I'm All In

Life Is A Gamble

I'm All In

I can't imagine anything worse than living a secret life.

Everything in life is a gamble. You won't ever have a chance of winning what you want if you don't willingly put your chips on the table, roll the dice, or draw to an inside straight. You're either in the game or you're out. There's no halfway, no "well-maybe," no watching and wondering. Not if you want to taste the sheer excitement of being alive.

It's always a mystery to me why there are so many people who long for something or someone, for an opportunity that will truly complete them, and they do nothing. They wait in the dark corners of their emotional closet, and they never sort out what to wear. Instead, they fuss and forgive themselves for being too shy, too polite, or too insecure to risk stepping out of their secret life and into the light. They embrace the comfort of what they know and refuse the chance to risk everything for what they have never known before.

Happiness is never a sure bet, never certain, but you won't truly embrace it unless you're willing to offer everything that you are in order to find it. No one wants half of you, and you must never accept half of anyone else. All in or all out. Simple as that.

Life ... one chance to grab hold of everything you want. Sure, you'll misdeal from time to time, and sure, you'll miscalculate the odds maybe a hundred times or more, but so what? The chance to find happiness is worth every risk.

What's the alternative? Not to try? To hide every hope and dream you have ever had, because for one reason or another, you are afraid to lose?

Trust me, unless you are willing to gamble all that you are, unless you are willing to take that wild leap of faith, losing will always be your only option.

 

Taking Stock

Measure For Measure

Taking Stock

This morning I woke up and wondered if I divided my life in two parts, with one part being all the happy moments and the other part being all the sad and painful moments, which part would be the larger of the two.

Tough call ... I have seen some rough times, but I do think the happy part would have a slight edge.

What about you? How does your life stack up?

 

sometimes you don't fit into the fairy tale

Looking For A Looking Glass?

sometimes you don't fit into the fairy tale

sometimes you don't fit into the fairy tale
you step through a defective looking glass
or fall down the wrong rabbit hole
and presto!
the land of magic and mystery
is not quite what you hoped for

oh sure, there's a frog waiting for your kiss
but kiss as you may
no prince pops out from beneath the warts and the slimy green skin
and the next morning you are sporting
a cold sore the size of Portobello mushroom

undeterred you march through forest and glen
shack up with seven dwarfs in a tiny cottage
that you're expected to keep clean when the little guys
go whistling off to work
while you wait patiently for some crone
or at the very least your older sister to show up
with a poison apple to eat so that you can fall asleep
then suddenly wake to a prince's kiss and
a lifetime of ease watching the afternoon soaps
but the apple never arrives
and you spend sleepless nights in anticipation
until one of the seven little people
slips a pea under your mattress
and you sleep for three days straight
only to wake up and discover
that you've been left out on a marble slab in the bush
and that you're beginning to attract flies

you buy a crate of glass slippers
(one size fits all)
from the shopping network website
and you drive through the richest part of town
leaving one at the gates
of every castle you can find
and you even tie one to a telephone wire
high above the entrance to the legion hall
but no Prince Charming comes 'round
looking for the happy-ever-after
with a slipper in his hand

no, the best you get is the pizza delivery boy
with a double cheese and anchovies x-large pie
misaddressed to your front door
which you pay for
despite the obvious mistake
because the interchange is at least
a minute or two of human contact
and that pizza is something you can munch on
in bed before you fall asleep
all the while hoping the anchovies kick in at some point
and flush all this fantasy shit
out the rabbit hole
and down your porcelain throne
because quite seriously
the worst nightmare of reality isn't half as bad
as wasting a lifetime in a dreamy fog
and wishing you were
someone you're not

 

Tough Talkin' Tuesday — Mercy

Ol' Sparky

Mercy ... Not Where I'm Living

Some will say that there must be mercy for murder and mayhem, but not here, not where I'm living.

Some will say that there must be mercy for the killers of small children, but not here, not where I'm living.

Some will say that there must be mercy for the thieves who rape and pillage and destroy the futures of their innocent victims, but not here, not where I'm living.

Some will say there must be mercy for those who defraud you of your right to be happy, but not here, not where I'm living.

And some will say that, without mercy, there can be no escape from anger and remorse, that, without mercy, we remain the victims of the perpetrator of harm for the rest of our lives. Not here, not where I'm living.

