2012 06 27 Listen

   Listen

Can you hear the silence?

 I never thought of silence much. I never gave it a second thought, or even part of a third. I know that silence, to me, usually meant quiet time. Time to relax. Time to settle back and enjoy some free time. Silence, to me, always seemed so peaceful. So uninhibited. So, silent.

I surely never thought about being able to hear silence. Who would? What would it mean if you could hear the silence? Surely, they don't go hand in hand, I mean, how can you hear nothing? After all, isn't it rather hard to go around trying to listen to things that don't even make a sound? How can you hear something that by definition, isn't there? Why would anyone in their right mind run around trying to find nothing to listen to? It all sounds simply maddening, and rather void of logic, doesn't it? I mean, really, think of it. Silence is the prelude to, everything. Nothing makes a sound without it.

I have thought about a lot of different things these past twenty three months since I saw, and heard the color green for the last time. I have often wondered about the darkness, and the quieted hush that seemed to follow right behind it. I often have wondered if the things that I could no longer see, have anything to do with the things that I was never able to hear. I also often wonder why I wonder about such things, but who am I to argue?

So many new concepts, and equations, and perceptions have crept inside my muddled, foggy mind. So many ways to think about things. So many different outcomes and conclusions and moments of ponderment. Is ponderment a word? If you don't hear anybody say it. Is it still there?

So many different things to hear. So many different sounds to go along with the things I can not see. So many unusual hums, and chirps, and dings, and rumbles, and clangs, and rattles, and one wonderful noise after another. In a way, I guess they are all surrounded by silence. Is it the same thing that Simon and Garfunkel were singing about? Did they hear it too? Did they know something that we didn't?

Silence has to be the beginning, and the ending of everything that makes a noise. Doesn't it? It is the start, and the finish of noise. All of the noise. As the Grinch said, "The noise, the noise, the noise!" After all, it was silence that he was originally searching for, wasn't he?

Through all of the endless commotion and the constant racket of the thundering day, silence is there. All you have to do is listen for it.

I suppose if you listen closely, you just might be able to hear the silence. It might be that short burst of nothing, in between this noise right here, and that noise, right over there. It might be a lost memory, hidden in the fabric of a quiet moment from a yesterday gone by. It might be peace and tranquility, trying to find its place inside the rolling rumble of today.

Silence is wrapped around just about everything, but how can you tell? I mean who would know, unless you were some silence expert or something? I suppose that if you don't pay attention, you just might never get a chance to hear nothing.

Trying to listen to silence is a contradiction in and of itself, isn't it? I mean, imagine the conversation.

"Did you just hear that?"

"Did I hear what?"

"Nothing?"

Did I hear nothing?"

"Yes, nothing."

"No, I didn't hear anything."

"Exactly! See, I knew you heard it!"

Shades of "Who's on first" or what?

I guess through it all, it will always be there. In all its quieted glory, and hushed praise, it will remain with us to the end.

Listen to that.

Shhhh.

Can you hear it too?

It sounds as perfect as nothing I've ever heard.

2012 06 19 I Think I've Lost My Mind!

I think I have lost my mind. Have you seen it? Did it come screaming through here a few seconds ago? Have you seen something whipping around the room at lightspeed, totally out of control?

Yes, that would be it. In all it's glory, and all it's blinding metaphores and adaptable cliches. That would be it.

I'm sorry, but it is fairly apparent that I can not control it, slow it down, or keep up with it. It goes where it wants, when it wants, as fast as it wants, as often as it wants. It comes to a screaching halt, just to snap your head back as it tears off down the road, once again. I just can't seem to come close to figuring out how to stop it. Listen, can you hear that? Yup! That's it, laughing at me!

I suppose it wouldn't be so bad, but I never know where the stupid thing is going next. I can never tell what to expect, or how to prepare for what's coming around the next corner, and believe me, those corners come at you quick as a jack rabbit.

No warnings, no road signs, no speed limit signs, nothing, just wide open spaces with unlimited data streams and huge amounts of digital storage capacity.

If it would slow down for just a second so that I could, well, there it goes again. Off and running. Turn and burn. Gotta scoot. Catch ya later. And there it was, gone.

