Category Archives: Health

Behavior, Mental Health, Opinion, Personal, Psychology

Worry

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I was challenged to write words that might frame the idea of worry differently: 

Worry is the embodiment of arrogance.

To worry is to borrow time from tomorrow and waste it in the now.

Though I do not believe that God intervenes, instead of worrying, ask yourself if you’ve used your intelligence, time, resources, and money to minimize whatever it is you are stressing about.

If it cannot be changed? Acceptance. It must be acceptance grounded in action and surrender simultaneously.

If it can be changed, do not squander with the universe has given you. If you believe that you were molded in the creator’s image, it is your duty not to waste that which you have been given. Work the problem as best as you can.

Worry is arrogance because it implies that any amount of present preoccupation with stress will yield a different result. 

Even if you do everything right, life will still hand you problems that aren’t your fault. You can consume your energy wanting it to be otherwise or questioning the fairness of it. Yet, the same result awaits you. The same sun that provides illumination also darkens. 

If you use such words, worry is the sin of gluttony. You’ve focused on the idea of you to the point it consumes you.

Do what you can with what you have. 

To worry is to believe that our feeble fingers can overcome obstacles by doing nothing. 

Worry is the roommate who eats all your potato chips and never pays rent. 

If you are lucky enough to be one of the few who can dispel worry, your life will be different than the rest of us. We are human batteries, and most of us are drained by our own thoughts; immobilized and wasteful of the time and energy we’ve been given.

Love, X

Behavior, Lemon Moment, Mental Health

A Wish

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I unwrapped a day today, like I have thousands of times. Each morning, the gift of the hours is at my feet. One of my wishes? To remember what it’s like to go under and wonder if I’d see the light on the other side. To stop focusing on nonsense and drama that carries no weight. To appreciate the people, food, places, and things in my life. Why is it so easy to bring shadows to sunrise? To question the point, motive, and meaning of just being alive? As if it’s not enough. Anyone squinting their eyes will see only shadow and narrowness. Wide-eyed appreciation for the rhythm of breath and oxygen is the most basic miracle possible. If you start with that, the ephemeral idiocy of wanting anything else dissipates like the first wisp of steam from your morning coffee. I want this ability now more than ever.

Love, X

Lemon Moment, Personal, Relationships

Skittles

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“You are the Skittles of my heart.” – X

I waited day after day for the perfect moment. When the declining sun aligned perfectly against the ordinary tree by the road. There are only a couple of days of the year when it’s possible to capture this fleeting alchemy of orange at sunset. Which proves that even the most ordinary thing or person can shine with brilliance when someone is looking for it with patient eyes.

Love, X
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Behavior, Family, Lemon Moment, Monroe County, Nostalgia

The Last Tree

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The Last Tree

The picture is of my Dad, Bobby Dean, standing on a horse. Of course. I poorly colorized it a few years ago.

One day, I’ll abandon safety and climb my last tree- but I won’t know it’s the last time I’ll do it. I’ll laugh as I look down at the people passing below me. I’ll feel the wind blow over me among the branches. A squirrel might chatter at me for being too close to its nest.

Well-meaning people sometimes chastise me for my avocation of ascending trees. They are right. There is a risk. But I don’t know of any other adults who take the time to climb trees. It’s unlike skydiving, where the risk is primarily virtual and unlikely. Those who cluck at me for enjoying it don’t understand the sublime moments of being in the trees.

I might fall and break an arm. I might fall and crack my neck.

One day, though, I will look back on my last time in the trees and want to trade an arm for the chance to be there again.

And that’s true for so many things in life. Whether it’s being barefoot in the cold creeks, walking through the grass where unseen reptiles slither, or ordering a bitterly acrid cup of coffee, one so rich that my teeth will blacken momentarily. I’ll have my last kiss. Enjoy my last walk.

So, if you see me in the trees, take a moment to quell the urge to remind me that gravity could pull me out of it. Traffic might be my demise. My arteries might invisibly pass a clot and knock me silent to the ground. An unlikely second plane might find me unexpectedly as it spirals. A shadow in the dark early morning might demand my wallet.

