transversing negative space of parallels

"fiction is truth half told to shape a perception of what is not there in one reality, yet exists in another.  a parallel universe of sorts.  though parallels never come to the same point, either."   

anna m.

~~~~

a story begins.   in one such parallel.   in one such perception. 

~~~~ 

through emptiness of a soul lost, came search for new meaning in an unexplainable trilogy of existence which has elements of the known, the believed and the desired. 

realizations of tangibles in life are the known, to which there are no questions of what they are or are not. 

there are questions on meaning here, but meaning is separate from tangible. 

meaning bridges the known to the believed, in a dystopic journey of frustration from fact to faith.  

however, the believed comes from the desire to understand infinite reality beyond the known, often based on its elements. 

this is faith. 

death may be a door to another parallel, but this other parallel is not a known; it is a combination of the believed and the desired. 

there is only belief, and belief in existence or nonexistence of another parallel does require faith, either way. 

the theists and non-theists may argue, but there is no such thing as not having belief, you either believe something is or is not, unless the known can prove it through a tangible.

theoretical writings of theology and thealogy do little to help, as they are either myth or perceived fact, dependent upon one's concepts learned or discovered of the parallel of an unknown that can only be believed. 

it may or may not exist. 

however, it's the desired which may be the most wicked of all, as it drives madness into the artists, philosophers and dreamers. 

though seemingly unattainable, yet not always, the desired could be a fictional or parallel reality. 

this parallel, when beyond fiction, is often found hidden deep within one's self, suppressed from the pressure and non-acceptance from societal norms. 

but, the desired can often be no more explained nor rationalized than the believed within the minds of the mad. 

yet it was through a drawing class when a quest to capture the desired was piqued once more. 

it came from defining negative space, drawing an object's image from what it is not, which is a constant theme in approaches to poetry, writing and life, which all attempt to explain the known. 

a philosophical approach in discovery and description comes through finding what something, or someone, is by bringing forth what it is not.  

symbiosis between drawing and writing occurs in sketching objects without looking at the graphite or paper, only looking at the object, in order to actually see what exists while connecting the brain with the hand. 

combined with negative space, writing is enhanced by seeing what something is and then describing what it is not by removing a writer from the alterations and perceptions created from limits of human remembrance. 

it was from this that a love for poetry and written word was reborn through understanding and defining objects with negative space.

and so now, with this, it is the time to find anna. 

~~~~

she's here. 

within the white of the page. 

a parallel, of sorts. 

~~~~

the story begins...

~~~~

white may be an absence of all color...

...but white is a canvas for a soul to draw out what is within its grasp...

by darkening what is not. 

~~~~

she calls...

EjG

in a time of silence...

books regarding an ancient religion from lands of the celtic north rest on a reading table next to me, as night sounds mix softly with gentle sounds of music and a constant infusion of cool night air...my study of the goddess and a search for the feminine divine has suspended for a brief moment in time's existence only to be resumed in the morrow...

...the autumnal equinox and mabon are close at hand...finishing out the seasons to allow only a few short weeks before the celebrations of a new time around the samhain begin the year once more.

celebrations of life cycles, the sun, cycles of the moon, and the wondrousness of the earth and her beauty only come upon those who search and experience it from a full awareness of her existence...

...a new chapter in my journey, that started in a time long since past when youth was not as elusive as it seems to be now, has begun once more...

and as I have spent the last months of this summer's season, searching for some inner personal truth and understanding, the capability to finally control my mind and quell internal demons of past remembrances seems to be taking its due course and coming to a long awaited journey's end... 

