Empty Vessels

What if we started life as an empty vessel?  Everything we know being poured in, filling space and helping to shape and form us from the very beginning.  We grow, evolve, shrink, expand.  We change.  We are.

Then life cracks.  Instead of holding everything in the seams are pressed and all of our live is spilt out - on display for so many to see.  We find ourselves vulnerable, overwhelmed.  Angry at God, man, politicians, former bosses, our exes.

Retreat.  Fight.  Lash out.  Succumb.  There are so many possibilities.  So many ways we just try to survive.

What if instead we started over each day as that empty vessel.  Filling our days with all the good, all the bad.  All of life.  And instead of carrying so much weight into every day, we start fresh and anew with just what we need.  With space to grow, room to shed, sometimes filling to the rim, other times seemingly unchanged from dawn til dusk.

Tonight: I have to let go.  Not just of today’s fill, but of the last several weeks. 

Life.
Death.
Holidays.
A little boy.
Religion.
My two mini-adults.
Relationships.
Expectations.
A former employer.
Finances
Love.

Let it go (and not the damn song from “Frozen”).

And let God.

Tomorrow:  I am an empty vessel.  Waiting to be filled.

~ Peace

The Burtle

What we leave behind...

The phone call came at lunch yesterday. My dad very calmly said “Chad, I’ve got some bad news.”  My cousin had been in a motorcycle accident and was gone. I don’t know the details and I don’t need to.  He left behind three daughters, a son, a beautiful wife and a military record that I’m sure is exemplary; a legacy.  He will be missed.

< and I take a breath…>

I’ve spent six months working on a job that I have found so much enjoyment, peace, satisfaction, fulfillment, all the words and all the things…

All the feels.

In my life I can’t recall a position that I have been as consistent, as conscientious, learned as much, struggled at times and sincerely loved coming to work every single day. The good days and the bad days.

And that’s why I’m leaving.

Yes, I’m leaving.

I put in my notice on Monday.  Not because I’m stupid or I’m being foolish (I’ll save my foolishness for other arenas!), but because the opportunity arose to continue to work with someone I respect and trust.  A man who has a vision that I saw the day I met him.  To work beside a brother, a young man who I have continually learned from as we have taught each other and communicated in ways that grown men don’t always do. 

I’m thankful for the six months in a position that has allowed me to call myself a Carpenter.  A man who works with his hands and tries to do a damn good job every day - that there are things in life that are just worth breathing in and doing the best you can.  Now, what I am concerned with most is what I leave behind.

I’ve been bitter the last week.  Not like myself.  Angry over unmet promises in an employer and an establishment that doesn’t really think about the needs of the masses over the desires of the few.  And this is not a new struggle.  I am passionate about life.  When I see things that strike against my core, I bristle up and want to fight.  Yet, I haven’t fought outwardly.  The fight has been within myself.

When companies start to change and grow, or become weathered and start to fade or become less relevant, most have a legacy plan.  A plan of continuing forward with the work or closing the doors.  I’ve worked for many small companies that have gone different directions; some that have made a plan of continuing to work and succeeded in transitioning to new people at the helm.  I’ve seen others that have had to close their doors because they knew that it was the best thing.  To close up shop and realize it was good while it lasted.  What hurts the most are the ones that have no clue.  With no guidance, with no direction and there is no orderly direction.  And I try to live my life in good orderly direction (GOD), the best I can every day.

I’ve watched the company I work for struggle.  Not with finances, but with identity.  And while watching I’ve also had to think about myself; older, hopefully a little wiser.  What am I leaving behind from the last six months?  What am I leaving behind from so many years?  What do I want to my legacy to be?

Love.
Faith.
A sense of humor and a mockumentary of a life that I am so thankful for now more than ever.
My kids.

I am a carpenter.  And I follow a Carpenter.  I want to leave behind a ledger book of what I have done to live this life the best I can, and leave something behind, something that matters.  And I know that every time I look up and say ‘thank you', I’m thanking him for what he left behind.  Salvation, faith, hope.  One day at a time.

So, what is your legacy?    Life is short.  My cousin was in his mid 40s.  He left more than tears and bittersweet memories this Christmas.  He left a Legacy.  Life stops in an instant.  What message are you leaving behind?


