Monthly Archives: September 2012

Musings after midnight……somewhere

I wonder sometimes why we can’t just say what we feel, why we have to edit and tone down and just plain water things to the point that the original thought is lost even in the microscopic view. We are so careful with how we say things, or don’t say things to people. We will alter it to sound not quite like what we want to say in order to be thought of a nicer than the words we had in our minds at first thought might be taken. And then what does it grant us? No reprieves here, just a putting off of the inevitable.

Sometimes those things, those words, that hover just out of hearing are the ones that truly need to be said. It is the tone we use that might make them more harsh than what is intended. When we add compassion to the words, when we see that the words might be coming from the pain we are feeling inside because we are not honoring our self, then we can speak.

For when we speak in the language of love we can truly get through to the others heart. Then they can hear without over reacting themselves. Not inflicting pain from our own pain is a move into the right place, the place where love and peace and wisdom dwells in a meadow of pure beauty. For “love is truly patient and kind, it is not jealous or conceited or proud, it is not ill-mannered or selfish or irritable, love does not keep a record of wrongs, love is not happy with evil but is happy with truth. Love never gives up, and its faith, hope and patience never fail. Love is eternal.” (I Corinthians, chapter 13, verse 4-8)

Using St. Paul’s words as a rudder in this life, as a directional beam in the relationship sea, it is in love the words pour forth. With compassion, with truth—ah what a hard thing truth can be. But as the great Paul tells us love is happy with the truth. Truth of actual things of life. Some people come into our lives to stay forever, some people only for a brief moment, some for a time for the two of us to learn from each other. Some people are there to teach us that love is not contained in a set of human rules; love lives in the whole universe free and floating and wild as a gale and gentle as a soft whiff of the first spring warmth.

It is so true that each person, each relationship has its own truth, its own particle of the spectrum of love. I am a dogged believer that everyone on this earth has another out there somewhere. That those two people, once the universe’s serendipity is allowed to bring them into the same sphere, will make Romeo and Juliette look like inept teenage lovers. For to me, love really does make the universe keep turning.


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Central Coast Family

I went to visit my cousins in the Central Coast this last weekend. Her house is a California bungalow that started its life as a vacation cabin tucked into the hillside across the bay from Morro Rock.  It has hardwood floors, pocket doors, diamond paned windows, a terraced garden in the back, a red-headed Golden Retriever named Emi and my two cousins. It is a place of calm in a world of swirling chaos, it is an oasis of peace. Visiting is a true vacation of the mind, body and soul.

I rediscover something about myself every time I go there. Jan and I talk a bit about memories we share, but mostly what those memories mean to us now. Dave and I talk about how life can affect us even when we don’t see or acknowledge its effects. We always just settle in with each other, the three of us. There might be some rubbing the wrong direction if we lived in the same house for longer than a few days.  Although when Jan came to help me after hip-replacement surgery a couple of years ago she stayed for three weeks and there was not backward-rubbing at all.  Those rubbing-wrongs from childhood seem to have been left there.

This time we went shopping; Jan, her daughter Tiffani and I. We browsed through three thrift stores, strolled down the center aisle at Beverly’s where we found all sorts of stuff we liked but didn’t bring home and just had a girls afternoon. Growing up with brothers I am late to the girls shopping excursions.  I have come to cherish these hours as we peruse racks of clothes, give opinions, pass some new item into the changing room and always find a special must-have item while we wait for one last try-on.  It is the sharing that is the very best. Sharing the love, the experience too, but mostly the comfort in the family love that is out for the outing too.  It doesn’t even matter if one or two or all three of us don’t bring an item wrapped in tissue paper in an opaque bag out of any of the stores; what matters is that we were together.

And finally that is why I drive the two-hundred and seventy-one miles to Jan and Dave’s little bungalow in the hills above Morro Bay.  It is to be together, to have the intangible family gives.  Acceptance, yes.  Comfort, of course.  Love, definitely. These and more, so much more. It is bringing the past out like a well-worn album, turning the pages and living the pictures’ laughter and tears again; then tucking it away again. It is the shared promise of the days to come where we will always have each other to do this again. It is the listening ear today. And of tomorrow. It is the moment together without speaking. It is the celebration of being able to have those moments.

Family, it is family.




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