Solace in life
Change occurs when our lives demand a twist from the everyday norm when routine no longer fits, when comfort begins to feel like confinement, and when the quiet voice inside us insists that something must shift. Routines become mundane, and boredom replaces what used to be excitement. There is no single event causing sudden discontentment; it just happens.
“New year, new you” seems to be the current mood, but how long does that actually last?
We were made to change the world, weren’t we? But how? We expect the world to stop on a dime and give us the respect we believe we are owed. We tell ourselves that when that happens, then we will be content.
Right?
What if it doesn’t happen?
And even more important what if it does?
And even more important what if it does?
Will we then be happy? Content? Will we finally feel satisfied now that we have the glory we believed we so long deserved?
Here we are at the moment of truth.
Where we shine in all the admiration we knew we were born to adorn.
And yet, inside empty.
Yes, empty.
Where we shine in all the admiration we knew we were born to adorn.
And yet, inside empty.
Yes, empty.
We have the recognition, the applause, the validation. So what is missing?
What’s missing?
What’s missing?
Oh yes riches.
We make ends meet, have a house on the coast and one in the hills, but we’re tired of those now. We want riches beyond imagination. Surely that will bring contentment.
We make ends meet, have a house on the coast and one in the hills, but we’re tired of those now. We want riches beyond imagination. Surely that will bring contentment.
Right?
Yet somehow it doesn’t.
You have fame.
You have fortune.
But emptiness abides.
You have fame.
You have fortune.
But emptiness abides.
Then comes another realization: you aren’t as young as you once were.
Youth. That’s what’s missing now.
So you try to rewind time. Revisit the past. Regain the stamina you once wore so proudly.
Youth. That’s what’s missing now.
So you try to rewind time. Revisit the past. Regain the stamina you once wore so proudly.
And you succeed.
You now look younger than you did in your twenties.
You now look younger than you did in your twenties.
But still… something is missing.
As time ticks slowly by, contentment seems unachievable. Human nature takes over, seeking the very things it believes will bring solace to life but they do not come. Financial stability loses its meaning, fame loses its appeal, and youthful facades fade into darkness as the peace within continues to elude our grasp.
You have everything your mind dreamed of as a child except the one thing that would actually sustain you as an adult.
And still, something is missing.
Time & Money
We spend our time making money
our money chasing happiness.
But in the time spent trying to buy happiness,
Happiness is lost in the investment of time
I have a watch. It doesn’t keep time.
It’s a nice watch, but the battery is dead.
It’s a nice watch, but the battery is dead.
The watch is flashy and brings many compliments, but the hands never leave 1:02 p.m. I wear the watch, but sometimes I believe the watch wears me.
I pick it up and put it on because even though it does not tell time, it gives the appearance of importance.
It cannot measure my life, but it convinces others that my life is being measured.
It cannot measure my life, but it convinces others that my life is being measured.
If time stands still and money is void of happiness, why are our lives spent chasing time and money?
He Misses You
The bird returned this morning, like every other morning.
Today he said, Prepare.
Today he said, Prepare.
I did not ask for what.
Yesterday he said, Be wise.
I thought I was wise enough.
I thought I was wise enough.
By afternoon, the wind blew hard. A limb fell from the old oak, splitting the yard like a warning. Mom called to say she and Dad tried the new pizza place. “Not as good as the brick-oven one,” she said, “but it will do.”
It will do.
Lightning flashed as the midsummer storm began to brew. Brew it did — angry, the angriest storm I have seen. Night fell while the sky split itself open. At sunset, the sun slipped beneath the cloud cover just long enough to prove it was still there, watching.
The bird did not visit the next day.
Nor the day after.
Went to work. Came home. Burned dinner. Poured a stiff drink.
He appeared on the back gate.
He did not speak. He only looked. I looked back. The air hung thick and wet between us, and something like dread settled into the space where sound should have been.
Bird was disapproving. I knew but did not care.
The next morning, his beak struck the window. I spilled my coffee.
