Category Archives: philosophy

dads, faith, fathers, forgiveness, God, life, life lessons, love, personal growth, philosophy, your last day

Trials and Tribulations

There is little to no doubt that letting go is healthy in certain situations. It is also a fact, beyond argument, that often circumstances make release the toughest of choices. All of the “I wishes” clog the mechanism that allows the grieving deed of the broken heart to be done. Maybe it’s not that we need to ‘let go’, perhaps we must realize we never possessed a grip in the first place. The illusion of a hold and hence the ability to release said fiction is all a part of the story.

The perfectly and uniquely imperfect gene does not discriminate. It is an affliction we are all born with. There are many days when I revel in the gifts that my individuality bestows upon me and times when I play the sad song of “if only”, over and over; A fruitless pursuit rooted in an unchangeable past and human condition. Alas, our Hearts do not always beat to the rhythm of a rational drummer. Driven by Love the daydreams will arise of their own accord. All we can do is smile and try to focus on the good times.

The past is gone, the mistakes have been made. There is no Time Machine available and, frankly, no time to waist. So, we must try to put things into the hands of a Higher Power and Live today. Playing the what if game only with the wishful Dreams of the future. Today we must take the hot rod to the car wash, check the combustible parts, change the tires and fluids and give the wheel to Someone else.

I will always remember and never stop Loving, but I will Live today.

Will

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faith, fathers, Fathers, forgiveness, God, life, life lessons, love, personal growth, philosophy, Uncategorized, your last day

The In Between



The In Between

We perched above the Pacific, gigantic waves crashing below. Sitting, looking, listening…, imagining. One of the few times in a very long while that my mind was empty. The thought drifted in so honestly, it took me a long moment to realize it wasn’t physically possible. “I should call Dad”. Sitting here in Llano, Texas so far removed from that setting, there is certainly water flowing.

The drops are partially the result of phone calls that can’t be answered and salty from those that simply won’t be. As Dad would say, “Ain’t that a helluva thing”?

I often think about Mom and Dad and the decisions they made. Right or wrong, for we are All a faulty lot, they made the best ones they knew how. Though comparison is the devil’s work and a fool’s punishment, I can’t help but draw them. Daily, I ruminate on my record, going so far as to flog myself for actions that were inevitable.

There isn’t a one of us that can alter the past, or who we are. Quite the contrary. We must strive to be our true selves, not denying inner for the outer everyone expects. I’ve witnessed the destructive and combustible results of that behavior. Still, we are human. Therefore, we long.

Each day I search deeper, Praying for answers that may never come. I try to Rise rather than fall. Then I sleep. Though I wake from Dreams, sometimes in my slumber those phone calls are answered from both sides of Tomorrow.

Hear the Waves Crash and Listen to what the Silence says in between.

I remain ever Hopeful.

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faith, fathers, Fear, forgiveness, God, life, love, philosophy

Choices




It is so easy to let the past or the future ruin today. The truth is there isn’t a damn thing we can do about either. As much as we’d like to control circumstances, we are not another and we are certainly not God. It seems there are three choices.

We can let fear and anger stifle what is Good and live life guarded, bitter and sad. A choice so easy and supported by powerful darkness that it rears its head at the slightest pothole we encounter.

We can quit. Just give up. Say enough is enough. Take our ball and go home. Ending any chance of happiness. A choice many people make. The saddest decision of all.

OR

We can Live our lives to the fullest. A Life filled with Love, Compassion, Trust and Hope. In truth, this is both the easiest and toughest road. This path requires exposing ourselves to an uncomfortable vulnerability.

I have chosen paths one and three before. And I will not say number two hasn’t beckoned; We can lie to ourselves, or try to overcome the shadows that darken our door. In the end there is really only one choice and, of course, it is the most difficult.

I have lost so much in the last few years; Pilling up by the minute it seems. Pain that has caused me to act and react recklessly. Ultimately adding to the toll. Through it All, I have had bright nights and dark days, but only when following a path of Love have I seen the Light in the darkness. This doesn’t mean hurt doesn’t come. It only gives me a chance. I like those odds better than the rest.

