One Memory

“You must know that there is nothing higher and stronger and more wholesome and good for life in the future than some good memory, especially a memory of childhood, of home. People talk to you a great deal about your education, but some good, sacred memory, preserved from childhood, is perhaps the best education. If a man carries many such memories with him into life, he is safe to the end of his days, and if one has only one good memory left in one’s heart, even that may sometime be the means of saving us.” 
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky

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I do not want to forget who you are

Within the ever-changing exterior, I see a shadow

I do not want to forget that person, yet I often do forget

I do not want my words to drift

this is about me, not them or you

this is my labored error, my fault, and shortcoming

It is not without forgiveness and repair

I do not wish to forget who you are

I know who you are yet at times you escape me

You seem heavier at times

and other times appear blissful

Where is it that you go?

Are you seeking anything or are you content to wander?

It is no matter to me; I only hope you have found something

Something that keeps your mind moving amid the chaos outside

I hope no regret rests deep in your heart

For there is none in mine

Do not waste time illustrating errors of time gone by

I will not bear witness to this, do not waste your effort

I have been reborn in time for this

Gratitude pervades my soul

I am but a whisper with a crack in what was a steady voice

But my whisper is sunlight; the steadiness was a disguise

As for this sunlight, thank you for allowing it

Your softness is not weakness

It is what allows me to speak

Your softness listens deep into the darkness

Do not fear this dark; I beg of you

For it is this darkness that allows the sunshine to persevere

Instead anticipate what this night brings forth

Cling close to my chest if you wish, I will not allow darkness a home

And as I must not forget you, I urge you not to forget yourself

Recollections of small towns and big dinners

A storybook grandmother still vivid in the mind

Her cigarette filled ashtrays and working class love

Do not lose grip of these memories

For they are here in place of those that won’t stick around

They are warmth, truth, shadow and light

You hold onto these; you are not missing anything

And I will do the same

I will hold you as I know you

I cannot forget you even if I tried

I am so much of you; I grow closer to you

Do not read my words with sadness

I do not write them through tears or lost time

Time stays still so long as we remember

Time is but a moment passing by

 

 

LEAVING THE DEBATE BEHIND |

Just before sunset, before the lightning dazzles the earth, everything seems to stop. My heart sinks, the universe beckons me closer, and my hands are steady. At this moment my mind is consciously still, my thoughts unknown to me, and I stand alone and at peace. This is my moment of clarity. At this time I know nothing, I do nothing nor do I say a thing. I am still, and my body beats and moves the way bodies do – and at this moment my mind relinquish all power, all control, and all design. I give in.

This is the calm I feel when I have fully surrendered my will and my life to something other than myself. I understand that my life cannot be run by self-propulsion. I have tried this way of life, and I have failed at this way of life. I have tried it backward, sideways, inside-out, and upside-down. I have tried it in different shades of color, different tempers, sharper lines, wild obscurity. None of it works when I am the one in control – and the reason is simple: I lack the power to run my life, and I certainly have no authority to run anyone else’s life.

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This idea, the lack of authority, takes on greater meaning then I will discuss at the moment. Within this lack of power is an admittance that I know very little if anything at all. It leads me to this idea that for me the debate is over. The stage where I once argued politics, religion and ideologies is now empty. I am not withholding judgment; I am not biting my tongue believing this a more proper, tactful way to present myself; I simply do not have an argument for you. About my past self, my ego is shattered, and humility has risen exponentially. Consider also that my ego reached to the heavens and my humility, on some numeric scale, would have measured a .01, so I am not saying I have these qualities in surplus.

What I can say is that I no longer believe I have the answer for you. I do not have the answer for myself! I have had to seek out a power which could grant me direction and lend my feet a path which directs me straight instead of in circles. To debate my beliefs with another means I believe my answer is superior, and I have no way of knowing this. Common sense tells me that I do not have the answer for a country of 400 million people – humility tells me instead of arguing I ought to listen.

