Ok, what it's all about.

I was betrayed. Lied to. Cheated on. Utterly destroyed.

I fell in love again, and I learned a lot. I also lost a lot.

Life is very fucking simple.

If you are not loved and cherished, you wither and die.

You can amuse yourself with hobbies, work and other pursuits.

But at the end of the day, if you are alone and unloved you have fucking nothing.

There is no amount of money on this earth that could make me happy.

It takes a hug and loving arms to do that.

That is all I want. All I need.

Anything else is the bonus round.

Finding God.

On a cold and hellish night in October, I sat at the computer in the cabin. Freezing from the cold, no space heater could get my body temperature to where it needed to be. It was 29 degrees outside. It was 29 degrees inside.

I was also suffering from withdrawal from alcohol. I shivered. I shook. I heaved.

I went to the bedroom and wrapped myself in a comforter and blankets. I was shivering. Shaking. I was convulsing. I could not stop the involuntary muscle contractions that my withdrawal was causing. I could not stop from being so cold.

With the very last bit of consciousness I had, I dialed 911.

I told them where I was. Deep in the woods, in the wilderness.
That I was suffering from hypotermia.

To please come get me.

40 minutes later, an ambulance was there. They took me on a ride. Put warming blankets on me. Took my vital signs. Gave me IV fluids.

It was a 45 minute ride.

I was heading up Route 17, in the dark. From Hancock NY to Binghamton.

A town that had just a month before had been devastated with floods.

The backed me into the hospital ER loading dock. They wheeled me in.

"I have no insurance" I told them.

The wheeled me to a room, in the ER.

The doctors monitored my vital signs, my levels. For many hours.

They informed me they had no detox unit anymore, that it was closed a year ago.

So, they let me sit there.

And go through the rest of it. Alone.

So I heaved, convulsed, shook and fucking died.

For hours.

My vital signs were good.

So, they gave me an Ativan.

Let me try to rest for a bit.

Then at 3AM, said they are discharging me.

"Do you have any way of getting home"

Uh, no.

I rode here from a mountain cabin for 40 miles in an ambulance. It is is now 3AM

"You can stay in our waiting area if you want" they told me.

So I did. For almost 2 hours.

There was a storm coming. A huge snowstorm. The were warning everyone to prepare for over a foot of snow. Starting this very morning.

My 2 dogs, and the last of the things I had, were still at the cabin.

So, I hired a cab.

To drive me in the pitch black. Back to the cabin. I was fortunate to have my wallet and cash, It cost me over 100 dollars.

Still shaking from the DT's, I arrived an hour before sunrise.

I got inside, packed the last of my things.

Waited for the beginning of daylight, because one of my headlights was out.

It was still 29 degrees in there. I kept moving. Kept active. Did all I could.

I got the car packed, somehow. I got the dogs in the back seat.

I got into the car. Praying to God to let me make it home.

With no sleep. Up for over 30 hours. After hours and hours of pure hell. Going through detox, with no aid.

I got behind the wheel.

And drove the 245 miles home.

Safe and sound. Calm and alert.

That is when God was there.

And that is when my faith returned.

I never would have made it. Without Him.

In a few hours, the storm came. And dumped 15 inches of snow at the cabin.

I would have died there.

Were it not for God. And a couple of His angels.

For the record. The hospital I was sent to, was the very same place my mother was born in, 85 years ago. She rode with me to the hospital. Even though she is gone almost 3 years now.

My Dream

In less than 20 months, I get a very nice pension from my former employer.

What will I do with that money?

Well, first off, 40 percent or so will go to my ex wife. She is hurting now, with serious medical issues. It will help her to have a life, a place to live and medical care.

The rest will go to the cabin property, and God willing, the property next door. I will preserve the cabin and land for my children and my brother's children.

I will hire someone to cut some paths through the spacious property (close to 20 acres, with a pond, swamp, woods and lakefront), for nature observation.

I will put out feeders, plant flowers and plants to attract birds and butterflies, and have a garden to grow crops and food for us who live there.

I will put out pathway lights, so we can search for the incredible moths who inhabit the dark, and the forest.

The Deer, Racoons, Black Bear and others will call this home. There will be food enough for the Herons, the songbirds, the migrants. Those just passing through.

And those of us, in our family, lucky enough to spend time there, will get to see it all.

We won't be spending our time on Jet Skis and power boats. We'll be savoring the wonder of nature. On our own private preserve. Our own refuge.

That is my dream.

I want to make that my reality.

I have 19 months to go.

Then.

It becomes real.

Out.

Of money.

Of a home.

Of a job.

Of luck.

Of happiness.

Of hope.

Of time.

Sweet Darkness

Sweet Darkness

When your eyes are tired

the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone

no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark

where the night has eyes

to recognize its own.

There you can be sure

you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your womb

tonight.

The night will give you a horizon

further than you can see.

You must learn one thing:

the world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds

except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet

confinement of your aloneness

to learn

anything or anyone

that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

David Whyte

For Grief

When you lose someone you love,

Your life becomes strange,
The ground beneath you becomes fragile,
Your thoughts make your eyes unsure;
And some dead echo drags your voice down
Where words have no confidence
Your heart has grown heavy with loss;
And though this loss has wounded others too,
No one knows what has been taken from you
When the silence of absence deepens.

Flickers of guilt kindle regret
For all that was left unsaid or undone.

There are days when you wake up happy;
Again inside the fullness of life,
Until the moment breaks
And you are thrown back
Onto the black tide of loss.
Days when you have your heart back,
You are able to function well
Until in the middle of work or encounter,
Suddenly with no warning,
You are ambushed by grief.

It becomes hard to trust yourself.
All you can depend on now is that
Sorrow will remain faithful to itself.
More than you, it knows its way
And will find the right time
To pull and pull the rope of grief
Until that coiled hill of tears
Has reduced to its last drop.

Gradually, you will learn acquaintance
With the invisible form of your departed;
And when the work of grief is done,
The wound of loss will heal
And you will have learned
To wean your eyes
From that gap in the air
And be able to enter the hearth
In your soul where your loved one
Has awaited your return
All the time.

-John O'Donohue

Butterfly Lane

Butterfly Lane

The first sound you hear is that of a rolling stream, just below this coarse dirt and gravel road, surrounded on both sides by steep hills, and populated by enormous Hemlock trees. Sitting high in the Catskill Mountains of NY, it is barely noted on maps, yet is has been the source of incredible beauty, wonderful adventures, and painful memories for me.

Butterfly Lane. Its real name is Peas Eddy Road, and it originates in the small village of Hancock, NY. At first it courses along the East Branch of the Delaware River, but then becomes a dirt road, and cuts into the mountains, as it meanders past a working maple farm, and then, towards…nowhere. There are perhaps a few homes along its entire length, owned by those who either wanted a spectacular view, or those who wanted to not be bothered by this modern world. Tucked away in a remote area, away from cars, people, and noise.

