Tag Archive: Father


In the wake of what I am
changing reality
an argument against maturity
I don’t
want
to have to choose
Forced by a hard night’s floor
one foot stepped
planted
placed by a hand that knows
the difference between each
defensive position
Now another reminder
comes
Frail life
more transparently short
than we admit to ourselves
and all
I hear screaming
is my selfish childlike voice
echoing
I’m not ready yet
I don’t want to learn
to
live without you

As if this
is truly anything
at
all
about what I want
It becomes a twisted mirror
propped up
by absence and possibilities
and
my
myopia
is the image sobbing
as I look on
Afraid
that I might be forced
to admit to myself
A man
stands
with self-reliance
Inside the twisted wreckage
yelps
a bleating cry
repeating
embarrassing phrases
about self-reliance
and feet
standing in
shifting soil
due to the lack of desire
to be more than
dependant
and
unable to make it
to
live without you
here

I’m not prepared
for a time
coming like a car
out of the blue
A collision of maturity,
ideals,
and still wanting
while needing you
like a child
relies upon
his father
to be able to stand

 

7:03 am
15 March 2012

Straightening the Shelves

I had my world jostled a few weeks ago.  My metaphorical bookshelf was waylaid by the swirling reality of wanting a change in my life.  Inspired by a couple of things that I had heard, my thoughts combined with the stirring images of a movie I saw.  I became mesmerised by the concept of self-discovery with regards to art, artistic process, and finding ourselves within that place.  My heart became something that I delved into with the hopes that I might find the echoes of something seemingly long-buried in my life.

We all put down things in our lives.  Not everyone will make it to the upper division in our lives.  Athletes don’t all make it to the major’s.  Artists don’t all have their shows featured around the world.  Musicians don’t all play Carnegie Hall.  Writers don’t all get the mega series that has the endless revenue of sequel after sequel. 

Many of us can’t make a living on what we were made to do.  It’s the rough difference between a calling (a vocation) and a job (an occupation).  My father has spent much of his life doing what he loves doing AND what he was created to do, teach.  He recently retired (30 March 2011 was his last official day), and he’s going to be teaching in the fall.  My mother on the other hand, didn’t get a chance to do what she wanted to do until she was 65 years of age, and only got to do it for 5 years until our Lord called her home.

My mother’s vocation didn’t match her occupation.  My father’s did.  For someone in the former, it doesn’t ever seem fair that we cannot do what we were created to do and live off of it.  For someone in the latter, it doesn’t ever seem fair that we get this wonderful opportunity.

It’s painful to be unable to make a living doing what you know you’re suited to be.  It’s even more painful sometimes to realise that you might not have what would realistically be a choice in the matter.  I’ve been exploring that in my own mindset… in my own heart.  Never before have I been as willing as I have recently to scrap everything I know for the hopes of something different in my future.  Writing, dreaming, hoping, (to quote my friend Ashley) scheming, plotting, and praying.  Pleading is probably more like it.

The nice neat books all stacked just so on my bookshelf are all in disarray today.  I’ve put down everything in my hands.  All of my books have been strewn about.  Instead of looking at individual books, or looking at individual issues like I have in the past, I am now looking at what is at my feet.  Whatever rests there after the tumult settles, that’s what I’m wading through, so to speak.  I’ve found a couple of things left at my feet that still inspire me, and move me to introspection and observing the world more closely.  I pray often, pray now, that I might have eyes to see the new day as new.  Sooner as opposed to later would be nice as well.

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