So, What’s it Gonna Take?

I heard this the other morning.
“God is great.”
Then someone said, “Is it that simple?”
The other person replied, “Yeah. It’s that simple.”

I can neither confirm nor deny whether anything is that simple. I cannot say whether my faith reaches that level nor can I confirm that faith alone will soothe the pain or calm the storms that we face in life.
It’d be nice though.

I do agree that in each life, a little rain must fall. I agree that life happens and that life is tough, pain hurts, and the eventuality time shows us that there might not be a sequel —and like the song goes, “Enjoy yourself. It’s later than you think.”

I like this song.
Safe to say that this is good advice.

There was an afternoon that took place in my eighteenth year of life, which I remember well. I remember this clearly but for no apparent reason.
I was on a farm. The day was Sunday, and the sunset made the sky to look like the color of reddish pumpkins, which was fitting for the time of year.
We were closing in on a more thankful time. November had sprung and while times were unsettled and life was confusing, there was something healing about the sky.

The sunset was picturesque and the air was neither warm nor too cool, but more like the soft bristles from a makeup brush, whisking softly against the cheeks.
All was quiet and calm, despite my place or my position in the world. The air was breathing in a kind or gentle fashion. Soft, to say the least.
The breeze was enough to shake the leaves in the trees or lift my hair, but all else was still and carefree.

I knew there was way too much ahead of me. I knew the courts were close to having their way with me. I was on the verge of something new and something tragic. I was afraid, but not at the moment.
Nature was kind as if the view was foreshadowing to me; as if the universe was allowing me to understand that my life was about to change.

I had no idea what was coming. The changes that were on the way were unthinkable to me.
Then again, major changes are often unthinkable and frequently unbearable.
This is the way of the world. This is how fate comes and sweeps is in a different direction.
Changes come and can take us by surprise, and they do this without warming.

However, I was calm for the moment.
I was awake and dreaming but not sleeping by any means.

It was clear to me that I was taken out of my elements for a reason. Everything comes with a purpose. There are no accidents or simple coincidences.
Life is always happening, in full color, except for maybe when we dream sometimes.
I have black and white dreams.
They come around on occasion.

I suppose that life comes with its own special color code. Like the way the sunsets in autumn change into the colors of an evening dress.
Or how the spring takes on a new shade of green — and the sky in winter comes with its own shade of blue. Ever notice this?
The sun can be brilliant and bright, but the winds remove the warmth for the hands, and the only heat is felt by the fireplace or near the radiators by the window.

I am fortunate to see color. I am blessed to know the depth and variations of leaves when they start to color in October.

There is beauty in this world.
I know there is, and I know this with all of my being.

I know that there are smiles on faces that can make the angels in Heaven look down with envy.
I know this, firsthand.
There are laughs and voices and people whom I can look at and see how we are made in the image of The Creator — and in their case, The Creator decided to share an image of what angels look like.
I see this and I know this.
And I will say this, here and now.

I lose my sight sometimes.
Hysterical blindness is very real to me.
I often fall from my own grace or lose my position in this world.
I make myself crazy.
No, really.
I do.

But I know what beauty is.
I know the absence of beauty as well.
This is the one thing that always makes me miss you even more.

Beautiful. Yes.
You.

There was a morning in my mid-twenties when I found myself parked in a small parking lot. This was the morning after a night that would otherwise be nameless.
I was facing the beach.
I was somewhere in Southampton and dealing with my own craziness.

I smelled of cigarette smoke and the drink that was tossed at me from a drunk girl at the bar. There was a certain remnant in the backseat of my beat-up, blue, Chevy four-door, which made me consider the art of being loveless.
I suppose I thought that all was fair between love and lust.

I was alone, again.
Misplaced too.
My friends were getting ready to launch their lives and take their next steps.
Some were moving into apartments. Some were buying homes. And some were taking the plunge and getting married.
I was loveless, nonetheless.
I was empty inside and vacant. Or, elsewise, I was vapid, offering nothing more than me as a body instead of me as a man.