When you are there, you realize that there are folks who do not want to be bothered by your presence. That is why they are there. So, you tread carefully and respectfully as you go. They came here and built a home for a reason. To be far removed from society and the hustle and bustle of suburban life. Or perhaps they and their families always lived in these mountains, so it is natural for them. Either way, you respect their privacy. So when I go, I go with careful steps, consideration and quiet, if I am near any of their homes. There are “POSTED” signs everywhere, ignoring those is at your own peril. Most people here are armed, and trespassing isn’t a “misdemeanor” for them.

I’ve met a few of them. They are curious about what this old guy with a huge camera is doing. As far as I know, I am the only one who has ever gone here to photograph the wildlife and butterflies. Most of them are very nice. I had one man say, “Do you want me to kill them for you so they stop moving so much?” I told him “No thanks! I really want them alive!” He was a nice man, just joking with me. Then he asked me what I was doing. I told him that there are very rare butterflies here, and explained a little about what I was shooting and observing. He seemed mildly interested. After talking a while, we discovered we knew some of the same people from the area, and from Somerset Lake, where I have my cabin. A very nice man, he wished me well.

Then, I met a totally different kind of person. They have a gorgeous, huge log home on the river. I stopped just past their home to get a shot of a Canadian Tiger Swallowtail. They saw me out of my car, and yelled over to me. “What are you doing?” “What are you taking pictures of?” They clearly seemed concerned that someone was near their property with a camera. I yelled “Taking a photo of a BUTTERFLY, and I am a NATURE PHOTOGRAPHER” That seemed to put them at a bit more ease. They have a sign by their house telling people to please not stop there. (There is a spectacular river view from where their house is) I was well past their home, but still made them uncomfortable. They want their privacy. A man with a 400mm lens makes them nervous. Why they think I would care about them or their house is beyond me, but this is how people are. I finished taking my shots of this gorgeous butterfly, and went on my way.

In my travels, I have discovered something. People are often afraid of photographers. And I have learned never to point my lens at them. It’s like pointing a gun to some people. Like you are going to steal their soul, or worse, put their photo on Facebook. You have to be very respectful and circumspect when walking around with a camera and a monster lens. Makes people very nervous. When I am out there, I carry a U.S. Marines K-Bar fighting knife. If I could legally carry a sidearm, I would, because you just never know. Nature photography takes you into unusual and often very wild places. I figure being armed is prudent. And carrying a camera with a long lens makes people doing bad things, nervous. And there are people out there doing bad things. Like logging areas they aren’t supposed to.

I ran into one such man last year. He stopped his huge truck (Filled with logs) next to my car. Asked me if I was lost. (I have out of state license plates, so everyone assumes I have no idea where I am). I explained no, that I have been up here for the last 50 years, and own property here. He wanted to know what I was doing. I lifted my camera to show him, and said “Nature Photography”. He repeated what I said back to me with as a question. I said “Yeah, I take pictures of the butterflies and birds here”. He then went on to tell me that you can never be too careful, and you never know who you may run into in these parts. To which I replied, “That is why I am always ARMED”. At that point, he decided to leave. He was obviously worried that I might be some reporter or agent for the Forestry Service trying to catch people doing bad things. You never can be too careful when out in the wilderness. Either the Bears will get you, or some asshole with a chainsaw will think you’re from the government trying to catch them on camera.

If I get the chance to talk to curious strangers, I explain what I do. And that often breaks the ice and they turn from being wary of an invader, to being curious about the photos I take, and what I see in their area.

I am en explorer by nature. And nature is what is so evident here, on this winding little road, in the middle of nowhere. I come here for the butterflies. To photograph them. And what a treasure trove it is, on Butterfly Lane.

White Admirals, Eastern Commas, Question Marks, Common Ringlet, Hoary Comma, Red Spotted Purples, Meadow and Great Spangled Fritillaries, Baltimore and Harris’s Checkerspots, Monarchs, Sulphurs, Tiger Swallowtails, Hummingbird Moths, the list goes on.

The unique environment there makes for an amazing assortment. The woodland butterflies, the ones who love moist areas, those who prefer meadows with all sorts of flowers. It is a convergence of habitat, and in summer, it is beyond spectacular.

This place has special meaning to me. It is one of those places where the memories of your past live. And the long shattered dreams are brought back to you like a tidal wave. When my kids were small, my former wife and I would bring them here. To catch some butterflies for study. We would take them back to the cabin at the lake, and after a while, release them. I would sketch them before letting them go. Those days were filled with smiles and laughter. A happy family, on vacation in this beautiful locale, enjoying nature. And then, it all ended. Today, I am divorced 6 years. My children are grown. Our house, our future, our planned retirement, our marriage, all gone.

When I pull onto that road now…every single time. I see our minivan parked there. My kids still young running around with butterfly nets, my wife there with me. It is the price I pay now to see and photograph the gorgeous butterflies that live here. I get to face a past that is long gone, and a future that will never be. And truth be told, that is why I do what I do now with such vigor and energy. It is a search for peace and beauty in the midst of a very painful and shattered life.

I stopped using a net a long time ago. Now, I capture them in all their glory with a camera, and an incredible piece of glass. The things I have seen and photographed astonish even me.

I can’t not go there. With all the pain of the past, it is still the place where the butterflies live. So, each time I go, I push through the tears, dry my eyes and my viewfinder, and look for those amazing butterflies. Every time I pull over, and turn off the engine in my car, I hear the rolling stream. I feel the cool air on my face as I step out of the car. I look over at the hillside, and there they are. Fluttering from flower to flower, landing on the dirt to soak up moisture, or nectaring on the salts of the earth.

I place the camera to my eye, and the journey of discovery begins again. The excitement builds. What will I see today? What new rarity might I find? I walk over anxiously to a flower where I see some action…and there he is. A gorgeous Baltimore Checkerspot! I focus, I fire. I’ve captured him!

These are the moments of not only my past, but of a lifetime of exploration and discovery, observing the incredible life that flourishes here. Working hard to get that shot and to see those incredible creatures, and to capture forever the image of one of God’s amazing creations.

On a road hardly traveled, tucked away in ancient mountains, with thousands of butterflies hardly noticed by anyone. I go there to see and admire them and take their picture.

The hardest part is wiping the water from my eyes, before I fire that first shot.

Welcome.

To Butterfly Lane.

Facing Death

The last car ride.

I take my faithful and loving best friend.

I put her in the back of my car.

My wife is with me.

She has no idea where we are going.

We are going to the vet.

To end her life.

The tears pour from the moment I get in the car.

We bring her inside the office.

I carry her.

In my loving arms.

We go into the room with the doctor.

The man I have known for 20 years.

He says we are doing the right thing.

I hold her in my arms.

The doctor gets out a syringe.

I hold her tight.

I tell her I love her. That I am so sorry.

And watch her die.

The Positive and the Negative.

What will win?

Will the pain of loss and crisis crush us. Or will our spirit prevail.