~ Peace

The Burtle

for Justin, Jonathan and all the others that have blessed my life over the last six months/year.

ENOUGH

“You’re not good enough

You don’t deserve this

You don’t have what it takes

You aren’t worthy

You aren’t…”

I’m not.
I’m not good enough.  I don’t deserve anything.  Most days don’t have what it takes.  I’m not worthy.

But I am.
I am here.

There’s this whole big world out there that’s trying to sell us all something.  Make-up, Sports cars, Bit-coins, Anti-aging creams, Time.  Everyone has an agenda.  Something to buy, trade, convince that we desperately need what they’re hocking.

But what I am finding more and more is that there’s very little that I truly need.  Shelter, a bed, warm clothes when the temperature drops, food on the table, coffee (lot’s of coffee) and those who I chose to surround myself with (though many have been chosen for me - thank God for that).  I don’t want for much.  I don’t desperately need a new this or that.  Sure, I want things and I’ve had my own rabbit holes into retail therapy.

In my core there is finally a realization that those voices that I started this with - the not good enough, not strong enough - well they can jump off a F’ing cliff.  I’m tired of the voices that I’ve carried in my head directing my path.  Aren’t you?  The misguided sentiments, the false-truths, the LIES that we’ve been told or worse, we tell ourselves.  I won’t listen.  Not anymore.  

It took a lot of loss to finally claim life.  And my spiritual experience is something that I’ve often referenced in these meanderings (this blog).  I shared with someone just recently that I am not me without the hurts.  Yet, I am more than just the pain I’ve suffered, caused, witnessed, trespassed upon others.  I CLAIM LIFE.  Every Damn Day!  

You see in our core, in our inner-most being there is life.  There is more than what the world wants to sell us.  We see it in new babies being born or adopted.  We see it in hearts coming together to do this thing called life as husband and wife.  We find it not in the grocery store tabloids or on Social Media, but in breaths stolen at the break of day or lingering outside on a crisp December evening to watch the stars, sometimes with someone special.  Not in municipalities or religious trappings, but in the heart of regular citizens stopping at a car wreck to give first aid, to help preserve life - for just a little longer. 

<WE ARE ENOUGH>

We are here to exist, not to placate the obsessions of the nouveau-riche or the pompously bloated trillionaire.  But to build community and help others do life - better.  

We work and we play.  We live, and yes, we die.  We are.

So remember, on the worst days, when it all just SUCKS… that there is more.  In a smile shared.   A hug given.  A kind word.

That WE are enough.

~ Peace

The Burtle

Often Fight the Morning

Often fight the morning 
The shadows still fall
Around me as I’m sleeping
And I struggle to make sense of it all

Cool air of early autumn 
Rising wind brings back the thought
Of one year ago
I can’t help but meander
In the battles that I’ve fought

And looking back
There is comfort
In how each and every day 
is one more chance
To rise above my insecurities 
I find hope,
Get up and stand

This day rises before me
The shadows crumble and fall
As I take a breath
Inside of me
There is a hope,
A gentle call…

“You are enough”


11/08/21
clc

Part of something Big

<365 Days/1 Year>

We are small and insignificant underneath a God-etched landscape of stars.  We are travelers on this highway meeting many fellow pilgrims along the way.  We are colorful kaleidoscopes of passion and flame; hunger and thirst.

We breathe, we live, we believe.

No matter what belief system you take, you are part of this.  Everyone comes together to be part of a larger tapestry of hurts and woes, gladness and light; the pull and the push of striving, surviving and just fucking getting by sometimes.

We all are here.  We can grow and become; we can shrivel and wilt.  Or meander in the betweens…

I’ve meandered a greater portion of my life.  Stuck in hurts and disillusionment, fighting to breathe - hell fighting just to fight at times.  My rudder was finally corrected (just slightly) back in 2006.  An adjustment that opened me up and made me start talking about life.  Which meant talking about the past as well.  All of my past!  And over the next 14 years I thought I was getting better.  In many ways I was, but it wasn’t until last year, when I was at my worst that I truly realized just how small I was.  And instead of curling up, making myself smaller and dwindling away, I was given life. 

I looked up…

(Take my hand -

Trust me)

Looking up I am still always amazed at how I am a small part of this great universe.  An ‘ant marching’, a dandelion seed drifting on the wind, a speck of sand drifting between the ocean and the shore.