It wasn't so bad when I was young, I mean, I could keep up with it for the most part back then. It was usually chugging along, right there beside me, and I could reach out and grab a clue once in a while.

Now? Forget about it. It's a hopeless cause, wrapped around a pitiful attempt at keeping up. Whenever I do manage to finally catch up with it, there it goes again, leaving me behind in a dust cloud of impressive magnitude, exactly like i'm standing still. What up with that anyway? Hello?

Is this a joke? Is this a poor attempt at humor? Is this what I have to look forward to for the duration? Did I really get to the point when I should be carrying around a white towel in myback pocket?

And another thing, how does my mind expect me to remember half of the stuff that it is hurdling me through? I mean, someone, please, a road map would be nice! Tom Tom hell, this thing has it's own GPS software.

Did time and life fly by back then as fast as it does today? Did all of those memories spin through the fabric of my past as fast as the new ones are coming at me now? How can anyone ever hope to keep up with it all? How can anyone really get a moment to relax these days? How can anyone enjoy a slice of life any more, when the whole pie comes tearing at you all at once? Oh, hello there. It's me, a whole pie! Open up now!

There it goes again. Huh? Don't ask me! I don't have a clue where we're going next! No phone call, no email, no text message, just me and my little wandering high speed brain fart.

Pitiful, really, when you realize that I have managed to hang on for this long. It's a wonder I have the time to even tie my shoes with it jumping up and running off at the drop of a hat. Little inconsiderate mind thing.

Oh sure, there you go again, with all your fancy spin moves and high stepping obstacle maneuvers. You actually think I can keep up with, that? Are you crazy? I think you are the one that's lost your mind, oh wait, that's me. Sorry.

See? Focus lost. Pertinent information misplaced. Useable data stream deleted. I hope it's still in the recycle bin.

Nope. Not there. What a surprise! How fitting.

Hey, older than me people, what's it like up ahead there? Do I ever have a chance of catching up with this thing? Is it ever going to slow down? Am I destined to be forever lagging behind? Is a light bulb going to go off some day, and I'll finally have a firm grasp on it?

Hey, younger than me little people dudes and dudettes! Better enjoy it while you think you have a handle on it, cuz you see how good you think it is right now? Ha! It ain't gonna get any better than it is right now kiddies!

I thought I was in control. I thought I had the world by the, umm, ping pong balls. Smile.

I thought I would be just fine.

I can't even manage to catch up with my mind to find out what I am supposed to be finding out about any more.

Look.

Did you see that?

Did you notice that?

There it goes again!

Wait! Am I still writing this blog, or have I started on the next one already? Are we still in today, or has my mind conveniently gone and turned the corner into tomorrow already?

You know, I think I should, umm, I think I might, err, where was I? Hang on a second.

Where did it go running off to this time?

A little help please!

2012 06 12 Digging In The Dirt

Oh, what are these? Irises? Are they blue? No? Purple? I bet they're as pretty as you? Ya, right. I bet they're almost as pretty as you though.

Man, there's a lot of grass growing up around them. Who put the ground so far away? very funny.

Ok then, time to scooch down and, Man, the lawn feels cool and wet on my knees. Umm, how in heck am I gonna get back up? Man, I hate getting old and senile.

Ok then. One clump of grass here, one clump of grass there, and a couple of tra-la-la's. That's how we spend our time away, in the merry old land of, umm, weeds! Stupid weeds.

There. You can see the irises a lot better now, can't you?

What? More irises? More weeds? Let me at em! Ok then. Around the hydrangeas. Careful now, and, there you guys are. These ones are blue? No? Purple , just like the other ones? Very cool.

Ok then, scooch down and, stupid weeds. Stupid grass clumps. The dirt does feel good at my finger tips though. I always did like digging in the dirt. Peter Gabriel. lol. Focus now. Ok then.

There ya go, another patch of clump free irises! Man, I can't believe how much this cluster has spread. There must be around six huge clusters of these pretty little ladies, and all from one small bucket full that I dug up from the side of the road about fifteen years ago. Who'd a thunk? Who knew? Such an amazingly beautiful flower. I can still see just how pretty you are. Some things you just never forget.