Can we overcome any obstacle?

Can we. Can I.

Have a real life, where happiness dominates misery?

I don't have the answer yet.

What I will say is this.

Of late I have rededicated myself to the good. To be optimistic, to work at something productive. To share good tidings. To look at the good.

While at the same time, virtually everything around me. Every person I loved. Everything. Falls apart in a smoldering ash heap.

When I look at just the facts.

My father now in debt to the IRS for an insane amount of money. The risk is the loss of his home, and the cabin and lake property I and my family hold so dear.

My ex wife. No matter the strife she caused me.

With a degenerative disease that will slowly rob her of the ability to have a normal life. Taking from her the motor skills to write. To walk. To speak properly. And eventually, to breathe.

I am almost out of unemployment insurance.

I am going to beg my company for a hardship release of money that I would normally be able to collect in 20 months.

I am working with all I have to try to stay positive.

I keep up the fight.

What I want more than anything on this Earth.

What I miss more than all I can say.

Is to one day again be able to come HOME.

Rest my weary body.

Hang my hat.

In a place where...

The bills are all paid.

We are all healthy.

There are smiles a plenty

There is a hot meal coming.

The house is ours.

And there is love, and happiness.

Where the positive outweighs the negative.

Where hope is finally realized.

And not crushed under foot. Or burned on a funeral pyre.

My Manifesto.

To my daughter, Jenni - Stop choosing fucking losers for boyfriends, stop feeling bad about yourself and realize your potential. You are gorgeous, sharp, incredibly intelligent and talented. Stop selling short. LIVE your fucking life and stop hanging on to assholes and losers who bring you down.

To my son, Billie - Keep working hard and striving to do great things. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you can't. Just keep on kicking ass. Nothing made me swell with pride more than to see you perform with the Caballeros and go to the championship finals with that world class corps. You are world class. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

To my ex-wife - I am sorry for your pain, loss and and the things you endure now. I loved you with all my heart, even though I wasn't always the best husband. I am sorry that you turned to others for attention, when you could have saved what we had. With just a little love and tenderness and understanding. I pleaded with you until the end, to save what we had, and to be able to have a life together. It was not to be.

To my father - You are a mixed bag. On one hand, the helper. The man who always comes through. The guy who never quits. The only problem is, you took control in return. Enough said.

To my brother - After seeing what infidelity did to my family, you go and do the same to yours. You will be forgiven when you do right, and make amends. Not before. I do not hold out any hope for this, because you are weak and selfish. Our mother would fucking hate you for what you have done. You live with that shame.

To my other brother - You are wise and you have shown me so much. When I was young, I thought you were the wild one. As I have aged, I have seen your love, kindness and wisdom. Thank you for that. You're crazy, but you're my kind of crazy. I will never forget the time we spent in San Francisco. What a ride!

To my mother - I miss you more than I can ever say.

To my friends - Thank you for standing by me. Those who have. Even though I have not always behaved well. The fact that you are still here for me speaks volumes.

To those who left - it was for a reason. I may not have been the nicest person. But I spoke from my heart. You didn't want to hear it. But in the end, it was the truth. I never lied. I told you what I felt and thought. It was harsh at times. But it was what you needed to hear.

To those I have hurt - I am profoundly sorry. I will do what I can to make amends if you let me. If you won't, then I will bear the burden of my actions.

To me.

I am above all else, a passionate, emotional and creative man. My love is in nature and the birds, and I will be true to that person. I won't go to my grave as some computer expert who had a good job. I am worth more than that.

Time to move on.

I just sent my last 60 dollars to my daughter, Express mail. She moved in with some loser in Brooklyn, NY, in the slums. No job for either of them, living in a shit hole. Why? I have no clue.

My ex wife keeps contacting me and wanting to know when the money will be coming for the rent for her.

She's suffering from a degenerative neurological condition now, that threatens her motor skills. I feel bad about that, and about what she is facing. But am I the knight in shining armor who is going to save her?

No.

I am an unemployed older man with no resources. (thanks in great part to her).

My father sends me an email yesterday.

Tells me that I need to survive to 55 (when I can get my pension), because he and I and the ex need that money.

That pretty much sealed it for me.

I'm moving on.

I have new birds to photograph, and a new life to build.

I won't be sticking around to see how that fucking disaster plays out.

You know, sometimes, you just have to leave it all behind.

And I am.

New photos and new birds await. I can't wait to post about them here.

It's time I started living.

Instead of dying.

Where I live.

You will find me in the quiet.

The woods before sunrise.

The edge of the marsh, with just the wind blowing gently,
The birds calling.

You'll not hear me

But you may see me there.

Should you venture into my world.

If you come, do so with soft steps, and hushed voices.

For it is here that I live.

And here that I train my cameras on the inhabitants of this beautiful world.

I wish to take nothing but their picture.

To be privilege and heir to millions of years of life and evolution.

For me it is a blessing most kind. To see the lives of these incredible creatures.

The birds.

They soar past me without effort, held aloft by their will and strength and the force of wind and air I cannot see.

What it must be like for them to see me standing here, anchored to the ground. Wishing I could so much as join them for a day. To see what they see. To feel the wind under my wings. To make an effortless turn and reach for the heavens, or dive swiftly like a missile towards the ground, only to pull up at the last second.

Sometimes I swear, I can see them smile at their own prowess.

This is where I live.

Among them.

I can never join them in the air. Though I dearly wish I could.

What I hope to do is to learn more about them.

To witness their amazing lives.

I have seen so much. So many incredible things.

My legacy, should I be so bold as to even proclaim that I have one...

Is to show you their world. Show you just how amazing and at times, awe inspiring it is.

I live there.

I'll show you.

Reflection on this life.

I have spent the last 5 days without power. No running water. Alone. Quiet beyond quiet, here in the mountains of New York State.

A beautiful setting to be sure.

Ravaged by a hurricane and over a dozen inches of rain, entire towns were wiped off the map.

I have 3 downed trees. One hit the garage. No damage thankfully. Could have been much worse.

I lost some food I had in the fridge. Not a lot, but for me, any loss hurts. I have so little money.

I spent 5 nights in total quiet. Not a sound. Not a voice. Pitch black except for a small oil lamp and a candle.

I learned a lot.

I learned who my friends are.

And who are not.

I learned that my father would rather have me STAY here in the dark, than return to his house.

I learned that my ex-wife's biggest concern is still whether or not I will have the rent money.

I won't.

I will have maybe half.

Why?

Because I needed food. Water. Ice.

So sorry. I have to survive. I guess I should just starve to death to pay.

To pay

and pay

and pay

and pay

So when does it become enough?

Now.

I have changed in these last 5 days.

I am angry.

And there are those among you say that anger is not the answer.

Well, yes it is.

You're wrong.

And I will tell you why you are wrong.

Because your life is comfy. Because you have not lost on this scale or even fucking close to it.

You think I need to be calm, cool and collected.