I’ll Love and take what comes, knowing I am just a blip on a Radar we don’t yet understand.

Will











Sent from my iPhone

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faith, fathers, forgiveness, life, life lessons, love, personal growth, philosophy, your last day

Graffiti

Handwritten sentiments and putting pen to paper are art forms that seem to be disappearing from the landscape of our lives. I so miss receiving letters from loved ones and, fondly, treasure boxes of old notes from friends that go back many moons. I’ve even saved a few letters I wrote, never delivered for one reason, or another. Though my handwriting has taken a turn towards the cellar (maybe it was never very good in the first place), I still write letters and record many thoughts the old fashioned way.

There is something about the act itself that is meaningful to me. Maybe it is the extra time it takes, as I try to make things legible. Perhaps, it’s envisioning my mom and dad sitting at their desks, penning their own emotions. For all the reasons it could be, it is undeniably the love I have for the person on the receiving end, that makes the process special. Read or not, understood or dismissed, I feel a little bit more of my heart is in the universe, where it belongs.

Recently, as I wrote, pages stacked one atop another, the indentions left called to me. Observing the inkless marks on page two, I thought about pressing through. It is easy to dismiss the impressions we leave on others every day.

Each moment, we make marks on the world with our touch. We help another, hurt a feeling, bring a smile, share a laugh. The simplest things may be the ones that matter most.

Scribbling through our day, we rarely see the affect of our actions. The stranger, who we helped for no reason other than the right one, goes home a little lighter because you lifted them. The waiter I admonished, because my day wasn’t going so well, ends his night dejected. Seen and unseen, the residual outcomes cut both ways.

Because we are, we touch. Just remembering that, on occasion, helps. I know it is cliche, but there is certainly a fine line between pleasure and pain. That mid-court barrier just may be our next word, our next press…

The indentions we leave will be interpreted in many ways. A story may be deciphered without the ink. Some are recreated as we trace the pattern left behind. The ridges, when felt, may read like a mysterious form of brail. All in all, the mark is made and has importance, beyond the author’s intent.

However the typeset is received, remember, it will be. A friend of mine once said, “Good writing is not written, it is experienced”. In life, the same is true for words less eloquent.

Our love and it’s opposite are left through the pressure of our pencil, whip of our tongue, lift in our embrace. My unsolicited advice for the morning is three fold:

Press – Live and experience what you write. Know each moment matters to many more than just you.

Feel the indentions – Understand, there are multiple ways to embrace the grooves; Accept.

Wonder – because, isn’t that all we can really do.

The story we are living is mysteriously amazing. We contribute our individual entry every moment; Words, sentences and paragraphs that bleed through to the next page, because we are.

Press,
William

Sent from my iPhone

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dads, faith, fathers, Fathers, forgiveness, God, life, life lessons, love, personal growth, philosophy

So Many Ways


So, is there more to this than hauling the wood of our history around? More than just replaying our patterns? Whether yesterday or five thousand years ago, there has always been the need to break
our habits in the world- the need to give up what no longer works. – Mark Nepo



So Many Ways

The first time I remember falling was through the center of a jungle gym. They weren’t fancy back in those days. Just a bunch of iron bars built in a modulated square, with a similarly shaped box perch on top.

I was alone after school, long after all the other kids were gone. Waiting for a ride that was sure not to come for hours. Climbing to the top, I dreamed I was the captain of a ship far out at sea. I could feel the wind, see the Porpoises frolicking in the bow’s wake. Scanning the horizon for enemy vessels, I ordered the crew to the guns. Just then a wave hit hard. Except it wasn’t my imagination.

I was overcome by a wash of dizziness and fell straight through the middle shoot, hitting the ground hard. Malleable as my young body was and completely limp in a half conscious state, the impact inflicted no harm. Dusting myself off, even at that young age, I was aware how lucky I was that my head had not hit any of the bars on the way down. Had it connected solidly, who knows.