Ok then, moving back to the right and my blue hydrangeas. Hello you guys. One little, two little, three little bushies. I wonder why the one on the corner has grown faster than the other two. Such amazing flowers. Clusters the size of cantaloupes, and blue as blue can be. I might have to spread some pine needles down around you guys again this fall.

Stupid grass clumps, and what are these moronic weeds that creep and crawl along the edges of the lawn? I hate these stupid things.

There, three perfectly happy and content hydrangea bushes. I should snap off last years stalks. They're all dead anyways.  Holy crap, there's a lot of them. there.

Ok then, moving over past the first iris patch, and what do we have here? More grass clumps? How lovely. How inconveniently lovely. I'll just reach in behind, along the rock wall, and OUCH! What the? Ahhh yes, I remember. The stalks with the no-see-em prickly things that sting you and creepy crawl under your skin for two days. Man, I hate these things! It's a good thing I can't see you, cuz I'd put a beating on all of ya! Stupid things! What was God thinking when he dreamed up these little buggers? Refund please! And thank you.

Now, moving right along to the right, and, YEOWW! Rose bush! Holy Moly! Careful. Careful. Someone ought to outlaw grass from growing around rose bushes. I mean, really.

There. Clump free roses, just the way they were meant to be.

Oh, I almost forgot, and I can't remember how to spell, rhodedendrom bush. Oh, thank you Mr. Spell Checker. Rhododendron bush. This is Lynne's favorite. It must have huge buds coming along? I knew it did. It's getting a lot bigger too. I remember the one I planted out front on the corner of the porch, years ago. It was doing so well, until the Miklos kid hopped off the step ladder beside it, and snapped it at the base. I almost cried. Oh well. I hope this one gets as big as that one was.

There ya go, weed free, just like when you was a little guy.

Now where to? Back around the other way? ok.

Ahhh yes, the carolinas. I almost forgot. How could I forget you guys though? Fifteen feet long, and four feet wide, and all from two little pots that we bought down the road from the lady that sells the corn. who knew you guys spread so much?

Now then, more grass clumps, and, hello! Yeoww! More of those stupid stinger plants. I really do hate these things, and they are hideous looking to boot. A perfect combination! Stupid things!

Ok, the carolinas are all cleaned out. They look ok? Good. Now then, around this big rock, and, hello blueberry bushes. All alone, out here on the end of the rock wall. How you guys doing? what? More prickly stinger thingies? Grrr. Lots of them, and lots of grass. Ahh yes, I remember this fern growing out of the wall too. Never seems to die, just keeps on ticking. Hello fern. Good bye fern. Hate to do it, but the blueberry bushes come first.

Wow, this bush on the end is getting big! I hope the rest of them get as big as you.

Ok then, finally reached the end of the wall. Sixty feet, all clump free. It's a beautiful thing, right?

How does it look? Really good? Really?

You wouldn't kid me, would you? Really? Aww, shucks. I bet you say that to all the grass clump weeder, puller guys.

2012 06 06 Hello, My Name Is,

Hello. My name is Deon, and I'm an alcoholic.

I have always been an alcoholic. From the time my feet first hit the floor, I was headed towards my first drink. It was perfectly inevitable, totally unpredictable, and strangely unstoppable.

I will always be an alcoholic. I will always have the cravings and feelings to want to drink. Some days those feelings will stay in check. Other days, those feelings come roaring at me like the cows at the Flood farm during milking time in the new revolving carousel milking parlor.

Are you all cocking your head sideways right now with a confused look on your face? Good. Here we go then.

I remember the first time sneaking a drink of beer from a bottle. It was the most disgusting thing I ever tasted in my life, and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I couldn't get the taste out of my mind. It was bitter, sweet, strong tasting beer, that bubbled up my nose and made my eyes water, and although I coughed and choked at the first taste, I knew that one day, I would have myself another taste of this amazingly awful tasting stuff.

