These are words from my friend. He writes in a raw, naked way that lets you know you are alive and it is real. I hurt for him and I feel anger for him. I also hope for him and see the beauty that makes him one of the most amazing friends/mentors/men I have ever known. I read these words, part of a much larger blog, and, as he often does, was inspired to think about my own life. I thought about the difficulties we’ve weathered together and what storms he’s faced alone (much, much more fierce). I am thankful for his constant friendship. We can go weeks without talking and still we never lose our connection. I love that.
“I’m working on anger issues. Part time. Well….kinda part time. Less than 10 hours a week. Everywhere I go nowadays, I carry a pocketknife. The highly spiritual metaphor here is this. Whenever I get around someone I know…and I mean in the moment, instinctually know….I don’t like, or who would stab me in the back, I pull the knife out…closed….and hold it and rub it in my palm. Then I move…mentally, emotionally, spiritually, or physically….to strategic high ground. My trust was broken at the last job….by someone who’s job I saved repeatedly. I have no trust left for business purposes. I won’t be caught again. Conversely, I won’t dirty myself taking my pocket knife (or say…a pen or pencil) and ramming it through someone’s eyesocket….I just choose to disengage. “
“I weeded in the front garden until I cried, and then I got a bigger knife out of the garage and put it in my other pocket. And wrote this.
On my way to higher ground.”
I can’t fix anything, I can’t even pretend. When your pocket knife wears out let me know and I’ll replace it… because I love you and wish you to find your higher ground. You deserve to find rest.
Thank you for inspiring me.
in the gardens
efforts fraught with heartache
withered stems mark
passing time
dreams broken by deceit
yet the path continues
climbing higher on
through land unkempt
new growth is seen
untouched by the immoral
nurtured by time
within grasp
a calm
the game is past
what once was
returns to the earth
regeneration
through land unkempt
passing time
a means of letting go
by leaving angers perils
on the roadside
there is light on the horizon
within grasp
a calm