And I breathe in each day knowing that my small part is as significant as the largest mountain.  Because we all have significance.  We all have our stories and they unite in this big cosmic mass of who we are.  Who all of us are.

Good, bad or ugly, we all exist here together.

Parts of a whole.

Part of something Big.

~ Peace

The Burtle

Corner of the Sky

zadkiel

"If you wanna make the world a better place..."

I stopped using social media back in October of last year.  Somewhere inside I realized that my actions and the words and ‘life’ I represented on there didn’t match and honestly, it was all toxic (my opinion on ‘the book of Face’, ‘InstaF*?/‘ and other outlets hasn’t changed).  I was spiraling and was clinging to anything to get my voice heard.  And that was my pain - I didn’t feel heard.  For someone so damn loud in life, I felt small, insignificant and well, alone.  And isolation will kill you if you don’t find hope. 

Hope.  I had none.

I retreated from Social Media, my family, work - well there wasn’t any, and even my passions.

I tried to walk away from God.  My faith.

Fast Forward.  One Year.

I find myself seeing a very different man in the mirror.  


“I'm starting with the man in the mirror
I'm asking him to change his ways
And no message could've been any clearer
If they wanna make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself and then make a change”

~ MJ

And it didn’t happen quickly.  But it did happen in an instant.

So, as I look today, in a week filled with so many deep, painful reminders of last year, I can say without doubt or fear that I have found one thing over the last year.

Hope.

And it shows itself in some of the most peculiar ways…

This week has been a pretty hard week. Not a bad week but very physical and my body is weary.  One of the things that I use the most in my work is my truck.  And, as my daughter is fond of pointing out at times - I love her (the Truck, Silver) more than most people!  She’s been more reliable, driving all the way to Oregon and back, and more steady than most of the people in my life.

So, my truck went in the shop on Monday.  The repair is way more than I expected ($$$$) and it hit me; Emotionally. Financially.  Spiritually and really sent me teetering into negative emotions.  I just got so damn mad that I am still fighting, struggling to get by.  “Why, God?”  “WTF?”

The shop is owned by a friend.  I told him I needed to get it fixed but I would have to figure out the money.  He told me it didn’t matter, we could 'stretch it out'.  He knew I would pay him when I could.  I’ve been blessed over the last year with gifts like this. I’m going to pay for the entire repair.  But he’s giving me the gift of time.  And he is trusting that I will be good to my word.

As I shared this in a counseling session today, the man who is giving me time has showed me a Love that I don’t deserve.  A Trust that I’ve not earned except that I’ve always held to my word with him in regards to repairs on my vehicles.  Love expressed through a man I’m still thankful to call ‘friend’.

And I wept.  No - I gushed forth with a cry that I hadn’t done in quite a while.

I am blessed.  

So, very blessed.

And for the first time in my life - over the last year (November 19th!!!!!!!) I am truly grateful for every breath I breathe.  Every day I live.  Every choice I get to make to be this man who I really like a lot most of the time.

There were three individuals who, whether they knew it or not helped save me last year (God sends angels).  And I plan on thanking each of them in the next days.  They didn’t do the work.  That’s been my journey.  But they were instrumental in giving me just a flicker of light - of hope amidst the cacophony that was my world.  A, S and J - I will express that to each of you soon.

And there was a time when I posted these writings on Facebook longing to see just how many would like or take the time to read and comment.  Now I send it only to those I chose to share it with.  It’s personal, though never hidden.  It’s a part of me as much as my arm or my funky beard!  If you’re getting this then you are someone I want to know.  You’re part of my journey.  Thank you.

I get to be a man who loves himself, his kids, those closest to him.  One who is able to give love and receive it (one day).

Hope.

What a Fucking Year!!

~ Peace

The Burtle.

Zadkiel

the Spiritual Dilemma:

I was born out of the womb.  Suckled from the teat of the south.  Raised and fed in the way most kids of the early suburban 70’s were (think cul-de-sacs, creek banks, bicycle freedom...)

In my flesh I am carnal, earthen… shaken by the strong winds and quakes of the ground that come from being here.  Human. Being.  My body aches with sore muscles after a long day working with my hands.  I feel the deep chill of impending winter.  Embrace the cascading rain as it hits my brow… sometimes hiding the underlying pain and tears of just Being. Human.

