We don't even Know We have It

Yesterday while drifting around Front St, Wilmington, NC, I stopped in a hippie-type store to peruse and continue my search for linen or hemp drawstring pants for men. I found amusement in the marketing of the Grateful Dead and Bon Marley paraphernalia. I have felt this way before in these kinds of stores. They have made them out to be demi-gods and forget how simple and humble they were. Bob would have hated being an icon for anything but revolution or uprising I think. In some ways, it is similar to what has happened with Brittany, Lindsay and Paris. I love that I can just write their first names and everybody knows whom I am referring to; it just further illustrates the point.

I was conversing with the young lady working in the shop about unisex pants and the differences in where we need comfort and more space to account for gender body types, curves and such. We have the “such” and women have the curves. Our conversation expanded as we continued to the icons of the Dead, Marley and her experiences touring with Widespread Panic. Of course, our personal experiences were much different due to generational cultural shifts. She was not old enough to experience the Dead as a living, cultural group of icons and the following they commanded. I would not know a Widespread Panic song if given only two choices.

As we got more personal, I shared about being on the road for the past three months and writing. She asked what I was writing and I explained that I a working on a project that may become a book someday. She inquired deeper and I expressed its content being how we try this and that, make all kinds of decisions and mistakes and in spite of ourselves, we come out of it OK for the most part. Reflections on Grace of you will.

She beamed and said she understood; her expression let me know she definitely understood. I asked her if she wanted to share an experience and she said she did. And she did.

She shared how she has a year and a half old girl that she did not plan for and how it is has been incredible for her. She continued on how this has effected her so positively and forced her to be grow up and be more responsible. She shared how surprised she was with the degree of strength she has in being a single mother and all that goes with it. Her affect and voice resonated with that strength, steadiness and maturity that parenthood has brought out in her. The young lady who just ten minutes before did not make eye contact and fidgeted constantly before, disappeared and now an adult woman and mother was standing before me. This is Motherhood to me- strong, courageous and maturity manifesting in front of my eyes on Mothers Day.

She told me her name was Leah and I shared that mine was Michael. Our connection was now constructed through the bridge of sharing our experiences of being human. Being human to me means walking into to enough walls long enough to accidentally find there wall is a door with an amazing sunset over the ocean on the other side. The Inner strength that she spoke about and oozed out of her quietly inspired me, made me stronger. Strength and courage are contagious. I feel fortunate to have “caught” some being in her presence.

This is another example of the exact thing we were sharing together; I walked in the store, amused with my arrogance with the marketing of the Grateful Dead and Bob Marley, whining about not finding the pants I want and then while “bouncing into a wall”, a door opens and the magic happens- Love, Courage, Strength, Birth and Parenting shine out for all to seen and feel. This is the Teaching for me these days; in spite of ourselves and all are efforts, the Divine Presence holds us and gently saves us from ourselves. Something beautiful takes place and we can do things we didn’t even know we could do/with for somebody else.
Wilmington, North Carolina: 5/2008

But Not When Hiding

When does waiting end
and fear begin?
Patience is a Virtue,
but not when hiding.

When does Now begin
and the past conclude?
Now is all we have,
but not when hiding.

When does the future start
and become the present?
Karma clears the Path,
but not when hiding.

When does a day
last a whole lifetime?
Today is our Redemption,
but not when hiding.

When does the night
escape without notice?
Life is short,
but not when hiding.

When does a calendar
freeze and disappear?
Birth and death are quick,
But not when hiding.

When does time
prevail forever?
Love is the answer,
but not when hiding

A Snapshot of A Moment

Raw. Juicy. Marooned and purple. Bruises up and down her upper arms.

She was still sleeping from the night before. Cuddling and clutching her favorite little lavender and magenta flowered pillow and semi-curled up like a little child. It is hard to imagine this beautiful, peaceful and sweet-looking woman could also be that other woman last night, and those other nights. Was it just a nightmare or did it really happen? Hummm. The bruises tell him it did really happen.

He is trying to hard to remember exactly how she got the bruises just above her elbows all the way up to her shoulders on both sides. He starts to recall some of the events of the night before and the other ones he has forcefully denied in his mind till now. She always says it is not important how she gets the bruises and who did what. Of course, she doesn’t want anyone to point the microscope anywhere near her, especially not for this. But he needs to know what happened and what he is responsible for. How else can he correct his mistakes if he doesn’t know what they are?



