the reality of the other person's character.  There can be imbalances and unequally yoked bonds that are disregarded when smoking the hopium pipe.  If only one party has integrity, it is not absorbed and acquired through osmosis by the other party.  You cannot give character to someone, nor can you transmit integrity to another person who does not share your values.   To see my beautiful friends lower themselves to begging for crumbs from people who only betray and shame them, well, it is a travesty.  I want to shake them and say "Stop it! You are worth more than that!"  They are groveling in front of pigs.  Yes, that husband and that daughter are human beings with souls and, while there is breath, there is always hope. But they have revealed their character, clearly, and my friends need to guard their own hearts with some self-respecting boundaries.  They do not need to beg!  Their hearts, their love, their relationship - these are pearls!

Reaching

What do you hold in your hands?

Are you clenching tightly?

It may be you have reached a place of satisfaction, sitting with fists full of the stuff of life. Rich, fat, happy, full hands.  But wait! What's that you see over there? Want it?  Hmmmm... No room in those meaty hands. That grip is tight.  Might just have to relinquish your hold on something.  Frustrated?  Oooooh, but that goodie looks sooooooooo tasty. You drool. You want it!  Maybe, just maybe, you can fit one more sliver in your grasp?  Something may be damaged or ooze out between your fingers, should you attempt it.  Should you release a less desired thing and replace it with the new? Decisions... decisions...  

Or are your hands empty?
Are you reaching?  Forward? Or in reverse?
Longing, but never possessing.
There are times one may stand, a hand palm out to the future, and one palm down to the past.
Pulled by wants in both directions.  The tension is great. And typically, it is the present that suffers.

Or perhaps you cling to handholds on the rocky face of a present challenge.
For the moment you are safe, fingertips gripping, toes feeling for an indent in which to rest your weight, even for a breath of time.
Eyes search above, furtively, for the next reach, knowing time is short;  you cannot remain perched precariously, exposed and vulnerable.
You HAVE to press on, and up.  One hand at a time.
And at once there is one hand holding, and one hand reaching.
It's a wild ride, for sure.  

You may be rare.
An arm around your present, hand resting on the breast of your contentment.
The other arm stretching, inquiringly, into what lies ahead.

What's a heaven for, if not to reach towards? To strive?
Staying still is not an option, as the present becomes the past as the moment passes.

What do you hold?

A little Hump Day Happy

Gotta live and love like there's no such thing as a broken heart. 
Life is a risk.
Love is risky.
Fear of potential pain can hold you back from experiencing all the joys and blessings life has to offer.

So... just a Hump Day happy jam to get your smile on.
(and maybe, just maybe, to help you readjust your focus)
It's a sweet perspective.
Choosing.

A Man Who'll do to Ride the River With

Read this today and it made quite the impact.  It caused me to wonder not only if I have been this kind of friend, but also if I can count such a one among those I hold dear.

There is little more I can add to this article, other than to say I have wished for such a companion as described here.  And, as a goal, I aspire to be a person who will "do to ride the river with."

------------------------

By Stephen Bly

   1944 - 2011

Copyright©1993, 2009

In the Old West, a person’s reputation often meant the difference between survival and death. So, it was a guarded commodity.

For many cowboys, his reputation was the only thing of value he could rightly call his own. Lots of terms sprang up that described a man of good character. One of the more meaningful became the phrase “he’ll do to ride the river with,” the highest compliment paid to a cowman.

Back in the days of trail drives, cowboys had to swim thousands of heads of cattle across swollen and dangerous rivers. To make it across required riders of exceptional skill, courage, and level-headed thinking. You quickly learned who you could trust to ride those rivers with you.

You may have wished for that sort of companion.
A good decision maker...
One who keeps commitments...
A friend who stays cool in a crisis...
A partner who helps you cross the stream of trials, the river of troubles...
Someone who’s a stander, not a runner...
A person of faith who seeks God’s wisdom.

It’s a great goal for which to aim yourself: become a person who’ll do to ride the river with.

*************

Has there been that kind of friend for you?