I had nothing.
But I dreamt of everything.

I allowed myself to stand in line and be subservient, which degraded me and poisoned my self-esteem.
I allowed myself to fit into the role and for my position to fulfill the station of being the so-called “D.U.F” which stands for the Designated Ugly Friend.
I was not ugly per se, but I was never “the man” or “the one.”
I was never the center of attention.
I was average, at best.

I was always the wingman or the one on the side or the designate driver. I was the crazy friend or the wild one with a record. I was always there, but I was never on the scene, so-to-speak.
I was never “the pretty” one or beautiful.

I remember looking outwards at the beach in Southampton. I was thinking about the events which took place the night before.
I thought about the role I played and how I acted as if money was like water — when meanwhile, I was broke. All I had is what I was carrying, which was a mostly empty pack of Camel cigarettes.
I had a few singles left in my pocket, no love, no real life to speak of, and meanwhile, the sunrise was this beautiful thing, right in front of me.

So, I guess I had something
right?

I was fine to write off the discounted life. I was fine to set aside my contempt for other people. And I was fine to disconnect from the thoughts and resentments of what took place, the night before.
Who cares about who is cool or not?
Who cares about the new Acura or how everyone else had a new car?
But not me.
I was living in a basement.
I drove a shit-box.
I hated my job and namely, I hated myself for allowing my life to come to this.
But hey, that sunrise was a killer!

I never assumed my life would amount to much of anything.
Then again, I was misguided and disgruntled.
I was insecure and too afraid to stand up for myself.
I remember a night when I was angry on Mercer Street.
Someone played with me too much.
I got angry and lit the bathroom attendant’s hair on fire.
Slight mistake on my part.
But no one picked on me after that.

I was young and unsure. I was stuck between the different railroad stations in early adulthood.
I was too young to know how to handle the upcoming obstacles and too old to throw a tantrum and take my toys and go back home.

I have always found some kind of refuge in escaping the crowd.
I needed to do this more, which is why I stay away from people these days.

I think there are times when life reaches a point where everything comes to a head —and whether we lose our minds and go completely wild, or if we reign ourselves in and buckle down, life has a way of showing us that something is about to happen.

There was an evening on the beach.
This was one of my most favorites.
Remember?
The sun was going down, and the horizon took on the hues of beautiful color.
The warm winds were perfect.
The sound of the ocean hushed like a lullaby and echoed when the waves rolled in and tumbled onto shore.

Listen to me . . .

I know there are beautiful things in this world.
There are things that even Heaven cannot manufacture or recreate — and even God, Himself, sits back and says, yeah, that’s beautiful.

I know this because this is you.
This is you and this will always be you.
No matter where you are, where you go, or who you are with — even if it’s not me, I know that you are one of those creations.
You are one of those amazing creations that cause The Man Upstairs to look down and say, “Wow! Not even the angels look that good.”
I know this.

And so here we are.
We find ourselves in the crease of a new fold.
Time moves and the day grows old.

I have no excuses for my craziness nor can I excuse my bouts of wild or insane measures.
I own my lack of control and thus, I humble myself.

I kneel before the eyes of The Above and plead with The Ever-loving Mother, or The Great Mother of All as I beg Her to please share “her” grace with me.

The hours are adding, and the sunsets are fewer now than when we were younger.
I don’t want to lose too much daylight unless the moon is full, of course.
This means the stars are bright, the music is quiet, and the sheets around us are soft enough to comfort our bodies as we swarm together.

Never let go.
Never let there be a pillow wall between us.
Never go to sleep without kissing me and touching me or saying “goodnight.”

I know that tomorrow comes with no guarantees.
And neither do I.
But at least I know that no matter how ugly the world can be, you are out there, somewhere.
You are here for a reason
and I will always be here for you.

Waiting ~