Some will be lost. There's no way to experience life without ultimately experiencing death.
But not Forgotten.
William Brett Shanley
3/31/1973 - 4/11/2012
Two Men - Revisited
Two men meet at the end of the road
One departed – one further to go
But sometimes they still meet
Like today, when’s it’s the time
To look back where they’ve traveled
Find a little peace of mind…
Two stories that still seem to unfold
One never forgotten, one left to be told
Come together and take a pause
Winded voices still move on and on
They share past and present
Then turn to depart
I stop and turn, look back at him
Starting to fade, won’t let the light dim
Must push on –
so when next we meet
There is another chapter
Two little feet…
I’ve lost many, some I’ve known for years and years
But this man that I followed can bring as many tears
I will remember what I can –
Though even though I think I understand
Some days I can’t
But I know the road.
I’ve walked it. Longer than he
And somehow I’ve been allowed
To live and breathe
Suffered with pain – with the uncertainty
Of staying together, when I just couldn’t believe
And the path ahead of me, well
Still have days it’s a little foggy to see
Two men say goodbye again
Not really brothers, not exactly friends
Each shares in their humanity
Insights others may not have seen
I move on – I press on…
3/31/15
clc
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Monday, February 23, 2015
43
I am a blessed man. I have a beautiful, gorgeous wife. A new wonder on the way. A child I never thought would be part of my future, but I'm excited nonetheless.
I have two incredibly strong and amazing teenagers. Cade, who I see so much raw, untapped potential in. You're smart kid, do something with it – let me help, I'm always here. And Cambrey, my “little girl”. I know you have the whimsical, dreamer side, like me. Refine it and find your passion! ( and no, you're still not dating until you re 35!).
But it's still been a hard transition. 43.
Some birthdays just come and pass with out much ado, then there are those that you just can't truly fathom why, but they hit you. A brick against the head. An ACME Anvil (circa Bugs Bunny, Wille Coyote) over the skull… And you still hear that damn road runner taunting, laughing in every “beep, beep!”
My body’s fighting me. My emotions, even though I've done my best, are on edge. My physical body is hurting. All the time. To the point of tears. So tomorrow I go to another doctor. Praying for some relief. The ringing is just so prevalent. And then Wednesday a sinus procedure to relieve some of the infection and drainage issues.
It’s been hard. To the point where I found myself losing it over a curs-ed (said southernly) ceiling fan yesterday.
Growing a year older really isn't a big part of the landscape, but it just happens that this week everything aligns. I’m feeling it. And I don't really allow myself that voice. The screaming I do inside is often just a muddled whisper to those around. So without yelling, I just want to say I’m not done. I've cried more in the last week or so the I have in a long time. Everything kind of hitting all at once. The pain, the need to carve out “space”, the absolute desire to get little one’s room all settled, the struggle for family – and what that means, the artistic “struggle” within, feeling the mountain air in my lungs, and the need to be open and talking to the one I love…
So here's a little openness…
I love both of my parents. Even though I don't necessarily know how that works. I love Kit, and I think he'll see that one day soon. I love my new in-laws, though that is still a new relationship (here in Georgia we have shotguns usually attached to any mention of In-laws, but for now I think I’m safe – haha). I am so deeply in love with the two kids that I see as coming into a really cool age. They are on my mind daily – constantly. Embedded I the depths of my soul. I will love little “runt”. That's a crazy new adventure to come!
And I love My Wife. But that is something that I will express to her, in private (Jenelle, Just know how much you truly mean to everything).
So I'm not apologizing for my age, or my condition. I'm sick of saying sorry for what's going on. I am, though, trying to find answers. Even when the questions are still kind of fuzzy to me. I know that age isn't the definer of my spirit. I'm just battling to right the ship and set the course (funny side note – I keep a compass on the dash of my van and a special brass one hanging on my peg board at home)
I am a man who is deeply rooted here in the woods and the winds of north Georgia. But just as alive roaming the city streets of my Atlanta. I find that there is a distinct need to play, to create, to be the artist that I know is hidden down inside the years of dust and cobwebs. I need to love, and those who are my loves - my wife, kids, family and dear, dear friends (Matt, Kelly and yes, even you Nate!) all need to know how much you truly mean to me.
