A Way to Stop, Drop, and Let Go.

I am getting better now.
Perhaps this is because time has made a change in my heart.
Or maybe time has shown me something about myself, which I have finally dared to improve.
Or maybe this is because of the way I feel now.
Either way –
Ready or not, here I come.

I realize that the more I go forward, the more I expose, and the more I expose, the more I realize that I have much more to say. At the same time, there is no one else to speak with. There is no authority.
At least, there is no one but us.
Thankfully.

I was fortunate to watch the sunset last night, and once more, I was fortunate to be awake and witness the sunrise this morning.
Both were exceptional and beautiful to me.
Both were beautiful for different reasons.
These moments are as beautiful as an experience that takes place when the mind recognizes that there is hope. In fact, there is always hope.
There always was and there always will be.
The difference is the way our mind is stationed or programmed.

But today is different.
Today’s hope has more of a promise than yesterday’s assumptions and missed opportunities.
I expose this and leave nothing behind, hidden, or unsaid.
I offer this to you like a man on his knee, proposing and confessing his love with the promise that starts with “to have and to hold.”

Is this too personal?
Maybe.
Is this intense?
Am I?
Aren’t we?

I see myself in my emotional mirror and argue with the hindsight of my past.
I question myself. Do you understand?
I question the lessons I was taught by inaccurate teachers and, yes, I have grown to defy the old logic, which was illogical at best.
I am not who i believed I was.
I couldn’t be.
(Because you told me otherwise.)

I am not that boy anymore. I am not small or weak, nor frail or incapable of my own defense.
At the same time, I am aware of the validation and the appreciation of a voice like yours which pushes me to be better and to disregard the old narratives.

But wait—
There’s more.

I have changed. I have grown.
I have moved away from where I was, which means that I no longer have to hold myself accountable for things that are no longer mine.

There are times when I assume who I am.
There are times when I think and act or play as if I am still that previous person.
But I am not.
There are times when I see myself in the mirror and note down the different flaws, which may or may not be visible to the world, but I can see them —or least of all, I fail to see beauty over catastrophe.

But not with you.
No.
Quite the contrary.
How do you do this?
How do you look at me the way you do?
How can you see me when I have tried to hide these flaws since I was small and very young?

I see myself differently in the reflective pools of our eyes. They are gentle, pure, and sweet, like something larger than life and unconditionally strong or unwavering.
Lovingly, breathtaking and hopefully, one day, you will be mine.
As in, all mine.
To have and told hold, in sickness and in health.

I have never seen anything like this.
No one has ever stood up for me before.
Including me . . .
But wait, I digress.

I would like to share something with you,
if I may.
I would like to show you something with hopes that you will see this as a representation of love and not a burden.
Or as I mentioned, I come in peace.
I mean you no harm.
I am wounded, like you, unarmed, and in search of rest.

I would like to share this picture that I have.
Of course, this is a picture that I can see clearly in the eyes of my earliest memory.

See this?
This is the beach.
This is my place of solitude and my sanctuary.

I would like you to imagine yourself here.
With me.
No one else is around.

No one is there but us and no one has the right to intrude on this moment.
Imagine the sound of the waves.
Think about the sound of the seagulls who cry out as they fly over the rising tides.
Hear the wind and feel the sun on your face.

I have been coming here since I was very small.
I have grown here. I have lived here.
At least, I can say that my heart has lived here in some way, shape, or form.
Life happened to me here.

This is where I come to speak with my Heavenly Teacher.

I was a small boy who followed my Father, The Old Man, on long walks alongside the shore in winter.
This was on New Year’s Day, to be exact. This was our thing.

I keep this place special to me and holy, same as a churchgoer would honor the sanctity of a confessional booth.
Peace be with you. And also with your spirit.
I have this view.
I have the sense of ownership, which is not to claim this as my house, same as I cannot claim the house of God as my own; but still, I see this as my house too.
I cannot claim this more than you or anyone else, even if my attitude was holy enough to guarantee myself a place beside The Father, Himself, I am only a humble member of His great congregation.

It was said by The Son, “My Father’s house has may rooms, if this were not true, would I tell you that I go there to prepare a place for you?”
I can only say that I hope so.
But I am unsure if I am fit.

I am unsure if I have said too much or done too little to allow myself an entrance to this mansion.
But here at Point Lookout?
I am welcome.
I can exist. I can breathe.
I can allow my old reflections to fade in the outgoing tides, and see myself as I am now.
I am older than my pervious self, aware, and no longer in need of my weapons of both mass or self-destruction. I can lay these things down, if I choose to.
Besides, the armor is too heavy for me now.
The fight is over too and the demons are gone, unless I choose to feed them
(again).