I have opinions! I am not claiming that I don’t feel strongly about certain things. In fact, I feel incredibly passionate about the ideology which my life has taken hold of – but I am humble enough to understand that this is my path, my ideals, my structure, and it works for me. I have no idea what works for you. There are things I do each day that I believe would make others more efficient, perhaps lessen the anxiety of others, allow others to lead a day with more clarity – but I only know that these things work for me. I will not tell you that following my morning routine will make you more connected and transparent – my opinion is that it is a fine method, but I know nothing of how you operate best because I do not know what you need.

This is not to say I keep my mouth shut. Many have come to me and asked me what I do, how I do things, how I arrived at certain points, and I am more than willing to sit down and share what I practice. I suggest my way of life may work for you as it works for me, but I do not proselytize. Often I hear others say “if only people would listen to me! If only things were done my way this world would be a better place” – Or the nonstop political debates roaring incessantly, opinions thrown to the wind and leaving me curious if the thought given to these opinions is genuine.

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For me, the debating committee has resigned. And where it leaves me is often apart from many discussions and outside of certain social gatherings. But this is my method of recognizing my role in this world – that when I give up the notion that I have control over the day, over my life, and over the lives of others I find a new freedom where my choices become easy, my mind able to focus on things I consider important, and my heart able to be tolerant and compassionate instead of vicious and cynical. My life run on my accord leads me to darkness; it prompts me to make decisions based on selfishness and greed. My position in life becomes your fault, the government’s fault, the world’s fault – never mine.

I am limited – I cannot make this world whatever I wish it to be for myself by myself. I need help, and I have found help. Original thought is not something I am against, but it is not something I seek out. I find what works and what has worked for those who have come before me. I look to those who live a life of self-confidence, stillness, and ease. I look to those who do not admonish others for their beliefs but rather pay no mind to their opinions and instead seek to understand rather than be understood. The ones who listen with intent, who do not give answers but instead share their experience.

Others may question me, others may find my way of life peculiar and still others may find my stance weak. My stance, however, has the strongest backbone I know of, and it is not my back which carries the weight. I do not have answers for you; I cannot fix anything or anybody. I have suggestions, I have experience, I have scars if you need proof. All I need is to turn and ask for guidance, for direction, to be shown the next right action – I need to be taught how to be useful in the stream of life and how to be best of service. This life leaves me asking questions alone, sitting in reflection and searching through spiritual channels for the right action, the most useful action to be shown to me. I have lived a life where I chose my path, where I opted to believe I knew what was best for the 7 billion inhabitants on this earth and I ended up lost over and over again. Today I ask how I can be of service and how I can be useful and it leads me to others who need someone to listen to them. It brings me to individuals, not countries. And in turn whatever loneliness I encounter on this path is turned back into fulfillment when I need someone to listen to me.

I do not wish to debate with you anything at all; I simply do not have any answers. It is a shame if you feel I have let you down, and I would be more than willing to listen to you and share my experience.

Beauty and Terror

I took one last look into your bedroom, my eyes filled with life, and turned away. The weakness of human design effortlessly revealed by nature, dissolving structure and breath in a matter of moments. Dogs barked in the alley and neighbors rushed to the scene as smoke settled among us. I remained still, unmoved – shattered. My tears, black from smoke and ash, painted trails on my cheeks. It was as though I was waiting for something, for the whole of life to collapse as well. The morning stars distanced themselves, giving way to the sun, and I remained. I never once glanced towards the sun; heartbroken, I knew it was there. In a moment it had all vanished. In a moment it all remained.

The following months passed with dizzying speed, then years passed, and then it didn’t matter anymore. Leaves fell hard, and for some those leaves were rocks on their backs, but I felt nothing. I was such a sick man, such a selfish man; I hadn’t noticed any of this passing. My sickness and self-centeredness do not excuse my actions; I was well aware of myself, even if my self-deception and delusion were reaching new peaks. Instead of taking responsibility for my disappearance I blamed my actions on the nature of things. Instead of helping others heal I took advantage of their pity; for I was the one with blackened tears and a wounded spirit! I stole years from myself, years from others, and I did it all in the name of self-defense.