I haven’t thought about that moment in years, though I have fallen so many times since. Innocence long departed, the stumbles now inflict pain. To this point, my thick skull has not struck the steel squarely. I’ve suffered cuts, bruises and even deep gouges, but the giving side of impermanence has shown me mercy.

I have spent the last two days writing about my dad. Through his words and my memories, I have ridden with him at the helm of great vessels. I have felt the sting of his stumbles. I’ve asked Him for his wisdom; That born of his imperfect experience. We have walked together once more.

Years ago the two of us crouched alone on the Galveston jetty. A thirty foot high wave, we’d noticed building minutes before, steadily approaching from the ship channel. I gripped the bow of our, twelve foot, Jon boat with white knuckled fury. He held the craft with one hand and my arm in the other. I knew, if he had to let go of one it would not be me. Though he had fallen plenty, he would not fail. It was a moment as surreal as the slow motion we experience with the imminence of a car wreck.

Though the sound had to be deafening as the massive wave crashed into and over us, all I remember is silence. We were together at the bottom of that jungle gym, dusting ourselves off and preparing to climb the tower again. This time with more knowledge than the last.

Learning,
Will


Sent from my iPhone


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fathers, Fear, God, life lessons, philosophy, Uncategorized

Unnecessary Noise

My Daughter and I drove to Houston yesterday, and as Fate ( the larger Plan) would have it, my Family had planned a Mass at my Sister Carroll’s home to celebrate the Life and final Reward of my Father. As usual, the event was just what the Doctor ordered.

Without real reason, I was struggling when I arrived on Swift Avenue to meet a small contingent of our clan. Despite the fact that I have been doubly Blessed over the last few days to spend them with my Son, and the next few with my Daughter, in an instant I felt fearful.

I started to say that fear and anxiety was sudden and inexplicable, but in this worldly reality I can trace the cause to the root. If I did, I would realize that it was neither sudden or inexplicable. Needless yes, but a mystery the feelings were anything but.

We gathered around Carroll’s circular table with Cousin Johnny Stacer at the head. I to His left and my Sister Mary to His right. I took in Johnny’s African garb, which I always admire in a wondering way, and the Hosts and wine in front of Him. My first thought was “wherever two or more gather”.

I listened with intent, but not intently, as I stewed on the anxious thoughts that had seemingly appeared from nowhere. At this point, and as I have done before when clutter and fear have stepped in the way of my conversation with God, I consciously told the devil to get out of the church. he was not welcome.

At that moment, We were holding hands in the Circle and as Johnny prayed for our intentions, I could feel His left thumb gently stroking the back of my Hand. His next words were, “help Us let go of unnecessary anxious feelings and fear”. Immediately the anxiousness was gone.

The circumstances that caused the feelings were, and are, still the same. However, the realization of the pettiness, unimportance and lack of control I have on them was bestowed upon me. Delivered as Johnny said, on the HOV Lane right from the Source of All.

The short Mass with my Family, and subsequent dinner did what it always does. It lifted me and Us All up. We laughed at, and with Ourselves, told old stories and new, loved and were Thankful.

I am not a good Catholic, but I love my Catholic upbringing, and strong Roots. They gave Me a solid foundation from Which to grow my Faith and Relationship with God. I Believe that our relationship with God is individual. However, it is Moments like These that point out the interconnectedness of All.

Just as Electricity needs a conduit to flow, Messages need a delivery mechanism as well. Sometimes that Pipe is a group of People, or maybe just a Person. We can only Hear if We Listen and the Song is sometimes louder when sung in a Choir.