My spirit isn't fettered by the strains of corporate religion, but I believe in God and the ragamuffin gospel of Rich and how he chose to realize his faith. Im still not satisfied with my own spiritual views, but I'm continually looking, reading, even praying on occasion. But I also won't deny anyone else their own views. I only can answer for me. I just know there's something out there.
So this week I turn 43, KINDA (My kids always think it's so funny that I only have a birthday every four years, and that I'm only 10, and that in birth years I'm younger than they are…. I was born on the 29th, if you haven't figured that out yet), and I have realized that this is one of those harder ones.
But it's still me. Still moving forward, even through the hard times. Even when tears swell up in my eyes, like now. Still wanting to do something special, something powerful with the short time we have here on this planet. Still traversing the trails and mountains before me.
Still me.
I have two incredibly strong and amazing teenagers. Cade, who I see so much raw, untapped potential in. You're smart kid, do something with it – let me help, I'm always here. And Cambrey, my “little girl”. I know you have the whimsical, dreamer side, like me. Refine it and find your passion! ( and no, you're still not dating until you re 35!).
But it's still been a hard transition. 43.
Some birthdays just come and pass with out much ado, then there are those that you just can't truly fathom why, but they hit you. A brick against the head. An ACME Anvil (circa Bugs Bunny, Wille Coyote) over the skull… And you still hear that damn road runner taunting, laughing in every “beep, beep!”
My body’s fighting me. My emotions, even though I've done my best, are on edge. My physical body is hurting. All the time. To the point of tears. So tomorrow I go to another doctor. Praying for some relief. The ringing is just so prevalent. And then Wednesday a sinus procedure to relieve some of the infection and drainage issues.
It’s been hard. To the point where I found myself losing it over a curs-ed (said southernly) ceiling fan yesterday.
Growing a year older really isn't a big part of the landscape, but it just happens that this week everything aligns. I’m feeling it. And I don't really allow myself that voice. The screaming I do inside is often just a muddled whisper to those around. So without yelling, I just want to say I’m not done. I've cried more in the last week or so the I have in a long time. Everything kind of hitting all at once. The pain, the need to carve out “space”, the absolute desire to get little one’s room all settled, the struggle for family – and what that means, the artistic “struggle” within, feeling the mountain air in my lungs, and the need to be open and talking to the one I love…
So here's a little openness…
I love both of my parents. Even though I don't necessarily know how that works. I love Kit, and I think he'll see that one day soon. I love my new in-laws, though that is still a new relationship (here in Georgia we have shotguns usually attached to any mention of In-laws, but for now I think I’m safe – haha). I am so deeply in love with the two kids that I see as coming into a really cool age. They are on my mind daily – constantly. Embedded I the depths of my soul. I will love little “runt”. That's a crazy new adventure to come!
And I love My Wife. But that is something that I will express to her, in private (Jenelle, Just know how much you truly mean to everything).
So I'm not apologizing for my age, or my condition. I'm sick of saying sorry for what's going on. I am, though, trying to find answers. Even when the questions are still kind of fuzzy to me. I know that age isn't the definer of my spirit. I'm just battling to right the ship and set the course (funny side note – I keep a compass on the dash of my van and a special brass one hanging on my peg board at home)
I am a man who is deeply rooted here in the woods and the winds of north Georgia. But just as alive roaming the city streets of my Atlanta. I find that there is a distinct need to play, to create, to be the artist that I know is hidden down inside the years of dust and cobwebs. I need to love, and those who are my loves - my wife, kids, family and dear, dear friends (Matt, Kelly and yes, even you Nate!) all need to know how much you truly mean to me.
My spirit isn't fettered by the strains of corporate religion, but I believe in God and the ragamuffin gospel of Rich and how he chose to realize his faith. Im still not satisfied with my own spiritual views, but I'm continually looking, reading, even praying on occasion. But I also won't deny anyone else their own views. I only can answer for me. I just know there's something out there.
So this week I turn 43, KINDA (My kids always think it's so funny that I only have a birthday every four years, and that I'm only 10, and that in birth years I'm younger than they are…. I was born on the 29th, if you haven't figured that out yet), and I have realized that this is one of those harder ones.
But it's still me. Still moving forward, even through the hard times. Even when tears swell up in my eyes, like now. Still wanting to do something special, something powerful with the short time we have here on this planet. Still traversing the trails and mountains before me.
Still me.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Prayer for Peace
Some to Buddha or off toward Mecca.
