The mirror blinks back a man I almost know, Eyes fogged with yesterday, not ready to go. My knees creak louder than the floorboards groan, Yet wisdom hums — a tune I’ve still not known. They said with age comes peace, not paperwork, But peace avoids me like a cosmic quirk. My patience wanes when gadgets mock my hand, Still, I nod like I quite understand. Granddad’s growing pains, they call it mild, But pain is pain, and I’ve been filed. Filed under “Stubborn,” the department of men, Who learn too slow and forget again. I once thought age brought clarity and grace, Now I chase my glasses all over the place. Each year’s another test I didn’t plan, A syllabus written by time — not man. Never a termination point for those willing to learn, But oh, how often we crash and burn. We cling to what we know as if it saves, When all it builds are comfortable graves. They say wisdom is earned through trial and pain, But I suspect it’s just forgetting again. We recycle old mistakes like favorite tunes, Play “same old story” under wandering moons. Keep this in mind when it’s time for your turn, You can’t just coast — you’ve got to learn. Pride ages faster than a cigarette burn, And humility’s the prize you’ll never earn. The young laugh softly, their heads full of fire, But they’ll curse like us when their knees retire. Each stage pretends it knows the end, But ends, like roads, just loop and bend. I fix the same leaky pipe each year, Claiming mastery — then spill the beer. Call it wisdom, call it charm, Mostly it’s chaos dressed in calm. The mind expands, the ego stays, Still arguing through its own clichés. Granddad’s growing pains are seeds in clay, They crack, they stretch — they learn the way. The truth is humbling, strange, and kind, We never outgrow the child in mind. We stumble wiser, laugh through disdain, And call it progress — through every pain. So when I speak with trembling tone, Know every word I say I don’t quite own. Each day’s a remix of what I’ve learned again, A man in motion — still growing his pain.
The Courage to Be Seen We speak of armor as if it saves us, But what of the rust it breeds within? The pitfalls of our social strata, Make honesty both virtue and sin. Layers of taking social inventory, Peeling back what we hide so clean. What exactly do we learn? When learning itself feels obscene. If we don’t stop, we’ll find our frienaissance purgatory, Where trust is traded, and hearts convene. It may take years to overcome our vulnerability, But years are short in the grand human machine. We often think of this as a weakness, Not knowing that gentle hearts are keen. But once you peel back the layers of your protective castle, You meet yourself—unmasked, serene. It can be seen by many as a strength, To tremble and still be seen. The courage to jump in the deep end of a pool, Is to baptize your fear in the in-between. Maybe jumping off the high dive, Is how we wake from our routines. The first time can be certainly scary, Yet fear’s an old ghost dressed in routine. But after you achieve this you then may certainly thrive, For trust grows wild in places unclean. Carl Rogers whispered softly to the trembling, “The power lies in being seen.” In presence, not persuasion, We find the quiet might of the between. When someone listens without demand, You learn your cracks can gleam. Client-centered heartbeats echo softly, Where words mend tears unseen. We expose our fears not to be fearless, But to know they do not own the scene. Fearless is not empty of fear, It’s fear held softly—peace in between. So let’s drop the swords, unlace the masks, And speak where silence has been. For vulnerability is not surrender, It’s the rebellion of the humane, unseen. Trust grows not in safety, But in souls who choose to lean. We are strongest when most fragile, When truth and tremor meet midstream. And maybe courage, after all, Is loving in the open, raw, and clean.
The storm begins, yet stays within, Where reason breaks but will won’t end.
The silence testifies for all,
The words we lost still shape our tone.
A whisper rises, fierce and small, To claim the fault we call our own.
Conviction is no iron chain, But gentle weight that bids us kneel.
It burns not only out of pain, But out of hope we learn to feel.
For judgment’s light is not a flame, That seeks to scorch what cannot last.
It calls us gentle, speaks our name, And frees us from the shadowed past.
We stumble learning how to see, The burden placed becomes a guide.
And fail our way to clarity, Where loss and lesson coincide.
Our hearts, though flawed, remain aware,
That mercy blooms through self-reproach.
Each scar a prayer, each doubt a care,
Each thought a fragile, moving coach.
We testify in restless dreams, That truth is rarely cold or kind.
It lives not only where it deems, But where it wrestles with the mind.
For faith is not a perfect word, Nor certainty a flawless crown.
The soul that trembles still is stirred,
By what it fears yet won’t lay down.
Conviction grows through fragile trust,
That light can dawn through shattered glass.
And though we walk the path of dust,
We rise through love that dares to pass.
This world reflects our trembling will,
Our quiet courage, fierce and deep.
Though time may wound, its hand is still,
For what we see is what we keep. So testify—be bare, be real, Let frailty speak, let silence end.