Nope.

I need to be angry, vitriolic, and violent.

Because that is what this situation demands.

It has come down to my survival.

Something NONE of my friends can speak to. For none of you have this experience, save for those of you who went to war. (for which I will be forever grateful).

But the rest?

You live in your homes, with your jobs and your kids.

You have comfort and security. You have a life. Even a basic life, but still.

Am I bitter? Oh fucking hell yes.

I was taken to the cleaners by a woman and the courts of this state, and laid to waste. I was destroyed.

The stress killed everything I had. My job, career and future.

I spent 5 days in the dark up here in the middle of nowhere.

And I come back from that with a vengeance.

I will not yield.

An not one soul will take one more thing from me.

I am done.

If you have issue with me, bring arms.

Because I will be loaded for bear.

The normal way never leads home.

If you could imagine the most incredible story ever, it would be less incredible than the story of being here. And the ironic thing is that story is not a story, it is true.

It takes us so long to see where we are. It takes us even longer to see who we are. This is why the greatest gift you could ever dream is a gift that you can only receive from one person. And that person is you yourself.

Therefore, the most subversive invitation you could ever accept is the invitation to awaken to who you are and where you have landed.

When your soul awakens, you begin to truly inherit your life. You leave the kingdom of fake surfaces, repetitive talk and weary roles and slip deeper into the true adventure of who you are and who you are called to become.

The greatest friend of the soul is the unknown. Yet we are afraid of the unknown because it lies outside our vision and our control. We avoid it or quell it by filtering it through our protective barriers of domestication and control.

The normal way never leads home.

Once you start to awaken, no one can ever claim you again for the old patterns. Now you realise how precious your time here is. You are no longer willing to squander your essence on undertakings that do not nourish your true self; your patience grows thin with tired talk and dead language.

You see through the rosters of expectation which promise you safety and the confirmation of your outer identity. Now you are impatient for growth, willing to put yourself in the way of change. You want your work to become an expression of your gift.

You want your relationship to voyage beyond the pallid frontiers to where the danger of transformation dwells. You want your God to be wild and to call you to where your destiny awaits.

.

The journey shows you that from this inner dedication you can reconstruct your own values and action. You develop from your own self-compassion a great compassion for others.

You are no longer caught in the false game of judgement, comparison and assumption.

More naked now than ever, you begin to feel truly alive. You begin to trust the music of your own soul; you have inherited treasure that no one will ever be able to take from you.

At the deepest level, this adventure of growth is in fact a transfigurative conversation with your own death.

And when the time comes for you to leave, the view from your death bed will show a life of growth that gladdens the heart and takes away all fear.

- John O'Donahue -

To the heart.

My mother died from COPD and lung cancer, complicated by years of alcoholism and of course, smoking.

People say...she should have taken better care of herself.

When in reality.

People should have taken better care of her.

Just what is life?

Today I did some research on my physical condition. Severe edema of the legs.

Alcohol abuse for 3 straight years.

Hepatitis when I was 13...adding to the issues.

My liver is failing.

If I don't do something now, I will die. As sure as the sun will rise tomorrow.

I can see all the signs.

Nobody is here to help me.

They all NEED me.

They can't help.

So I am heading back to the cabin.

With a plan.

And one last ditch effort to save myself.

It's just God and Me.

I pray for the strength to reclaim my life, and to heal.

Waiting

Waiting

by..Leza Lowitz

You keep waiting for something to happen,
the thing that lifts you out of yourself,

catapults you into doing all the things you've put off
the great things you're meant to do in your life,

but somehow never quite get to.
You keep waiting for the planets to shift

the new moon to bring news,
the universe to align, something to give.

Meanwhile, the pile of papers, the laundry, the dishes the job --
it all stacks up while you keep hoping

for some miracle to blast down upon you,
scattering the piles to the winds.

Sometimes you lie in bed, terrified of your life.
Sometimes you laugh at the privilege of waking.

But all the while, life goes on in its messy way.
And then you turn forty. Or fifty. Or sixty...

and some part of you realizes you are not alone
and you find signs of this in the animal kingdom --

when a snake sheds its skin its eyes glaze over,
it slinks under a rock, not wanting to be touched,

and when caterpillar turns to butterfly
if the pupa is brushed, it will die --

and when the bird taps its beak hungrily against the egg
it's because the thing is too small, too small,

and it needs to break out.
And midlife walks you into that wisdom

that this is what transformation looks like --
the mess of it, the tapping at the walls of your life,

the yearning and writhing and pushing,
until one day, one day

you emerge from the wreck
embracing both the immense dawn

and the dusk of the body,
glistening, beautiful

just as you are.

Especially Pogniant

The predominant silence in which the animal world lives is very touching. As children on the farm, we were taught to respect animals. We were told that the dumb animals are blessed. They cannot say what they are feeling and we should have great compassion for them. They were tended to and looked after and people became upset if something happened to them. There was a great sense of solidarity between us and our older brothers and sisters, the animals. One of the tragedies in Western religion is the way that we have been so elitist in reserving the spiritual exclusively for the human. That is an awful, barbaric crime. When you subtract the notion of self from a presence, you objectify it and then that presence can be used and abused. It is a sin and blasphemy to say that animals have no spirits and souls. One of the cornerstones of contemplative life is going below the surface of the external and the negativity. The contemplative attends to the roots of wrong and violence. Because the animals live essentially what I call the contemplative life, maybe the most sacred prayer of the world actually happens within animal consciousness. Secondly, sometimes when you look into an animal's eyes, you see incredible pain. I think there are levels of suffering for which humans are not refined enough, and maybe our older, ancient brothers and sisters, the animals, carry some of that for us.

We recognize compassion in the willingness of someone to imagine himself into the life of another person. We recognize its presence in the withholding of huge negative moralistic judgment. We see compassion in the expression of mercy, in the refusal to label someone with a short-circuiting terminology that condemns her, even though her actions may be awkward. We see compassion in an openness to the greater mystery of the other person. The present situation, deed or misdeed is not the full story of the individual, there is a greater presence behind the deed or the person than society usually acknowledges.

When the rhythm of the heart becomes hectic,
Time takes on the strain until it breaks;
Then all the unattended stress falls in
On the mind like an endless, increasing weight,

The light in the mind becomes dim.
Things you could take in your stride before
Now become laborsome events of will.

Weariness invades your spirit.
Gravity begins falling inside you,
Dragging down every bone.

The tide you never valued has gone out.
And you are marooned on unsure ground.
Something within you has closed down;
And you cannot push yourself back to life.

You have been forced to enter empty time.
The desire that drove you has relinquished.
There is nothing else to do now but rest
And patiently learn to receive the self
You have forsaken for the race of days.

At first your thinking will darken
And sadness take over like listless weather.
The flow of unwept tears will frighten you.

You have traveled too fast over false ground;
Now your soul has come to take you back.

Take refuge in your senses, open up
To all the small miracles you rushed through.