I remember watching the grown ups who were drinking it. They all seemed to be laughing and joking and having one hell of a good time. They all seemed like they were the best of friends, and having the best of times, and it all seemed to be revolving around those bottles and cans of beer.

Our family used to go to my dad's company picnic in the Summer time. It was a wonderful event that I looked forward to every year. It was full of family and softball games and football games and three legged races and miniature golfing and swimming. Everything a kid could want.

I remember one of those picnics, I think it was north of Lewiston, somewhere out towards Turner. Anyways, I remember walking up to the drinks cooler, which was electronically refrigerated. Nothing but the best for my dad's company picnic.

I remember opening up the top door of the cooler and reaching in for a can of soda. As I opened it up and bent down inside to reach the sodas, I caught a whiff of the pungent aroma of the beer inside the cooler. I stood there for a few moments, completely caught up in the smell. Completely enamored with all of it. I looked around at the grown ups who were having the best time, and all, who seemed to have a beer in their hands, or on the table in front of them, or on the beach sand beside them.

I stood there, with my head stuck down inside the cooler, and breathed in deep the smell of the alcohol. I breathed it in deep, and wished I was a grown up. I wished that I was able to pick one up out of the ice cold water of the cooler, open it up, and guzzle it down.

Alcohol always had the same effect on me as I grew up. It always seemed to manage to completely consume my total concentration, whenever it was around. It always seemed to whisper to me how great it was, and how wonderful it would be for me to feel it's full effects. It called to me, over and over again, and I kept listening.

I guess I am very fortunate that my folks didn't drink much. They used to have a few drinks at functions, and other events, but for the most part, neither of them really drank much. I am sure that if they did, I probably would have cut loose a lot younger than I did.

I suppose that starting to drink in junior high was still fairly young though, and I suppose that wanting to get drunk every weekend from then on was a sign of things to come. Like I said, I was an alcoholic, waiting to happen.

Through my school years, I always worked and manipulated my week of school, trying to line up some of my friends to go drinking with on Friday and Saturday nights. My school week didn't seem to matter much to me until I had achieved my goals and lined up some friends and some alcohol for the finale of the week. There was usually some drugs of some kind that were also involved, but it all revolved around alcohol.

sorry Mom and Dad, but it's true. I loved to drink, and did so whenever I got the chance.

Those first few attempts at getting drunk were just awful. Puking and dizzy walks back up Kingsbury Hill towards home, it all seemed to be a losing effort. I wasn't very good at it, and swore again and again that I would not ever get drunk again. I couldn't experience the sickness and the throwing up and the incredible headache the next morning any more. I didn't care much for lying in bed with one foot firmly planted on the floor, while my room spun around the universe. I didn't like the feel in my nose after I had thrown up. I didn't like the taste in my mouth the next day. All of it, I just didn't want it any more.

As the week rolled on though, it kept calling to me. It convinced me that the next weekend would be better than the last one. I would handle it better, and all would be right in the world.

Alcohol promised me the world in the beginning. It told me that I would always be better off with it as my friend. It would never let me down, and would always be there for me when I needed it most. It seemed that I always needed it most. I always wanted it more, and worked harder to get it. I wanted all of the people I considered my friends to want it as much as me also. I needed them to crave it and have the best time with it, as I was surely trying to.

I was possessed with alcohol at such a young age. It grabbed hold of the unsuspecting teenager and had it's way with me. It, and eventually other drugs, spun around in my head twenty-four/seven. Even before I knew what in hell was going on, it was planning and conning and manipulating my life. Molding me into the alcoholic that it so looked forward to getting to know.

Did I have an addictive personality? You bet your ass I did. Right to the hilt. As far as the eyes could see, I was working right along side of that bottle of booze. I would be the best little drunk this bottle ever saw.

I am an alcoholic. Always have been, always will be. My next drunk is just one drink away. My next OUI is just , well, that's a lot farther away now than it used to be. I guess in some way, God was looking out for me? Or at least He was looking out for everyone else. Ha. It seems there was a point in my life when it didn't matter where I was going, if I was driving, I had a beer between my legs, and several more on the floor of the back seat, not very far from me.  I remember rushing to the little corner store after work to grab a six pack. That first can, the way it bubbled down my throat. It was perfect in every way.