My flesh is fragile, temperamental and always changing and sending signals to my brain - my knee aches, often proclaiming impending rain; my back remembers the weight it’s carried over days and months of hard labor; my hair continues to grey, just on my beard, but still pressing the agenda of age.  The 5 miles I walked today is a reminder that I haven’t been as active the last few weeks.  

In essence.  Being Human just hurts.

But that isn’t the essence of my thoughts here.  I am aware of a battle that wages within me.  A battle of heart and lungs, soul and skin.  While my physical form was raised from the sensual longings of two other physical beings, my spirit was bound to thoughts and places much higher than my simple, rudimentary carnality.  And this set forth the dilemma that I face tonight.  

Do I succumb to the dark, to the needs raised so clearly today out of loneliness, hunger, want?  Or do I look deeper.  Not the depths that my carnality holds.  And for anyone who doesn’t understand that there is a depth to our animal side that can rival that of our ‘higher callings’, I beg of you to not overlook the reality of flesh and sinew.  It is potent and of a magic that helped bring forth life.  But the depth I want - is a depth of character, of love, of spirit.

This is my spiritual dilemma.  And it is NOT to be taken lightly.  We hunger - so we feed ourselves.  We thirst - and we drink.  We want - and we take.  But when do we move away from the carnal, the flesh and into the spirit?  A place that doesn’t always hold such a concrete, defined place in our sometimes feeble imaginations.  A place where we find enlightenment over engorging ourselves.  Spirit isn't as easily defined as flesh.  Its whispers are often overlooked amidst the cacophony of life.

The dilemma is clear.  Do we chose to find our spirit as our guide or our flesh?  And I was raised on “you just have to let the Lord.”  “If you pray, he will take it away from you.”  BUT the Lord isn’t really all that concerned with our timing - He tends to work in his own time!  Our spirits seek light, seek energy, seek substance.  Our flesh seeks sustenance.  Our FLESH is not ALL bad.  Our SPIRITS are not ALL good.  In the depths of scripture there are references to the darkness that ‘pierces the light’, the dark realms, the purity of sex (READ Song of Songs).  So as a Human. Being.  I find myself often torn between the two.

What I am battling tonight is my future.  I have 346 days of freedom.  I’ve fought with my entire life force for this.  I did not do it alone, and I thank God every day for those he’s allowed to interject into this journey.  But it’s hard to be alone.  To want the flesh, but more to want the simple touch of another’s hand.  The companionship of walking and talking with another.

To pray with that special person.


I will not succumb to the darker sides of me.  I’ve walked down that road - almost to my death.

Yes, I still pray.  Every. G. D. Day!! 

For my kids.  For those around me.  For lost love.  For breath, life, sustenance and substance.

And when it’s his time.  Someone to show up.  Because that’s what I think all of us really want at our core.  We want to know that we’re never alone.

~ Peace

The Burtle 

You are Enough

Take a moment 

to breathe

to dream

to believe

a little more in Yourself

Don’t let 

the whispers in Your head

all the dread

remove all the good 

remember You have

so much more inside

Your heart

And even when 

the tides 

seem to turn

You can return

to that solace

that is always part…

Of You.

And You,

are enough.

10/29/21

clc

Hope - 11 months in.

It’s an interesting word.

Hope.

We can’t put it in a box.  We can’t map it out on a medical device or scientific monitor.  We can’t earn it, buy it, or sell it.

Hope just is.

Or it isn’t.

I can’t tell you how to find hope.  Most days early on in this program I felt like I was just stumbling upon it.  Like some bigger force was opening doors when I couldn’t even find the knob.  But hope is real.  It exists in the eyes of the dreamer, the artist’s canvas, the mother’s lullaby.

We aren’t human without it!

Hope for a better job, hope for a person that ‘gets’ us.  Hope for a child to grow up knowing the love of his father.

Tonight I got to hear someone exclaim “I quit my job”, and I was ecstatic!  Because hope CAN be taken away from us.  We let life whittle us down to shards the size of toothpicks and we get caught in the Roller Coaster of Disaster (a new name for one of the ones at Six Flags?!).  My hope is this dear soul finds a place that they can thrive.  I’ve wished and been praying for them - a new job, a better work-life balance.  <Better be reading this Ashley!! Lol>

For me, I built a bench recently.  A bench built for two.  I’ve sat out under the stars several nights and wished…

I know where my hope comes from.  It was given to me again in November of last year.  I am thankful, beyond grateful that there is a power beyond this world that continues to look after this crazy boy.