Become inclined to watch the way of rain
When it falls slow and free.

Imitate the habit of twilight,
Taking time to open the well of color
That fostered the brightness of day.

Draw alongside the silence of stone
Until its calmness can claim you.
Be excessively gentle with yourself.

Stay clear of those vexed in spirit.
Learn to linger around someone of ease
Who feels they have all the time in the world.

Gradually, you will return to yourself,
Having learned a new respect for your heart
And the joy that dwells far within slow time.

- John O'Donahue -

To live the life I would love.

I bless the night that nourished my heart

To set the ghosts of longing free

Into the flow and figure of dream

That went to harvest from the dark

Bread for the hunger no one sees.

All that is eternal in me

Welcome the wonder of this day,

The field of brightness it creates

Offering time for each thing

To arise and illuminate.

I place on the altar of dawn:

The quiet loyalty of breath,

The tent of thought where I shelter,

Wave of desire I am shore to

And all beauty drawn to the eye.

May my mind come alive today

To the invisible geography

That invites me to new frontiers,

To break the dead shell of yesterdays,

To risk being disturbed and changed.

May I have the courage today

To live the life that I would love,

To postpone my dream no longer

But do at last what I came here for

And waste my heart on fear no more.

The Journey

Every time you leave home,
Another road takes you
Into a world you were never in.

New strangers on other paths await.
New places that have never seen you
Will startle a little at your entry.
Old places that know you well
Will pretend nothing
Changed since your last visit.

When you travel, you find yourself
Alone in a different way,
More attentive now
To the self you bring along,
Your more subtle eye watching
You abroad; and how what meets you
Touches that part of the heart
That lies low at home:

How you unexpectedly attune
To the timbre in some voice,
Opening in conversation
You want to take in
To where your longing
Has pressed hard enough
Inward, on some unsaid dark,
To create a crystal of insight
You could not have known
You needed
To illuminate
Your way.

When you travel,
A new silence
Goes with you,
And if you listen,
You will hear
What your heart would
Love to say.

A journey can become a sacred thing:
Make sure, before you go,
To take the time
To bless your going forth,
To free your heart of ballast
So that the compass of your soul
Might direct you toward
The territories of spirit
Where you will discover
More of your hidden life,
And the urgencies
That deserve to claim you.

May you travel in an awakened way,
Gathered wisely into your inner ground;
That you may not waste the invitations
Which wait along the way to transform you.

May you travel safely, arrive refreshed,
And live your time away to its fullest;
Return home more enriched, and free
To balance the gift of days which call you.

~ John O'Donohue ~

From a dear friend.

So much of what delights and troubles you
Happens on a surface
You take for ground.
Your mind thinks your life alone,
Your eyes consider air your nearest neighbor,
Yet it seems that a little below your heart
There houses in you an unknown self
Who prefers the patterns of the dark
And is not persuaded by the eye's affection
Or caught by the flash of thought.

It is a self that enjoys contemplative patience
With all your unfolding expression,
Is never drawn to break into light
Though you entangle yourself in unworthiness
And misjudge what you do and who you are.

It presides within like an evening freedom
That will often see you enchanted by twilight
Without ever recognizing the falling night,
It resembles the under-earth of your visible life:
All you do and say and think is fostered
Deep in its opaque and prevenient clay.

It dwells in a strange, yet rhythmic ease
That is not ruffled by disappointment;
It presides in a deeper current of time
Free from the force of cause and sequence
That otherwise shapes your life.

Were it to break forth into day,
Its dark light might quench your mind,
For it knows how your primeval heart
Sisters every cell of your life
To all your known mind would avoid,

Thus it knows to dwell in you gently,
Offering you only discrete glimpses
Of how you construct your life.

At times, it will lead you strangely,
Magnetized by some resonance
That ambushes your vigilance.

It works most resolutely at night
As the poet who draws your dreams,
Creating for you many secret doors,
Decorated with pictures of your hunger;

It has the dignity of the angelic
That knows you to your roots,
Always awaiting your deeper befriending
To take you beyond the threshold of want,
Where all your diverse strainings
Can come to wholesome ease.

John O'Donohue

Averted Vision

It's a technique you can use with your eyes, to intentionally focus slightly aside of the thing you want to see. What it does is allow the more light sensitive areas of your retina to capture more of the scene. Especially good when looking at stars, or dim objects.

For me, for the last few years...

I have been using this.

To see the better parts of life more clearly. To look away from the center. To be able to see things that otherwise would not have been as clear.

One thing about averted vision.

You have to look away from what you want to see. Just by a hair.

In the process, you have to look away from those things that can distract you.

For me, that means.

My father.

My ex wife.

They have their needs.

And they are not in line with mine.

Let me make this abundantly clear.

I do not care about your needs, Dad. Not at all.

I do not care about your needs, my ex wife. Not at all.

I have born the burden for too many years.

I am averting my vision.

To see what I need to see.

And neither of you are in view.

Good versus Evil

Been pondering and discussing this subject a lot lately, with close friends.

And it has been the definition of my life.

Some of the evil I battled was within myself at one time. Ferreting out demons that plagued me.

But now, it has grown to be so much larger than that.

I am at the center of a circle.

With an encroaching horde of barbarians. Looking to lay me low. And not just me. Attacking those who have befriended me. Those who support me. Those who love me.

In the last few months and weeks my eyes have been opened to it.

And they are ramping up their efforts. Becoming bolder. Attacking. Openly.

Trying to take all the good. And destroy it. For their selfish ends

In the last few years, I have been painfully looking for the right path.

When I make a mistake in judgment, or try to take control, the universe kicks my ass. Of late, in a huge, unmistakable way.

I am still waking up to what this is all about. Trying to learn to see what the right choices are

For me and my life. My future. And how that relates to the people I love.

Clearly now there are signs everywhere. I am picking up on them. Understanding what is going on. What people are doing and why.

And inevitably, my conclusion is very simple.

There is a battle being waged. A test of wills, but more than that.

A test of faith and of love, and of the combined power of loving friends.

I am now aware.

And I now see.

And my answer to evil is simple.

Dead silence.

The People I have Met

During this journey.

The best among them. All wounded souls. All people with great loss, heartache and obstacles.

So very many

So incredibly talented.

They have turned to nature for their peace. For their calm. For their life.

Some are photographers like me.

Others bring birds to life by carving them from wood, to the point where you swear they could take flight at any moment.

Some write beautiful poems. Inspiring words. Heartfelt.

Some just close their eyes, and listen. And connect.

All of us. My friends.

Have lost.

Almost everything.

Marriages.

Jobs.

Their health.

But we all share one thing.

We connect.

With nature. With the outdoors.

With our soul.

With each other.

I love you all.

Of Black Skimmers and Thunderstorms.

After a grueling day at the job from hell, two Summers ago...

I made the 80 mile drive after work to the refuge.

The sun was getting low. The light was wonderful.