There are those who worship nature or the spirits of the world, and there are those who don't pray at all.
But tonight I pray for something that I think we all can stand together in if we drop the Religion, Theology, Mysticism and Science that we serve.
Peace.
As I sit up way too late on Tuesday, just a couple of weeks away from Christmas, I find that there is only one thing that I truly want this year. More of the peace that I've sought and found in spurts over the last three years. Not a peace that comes from rallies with signs or an end to War, but the simple ideal that there is a new hope, a fresh morning and a chance to move away from the darkness that looms over our heads.
If one at a time we all said our own prayer for peace - in whatever fashion we choose - and looked inward toward the human pulse that does truly unite us, couldn't we make such a radical change on this planet.
The thought is simple. Implementation is where the work happens. But it's only up to the individual to strive for more balance within. There doesn't have to be some 'meeting', an alter call, a terrorist attack, or even a radical thought. Just take a breath. Stop in the daily commotion.
And "give peace a chance".
Two, one two three four
Everybody's talking about
Bagism, Shagism, Dragism, Madism
Ragism, Tagism, this-ism, that-ism
Ism ism ism
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
Everybody's talkin' 'bout ministers, sinisters
Banisters and canisters, bishops and fishops
Rabbis and pop eyes, bye bye, bye byes
All we are saying, is give peace a chance
All we are saying, is give peace a chance
Let me tell you now
Everybody's talking about, revolution
Evolution, masturbation, flagellation
Regulation, integrations, meditations
United Nations, congratulations
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
Everybody's talking about, John and Yoko
Timmy Leary, Rosemary, Tommy smothers
Bobby Dylan, Tommy Cooper, Derek Taylor
Norman Mailer, Alan Ginsberg, Hare Krishna, Hare Hare Krishna
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
~ John Lennon
Friday, December 5, 2014
Another Man's Son
Walked many roads.
Climbed a few mountains...
A man walks down the street. Out of the rubble of war, disaster, disease. It's the story told in the book "The Road". An apocalyptic tale of one man's struggle to survive and watch after the son who travels along side.
But this is real life.
I see Another Man and know his life. I know the struggles he's personally faced and I have seen the hopelessness that envelopes all that is around him. No matter what anyone may think, I may be the closest to him. His eyes are my eyes. His voice, my own.
And now I find myself wondering how I'll pass along his memory. What do I say? share? As I prepare for the son who is fast approaching, how do I remedy my own past mistakes and time missed?
It's almost as if I'm being given the chance to raise the son He never had. Maybe this is another of those moments where instead of analyzing, I should just do what I do pretty well - find the way to move on and embrace the path that I've been placed on.
Realize the blessings that I've been given.
The boy who is coming is my blood - my flesh - my seed.
But he's also the image of someone who won't be forgotten. Through my eyes I hope to share a little about Another Man...
...to my son.
Climbed a few mountains...
A man walks down the street. Out of the rubble of war, disaster, disease. It's the story told in the book "The Road". An apocalyptic tale of one man's struggle to survive and watch after the son who travels along side.
But this is real life.
I see Another Man and know his life. I know the struggles he's personally faced and I have seen the hopelessness that envelopes all that is around him. No matter what anyone may think, I may be the closest to him. His eyes are my eyes. His voice, my own.
And now I find myself wondering how I'll pass along his memory. What do I say? share? As I prepare for the son who is fast approaching, how do I remedy my own past mistakes and time missed?
It's almost as if I'm being given the chance to raise the son He never had. Maybe this is another of those moments where instead of analyzing, I should just do what I do pretty well - find the way to move on and embrace the path that I've been placed on.
Realize the blessings that I've been given.
The boy who is coming is my blood - my flesh - my seed.
But he's also the image of someone who won't be forgotten. Through my eyes I hope to share a little about Another Man...
...to my son.
Monday, December 1, 2014
The Unexpected
Though we tend to mark history with time, a specific point in our day or week that helps us define life, I find that more often my own history is defined by moments. Those places, people or events that I may or may not be able to recall the specific date or second, but I can tell you what I was wearing, what was going on around me and how the moment made me feel.
Graduating (finally) college - I have to think for a moment to remember the year (LOL), but I can tell you who sat beside me, how the fresh-cut grass smelled on the stadium lawn.