Slowly, I began to die. You had always asked about me, worried for me, even had dreams for me. But I knew nothing of dreams or gratitude. You had given me your heart and your words; I gave nothing in return. I left home, trying to keep balance amid the chaos, and distanced myself further from the sun. As the days grew colder, my eyes lost focus. Ice poured from my heart into awaiting hands, slowly forcing each one to retreat. And, forgetting more and more of myself, I retreated as well. A numbing pain was all that was left; and then –

The thick of winter had broken me. Surrender had been given to me and life restored to me. Like a blind man given sight, I have much to discover; I have made so many mistakes, so I have come to offer what I can.

You have left indelible marks on my life. In the past, I was not the type of man who could appreciate your effort and sacrifice; today I am. Your kindness overwhelms me now; I am left with immense gratitude for the moments of happiness which you gave to such a lonely heart. I am of service to those you understand; I see you in their faces and am reminded why I am there. You are one who has given me the strength to show up for others, and though I wish my character were the same back then, I can only hope that somewhere you are smiling.

My mind eases and lets go of the past; I let go of the horror and keep the beauty. I have let go of you and our past, choosing to keep you with me in the present moment, heart beating alongside my heart.

Today let us walk with hazard, setting our sights towards the sun as though we were walking straight into her. There is no parting and no sorrow; we were raised to see life as an unmerited gift, thus we leave this life with gratitude for being born, sentient and feeling. And in many ways this is only life as we know it that is ending; Perhaps this life is the caterpillar and ahead of us is a greater beauty. Perhaps once we make it to the sun we will find butterflies. We never look back, and as fear falls from us we see a glimpse of truth in this world and it is in one another.

H | 22 & 3

For Harry…

I knew you briefly, almost in passing. We never once sat down to dinner or shared stories of our loved ones. We spoke on the phone once but only for a moment. We knew one another in this way for two years until suddenly, without warning, you died.

I imagined a fleeting sense of grief would envelop me and dissipate as quickly as it seized upon me. But this didn’t happen; I felt no gentle sadness upon my shoulders, nor did I feel the prideful weight of respectful sorrow. Involuntary yet irresistibly, I began to weep. My hands trembled upon my cheeks as my mind grasped for understanding.

I felt tethered to you somehow, not attached to you nor grasping for you. As I sat still weeping, clarity overtook me. I realized I had known you my entire life, and you had known me. I could suddenly recall you standing upon the shore as I clung to the rotten rafters of my ship. You had somehow found your footing, yet you hadn’t walked away. And as my invocation became sincere, the bond between us began to form, forever cementing us together…

It has been 5 years since your passing.

And now, I sit in reflection of you and the ones that came before you. You had all found the shore years before me and delivered this beautiful, unmerited gift to myself and others as we arrived upon the crests of the waves.

You are one of the waves through which the fire can boldly show itself, can instill belief in the most fragile foundation, a most connected moment.

And now, leave desire and despair for those who are still lost. I do not despair your passing – it would be a mistake. To despair would suggest that there is unfinished business, and there is none for you. Your example is alive and well, and around the waves float specks of water and dust – all hoping one day to become the wave, to become more like you.

I know where to find your voice and so do others. And I will seek out this voice; as tears roll down my cheeks and onto my hands typing these words, I will seek to follow your example. You have set beauty on the horizon; enjoy the sunshine.

Rhett B.

Native

Being rocked back and forth on the D train, I lay my head back and breathe. Images of fingers wet, soaked in water and blood, fingers snapping and slipping making inaudible sounds. This is my meditation; lands forged by rough hands and sweat. Cities built by no personality, no discernible political mind, just with these hands, bloodied and slipping but still creating the peaks that we humans can create.

A fear wraps around with the brunt of war but the footsteps of a ghost. Images belonging to someone else construct lanes into my psyche, forever changing into someone else that I will soon call myself. I am changing, this is how we change.

This blood and water slip from the hands of others through rocks. I awaken, and I am wet, chest flooded with someone else’s blood, eyes pouring with someone else’s tears, hands forced over rocks. These hands are now my hands; every reflection, every image which belonged to another, it now belongs to me.