I drove down Wildlife drive, to the first gate. And to my surprise, not another soul was there. Nobody but me at this beautiful place.

The wind was cool and the breeze was light...thanks to a thunderstorm that was creeping in from the west.

I shut off my car, and got out.

I stood at the gate....took a deep breath. And just soaked it all in.

The sounds of distant thunder were echoing.

The Black Skimmers were skimming and barking their adorable calls.

And I was alone with them. And all of this. Just me.

It was a magical moment. One I will treasure forever.

I got no good photos. The light was on the wrong side.

But it didn't matter.

It was just me and the splendor of nature.

There is nothing on Earth like this.

I heard the Skimmers call. The thunder rolled. The wind on my face and arms.

Caressing me.

I was home.

To be held

Loneliness has been a part of my life now for years. I have had no one to hold, and no one to hold me. For a very long time.

You start to starve for it. You weaken without it.

For the longest time now, I have found solace in my photography. In being out there. In talking with my friends, online.

And no matter what. Nothing takes the place of simple human touch. Of arms around me. Of a gentle stroking of my skin.

The hardest part of the last few years is not the stresses of alimony, my lack of a job or a home.

It is the silence.

And the absence of a hug.

To be held.

My Birthday

Was today.

53 years old.

Today, I got to see the dreams I once had in the form of another family. What I could have had. What I always wanted. A gorgeous yard filled with plants and gardens and bird feeders. Nature. Beauty. A beautiful loving family, with incredible children. All living that life I so wanted. In every way. It was like looking at the parallel universe. The one where I got to have all I wanted from life, instead of losing everything I had.

I almost lost it there. I almost just broke down. At one point, when their teenage son was showing me around with his back to me, the tears started coming. Took all I had to not go there.

I saw all that I had ever dreamed of. Love, affection, family, harmony. The love of nature, and the birds.

That same family treated me with love and incredible generosity. Just fantastic people, with big hearts. They are all cherished friends.

It was an incredibly emotional day.

Dozens upon dozens of birthday wishes came in from friends on Facebook. Many kind words, hugs, and I love you's.

I spent the afternoon at the refuge, with my cameras. It was a tough day there. Lots of ignorant, stupid and arrogant people. Stressing the birds. (and me). They don't belong there. It's a refuge. Not a playground. That is why the government should not be in the business of managing them. They believe they have to be public recreation lands.

So cyclists, joggers, and complete assholes who could not care less about the wildlife there, use the drive and the trails as their "park".

All in all...it was the generosity of my friends who saved the day for me.

I have one hell of a hard road ahead. They made it just a little easier.

And for that I am grateful.

My birthday has been a source of pain for a number of years now. Associated with the worst betrayal and duplicity I have ever experienced.

While I saw today all that could have been, and it nearly broke me.

It also gave me hope.

As the world races by....

Bin Laden is dead. The US got him after 10 years.

Hundreds of thousands of lives lost. Trillions of dollars spent on war.

For what?

I am not sad to see him gone. But I have to wonder.

We are racing by. We are careening ahead like a runaway train.

Not only in our country's pursuit of terrorists, and of securing an oil supply.

But for most Americans, in their everyday lives.

I have opted out of the "system".

I won't ever again slave for a corporate master.

I won't every again race down the Garden State Parkway at insane, death-defying speeds to get to work.

I don't care about a big house. A great car, or the two week vacation in Belize.

But almost everyone does.

They toil, they rush, they race. To work. To home. Get the kids to practice for one of 13 programs they are enrolled in.

Run! Go! Get there! This is life, right? Go for it. Move, move, move!! Gotta get home. Gotta get to work. Gotta get the kids out to wherever the fuck they have to go.

Let me see, I have 3.25 hours free on Sunday! Lets go to the park, or the zoo. Then lets make sure to get home, because we need to be there in time to watch American Idol!

Fuck this world.

This is not living. This is a race to the end. And nobody gets to take anything with them.

I've checked out.

You can all race by me. I will be the one in the right lane, doing the speed limit, trying to be safe from all of you insane assholes.

Instead.

I am going to walk through the rest of my life.

With a camera in my hands. With my eyes and ears open to the living world around me.

And I will reach down and feel the moist earth beneath me.

And maybe if I am lucky, I will coax a butterfly to crawl onto my finger. So that I might marvel at the inredible beauty of God's creation.

While the rest of you race home. Race to work. Race to wherever the hell you think you need to be.

I will stop.

And take it all in.

Because life is worth more than to see who gets to the finish line first.

We only get one shot at this.

I choose the road less traveled.

Somewhere....

Somewhere in my many sealed boxes that sit in this house is a fossil I collected as a child.

Somewhere in that pile are all of my clothes.

Somewhere in there, I might be able to find that hummingbird feeder that needs to be put out for my feathered friends.

Somewhere, at the Cabin in the still frozen garage sits the kitchen table I used to have dinners at with my daughter.

Somewhere in my boxes, are all the cards my kids gave me for my birthdays.

Somewhere.

Somewhere in the carted up, boxed up and stored remnants of the years past is my life.

The few precious things I have left are sealed and stored. Waiting for their owner to open up and fill a home, a yard and a life that sits on hold.

They have been in boxes and storage sheds for far too long.

My wind chimes need to feel the breeze and sing their song.

My bird feeders need to be hung so that my friends can enjoy their seed.

My gorgeous rocks and minerals need to be on shelves so that others can marvel at their beauty and the millions of years it took for their creation.

My life needs to be opened up, and set free.

Home for the Holidays.

Tomorrow is Easter Sunday.

It used to mean a lot. But, I am no longer a Christian, and I do not follow the ordained or organized religions. So, that meaning to me is no longer relevant.

But the holiday times used to be one of family. We'd all get together and feast. Talk. Laugh, and enjoy.

It seems as if that was another lifetime now.

My mom is gone more than two years. How I miss her. More than I can ever explain.

My dad has a girlfriend. He will be spending the holiday with her, her kids, and grandkids, at her immaculate, impossibly clean house.

I am sitting here in my father's (and formerly my mom's) house. It is a mess. And it is cluttered to the point that those house cleaning shows like "Hoarders" would have a seizure over if they saw it.

My ex has her own home, and lives with my son. She has a sort-a boyfriend that may be a part of her holiday celebrations.

My daughter has moved in with a friend, 3 states away.

So, I will do this.

I am cooking a great meal.

I will spend Easter with my mom.

She deserves to not be left alone.

For my mom.

A number of years ago.

There was a Daily News radio show on WOR radio in NYC. They were the editors and others from the Newspaper. They had a talk radio show late in the day.

I used to listen on the way home from work.

One day.

The primary topic was about a Whale that was stranded near Point Barrow, Alaska.

The editors and the newspaper gurus were all decrying how we were spending money and effort to save this Whale.

They decried that this is nature, and this is the way life goes.

So, as I drove home from work, I listened to the callers to the show.

And then.

I hear my mother's voice.