Too often, I see the victims who suffer the consequences of crime turn the other cheek, and there they are, on the television screen or in the newspapers, proclaiming how they forgive the man or woman who committed some heinous act that has all but destroyed their lives. To those, whose morality preaches the "mercy of the Lord" and demands that they forgive, I say, please, no more.

Forgiveness is not a bauble you pick up in the Dollar Store and then display, like it suddenly became a sacred artefact, on the mantle of your self-righteous life. Forgiveness is never so cheap and never so easy.

In a land where mercy is the norm and forgiveness a ten second sound bite, we grow killers and criminals as readily as we grow corn in Iowa.

Sending criminals to prison is not enough. Prisons are not "correctional" institutions. Prisons are more like universities for the pursuit of learning to be a better criminal. Our misguided and soft-hearted leniency merely enables and fosters more and more crime.

No more. If the "mercy of the Lord" is so important, let's send even the pettiest criminal to the Lord to find the mercy they believe is their inalienable right.

Line them up. I'll gladly pull the switch that sends them on their way.

 

Turn Me On Or Turn Me Loose

Exit Stage Right?

Turn Me On Or Turn Me Loose

I know it's early in the morning (at least it is here) and all that, but what the heck ... let's talk sex ...

I think most of us would agree that sexual intimacy is not the be-all and end-all of a relationship. In fact, if sexual intimacy is all a couple has, then the relationship is probably in serious trouble.

Still, intimacy is important, and the refusal of one partner in a relationship to be intimate can also have some serious consequences. Now, I don't mean an occasional "Not tonight, I have such a headache" kind of refusal. I mean a recurring refusal or, in extreme cases, an outright denial of intimacy altogether. So, here's my question:

If one member of the relationship refuses sex, does the other member of the relationship have the "right" to seek intimacy with someone else?

In other words, if you refuse to "put out," is it all right for your significant other to "step out?"

 

That First Kiss

Pucker Power

That First Kiss

That first kiss
So casually careful
Lingers through to eternity
Undaunted by the surge and curl
Of the changing waves
That crash on the shores
Of life's experience
It is the never-to-be-found-again
Doorway to love's lessons
A moment inseparably entwined
In the tendrils of one time and a single space
Small in dimension but always
Locked in our hearts
Something permanent and yet
As delicate and fragile as a porcelain figurine
That every new lover
Worries and frets over
While trying and failing to tip it
From the perfect pedestal
Where we have set it
Against all harm

 

In My Quiet Moments

Shhh ...

In My Quiet Moments

Most of us live in fairly noisy worlds. Some like the noise, crave the noise, need the noise. A part of me is that kind of person. Some days, I love the hubbub of the world. Other days, I like my quiet moments, when I'm "turned off and tuned out."

My quiet moments have a kind of healing effect on me. I find myself slowing down, sometimes almost completely to a dead stop. I can't say that I spend those moments doing the introspective thing, because introspection is usually a road to worry for me. I begin to think of family and friends and the challenges they are forced to face. In my quiet moments, that kind of thinking needs to be avoided.

My quiet moments are moments for me. Sure, the phone will ring or the computer will wake from the screen saver, as if these things were calling me back from the drift of silence. Still, I've never answered a phone just because it's ringing, and I've always believed that the computer can do what computers do without my help or my attention.

There has to be some time for nothing at all, some time for the soothing vacancy of emotion or thought, some time for the selfish demand that the world let me be me.

In my quiet moments, everything else can wait or not. I don't much care either way.

 

Somebody To Love

Alone Through Life

Somebody To Love

A few days ago, someone said to me, "Everyone loves someone."

At the time, I didn't really know how to respond, because my brain was in the midst of tilting left, and I was trying to balance the little gyroscope in my head back to centre.

This morning, I woke up with that thought creeping back in my semi-consciousness.

Does everyone really love someone?

The notion that there are people out there without someone to love seems pretty bleak, but to be honest, I think it is quite possible that such a notion might be true. Some people may not have someone to love.

Now, I'm wondering if the inverse could also be true.

Could there be people out there who have no one who loves them? That seems just as bleak, if not bleaker.

I've always thought that, since we are all born into some kind of family, we all have someone whom we love and who loves us, if only in the smallest way. I suppose, however, that it is possible that some people are born without a family, orphans for example, and maybe there are cases where an individual is cut loose so completely that he or she has no connection to anyone.