I recall as it was written: I have not come to bring you peace, but a sword.
However, this regards the sword as “the word” or the double-edge of information, and the truth. Therefore, please allow me to speak truthfully.

Do you see the waves as they come in to tumble on the shore?
Good.
Do you see the waves come in and drench the sand, only to pause like the gentle moment between the inhale and the exhale?
This is the breath of The Great Mother, Mother Earth.
Blessed is She and blessed is She amongst women.
And yes, blessed is the fruit of Thy womb.

However, I am only a son.

Back to the shore-
The waves come in to cleanse the sand of its unwanted sediments.
Thus, I see this as my ongoing confession.
In and out. Rise and fall.
The waves come in to bring me hope and then they withdraw, taking away the sins of my world.

I see it this way, holy as ever.
The ocean and her relation to The Almighty.
Beautiful, like the word, and loving, like the light and the truth.

I have been coming to this beach for years now. I have come for my confession. I’ve come to visit the house my Father has shown me because I do not go to cemeteries.
No.
This is where dead people live.
Therefore, I go to the beach, as in the beach at Point Lookout, which is where I laid my old memories to rest.
I have left messages in figurative bottles to be taken away.
This is where I let the spirits take my thoughts, to which I hope, and I pray.
Save me.
With all my heart, please.

Bringing you here is the equivalent of bringing you to meet my parents.
(May God bless their souls.)
This is where I keep the small boy, or the boy I used to be.
I hid my toys here because no one else would play with me.

This is where the pain went. This is where I kept my fear.
This is where I would go to confess my heart and my sins as well as pray to the Heavens.
I would plead for my hopes that someday, you would somehow find me.
And when you do, you will never let me go.

I remember a night after a wedding. I remember the changes that I was seeing in my life. I remember the lost sentiments and the emptiness inside of me.
Who could possibly love someone like me?
Who would love me or want me?
I am not beautiful, at least not like you.

I remember that morning after the wedding. I was long haired and wild, lost and young, and ignorant to the touch of true love.
I came to Point Lookout at sunrise, hair blowing in the wind of an early summer morning.
I was standing in my coolest pose.
I stood on the sands in my tuxedo, my black tie was loose, top-button undone, and my shirt partially untucked.
I wore two silvery hooped earrings on my left ear. And I swear, I tried my best to be cool or look sexy and pull off my best rockstar approach.
I reached in the inside pocket of my tuxedo jacket and pulled out a smoke from my pack of Camel cigarettes. I flipped open my lighter, lit the tip, and blew out the smoke in my best way of defiance.

I was hurt and young and alone.
Always . . .

I see myself as I am now. Nearly 53 years-old and who knew I could make it this far?
(Who knew I could do this without you.)
I see that I am not that boy anymore.
He is gone and all that remains is the aged man who I’ve become.
I see me now. I see me clearly through the mirrors in your eyes, reflective and kind, like a loving touch from the hand that heals the sick. This is who you are.
You are the keeper of a touch that removes the tainted past from an untamed heart.

I have never seen anyone like you.
In fact, there is no one else like you.
This is why I needed to share this with you
and only you.

I am going to marry you, someday.
I can promise you that.
But until then, come with me.
Please.
Let me show you my truths and where I used to hide my toys.
Let me share my life with you.
Let me find shelter in your soul and I will do all that I can to bring you safety in my arms.

I say your name.
Then I say this with my last name as yours.
Do you care to know what this sounds like to me?
Say it to yourself . . .
Or try it on for size.
I think it fits me very well.
But this part is up to you.

Blessed Father,
She lays in bed right now, away from me.
I know she has fears. I know she has discomfort.
Let me take them away. Please.
Let me be the one.

She sleeps somewhere else.
She rests, or at least I hope so.
Let me show her these things.
Let me expose myself in the humblest way, like the love Adam shared with Eve before the serpent came and sold them the lies which destroyed your garden and ripped Eden to shreds.

There is no way for either of us to un-bite the fruit from the tree of knowledge.
I understand.
Neither she nor I can take away the details from our past.
We cannot unknow what happened or unlearn what was taught or forget the regrettable hands, which touched us in the wrong way.

I swear, I can see peace in her eyes.
I can hear love in her voice.
I just want to see me in her arms,
from now until the our of my death
(Amen).

Blessed Father, let me send this to her.
Let me tell her this –

I am going to marry you one day.
I swear. I promise.
I believe in destiny even if destiny is slow to rise like the sun on this early Sunday.
I know that destiny is on my side because, as it was in the beginning,
is now,
and will be forever.
One love, forever and ever.
(Amen)

Good morning, Beautiful Girl.
It is Sunday.
I will see you at the shoreline.

I promise.