Have you been that sort of friend for another?

~~~~~~~~~

'Tude?

“It never ceases to amaze me: we all love ourselves more than other people, but care more about their opinion than our own.”

― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

It's a selfie.  And that's supposed to show arrogance, right? Vanity? Some may think it is narcissistic and selfish.  Overly confident?  Or insecure and needing validation?  Well...

This particular photo was taken a little over a year ago, after having gone through a dark period in the Valley of the Shadow, and then emerging from the gloom into the sunshine once more! (I came across it while looking through my files, and it felt so timely and appropriate.) If there is one thing I've learned, contrary to the fairy tales and unicorn imaginings of so many, the only thing constant about Life is... change!  There are tempests not of our own making to be endured, and those storms which we create all by our little ol' selves (but for which some do not wish to take credit, eh?). There are circumstances that surround us over which we have no control, and circumstances we need to take responsibility for.  I have heard people lament "but he/she changed!" as if we are static creatures. In my opinion, we live a metamorphosis similar to that of the caterpillar to a butterfly. While we grow and develop, there are characteristics intrinsic to our being. Be aware, however, we have the ability to choose what qualities we feed, and whether virtue or vice. Then, it is the stuff of life that reveals who we truly are, reveals our mettle, as it were.  And that which we are in the dark will be exposed by the Light.

I fall. I strive. I smile. I laugh. I fail. I grow. And guess what... I like me!  Warts and all!  I have to live with myself in the Shadow, as well as in the Light.  And the mirror of my soul reflects a character worthy of respect and love and truth... Sure, I screw up. But it does not negate my value. There is no need to beg another to love me, or accept me, or to "pick me!"  No need to convince another of my worth. Those who wish to see it, will. Those who do not...?  It is not my job to advertise (laughing). There is an abundance of love within me, as well as grace and forgiveness.  It would be a mistake, however, to interpret that as weakness.

Some gems on which it is valuable to meditate:

• The "king of philosophers," stoic Marcus, remained in control of his emotions through believing nature unfolds in a perfect way and that one must accept they cannot change the past or what other people feel in their hearts.
• "Live in the present."  And, may I add, be truly present in your life, not lamenting or idolizing the past, neither dreaming away in an uncertain future fantasy.
• When you remove your feelings from how you perceive difficult events, you are able to have empathy for the people who disappoint you and acceptance for the losses you suffer.
• Consider the benefits of such stoicism, in which someone chooses to "transform fear into prudence, pain into transformation, mistakes into initiation, and desire into undertaking." In other words, by causing all things to benefit for the good in some way.  Yes, even the painful, nasty, ugly, hurtful things can result in something good if you choose how you react going forward - by growing in virtue and character.
• "Find peace with yourself."  You don't HAVE to go to the woods, or a mountain top, or a Valley which echoes your dreams when you whisper them, or a Buddhist monastery.  You can find it in the quiet of your own heart.  Just seek...
• Don't resent people for their character (or lack of...) If someone's character flaw has caused one of your problems, do not exert energy trying to change that person's character. Let things go.  "You might as well resent a fig tree for secreting juice," Marcus writes.
• I am responsible for my own happiness!  "Choose not to be harmed — and you won't feel harmed. Don't feel harmed — and you haven't been."  Similarly, do not let adulation from others overwhelm you.
• Do not define yourself by others' perception of you, since the only way someone can truly harm you is if they change your character.  Do not allow them to!  Hold fast to your integrity!!
• "You could leave life right now," Marcus writes. "Let that determine what you say and think."

The point of it all is that it is about a personal journey.  It is YOUR journey.  Others may walk beside you, yes. But the steps are YOURS. You, and you alone, are responsible for your choices and reactions. Do they draw you closer to the person you wish to be? the life you wish to live?  Do you like you?

That jut to my chin?   It represents whatever I choose it to... and I am happy. 😄

Congratulations! You've won the Golden Turd Award!

A timely gem of wisdom floated across my computer screen this morning. While crude, using humor, it reminded me from whence I came.  Thanks to six years of distance for providing perspective, I giggled in the remembering.  It was even more fitting that the original question came from an Allyson (yes, also with a "y") from Canada, and yet the similarity was purely coincidental.  I would like to note, that I do not believe in "no-fault" endings to a relationship; the individual should evaluate their life for weak areas in which they can grow that may have contributed to the situation, or to their negative reaction and pain.  It may be there are co-dependent issues, delusions, personal character flaws, a lack of healthy boundaries, or lack of genuine self-respect.  That in mind, read on (if you dare).  If it applies, draw knowledge. If not, file it away for a future time to encourage a friend, or to remind yourself of your worth. :-)

(WARNING:  unsavory language ahead)

NOTE:  The piece remains uncensored, as to redact would diminish its essence.

In Response to Allyson in Canada

Dear Allyson,

Okay, she won. She beat you in the pick me dance for fantastic fucktard prizes. You got the set of luggage. She got the fucktard.

What did she win? Well, by your own description — a desperately needy, cruel, and unstable man. Yippee.

Oh no! But somehow in your imagination when they’re together it’s happy and wonderful. Somehow he magically had a character transplant with maturity injections and became someone capable of commitment and deep joy. That guy who walked out on his little daughter and you — a guy who abandoned his family and betrayed his friend — that’s Mr. Happy. That’s your prize there.

Perhaps you’re new here, but we call that a sparkly turd. All the sugar frosting and colored sprinkles cannot disguise a dog turd. It’s still a dog turd.

He can dress it up anyway he wants to — she’s his Twu Wuv, it was something bigger than them both (a huge turd castle?), the heart wants what the heart wants — he’s still a turd. And she’s a woman who won a turd.

It’s not about you, Allyson. I’m sorry — that’s at once liberating and infuriating. You didn’t matter to him. Your daughter didn’t matter. That does NOT mean you do not matter. It means he is not the benchmark of your worthiness — he’s someone more at home with fellow turds.

But you invested in him! Surely that must mean something! It means you got chumped. You extract the painful life lessons, and you move forward. You loved someone undeserving of your love. It was a one-way street. It doesn’t mean you were less than, because you’re not her. Thank GOD you’re not her! Do you want to be someone with less moral sense than God gave badgers? Do you want to be saddled with a narcissist? There is nothing here to feel jealous about, because she is not enviable. She just thinks she is.

And he wants you to be jealous, because that’s the pick me dance, and that provides kibbles to the cheaters. So please, I know it’s hard right now, but stop giving a shit about them. Start focusing on your new turd-free life. And stop worrying about Ms. Won-a-Turd being around your daughter. You’re the mommy, that love is primal, no one takes that away from you. This is your chance to model to your daughter how to be a badass. How you don’t tolerate disrespect. How you rebuild and reinvent yourself when life kicks you in the teeth. Do not model pick me dancing and turd envy.

You’re going to be fine, Allyson. You got the luggage set. YOU won.

This column ran previously. And somewhere in Canada, some OW idiot won a turd. I’m sure that worked out for her… 

Chump Lady Answers