When the kids were born, especially my daughter. How the pace of the day was so quick compared to my son's birth. How I was sick and had to cross Peachtree Street to get medicine for myself at the drugstore. The way my son was playing and grinning up at me from the floor of the room we were in. How it felt to cradle Cambrey in my arms as she pronounced herself to the world.
The days I was alone - lost to the world it seems. What terrible moments those were. But never again.
So there are moments for all of us. Some are planned, but then there are those unexpected ones that stick with us and continue to fill us with the knowledge that everything in this life isn't scripted or planned to the half hour.
The first words of a babe.
The first time I looked out over the summit of blood mountain. Heaving from the workout and perspiring, but at a loss of breath more from the view.
A smile shared unexpectedly.
Life being formed inside a mother's womb - kicking for it's time to share in the light.
The unexpected comes and we just have to embrace it - hold it and know that life is richer from those moments shared...
Graduating (finally) college - I have to think for a moment to remember the year (LOL), but I can tell you who sat beside me, how the fresh-cut grass smelled on the stadium lawn.
When the kids were born, especially my daughter. How the pace of the day was so quick compared to my son's birth. How I was sick and had to cross Peachtree Street to get medicine for myself at the drugstore. The way my son was playing and grinning up at me from the floor of the room we were in. How it felt to cradle Cambrey in my arms as she pronounced herself to the world.
The days I was alone - lost to the world it seems. What terrible moments those were. But never again.
So there are moments for all of us. Some are planned, but then there are those unexpected ones that stick with us and continue to fill us with the knowledge that everything in this life isn't scripted or planned to the half hour.
The first words of a babe.
The first time I looked out over the summit of blood mountain. Heaving from the workout and perspiring, but at a loss of breath more from the view.
A smile shared unexpectedly.
Life being formed inside a mother's womb - kicking for it's time to share in the light.
The unexpected comes and we just have to embrace it - hold it and know that life is richer from those moments shared...
Thursday, October 16, 2014
FOOTPRINTS
They last only moments.
The stretch of time that it takes to walk a mile can see them vanish in the winds brushing across the trail. They are not permanent. They are just us passing through this life.
At times they trudge through the muck and mire. At other times they find clear passage.
As my life.
My feet are still finding their way. The unique journey that I take is mine and mine alone. It is shared. It has special others whose steps parallel my own. It has past journeys that have seen parting of company.
I see the days ahead full of new paths and even two new little feet.
This week I've seen a change in the weather as fall ushers in, and in me I have seen a thoughtfulness that has lingered... a wondering of what changes my own life has yet to see.
We all live here. We all breathe. We all walk, and ultimately we all die.
What will be my footprint on this world? As the mountains rise above me, around me - I know there are still many to climb. There will be hard ascents and even harder times descending in the trials that WILL COME.
But there will be strong Vistas. Views only available if you make the climb.
I know I'll take some serious memories. And hopefully leave my footprint!
Sunday, September 28, 2014
margin
we run from activity to activity. seeking more to fill every moment of our day. seeking fulfillment that will satisfy. but are we really finding any real purpose in all these multiple endeavors?
are you satisfied with your life on the run? am I?
I hesitate for just a moment (long enough to look at the calendar and see where I'm supposed to be right now.).
are we willing to allow a little margin?
I see friends and family that run, run, run. Taking themselves and their kids from ballet to soccer to church to piano lessons to karate to who knows where. I have adult friends that go from their jobs to teaching lessons to volunteer activities to the next community get together.
I've been them. I've lived that life.
the page runs closer and closer to the edge of the sheet. the margins shrinking with each addition to the schedule.
create margin. create space for you, for your family to breathe. to find more life in moments. there will always be the rush, the coming and going in our lives, but some days just need the clean white space created by plenty of margin.
are you satisfied with your life on the run? am I?
I hesitate for just a moment (long enough to look at the calendar and see where I'm supposed to be right now.).
are we willing to allow a little margin?
I see friends and family that run, run, run. Taking themselves and their kids from ballet to soccer to church to piano lessons to karate to who knows where. I have adult friends that go from their jobs to teaching lessons to volunteer activities to the next community get together.
I've been them. I've lived that life.
the page runs closer and closer to the edge of the sheet. the margins shrinking with each addition to the schedule.
create margin. create space for you, for your family to breathe. to find more life in moments. there will always be the rush, the coming and going in our lives, but some days just need the clean white space created by plenty of margin.
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