“For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” – Matthew 18:20

Peace
Will

Sent from my iPhone

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life lessons, philosophy

Melodies of life

Melodies of Life (Everybody Has a Song)

Not long ago a friend of mine called me and told me how much he loved my family. It seems Rob ran into the Houston conglomerate of our band of crazies on my niece’s 17th birthday. The patrons of good Company Taqueria were being treated to a Nelson version of the Beatles’ I Saw Her Standing There, with slightly altered words; after all, “She Was Just 17…”

My sister Theresa turns memories into lyrics for almost every occasion. While slightly embarrassing to the recipient, and some of the performers if the venue is public, when you wake up on your birthday you smile with anticipation of Tessie’s serenade. When I was four or five, she recorded me singing Rag Time Cowboy. Years later, I was turned into that cowboy through the magic of her loving devotion and thoughtful creativity.

Yesterday, I found a note I’d written years ago that spoke of Theresa’s tributes. I can’t be sure when it was written, as there was no date, but there is little doubt it was during a tough stretch. The simple clue was the line that mentioned looking in the mirror. Reflection isn’t always easy.

My song has a few rough chords in it. I simply hope that when the last verse is heard a happy note rings in the air.

The unfinished piece definitely crosses a few genres when it plays in my head. The heartache and breakdown of a country song; The hard charging mess of a heavy metal calamity, the upbeat rhythm of Bill Withers’ Lovely Day, the power of a Led Zeppelin masterpiece and the peace of love songs. Though not finished, all in all, not a bad tune. When the stage is cleared, all I can hope is that the resounding ring in the listener’s ear is that of the memories we made for those still around to hear the song.

We can affect the melody, but we cannot control the tempo of the music. We can write the words and even then, as someone sang, the words still might not come out right. We can walk out on stage with the arrangement just so, but in the end it’s just a jam session. One thing is for certain, we can dance to whatever beat is playing. Enjoy the music and dance your ass off.

Will

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dads, fathers, Fear, life lessons, love, philosophy, your last day

The Ledger

No one who ever asked my dad for help left disappointed. Dad didn’t have much, but knew he had it all. Frankly, whether asked or not he would help those in need. The only thing he didn’t share was where the fish were…

I watched him over a pile of bills many times at the dinning room table, sorting “pay nows” and “float”. He’d sigh as he rose, turn right around and give $100 to someone in a jam.

It didn’t always seem to be the best decision making, but he always did what needed doing. He’d figure out the rest.

Maybe it all traced back to the day he lay dying on a battlefield in Saipan, a bullet hole through his chest. An exit wound, four times the size of the impact point, through his back. I imagine many “if I live” promises being made to the Man upstairs on that day in 1944.

I wonder if “as many children as I can possibly have” was one of those promises:)? Course he’d have to find a Saint to collaborate on that Front. What were the other words uttered? What thoughts flashed through the young Marine’s mind?

I’m certain that going into every battle my father was afraid to die, but he would do what he had to do. Just as strong is my belief that as he lay on rocky ground dying his fear of mortality disappeared. It was in God’s hands. I never met a man more resolute that God has a plan.

Being on the brink can free a person from the shackles that fear battles to enslave us in. The trick is to be able to unlock those restraints without the unwanted kickstart of a bullet through the chest.

Dad was not always right. He was in fact, quite often wrong. Never was there a man more perfectly imperfect. He made the best decisions possible, given the circumstances at hand. Then he acted. Fear could go fuck itself. What I’d give to live like that….

We all make the best decisions we know how. Certainly, we are wrong at least 50% of the time. Let me give you a little tip. Every answer you give and action we take which is based in fear has a much higher probability of being on the debit side of our ledger.

I want to tell you I am, quite assuredly, not able to shirk the ropes of fear anywhere close to 100 % of the time, but I’m getting better! Sure it’s a “do as I say not as I do” thing, however it is solid good dope. Just look back on a few key decisions you’ve made. How’d the ones based in fear work out? What about those made with nothing but confidence? I bet I know the answer.

There were and are many men and women on this earth able to live there lives like each day is the last. Dad had the privilege of walking in those ranks. Each of our worlds would be brighter if we could do the same. Decisions made out of love, respect and consciousness carry the collective strength of the universe as their ally. The makings of a mighty team in my opinion.

Power through your day with confidence. Act decisively with the best intentions. You never know what might happen.

Here’s to you all. Go get some!

Will

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