For in the act of what we feel, The broken heart begins to mend.
And in that mending stands our proof,
That grace is born of self-insight.
Beneath the loss, beneath reproof, There burns the will to seek the light.
…
DCG
Source material from the 2013 post with the same name
Its every day we become inspired about something we have seen, heard, or read about and decided to act on that illumination. An inspiration that leads us to new discoveries and direction in our lives is a moment when we can embrace our values and challenge our spirit. Inspiration to take part in an activity or a personal decision on how we shall live our lives by a newly acknowledged creed is a rarity when it is carried out in practice. I can remember distinct times when I have become motivated by something that sparked my attention and the resulting effect has remained with me for years to come. Why these single moments of attention direct us to connect to something that enliven our experience of the world is essentially a wonderful and mysterious event, yet it is also sometimes a puzzling one since we do not always know the exact reasons for our interest in them. We are often attracted to the charisma of people we are inspired by, or possibly the skill they have in their performance of some gifted ability that takes our interest. It could be a special circumstance that one has endured which led them to discover something about their character that brings out our piety. Whichever the case, the world has many illustrations of people, groups of people, and even cultures that stirs the emotive fabric within us. An instance in my life is the connection I felt when I first listened to the blues. It was the first music that really “spoke to me” on a more meaningful level than other types of music that I had been exposed to. Initially I became influenced through my interest in other forms of music that also took their roots in the blues, before I actually recognized some of the earlier American pioneers. These influences also were previously revealed by my favorite guitar players thereby discovering the link of that influence. A specific interpretation of the blues through Great Britain with bands from the British Invasion reignited the interest in the blues for newer generations of youths as it had done so for me. My earlier influences of country, pop, and rock music, my interest in the guitar, my ability for empathy, and my personal outlook became the amalgam for a passion and inspiration that directly fed this stimulus. Understandably a process usually develops in this relationship such as; learning more about the topic, expanding your influences and further researching your subject, an increasing amount of participation, creating and building your own style or ability, and practicing and developing your craft are all personifications demonstrating that you have channeled this inspiration. The simplest of games sometimes becomes the springboard for a dynamic passion that becomes a lifetime resolution. The factors that determine such innovations must meet more than just any ordinary arbitration’s of the mind and must have a certain resolve of purpose. These must somehow take grasp within our minds and spark something that awakens a passion for it to take hold and develop. Those passions that cannot truly be traceable to their origins because they capture the person from a surprise vantage point and tend to be mysterious to the observer often go unreflected. A viewpoint that has no expectation of their interest from first glance may just be the starting point for a spark to ignite something else unknown inside a person’s mind.
Unfortunately my thought is that many of us do not become inspired or do not hold the formula to launch their inspirations into action. The human spirit can also be hindered if certain conditions are not met for the individual. I see inestimable accounts of people not actuating their potentials due to the limitations of resources or simply just due to the impoverished states of their being. It may be that the psychological dispositions of many will impede any real progress within themselves. The levels of disintegration within our culture alone is worrisome when the topic of personal development comes to mind. The ramifications for misplaced civil atonement’s may also be the distraction some people are challenged by. The world is full of people who do not achieve their passion due to the limitations they place upon their ability for whatever the reasons. For a large part of the population, I trust that we as individuals are responsible for the psychological blockades we place on ourselves if we are fortunate enough to live in an environment that provides us with basic human rights. But the tenacity and fortitude of our determination and spirit still exists no matter what the circumstances of our condition and surroundings. There are many examples of stories worldwide with many backdrops of social constructs and socioeconomic backgrounds that give precedent to show just how powerful the human spirit is. A case in point is to return to the origins of the blues. The social and economic reasons for the appearance of the blues are not fully known.Blues has evolved from an unaccompanied vocal music of poor black laborers into a variety of styles and sub-genres, with regional variations across the United States. The first appearance of the blues is not well-defined and is often dated between 1870 and 1900, a period that coincides with the emancipation of the African-American slaves and the transition from slavery to sharecropping and small-scale agricultural production in the southern United States. The generations of abuse and mistreatment, the limitations of education, and the forced subjugation to social stigmas and ignorance has resulted in the emotive distillation of a human spirit that’s outcry was later heard all over the world. The magnitude of this voice heard in blues music by a people who had tolerated so much for so long has ironically descended upon and affected the world at large, and inspired many of us for many reasons along the way. I find it especially interesting that even under such pernicious circumstances, the emergence of the human spirit still emote a voice with echos of vindication, even after the repression and suppression