I have lied with alcohol. I have cried with alcohol. I have strained and completely wrecked relationships with alcohol. I have wreaked havoc with alcohol. I have been ripped apart by alcohol. I have had it up to here with alcohol, and hopefully that is enough.

I spent so much of my life thinking about ways to hide getting drunk. I'm not sure if you're aware if it, or not, but I am a fairly big guy. I don't hide very well, especially when I'm drunk. Hello?

I have spent so much time trying to convince myself that it was all worth it. I have wasted so much time, letting alcohol take up so much of my time. I have wasted so many wonderful days that could have been. I have wasted so much, and thank God that I haven't had to pick up a drink today.

Oh of course, there were a lot of happy, fun times with alcohol. There were so many joyous, happy occasions, as long as I had enough to drink. There were so many wonderful things that it let me have as it was sinking it's teeth deeper into my innocence and unsuspecting ignorance. It kept allowing me to have things to have, crave, lust for, yearn for, and desire. I just wish that I could have noticed all of the things that it was keeping from me.

I had so many passions as a child growing up. I had so many wonderful things in my life to look forward to. I remember jumping out of bed each morning because I couldn't wait to get out there, and be me. There were so many wonderful things in my life, and so many things that I liked to do, and that I actually was very good at doing.

Over the years, alcohol stripped a lot of those things from me. It ripped away so much of my passion. It tore away from me a lot of the things that I held so tight to. It promised me that everything would be ok without these things in my life. It convinced me that I would be better off without all of the clutter and chaos in my life. It swayed the passions and strangled the cravings for life as it replaced them with false hope and misguided aspirations.

I am an alcoholic, and I choose to live today without it. I have so much to live for today. I know how much alcohol took from me, and I am fully aware of how much it is still waiting to take from me, if I let it.

I suppose if I chose to, I could blame this alcohol thing on just about anybody, or anything. I could justify why I drank so much for so long. Just put me on Dr. Phil, or Oprah, and I could easily convince any unsuspecting soul that it wasn't my fault. I could wrap my head around any twisted logic that I could muster up.

Unfortunately, it would all be a pitiful attempt at putting the blame on anything except where it belongs, with me. It was all me. 100 percent me, and no one else but me.

There are a lot of people out there in the world that don't struggle with the addictions of mind altering substances. They are very fortunate in that respect, and I can honestly say that I will probably never understand how their psyche works. I used to wonder what was wrong with me. Some people still do. I always wondered why I craved the taste and feel of alcohol so much. I often wondered where my life would have led me if I could have been stronger and wiser with my decisions. I know that hind sight is 20/20, and it isn't going to do me a bit of good. I am where I am because of the choices I made in my life.

It is so simple, to just not drink. That's one of the good old sayings in A.A. Keep it simple stupid. I used to wonder what that meant. As I figured out what it meant, I wondered why it took me so long to figure out what it meant.

Actually, I am still working on it.

I plan on writing about being an alcoholic only once in this blog. Like politics, I will deter from it, and rely on other things to plot my blog posts.

I do have things in my life these days to be grateful for. I do have purpose in my life. The kind of purpose that I never knew about. There has always been a purpose in my life. The purpose had always been there, and I continued to overlook it on a daily basis. The purpose was plain to see, but hidden from view. I hid it. All on my own. Well, me, and alcohol.

There have been so many passions of mine that have been misplaced over the years. So many wonderful things that were shoved into the back of the closet. So many incredible events that were overshadowed with the dull gray clouds of alcohol. Sometimes, it seemed to rain every day, and I just stood outside in it. No umbrella. No rubber puddle stompers. No rain coat. Nothing. Just me, standing there, like an alcoholic, looking up into the dreary sky as the rain fell, wondering why I was getting wet.

Only one thing, only one set of points should come out of this post.

I am powerless over alcohol. My life had become unmanageable with the use of it. I can not manage to keep away from alcohol on my own, and still struggle with it a lot of days, as I do with my other addictions. god can help me to stay sober, and give my life new purpose. If I step back, and let him guide me, I will have a much better chance.