The last tree I’ll climb started growing decades ago. It all started with the pine tree and gnarled other trees along the drainage ditch in front and behind my grandparents’ modest house in Monroe County. Grandpa didn’t care if I climbed trees – or even found my way to the tin roof. To him, boys climbed things, and sometimes, a working man lost fingers in the long cutting belts of the dangerous lumberyards.

The last tree is waiting for me.

Love, X
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Guest Post, Poetry And Prose, Relationships, Writing

Honeyed Silence (Guest Poem)

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There’s a buzz in the sun,

Under harsh light and heat.

Then stars shine, work is done,

Until dawn heralds a repeat.

And there, in shadowed night,

Held in sweetness’ embrace,

A calming chill of what might

Become in this honeyed place.

Meticulous and structured comb,

Like the life you built amongst the buzz,

Your honeyed embrace feels like home,

Silencing the harshness of what was.

Guest Post, Poetry And Prose, Relationships, Writing

Did You Ever (Guest Poem)

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I told you I was going to bed hours ago.

I’m still wide awake and it’s almost tomorrow.

The absence of your words screams at me.

The deafening cry of your lacking intensity.

I remember you professed a strong preference

For concrete actions over eloquence.

But emoting my messages doesn’t count

And otherwise sparse deeds still leave doubt.

I think you like my smile when it’s directed at you;

You approve of my resume for blood so blue;

And you think you’ve got me around your finger.

I think I haven’t got any more reasons to linger.

There must be better, something better than this,

An arrangement where my needs matter like his.

Somebody who could hear my words and care

About the heart that so bravely put them there.

I don’t fall in love with titles, fast cars or banks

I don’t care about your grandaddy’s professional rank.

My heart holds the things you can’t touch or see,

And I expect to get that in return, equitably.

I asked for clear expectations and kind words.

I asked to claim time and what we already were.

I never yelled but told him I was watching to see

If he’d give love that felt meaningful to me.

At this point, it’s clear, he can’t or he won’t;

The result is the same. I hurt, you know?

And the answer doesn’t matter but I’ll ask him anyway:

Did you ever really want me that way?

Guest Post, Poetry And Prose, Relationships, Writing

Driving Past Your Home (Guest Poem)

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I hate how I feel driving past your home

But I hate how I hate it even more.

So close but still a million miles away

Like rolling dice in a game I can’t really play.

I’ll keep everything you ever left with me

Wasn’t much – since it was just six weeks-

But you can take all the couldas and shoulda

Because I exhausted my words and my wouldas.

There’s no empty space, but there coulda been.

Everything’s out of place, right where it’s always been.

I filled up on ‘almost’ while you topped up my glass

Till my cup was empty-then I was on my ass.

Could you please move away from here?

Or turn back the clock, close the gap, bring me near?

You were half leaving while still trying to stay.

So close – but a million miles away.

Animals, Behavior, Personal, Psychology, Work

Subversive

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This isn’t a vaguepost. It’s an observation about how I interact with the world, which evidently runs afoul of many people’s attitudes. We need a ‘pass’ sometimes, wherein we can just stand and shout, “WTF, dude? Explain this to me.” Sometimes, the person in question might apologize and say, “I needed to get my entire foot in my mouth. I am so sorry. That was stupid and petty of me.” People are going to misbehave, have a bad day, or just suffer the same affliction of quickness and not thinking twice that I do. If we did have a ‘pass’ option, at least we’d know if they react angrily that we aren’t dealing with someone interested in communicating authentically. Ain’t nobody got time for that, much less the sanity of long-term exposure.

We can’t know someone’s intentions most of the time. That’s why it’s more important to observe behavior rather than words. But there are times when “nothing” actually happens, but someone has consciously or unintentionally demonstrated a horrific outlook. In those cases, words have significant power. Last week, I heard a story about an example of this. Anger flared inside me righteously and briefly. The person being treated poorly and demeaned will never know about it. But I do. And I’m stuck with the knowledge, knowing that the person and people involved revealed a sliver of the “real’ them in their behavior. It wasn’t mere pettiness. It was hostility on a basic level. They pulled back the veneer and let their mask slip. Witnessing or knowing such an attitude is inside a person fundamentally shifts my ability to trust such people. This is so much of the reason that I have lingering problems with people I know to be racists. If they gossip to you, they’ll gossip about you. If they treat others with subversive hostility, they’ll do the same to you. It’s just a question of when. Most prejudice stems from the false idea of superiority. Superior arrogance lends itself to a lot of rationalization regarding behavior. In most cases, we never hear about it because they recognize that such behavior or words are reprehensible. They conceal and camouflage the “real’ them. I’d rather deal with outright hostility in most cases. You can avoid a snake in the open field or when it announces its presence; the ones hiding in the grass at your feet mostly can’t be avoided.