She got up the guts to call the station. To voice her opinion.

They were hard on her.

The ridiculed her.

But what she said echoed in my brain to this day.

She said.

We are the most intelligent species on this planet.

And what we do to save other life forms from disaster.............

Is because we were cast with being stewards of the life on Earth.

Not dominion.

The bible tells us we have dominion over the other creatures on this Earth.

But it was lost in translation.

There is a world of difference.

Dominion is for rulers and Kings.

Stewardship is an obligation to keep the lives of those we cherish as paramount. To keep them well. To help them. To bring them to safety.

She understood this.

The radio personalities denigrated her, as I listened.

But my mom held fast.

She said, we are blessed with the grace of God. We are obligated to reach out an help those less than we.

For in that, we are more Godlike.

God Bless you mom.

You knew. You understood.

And so do I.

Butterfly Lane.

There is a road.

Barely a road.

It courses through the Catskill mountains, near Hancock, NY. It has a few names. Peas Eddy Road. Newman Road.

It's made of dirt and gravel. Very few people ever drive it. It is barren, and cuts through some of the most beautiful country you have ever seen.

On one side of the road is a mountain stream. At some points it is 40 or more feet below the road. There are no guardrails. On the other side are hillsides. Rising at times almost sheer, 60 feet about the road.

In many areas, the hillsides are ripe with flowers.

And that brings the butterflies.

Basking in the sun, the flit from one flower to another.

In days gone by.

My young children, my former wife and I would visit there, when we vacationed at the cabin and the lake. Just a few short miles away.

We'd park at an intersection. Not that you would really know it as such. Two roads meeting where nobody ever drove. In the middle of nowhere.

The hillside was wet with spring water that flowed from the mountain. The plants were in bloom. And my children and I would marvel at the butterflies. The dragonflies.

We'd chase them with makeshift nets. Trying to capture the Great Spangled Fritillaries. The Sulphurs. The Monarchs. We'd get a few, take them back to the cabin. Examine them. I'd sketch them. Then we would let them free.

That was almost 20 years ago now.

Since then, my marriage is long over. The kids are grown.

In the last couple of years, I finally returned to the cabin I called home.

And I went to Butterfly Lane.

This time, armed with cameras. Ready to capture the scenes and the gorgeous insects we enjoyed there as a family, so long ago.

I pull my car to the side, and get out. I close the door.

The only sounds I hear are those of the wind. The water running past me in the creek below.

No children. No loving wife.

Just me. My cameras. And a lifetime of memories.

It almost brings me to my knees.

To see this place we all so loved.

When hope was still alive. When the future lay out before us with promise.

The fun. The laughter. The love of a family, sharing the beauty of nature.

I struggle to my feet.

The tears stream down my cheeks.

And I point my camera at the butterflies. The dragonflies. The flowers.

My heart breaks.

And I hit the shutter. I capture what I see. Gorgeous butterflies. Beautiful scenes.

And with every shot I take, I yearn for that future that was not to be.

I stand there sobbing with the best pictures I have ever taken.

With my gut wrenching from the memories.

Because I just cannot yield.

Those days are long gone. And the hope that was went with them.

I stand in this place, alone.

And I scream at the top of my lungs.

Without making a sound.

Dealing with "Triggers"

Yesterday, a friend who shared a similar past, and who was also a member of the infidelity support board we used to belong to, contacted me on Facebook.

She wanted to talk about a few things, including a family member she discovered was cheating on her husband.

So we got to talking about it. And through the course of the rather lengthy chat session, she went on to talk at length about her own experiences.

Which started bringing back memories of mine. And one after another, each thing she said would trigger another set of memories.

And I felt myself reliving it. Feeling the pain again. The despair.

I have worked very, very hard at trying to put all of that away. There is nothing I can do to undo it. Nothing I will ever be able to do to change what was.

I have been in a long process of moving on. The greater the distance, the more time that passes, the easier it becomes.

But every once in a while, something can set you reeling. It's like hitting "rewind" at full speed.

I'm better about it today.

But after that conversation yesterday, I was spiraling down fast. A mess of emotions and bad memories all swirling in my head.

I am not sure how to deal with these kinds of "triggering" events, except to do all I can to deflect them.

I don't really want to talk about infidelity anymore. I don't want to know. While I can certainly empathize with those who are there, or who have been there.

I'm DONE with it.

I spent 5 years helping others deal with the issues, the pain, the lies, the heartbreak. And in turn, I was helped by them.

But you reach a point where dipping your foot anywhere in that water is to have your whole body sucked in and under the surface.

This is another part of my learning process.

A selfishness, perhaps...born of necessity.

I can ill afford to revisit that place. To wallow anymore. To allow myself to get wrapped around my painful past, and live there.

And these kinds of issues and things are ripe with the ability to drag me back down.

I'm back on my feet today.

But yesterday was a visit back to hell.

I'm not going back there. I did my time.

Awakening....and beginning to understand.

For what seems like an endless amount of time.

I have allowed myself to wallow in self pity. To lament. To look backwards.

I am starting to understand. What and why. And what to do.

I am coming to grips with pain and loss. I am finally starting to put it in the box labeled "do not open".

But I have to respect it.

And I have to thank it.

Because without it, I would not be on the path I am now.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. A law of physics.

And in my case, a law of nature.

It has taken me years to get to this point. Years. Maybe a lifetime.

The universe has tried to guide me throughout my life.

It took me half a century to start to see.

Since I was a very young child. All I wanted was to be outside. To lay in the grass and look up at the sky. To look at the butterflies, the moths, the birds. The fish. The animals that lived all around me.

When I look back. I realize. I was happiest when I was there. When I was part of it.

Nature and I are inexorably intertwined.

This is so hard to put into words. Because it exists on a level that is felt and experienced, not easily described with mere text.

All the events of my life served to show me.

That what we do, echoes in eternity. Not just in how we live our lives, but that we live our lives doing what we are meant to do.

To be free to be the person we are supposed to be, means we are obligated to be the person we are supposed to be. (nod to Kris Kristofferson for that line).

When we step aside from that, and think we know better. When we make decisions that go against it. We suffer. We are unhappy.

I believe we all have a reason, a purpose, and a mission in our lives. It is not predestined, but it is most definitely guided.

We fit into this ancient and incredible, living world, in ways we don't often comprehend.

The other denizens of this planet, who have been here far longer than we can even comprehend, all know this.

We are so advanced, we have lost touch with it. We cannot see.

But when we start to open our hearts and our minds and our soul, we can start to. And we can begin the process.

For me, it took adversity and loss and pain. Because I was not following the path I was meant to be on.

I did what I thought I should do. What everyone does.

And it was the wrong choice.

The universe tried to show me, as a young child, and then at many times during my life, what I should do. What I could be, to give the most and best of myself back to this world, to other people, to the creatures I share this world with.

There are hundreds of times now in my memories, where I can NOW, finally see that influence.