“But I love you!” he said to her right splat in the middle of their worst fight yet. “I really do!” His face squished up tightly and his arms flailing about as he cried and managed to get this words out almost coherently.

She shook her head in disgust, almost laughing and pitying his lack of spine. “Is he actually a man or a teenage girl?” she asks herself. Then she opens her mouth slowly and speaks slowly and carefully making certain he will hear every word and again firmly states to him the same words she knows will always make him break, “I knew the first time I met you that were the wrong man for me.” She hesitates and then continues even slower, “I don’t love you and never have, never will. This has been the biggest mistake I have ever made in my life. You are not the man I want to spend the rest of my life with! No, definitely not you.” Shaking her head again, she then pulls her right leg back and BAM! She kicks him right smack in the belly!

He swallows hard and gasps for air to breath, coughs a couple of times and just sits there with no affect or response. It has happened enough times now that he doesn’t even react when she kicks him like that anymore. She sees this and appears disturbed. She cocks her right arm back and punches him with a half-closed fist in the middle of his chest firmly, just like his older brother did when he was a little boy. He flinches. She almost smiles and does it again and then again and then a fourth time! He cannot control the tears any longer that are streaming down his red cheeks. She notices this opening in his fortress and scratches him with her barely painted red nails on his biceps and chest. That was the breaking point. She finally got a reaction from him. She always said that the only way you can find out if a man loves you or not is by how mad he gets during an fight. “Good he loves me.” She thinks silently.

He grabs her and quickly pushes her onto her back across the white couch covered with a soft white blanket that she claims as her bed. He is holding her down by her biceps with both hands with all his strength. Adrenalin makes holding her down easier but she somehow finds a way to buck and try to kick him in his testicles with her legs under his body. He shifts his weight and she can no longer move her legs or arms. She is trying but he is bigger and stronger than her while reliving the terrors of his childhood at this very second on this couch with the girl he adores, just like he did with his brother David when they were kids. He adored him just as much, if not more.

She starts yelling fiercely, “ I never loved you! I never loved you! I never loved you!”

He raises his right arm above his shoulder and makes a very tight fist. He can feel the veins popping out in his forearm, his heart pounding inside him and the sweat in his hand hovering above her.

She stops fighting back and goes limp. He is ready to show her who is boss around here once and for all. No more sensitive-New-Age-guy-routine for him. Nope, time to take care of business. He cocks his arm back a little bit farther and then BANG! It hits him like a ton of bricks across his head.

“I am not about to become one of those guys!” He releases his fist and lets go of her arm all at once and then gently climbs off her without saying a word or even looking back at her as he walks slowly into the bedroom. “No. I am not one of those guys.” He says in his mind and wonders if he said it out loud too, changes direction and walks out of their apartment.


He is still watching her sleep. His fiancé’, and the woman he let himself really fall in love with. The only one he asked to marry him. The only one he stayed with after the first signs of trouble. Her breathing is so soft, just like her voice and the skin on her hands when they are holding hands in prayer before every meal together.

There will be no more meals together, holding hands in prayer or her soft voice and radiant smile. He is finally going to leave her.

“Mark, what the hell are you doing still with her?” Terry asks as if Mark has just about lost his mind. He said this to him on the basketball court while shooting hoops together minutes before the Friday night men’s A.A. meeting that is both of their home group. “Are you nuts? You know better. You are a counselor and you know better. What are doing?”


“Yeah, I do know better.” He sighs before walking into the bedroom to begin packing his stuff. He looks back at her one more time wanting to hold this version of her in his mind as a snapshot of her and of them, for when he walks out that door for good in just a few moments.

She stirs and awakens. In her soft gentle voice she asks him, “What are you doing?” As if nothing happened last night, or any of the nights. She has the benefit of a finely tuned selective-memory system. It is has helped her survive through everything that she experienced in the last thirty-four years. He does not have the luxury of such blackouts. She continues to stare at him inquisitively.

“Yep, time to go.” He says to himself, “definitely time to go.”