Love, X
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PS That’s my cat judging me for not kicking the heat up to maximum. He ain’t 7 feet off the ground for the view.

Brother, Lemon Moment, Mental Health, Nostalgia, Personal

October, Personally

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I parked my car and walked barefoot down the trail. I knew I needed an unfamiliar spot today. So I walked much longer than I intended, passing people who took second glances at my bare feet and rolled up pants. It seemed as if they looked more frequently than they had yesterday when I had a billowing (but wet) blue cape on my back. I encountered a dirt path mostly hidden in the trees. Not knowing where it led and not caring either way, I followed it. It led down to the creek and I followed the stones and sat on one of the protruding ledges, sticking my feet deep into the rocks and mud under the water.

The cascade and babble of the water combined with the cloud cover and bird song had to have been aligned and created just for me at this moment.

Three years later and I still wrestle with whether the bell which sounded in my head on an October morning was correlation or causation regarding my brother’s death. My ex-wife would roll her eyes and attribute it to sheer craziness. No matter what the cause or how much my brother’s death affected me subconsciously, something in me broke. The breaking left me with a profound certainty of several things. And most of it was the realization that excuses and rationalizations are easy. The bell in my head brought both joy and pain. My new confidence brought consequences I hadn’t expected. Part of which had to be arrogance. It taught me the definition of limerence and of the meaninglessness of intentions compared to consequences. But it also taught me that most of my limitations are self-imposed. All I need is an idea, even more than motivation. Motivation and willpower are for procrastinators. If you get in motion or set things in motion, it is amazing what simple routine consistency will give you. 

Since I was not familiar with this part of the creek, I walked carefully, even through the deeper pockets of clearwater. Countless lightning fast crawdads faced me as I approached, only to flutter backwards so quickly that it was impossible to see them move. There’s always a chance for snakes, but none made their appearance.

The weather is going to shift soon. The days will be colder and likely result in the pads of my feet softening again. I’ll continue to come out here for a while no matter how cold the air or water is. It’s impossible to argue with nature.

The brother of my youth would have loved to be here. It’s true that he probably would have picked me up over his head and thrown me into one of the deep pockets of water. Or we might have even had a rock fight, him promising to not pelt me in the head. Given his size advantage, had he been careless in his aim, there’s not much I could have done about it. We used to spend a lot of time out in the fields having dirt clod fights. It sounds archaic and crazy to anyone who didn’t experience the agony and ecstasy from both ends of a nicely sized dirt-clod bashing someone unexpectedly in the neck or chest. We didn’t invent the rules. They’ve been handed down for generations among kids growing up and playing with the things at their disposal. 

Having said the above, if my brother were here today, there is no question that he would look me dead in the eye and ask, “When are you going to stop being so damn fruity?” I would reply, “Probably about the same time you smarten up and stop being an old conservative hag!” No matter how such a conversation played out, I would lose. Because if my brother couldn’t win through words, he would achieve victory by throwing either me or a table. That’s what happens when the universe mistakenly combines debate-level intelligence with a hulk of a person. 

Somehow in the crucible of our shared DNA, I luckily inherited the introspective yet expressive gene. He inherited the introspective part, but all too often trapped himself in his own head. That’s the worst place for anyone of such intelligence to be.

Mike was right. Maybe I am a bit too fruity. But whether through alchemy or luck, I’m the one standing in the creek getting the last word.

Since I’m long-winded exactly like my brother, I’ll loop back to my initial causation versus correlation comment. It’s obvious to me now that the bell that rang in my head three years ago would have remained silent were it not for my brother having consequences catch up to him. Which ironically likely would have led to me having a major health setback myself. 

The good and the bad may not be best friends, but they definitely sleep in the same bed.

Love, X

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