If you are truly blessed. You finally reach a point in your life when you know what you are supposed to be. What you are supposed to do. And when you do.

You can finally be happy. Even if the rest of the world will never understand.

All that matters, is that you do.

Get Busy Living, or Get Busy Dying

I'm unemployed.

Looking for a job still, one that I may actually be able to do, and survive. With no insane commute, no over the top pressure and stress.

I can't take that kind of thing anymore.

After 30 years of commuting, and well over a million miles, my body and my soul cannot withstand it anymore.

I've taken all sorts of hits. Some are because of the actions of others. Some are because of bad choices on my part.

I've lived inside of a bottle. I've known depression on a massive scale.

I've cried "woe is me" way too many times.

But I always seem to be able to somehow...pull myself up from my knees.

I don't have anything.

But I do have spirit. I do have a drive inside of me.

And I remember that line in "Shawshank Redemption", as told by Morgan Freeman's character.

So, while I am still sitting here, still unemployed. With obligations surrounding me. Pay the alimony. Pay the cell phone bill. Lets not forget the car insurance.

So, what am I going to do?

I'll tell you.

I am going to get busy living.

I am hopping a plane with a friend to spend 4 days in Florida and going to shoot at one of the most gorgeous wildlife refuges on the planet.

Yeah.

Gonna live.

And all you can see are the years passing by....

I've come to see a common pattern among many of the friends I run into, who are out in the field, photographing or observing the birds.

While there is a smattering of young people...

So many of us are older.

Some of that has to do with the fact that when we are older, many are retired and have time to get out and enjoy the hobby.

But there is more.

What I have run into, more often than not.

Are shattered lives.

People who lost it all. Who have nothing left. Who lost their marriages, their jobs, and their fortunes.

Who find peace and happiness in nature.

So many.

And there is a huge difference in the way we look at things and pursue or love and our passion, from those who have not had the hardship.

I have seen many people with great jobs, or great pensions and tons of money, tons of great gear I will never be able to afford. They are impatient. They want the shots. They want their gear to do the work for them. After all, they spent the 50 grand on the lenses and cameras, so they deserve it, right?

The best photographs of nature and the birds I have ever seen come from people with no wealth, no fortune, no wives. No family left. The ones who have lost everything in their life.

Because what they do comes from the heart. With a sense of great pain to overcome. We will sit for 6 hours in one spot to wait for the perfect shot. We will learn about and appreciate and love the birds we photograph.

Because we aren't there to win some award for having the best gear. To show off. To pretend we work for National Geographic.

We will brave the freezing winds, and the insane heat and biting flies of Summer.

Why?

Because when you have lost everything in your life. You are stronger and more determined, and the chance to see that one scene. To capture that one shot. Is what finding heaven is all about.

It's about heart. It's about what is in your soul.

The best of us out there are not the ones who live large.

The best of us are the ones who have lost all.

When do you know?

If your life is worth working for, worth living.

Or worth giving up on.

So many mixed emotions.

I have been struggling for so long now, I don't seem to know any other way.

There are things that give me hope and promise.

Then, there are realities, which make me realize I may never be able to break the shackles the hold me to the ground.

I am tired of this.

I have paid every bit of the dues I owe.

In work. In life.

I will not settle for a life of hellish bullshit just to pay the bills, to pay those I owe.

Because I owe no one.

I paid that price, in sweat, tears and blood.

Time for me and for my life.

It's been nearly 53 years.

I've done my time in hell.

No more.

Convergence

At a time in my life when the future beckons, while filled with sacrifices and loss, in order to have what I require....

It all comes together at once.

After nearly 15 months without work, I start a new job in 48 hours. A hellish commute. A huge challenge. A monumental change.

And as it all comes to the fore, the remnants of my family are in turmoil and disarray.

My ex wife is falling apart emotionally, dealing with our son, and with her injury and her condition.

My daughter, having had enough, moved out of my ex's home a month ago, to live with a friend 3 states away.

The whole thing crumbles before my eyes.

And I can do nothing.

Nor should I.

This is the result of decisions and events long past.

But for me to sit here this evening and look upon this is gut wrenching.

I could no more hold that family together than I could hoist the world on my shoulders. Powerless. I watch it dissolve.

What once was a dream. Of a husband and wife growing older, with children moving on in their lives and starting new ones for themselves...

Becomes a lost pipe dream. Something that will never happen. No matter how much my heart wishes it would have been possible.

I scratch and claw and work towards a future for me. So that I can be self sufficient. Pay my bills. Be able to keep a roof over my head.

And I stand and watch as all the dreams I once had burn.

This is beyond painful.

This is like standing witness to an apocalypse.

I know I cannot prevent it.

I know I cannot save it.

It is long gone.

But the pain is not.

And it never will be.

I cannot stand anymore to be witness to the death of my hopes and dreams.

Rip the heart from my chest.

It would be merciful, compared to what I feel now.

Good enough,

Yeah, I am.

After years. Decades even. Of being told I wasn't. Of watching so many walk away.

I am good enough.

In business. After a long hard slog, I finally have a new job. A new gig. Good rate. Great income. A new chance at a life.

But what resounds in my head through all of this, is how I go it alone.

So many. SO many women who have either flirted with me or admired me from afar were and are unable to be my partner.

They just can't do it. They have a million excuses. They have other men, more convenient to them. Better suited.

Your loss.

I am going to make it. In a little over 2 years, I get a great pension. I will be living in God's territory, doing what I love.

And so many will have passed on the opportunity.

To be a part of my future.

I go it alone.

As it was meant to be.

For what could have been, I will hold a funeral pyre.

For those dreams left to be someone else's, I will burn it down.

But in the end I will be free.

And alone.

Not because I chose this path.

But because you did.

Oh, you want to join me? Really?

Willing to go the distance?

Willing to risk it all to win?

Nah, you won't.

Because nobody out there has either the guts or the vision to see what could be theirs.

What a shame.

What you could have had. ..

Just watch and listen.

I grew up with CSN. This song was and is one of my all time favorites. It says everything I need to. So, I won't type anymore...

Watch and listen here.

The Right Path

For nights so long that they darkened the day to follow,

For the toll of a bell, ringing clear and sharp,

Defining with each ring, a loss. A cutting wound.

Until the ringing remained after the bell fell silent.

Tears fell without sobbing. As if from a river within me, with no other course to follow.

From my knees, the heavens look impossibly far.

But their beauty is unyielding.

Time slowed to an anguishing crawl. As if locked in place, chained to my feet.

The rest of the world raced on.

But for me.

At the very last, with no resolve left to summon.

With no battle cry to be heard.

I gave up the fight. And I succumbed. I surrendered.

And at that moment,

My life was returned to me.

For when you lay down your arms and your shield, you can grab hold with both hands.

Of the people you love. Who love you.

You can hold onto hope.

And you can reach out your hands, and let those who love you, help you to your feet.

So that you may walk again.

And my tears became a smile.