I am responsible; these are my hands bleeding and slipping and trying to snap to make this happen now! I am the one kneeling before the chrome buildings, pouring my hands and my heart over the rocks, awash with the blood and water of myself and others. This is my land, and to my left and my right, this is your land. Break your hands over these rocks as I break my hands. There is no future to save them for; it is not our future that we build this for. Work so that their present may be stronger than ours. Be grateful that our present is as strong as it is. Be loud, work, bleed, and weep as you work. Let your work be truthful, be honest; this is how you will succeed. To sit silently is the only way to fail. I will not fail. My hands awash in water and blood, images of your tiny hands awash in love.

Death of a relationship | Continue

If I should be brought before you, and am asked to skim the trees. To recollect my fondest thoughts amid a wasteland of memories. Then I should dig deep the shallow trenches, I will seek out every eye. For my past bear’s strong resemblance to the ones I stand before. And I will know a soft resistance as I push off from the shore.

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I wonder how all of this will come to pass; How you and I will remember one another. I don’t sit with this for very long, for I know where my mind often leads me. I don’t drift to positive places. My mind seems to embrace the negative and haunting spaces. But I must think of this, of you and I and our past. My past, as it were, is what I must think of.

You were gentle with me, that was your way. You knew that anger would cause me running, and your job was to have me stay. And at times you were overbearing, you wanted for yourself my good health. You wished my mind would pause so you could rest. You cared for me- sometimes in the wrong way. But I forgive your co-dependence, your expectations, and your disappointment. I overlook these things because I, too, am full of error, and I am not here to blame.

I am here to recover the past, not for keeping but to learn. What was it about our relationship that you wanted to hold onto? What was it about me that you seemed so keen on keeping close? I’ve asked myself this question, and sometimes it makes perfect sense. I was a loving man. But I was a worthless man; I was a walking contradiction. Who holds onto the daily garbage? One who is sick themselves I believe. I look back with compassion, not wishing to change you, and this is not meant to enlighten you. This I doubt the entirety of you will ever read.

I can remember when you embraced me, and my embrace was a lie. I felt your heart pouring into my chest. I heard your heart pounding versus mine, its crimson waves exposing the emptiness in me. I felt you sometimes, and other times you left me frozen, or I left you frozen.  We were just friends. We were lovers. We were enemies. All of it was real, though. You failed me and used me selfishly. You were so many people all at once; it’s no wonder I completely lost you at times.

But we are not unique. I considered you beneath me and became the type of man I have always judged, hated. My selfishness knew no boundary and was suffocated time and again. I had fallen so short of breath that our relationship had to change. All I could do was start over. I had no idea what this would mean but it was time to tear each other apart and continue. Alone.

The beginning was beautiful. Leaves fell hard in those first few days, and for some those leaves are still rocks on their backs. But it was no longer excuse enough for me to hide behind. I loved them dearly, I truly did. I love them today differently because I am different and they are different. They are whole but hard to see. I send out eulogies because I was not always there when the moment seemed to ambush us. I am here now, I am here for the ones who wish to hear me.

I feel we’ve been doing everything right but I still seem to lose you at times – the ghost vanishes and I must learn everything again. We outgrow each other’s usefulness. We no longer need one another. When you no longer need something it becomes a weight around your ankle unless you part ways while still feathers. In the beginning, it feels wrong; it angers me to part ways. But it is best for both of us and the best way for the whole of us.

Sometimes I glance out the window and see your birds singing. Other times I turn my back to you, wishing you would at once turn away from me. I love you, I have forgotten you, and I hope to love you. Before the earth, before the lovers and the users and the apathetic bystanders, I hope I give you something you cannot hold but can use. I hope you see me and know that the past is real, but it is gone and only alive in your mind. This moment is real as well. I hope you see the power of this moment, and I hope you forget me and move on if that is what you must do.

You have nothing to say to me, and I nothing to say to you, for the most part. One day I will sit down and tell you what it all means, but today you must work on it yourself. It is your world that you must save from forever wilting. You don’t live for me and I don’t live for you. We live for a purpose higher than both of us. I cannot define yours and I know you can’t give me the relief I once sought. I appreciate you for who you are and do not want you to change your colors to draw me closer. If I speak a foreign tongue to you and you wish to retreat, I do not blame you. Those who are meant to be in my life will be; most will leave. But all will become useful by becoming more like themselves.