“We have to keep meeting like this,” he said. “At least we are meeting.”
I did not know what that meant. He was chattier that day. I was not in the mood.
“He misses you,” the bird said.
I did not respond. There was no need.
I left.
Two days later, he returned at dusk.
“He misses you,” he said again.
I ignored the bird.
But that night, the oak creaked in a wind that wasn’t there, and the house shifted on its foundation like it was remembering something it had buried.
In the morning, the gate stood open.
I bent against my will.
I went to see him. I did not want to
I went to see him knelt by his grave.
I was angry but I was there
Bird appeared
Bird said forgiveness was the way
I said there was no way I could forgive
Its for you not him the bird said
I said no
No to what I am not sure
I left
The bird was back bright and early
Chirping as if it were his job
Maybe it was
He said forgive
I said go away
I went to work
He was there the next morning and the morning after that
One year two day three hours and forty two seconds later he was there
I forgave
I had no choice
But to forgive
I forgave so I could be free
The lightening flashed across the sky
This time the thunder did not follow
Heat lightning, they call it
I call it an exorcism of sort
One where evil is finally laid to rest
And a battered soul is set free
The bird never returned
Yet, I knew his purpose had been served
Summers in the South
Summers in the South bring smoldering heat
and afternoon thunderstorms —
storms so loud they shake the windows of the house.
and afternoon thunderstorms —
storms so loud they shake the windows of the house.
The windows rattled
like the depths of my soul.
I didn’t see it coming.
My heart broke.
like the depths of my soul.
I didn’t see it coming.
My heart broke.
Rain fell fierce and unrelenting;
manhole grates shot into the air.
Caverns beneath the city filled
with the rush of water —
high tide,
the storm striking
at the precise moment.
manhole grates shot into the air.
Caverns beneath the city filled
with the rush of water —
high tide,
the storm striking
at the precise moment.
My heart was breaking, but the storm didn’t care,
just like the water running down Church Street
didn’t care that it flooded all in its path.
just like the water running down Church Street
didn’t care that it flooded all in its path.
Just like the back of a hand
didn’t care that it left its mark on my cheek.
didn’t care that it left its mark on my cheek.
The flooded streets did not forget the path
between Meeting and East Bay.
I did not forget the handprint
that lingered
around my neck.
between Meeting and East Bay.
I did not forget the handprint
that lingered
around my neck.
It was no different than the rainwater
that never forgets its course —
returning to the same low places
again and again.
that never forgets its course —
returning to the same low places
again and again.
I did not forget how it felt
to be powerless against his force.
Force comes like the strength of wind,
the weight of rain,
the crack of thunder
so loud it shakes the depths of one’s soul.
to be powerless against his force.
Force comes like the strength of wind,
the weight of rain,
the crack of thunder
so loud it shakes the depths of one’s soul.
The rain came down that night
as we crossed Meeting and King.
One of us returned exactly as we left.
The other returned not quite themselves.
as we crossed Meeting and King.
One of us returned exactly as we left.
The other returned not quite themselves.
The storm blew out to sea
and the moon lit the sky.
The storm still raged —
but not above.
and the moon lit the sky.
The storm still raged —
but not above.
It raced in my heart
as I slipped silently
into the night.
as I slipped silently
into the night.
A Southern storm comes careless —
flooded streets, empty restaurants, careless hearts,
one and the same,
or so it seems.
flooded streets, empty restaurants, careless hearts,
one and the same,
or so it seems.
Storms and anger both rage in abundance:
one subsides,
the other continues to build.
Seething anger is not easily put out.
Storms take their course, then move on.
one subsides,
the other continues to build.
Seething anger is not easily put out.
Storms take their course, then move on.
Storms are tricky.
Anger lingers.
Both are tumultuous, loud, abrasive —
but anger remains,
disturbing the quiet,
leaving behind
what must be rebuilt.
Anger lingers.
Both are tumultuous, loud, abrasive —
but anger remains,
disturbing the quiet,
leaving behind
what must be rebuilt.