Hmmm ...

 

My World And Welcome To It

The Man In Me

My World And Welcome To It

Many thanks to Doronette for including me in her list of blogs deserving the Liebster Blog Award.

Here are my responses to your leading statements. Hopefully, they will give you a bit more insight into my world.

1. I can’t imagine my life without ... music.
2. My biggest dream is … to take a long cruise to Hawaii.
3. When no one sees … I am reading.
4. If I could go back to the past … I would relive the 60's.
5. I start my day … with koffee (of course).
6. I’m the most proud of … my children.
7. When I smile … be careful, because I'm probably up to something.
8. When I’ve got time for myself … I play the guitar.
9. My biggest love is … writing.
10. My biggest inspiration is … Leonard Cohen.
11. I write my blog … to encourage others to see differently.

Once again, thanks, Doronette.

This is a bit of my world ... welcome to it ...

 

The Simplest Treasures

A rose by any other name ...

The Simplest Treasures


After childhood days of sunny gold, after the darkening years of growing old, after finding lasting love and romance, after avoiding every second chance ...

After enjoying great days of happy success, after feeling your life is a constant mess, after the smiles and the kisses, after the tear drops and the misses ...

After sensing perfection, after further reflection, after wishing on a star, after dreaming too far ...

After hearing great news, after singing the blues, after thinking you're all that, after not knowing where you're at ...

The greatest pleasures in life are its simplest treasures.

 

these are the dead

these are the dead

these are the dead
the dust and ashes
of unknown soldiers beneath distant skies
these the collapsed faces hidden under a shroud of fat rats
entrenched in coffins of sinewed mud

these are the eyes
that stare into eternity
under the beat of
these the insatiable black wings of crows
with sharp yellow beaks

these are the bodies
some twisted into awkward poses of hopeful expectation
that they would return to a better life
these the shadows who stumbled
and in that single misstep found only a bitter death

these are the red-splattered photographs
clutched in crumbling fingers
or caught from the wind by barbed wire
these the fading remembrances of a mother left on the front porch
or an expectant lover's lingering smile

these are the dead
these the heroes
these the ghosts of war
these the warriors marching through the door of selflessness
and into peace at last

 

The Green-Eyed Monster

Jealousy

The Green-Eyed Monster

Shakespeare called jealousy a "green-ey'd monster." I'm not sure where the "green" part came from, maybe from the phrase "green with envy," but then I'm not sure whether that phrase pre-dated Shakespeare or vice versa.

I've never been a jealous kind of guy. In a romantic relationship, I've always thought that the moment someone became jealous of the other person was the moment the relationship was pretty much over. Over, that is, except for the groaning, the moaning, the shouting, the pouting, and an ample amount of desperate weeping. You see, jealous people have trouble letting go.

Jealousy is a form of manipulation. It likens a person to an object that the jealous partner believes he or she owns and can, therefore, control. Sad, really. Destructive beyond repair, especially if you allow your partner to confuse you into thinking that his or her jealousy is just an expression of overwhelming love.

Love and jealousy have nothing to do with one another. Love is a trusting emotion. Jealousy is born out of anxiety and insecurity, and some days, I wonder if it's not a weird kind of genetic emotional defect. Jealous people rarely recover from their affliction or, perhaps more significantly, their infliction of suffering on others.

Some people carry their jealousy beyond romance. Some people are jealous of other people's talents, creativity, social position, and so on. As a result, they often try to diminish other people's accomplishments through insult or ridicule, and quite frankly, expose themselves as pompous wannabes. You meet these kind of people in all walks of life. They set out to crush the living spirit, "the force that through the green fuse drives the flower," as Dylan Thomas once called it. Hmm, there's the colour green again, but used in a completely different context with a completely different meaning.

I actually don't mind wannabes. I am, myself, something of a wannbe.

I would love to be able to write like Shakespeare or Dylan Thomas, but I can't.

I would love to be able to play guitar like Eric Clapton, but I can't.

However, I don't slag others for being better than me. I accept my limitations.

I can't even imagine what it must be like to live in a kind of self-deluded world where someone believes everyone else is secondary to him or her. I prefer to admire those that are clearly superior to me in all manner of things. That admiration doesn't make me jealous of them at all. It simply drives me to try to do better, if only to approximate what they do, and to be happy with my best efforts.