I love you, I hope to love you, and I have forgotten and forgiven you. This is the death of our relationship.

Sometimes the blues are just a passing bird

At times we will find ourselves discontent, irritable, and generally just blue. The feeling may seem to have come out of nowhere, leaving you confused and a little on edge. It can be scary, at times overwhelming, and downright lonely. During these moments we rely on our mind, asking ourselves questions and using our best tool to make sense of this dreary feeling. We often feel as though we have exhausted all possibilities. We think we have a done a thorough job and yet we still can’t seem to shake this feeling of apathy.

Unfortunately for us, for those that can relate, we are more often than not asking ourselves the wrong questions. And our questions aren’t just slightly misdirected – in these moments our thoughts are often epic; We begin to examine the meaning of life, the reality of our relationships, even questioning the very nature of ourselves. We struggle to relax and our once still minds turn into dime-store psychologists and philosophers. Our questions are vague, massive, and without answers.

It doesn’t always have to be this confusing and arduous, I promise you. In fact, I’ll do you one better and tell you, while it’s fresh on my mind, exactly how I get myself out of these blues.

Yesterday was a pretty damn good day for me. I had spent the evening at my sisters during what was predicted to be the storm of the century but turned out to be no more than a heavy snow. I spent a little time with my sister, got ready and went off to meet a friend for lunch. My afternoon could not have been better: great company, great food, afternoon tea and the winter scenery all made for an ideal afternoon. Around 7 pm I parted ways with my friends, got on the train and headed home.

As I got settled in for the evening, I noticed that I wasn’t feeling the after-effects one generally does after such a beautiful day. In fact, I found myself a little frustrated, confused, and incredibly bored. “Oh shit, this isn’t good, ” I thought to myself; Something must have been terribly wrong, something real was happening here. My mind began racing: Am I not doing enough, is this life fulfilling, am I doing everything wrong? All of these questions! Who the hell asks themselves these questions and expects even a whiff of an answer? Evidently, I do – but this is not as dangerous as it seems.

I got up from the couch and walked to the kitchen, looked up on my dry erase board and there it was in all its simplicity: “Relax and take it easy” – On this night, where thoughts began racing, and questions began building, my relief appeared before me in this simple phrase. I sat down and decided to make a list – What did I eat today? How much did I sleep last night and how did I sleep? Is there any simple reason that I may be annoyed? And here is what I came up with: As I mentioned before the food yesterday was great. What I failed to mention was that I had eaten only two bites of it. The tea was good, but it was preceded by 3 cups of coffee. I got a bit of sleep, but I slept on a couch after spending the day in a hospital and navigating my way through the snow filled streets. In my mind these experiences weren’t negative at all – I enjoyed spending time with my sister and I don’t really mind the snow. I had a great time at lunch – I don’t eat all that much anyway. What I was neglecting to notice was the physical and emotional effects I endure when I don’t take care of myself – I didn’t need answers only the gods could give me, I needed to eat something.

I got up this morning and went for a walk around the neighborhood. It is gorgeous out today, my mind is completely calm.

We have such a difficult time accepting the simple solutions. Maybe the sky really is falling but isn’t there a chance we just haven’t been sleeping well lately? Aren’t these simple questions at least worth a look? There are often underlying issues that we are dealing with in any number of ways – but they are exacerbated when we don’t take control over the little things. We tend to ask ourselves questions that aren’t meant for us to answer. Here’s a tip when your mind begins racing: You aren’t capable of outsmarting this world. Emotions rise and fall with the hope that they return somewhere in the middle. Our mood shifts a little throughout the day, but we can almost always trace it back to something simple, some minor annoyance or some missed opportunity.

In these moments, when you cannot seem to find an answer to your blues, make a list. Do you owe someone an apology? Have you been dismissive towards your partner? Are you happy with your workout regiment? Are you eating healthy? Are you eating enough or maybe too much? Have you started that book you got over the holidays? Are you keeping something to yourself? Are you telling the truth? Does your neighbor play their music too loud? Make a list of the things that you can change, go through it and make changes to the best of your ability.