on such a massive scale. You can impose and enslave a people, but it is extremely difficult to enslave the mind. Henry David Thoreau pointed out in Walden that…“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. Most men, even in this comparatively free country, through mere ignorance and mistake, are so occupied with the factitious cares and superfluously coarse labors of life that its finer fruits cannot be plucked by them. Their fingers, from excessive toil, are too clumsy and tremble too much for that. Actually, the laboring man has not leisure for a true integrity day by day; he cannot afford to sustain the manliest relations to men; his labor would be depreciated in the market. He has no time to be anything but a machine. How can he remember well his ignorance — which his growth requires — who has so often to use his knowledge? We should feed and clothe him gratuitously sometimes, and recruit him with our cordials, before we judge of him. The finest qualities of our nature, like the bloom on fruits, can be preserved only by the most delicate handling. Yet we do not treat ourselves nor one another thus tenderly.” “Some of you, we all know, are poor, find it hard to live, are sometimes, as it were, gasping for breath. I have no doubt that some of you who read this book are unable to pay for all the dinners which you have actually eaten, or for the coats and shoes which are fast wearing or are already worn out, and have come to this page to spend borrowed or stolen time, robbing your creditors of an hour. It is very evident what mean and sneaking lives many of you live, for my sight has been whetted by experience; always on the limits, trying to get into business and trying to get out of debt, a very ancient slough, called by the Latins æs alienum, another’s brass, for some of their coins were made of brass; still living, and dying, and buried by this other’s brass; always promising to pay, promising to pay, tomorrow, and dying today, insolvent; seeking to curry favor, to get custom, by how many modes, only not state-prison offenses; lying, flattering, voting, contracting yourselves into a nutshell of civility or dilating into an atmosphere of thin and vaporous generosity, that you may persuade your neighbor to let you make his shoes, or his hat, or his coat, or his carriage, or import his groceries for him; making yourselves sick, that you may lay up something against a sick day, something to be tucked away in an old chest, or in a stocking behind the plastering, or, more safely, in the brick bank; no matter where, no matter how much or how little.” Henry David Thoreau famously stated in Walden that “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” He thinks misplaced value is the cause: We feel a void in our lives, and we attempt to fill it with things like money, possessions, and accolades. We think these things will make us happy. When they don’t, we just seek more of them. Thoreau argues that the value we attach to possessions and status is misplaced. They aren’t the key to happiness, and they may hurt more than they help. To him, happiness lies instead in a simple life stripped to the essentials. To find it, we must shed our false values and live austerely, with no luxury and only meager comforts. Thoreau attempted to do just that in his minimalist excursion at Walden Pond. Thoreau’s basically right: Misplaced value contributes to “quiet desperation.” But it’s not the end of the story: it’s possible to value all the right things and still lead a quietly desperate life. What Thoreau’s missing is resignation. We lead lives of quiet desperation when we resign ourselves to dissatisfaction. Quiet desperation is acceptance of–and surrendering to–circumstances. Quietly desperate lives are frustrated, passive, and apathetic. They’re unfulfilled and unrealized. So Thoreau saw most of the society of Concord as being unjust and burdensome. However, he also makes the case in Walden, correctly or not, that most people are creating their own problems, by subscribing to society’s burdensome rules when they don’t have to. I think that most parents would want their children to be inspired and enrich their lives by following a dream. Following a passion that sustains goals and in turn inspires others in their lives is essential for growth and fulfillment. There is a fundamental human desire that compels us to aspire. I ask you, what do you dream about? What inspires you? Think about this from time to time. Many of us sometimes forget just what an impact it may have on us, our families and our children.
“Dare to live the life you have dreamed for yourself. Go forward and make your dreams come true.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson
“In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.” ― Albert Schweitzer
“Reach high, for stars lie hidden in you. Dream deep, for every dream precedes the goal.” ― Rabindranath Tagore
“What the superior man seeks is in himself; what the small man seeks is in others.” ― Confucius
“You have power over your mind – not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” ― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
“Why do they always teach us that it’s easy and evil to do what we want and that we need discipline to restrain ourselves? It’s the hardest thing in the world–to do what we want. And it takes the greatest kind of courage. I mean, what we really want.” ― Ayn Rand
“Risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.” ― Leo Buscaglia
••• “He who loves 50 people has 50 woes; he who loves no one has no woes.” – The Buddha – “Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the single candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” – The Buddha – “Just as a solid rock is not shaken by the storm, even so the wise are not affected by praise or blame.”- The Buddha – “Let none find fault with others; let none see the omissions and commissions of others. But let one see one’s own acts, done and undone.” – The Buddha – NOTE: This post was reissued due to the disruption of a WordPress server error. I have rewritten from memory the basics previously published from 5 days prior to this posting. It is unfortunate that I lost that post, my apologies to the reader, I tried to do justice in this post.
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