But I’m also a man.  A man who is standing, doing the next right thing, one day at a time.  To have hope and to sit on our laurels, our dairy airs, our asses and do nothing is meaningless.  I’m all for believing.  Hell, the song that I’ve probably listened to the most in my life is Journey’s ‘Don’t Stop Believing’.  But life takes action, movement, luck, faith, trust (still working on that one), and yes, hope.

It’s like the BEST Beef stew of all the things that make this life tick.

Salt.

Paprika.

A really deep sauce.

A really good piece of meat.

Potatoes…

You get the gist!

Tomorrow I hit 11.  11 months of truly working on me in a different light.  I’m going to share some of the words that I’m sending to the court below.  I’m fighting for my son.  It’s not about winning or losing, it’s about showing up.  I didn’t show up real well last year for him.  And every day now I make sure that he sees my face, he hears the words 'I love you' and he knows that I care.

~ Peace, 

The Burtle

Letter to the Court - October 2021

In November of last year we had a court date for this court case, regarding my ability to be a father to my son and the safety or lack thereof that I might be to him.

In 2020 I was broken.  Like many people I faced the obstacles of a pandemic and on top of losing myself, I also lost my job, my living situation, a deep love, and my mother.  I faced November of last year not wanting to be here; suicidal at times throughout the year.  I’m not going to shy away from that.  I was broken.  When we came to court on November 4th  I wanted nothing more than to be done with all of this.  I had faced my childhood abuser without any success in finding peace there.  I don’t know what else more could’ve been taken away from me last year until I lost the ability to see Topher.  And that took away the last of my hope.  

I don’t know what else I can tell you about how hard last year was.  How bad it was for me and also how much it affected those that I love the most.  Especially a little boy.  I will take the time when it’s appropriate to explain that to him.  Right now it’s about me showing that I am stable, healthy and sound.

After that court hearing I decided that I couldn’t do this anymore.  The meds my doctor prescribed weren’t working and counseling didn’t seem to be getting through to me.  At my lowest, I found a moment where I wanted to live.  And in 48 years it may have been the first time where I truly asked God to help me want to live.  I’m not going to get into my spiritual experience, other than to say that a moment on November 19th, 2020 changed everything.  I didn’t suddenly become better.  But on that day I made a decision to live.  There had always been an underlying current of thoughts and feelings that resonated from the abuse when I was seven years old.  But now for the first time I saw hope.  I reached out to my counselor and we set a plan in motion.  I couldn’t afford to get into a rehab facility; after racking up several hundred thousand dollars worth of medical bills last year it wasn’t an option.  What we did is devised a simple plan for every day.  A plan that I still follow today.  I made a phone call to a hotline and joined an anonymous group that opened their arms to someone who struggled.  Not just with substances, but with life.  I did this for me.  Because I had nothing else. 

I had $29 to my name in October of last year.  I fell behind on my child support and could barely afford to buy food and pay for a small apartment that I had to help do work around the facility just to keep.  I got a sponsor and I immediately started working on the things that I could do.  I got clean.  I haven’t had a drop of alcohol or any substances in my body other than the prescribed ones since that day.  I continue to diligently work on bettering myself.  I was out of work for over a year and then I found work.  Over the last 11 months I have found a safe place to live in a recovery setting.  I have worked the steps. I was able to work enough to fully catch up on all of my child support obligations, getting a full-time job as a Carpenter, a new career that I love. I continue to go to meetings daily and I continue to reach out and connect with other people who have had similar struggles.

All of this I’ve done for me.  And I’ve also done it for a little boy who needs to see a healthy father.  For two older kids who need to see a man standing.  I do not disparage Jenelle for being concerned.  She doesn’t know my journey.  She’s seen some of the very ugly.  I’ve included several letters from those around me, my counselor, people with a lot more wisdom and experience in dealing with these things than I have.  All I’m asking for is to be given the opportunity to be a dad.  In the flesh.  He is that important to me!

Sincerely,

Chad Chatham