Allow yourself to be unhappy for a time but bring yourself back before you want to. Get pissed off at your neighbor for being inconsiderate but take it out at the gym. You are allowed to feel like shit now and then –  But do not start looking into the abyss for answers that are in your refrigerator.

ANTICIPATE THE BRIGHTNESS

More often than not I choose to view difficulties in life as an opportunity for growth. Throughout the struggle, I am in a state of anticipation, knowing that the fight cannot exist forever unless I resign myself to hopelessness, which is an option. It should be noted that hopelessness is only a part of our ‘negative faith’ and lies in our neurosis. Neurosis is, according to Carl Jung the avoidance of actual pain. So to believe that life is hopeless I would have to think that my negative thoughts are real and in this admittance, I would realize that I am avoiding actual struggle.

So, I know life is never hopeless and even in the darkest hour there burns an overabundance of hope. I can then at least admit that though I may not have confidence in my grip, there is hope within my reach and that in and of itself is hope. So I sit with my small bit of hope in anticipation for the moment when I will be overwhelmed with hopeful feelings and a new perspective marked by new and positive progress.

Every struggle in life has left a path in its wake back to something valuable in which it was banished. The road is there; the struggle has carved this path, and my job is to walk through the battle, look over my shoulder as I pass it by and anticipate the glow in the distance that is unknown but is always, absolutely always exciting and remarkable.

Perspective, positive thought, and the willingness to confront life; that is all I need to find my way out of the struggle.

THE GRASS

I fight each day to be a meaningful person. I do not wish to take from anyone, only give the small amount within myself. The point of life is to be useful. The hope in death is that I’ve given all of myself to the world so that there is nothing left to miss.

This path is often a lonely one – the world is a lonely place until you are prepared for it. So I work each day, sometimes alone, to prepare myself for the day when I am strong enough to join the ones I admire here on earth.

I bet we are a small group of people – lonely in the valleys and lonely on the peaks. It is the only way I know how to live – be it dwelling in the valley to bear crops for the mountain or raining from the peaks to give life to the valley I will work to remain useful. Then I will rest easy.

BETWEEN YOU AND ME

I WAS YOUNG AND I WAS A LOVER

OF ALL THINGS OBSCURE AND UNFIT FOR THE WORLD

MY EYES LONGING AT ONCE TO CAPTURE

WHAT MAKES A MAN AND WHO TAKES THE PEARL

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ONLY THREE-YEARS OF AGE YET I RECALL NATURE

IT BECKONED OUR EVERY MOVE THROUGHOUT THE LAND

HIS EYES FOCUSED ON HIS HANDS AND HIS HORSE

MINE FIXED ON THE ARM OF THIS MAN 

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WE FOUND A PLACE TO STOP AND THE HORSES THEY’D DRINK

THE POND FULL OF MUD, A CURIOUS SORT OF INK

I BEGGED HIS FORGIVENESS BUT ASKED ONCE AGAIN

FOR A GLIMPSE OF THE BEAST AND OF THE STORY WITHIN

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PULL UP HIS SLEEVE TO SATISFY MY EYES

A GROWL AND UP MY EARS WOULD PERK LIKE A DOG I’S MYSTIFIED

FIRST A SHOCK, THEN A STARE, THEN A LAUGHTER SO LOUD

A MOMENT WITH NOTHING TO FEAR, A DISPOSITION SO AWFULLY PROUD

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I REMEMBER THIS MAN FONDLY 

DEATH CANNOT TAKE AWAY MUCH FROM ME

AND THE PANTHER TATTOOED ON HIS ARM

I TOOK FROM HIS SKIN AND PLACED IT ON ME

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THE BEAST TODAY IS A JOYFUL SYMBOL

YET VISIONS OF THE PAST ARE NOT GRANTED TO ME

INSTEAD HE LEFT ME VISIONS OF THE FUTURE 

A PATH TO SATISFY ANOTHER’S CURIOSITIES 

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NEVER IN MY OLD LIFE DID I IMAGINE

SUCH SIMPLE BEAUTY WAS UP MY SLEEVE

IT TOOK A YOUNG MAN JUST 3 YEARS OF AGE

MY PANTHER IS HIS WHENEVER I LEAVE

                                                                                      | RHETT BURCH