I think I will let Him.

2012 06 02 All In Time

Holy Crap! It's June!

I can't believe it. Where did the spring go? The last thing I new, I was pulling the strings tight on my hoodie to keep the wintery chill off my head as I took the dogs outside. That was just, umm, the day before yesterday, right? No? well, it couldn't have been more than the week before, right? No?

What the heck is going on? Where is the time going? Who ripped all the pages off the calendar? Somebody make it stop!

Ok then, I feel better. I may not look better, but I do feel better.

Remember summers as a kid? Remember how they seemed to last forever? That is, until the second week of August, then the same calendar page ripper had his way with it all. Even back then, when you least expect it, the time just seemed to fly.

The longest span of time known to man, or known to a kid, was the time from Thanksgiving, until Christmas. Those were some of the longest weeks, days, hours  of my life. Every day, it seemed that Christmas was one day farther away, not closer. How did that happen? How could time play such a mean trick on us kids? I mean, it dragged, and crawled, and rolled like molasses uphill on a cold wintery day, and then, whappo, it was gone in a flash! Before I knew it, it was the middle of January, and Christmas was long gone.

When my son, Matthew, was born, I remember thinking to myself, "Man oh man, 18 years is a long time. I am going to be raising him with my wife forever." Well, I am here to tell you, forever was gone in the blink of an eye, as well as the twelve years past that! I don't know where the time went. I don't know how he grew up so fast. I don't know how I grew so old so fast either. I mean I don't even look like I am old, umm, what? What's that? I do? Me? Huh? Really? Man, time sure has it's way with certain things.

It really isn't fare, why I look so old, and my wife still looks like she is 23. What's up with that? This is some practical joke, right? someone put her in stuck mode, and flipped my "Wicked Far Ahead" button, right?

No matter how old I feel, or look, it's just a state of mind, right?

Please note, if you say, "no", I'm coming after you.

Life as a kid. It didn't seem to move much. It just was. Time really wasn't too relevant back then, it just was. I was just always looking forward to the next ball game, or the next trip to the ocean, or the next snow storm, or thunder and lightning storm, or Summer Rec, or the next kid thing, or I could go on and on, and so could being a kid.

I go back again to the beach behind the Seaview Restaurant in Lubec. Walking down on the shore near high tide. Sitting down on a rock and shoving a stick down into the sand. Waiting for high tide, and as it crept closer up the sands, I watched as it finally touched the stick, completely surrounding it, then after some of that time thing, it slowly started backing away once again. Before I knew it, the tide had slid out thirty or forty yards, and I was left, sitting there, looking at what had just happened, wondering where the time had gone.

The tides, like the ticking of the clock, they just never stop. Everything, everywhere I look, just seems to keep moving. Nothing ever stands still.

Funny how quickly the first day of school ran up around the corner and turned into the last day of school. New years day marched through to New Year's Eve in another blink of an eye. Life just keeps happening, one day, one second, one year, one month, one minute at a time. It all adds up, in time, to time. Pretty amazing to think that the clock has never stopped ticking, not even once, all these years. Can you hear it on the wall? Tick, tick, tick. It's always moving. It never stops. It never cares what's going on, it just keeps being, and ticking, and turning, and spinning and moving ahead.

It does seem to move quickly sometimes, and slowly, other times. Just last month, when I went to visit my folks, I noticed that the first few days crawled by very slowly, but then, before I knew it, I was on the plane, heading home with a head full of memories.

Where does the time go? How does it seem to hide on us, and then, out of the blue, "Here I Am!". How the heck does it do that? Is someone in control of it all? An official universal time keeper? Is it God, or maybe one of his friends?

I don't know what it is, or how it happens. I don't know who to blame, or thank, or ask. I don't know where it went, or who put it where, or what's making it go by. I don't know why I start a lot of my sentences with the same words. I don't know who ate the rest of the chocolate chips either.

Ok, I do.

I can't help it, the bag of chocolate chips always seems to get lighter, with time.

Can you hear that? Listen. Shhhhh. Hear it?

Tick, tick, tick.

It just never stops.