...this now allows for a freeing of my mind and spirit to finally face that which it has questioned all along, stemming from a troubled, conflicted identity and constant questioning of the soul's beliefs...with a brain now finally clear of hindrances placed upon it from the continual, self-inflicted iniquities once used to silence its demons, its chaos and its frustration from not knowing what belief and identity are to me, plaguing my searching soul, my being now focuses on finding new answers...though questions lead to more questions...no answers can be provided except from what has been understood from a soul's intersection with the younger self, talking self and deep self...i'm now learning how to understand and listen to this inner trinity of existence and understanding...

while there is no finality in what it is i am, there is a beginning to an understanding of personal identity and what belief really is to this conflicted soul...and there is a personal revelation of what was blocking this search for truth within...it came out of a separation from the wholesomeness of earth, a cleansing from the forest and her trees, the deep self speaking through guitar strings, and the existentialism of poetry presenting pictures of thought for something to grasp onto in the days of endlessly looking for a horizon that cannot be seen from the clutter too often in the way...

...though in days of recent past my soul has been torn away from all this, confused by what it is i do not understand of my identity coupled by the relentless stare into the night winds and sky searching for meaning of the desired path set forth for me, i now am on a new journey of discovery...

i was unable to describe or explain this until now, however, scatteredness of thought may prevent some clarity at this point...and though i was going to start a new blog, i have decided that crossroads at sunrise was where this, and me, needed to be...a search for meaning and understanding was its genesis...now, a rebirth comes once more...

...a recent silence provided the break from deep shame and an ability to discover that which needs to be brought forward to present as thought once more...and quite possibly, discussion...in order to come to an understanding within... 

my camomile tea now steams into the early morning stillness surrounding its silence with sensuousness and serenity...

EjG

Inside a Chaotic Mind

There is no true rest when the brain cannot shut itself down. -- EjG

There is a continual self discovery going on within my psyche. An attempt for me to separate what is real and what is perceived within my brain. Not looking for excuses or sympathy, just looking for discovery and understanding. 

The brain and creativity fascinate me. Along with psychology.

With that said, I need to tell you this:   

I have an extremely chaotic mind...which is actually awesome...as do many more individuals in my situation. 

Yes, it's not bad. However, it has been the cause of ultra creativity, new ways of looking at the ordinary, extreme highs, extreme lows, radical new approaches, performance issues from non-conformance, success from non-conformance, relationship issues and daily functioning issues from existing outside of normality. 

And, some days, actually most days, I just want to quiet it down, because the perceived norm despises my thought processes. Imagine having constant images/conversations in your head when trying to relax and escape from the day, or when trying to read and concentrate, constantly interferring. 

My brain never shuts down.

Let me explain what it's like. I have four examples to share for the description:

1) My brain is like a weather map when it shows the lightning strikes on it from a violent storm. Thoughts flash continuously in and out, without order, and fade into nothingness shortly thereafter. Nothing meaningful other than there is an abnormal amount of activity leading to some major change. Distracting and catastrophic change occurs, which eventually becomes new and a refreshed reality, sometimes a new reality happens. It sometimes ain't pretty when it does. I don't always welcome it, but it can force me to be better and more focused, provided the right distraction occurs. 

2) Images and words become a whirlwind. They fly in and out, swirling, especially as I think about whatever subject is at hand, thinking of other tasks I need to do, with concentration interrupted and altered with other conversations going around me. 

3) It's like being at a party or networking event where there are many different conversations going on at the same time, and you're trying to listen and eavesdrop on all of them, while also trying to focus on your own conversation. You get nothing substantial other than jumbled words, and you're not able to remember what was discussed in any of the discussions. 

4) I have constant conversations within my head. Not voices, just my brain talking to me over and over again...over everything else. They can be funny events or something reminding me of painful events. Regardless, they do not allow me to move forward.

Direct conversations become chaotic mind games with the crowd within my head. Often, when I'm asked what was just said in a conversation, I panic from lack of recall. It's like I have not paid attention and often do not know what was just discussed. However, the reality is, I can't recall because the many images, messages, thoughts and distractions within my brain prevent me from paying attention to what was said or what was important. Kicker is, I can recall partial glimpses of my interfering thoughts, but cannot fully recall the discussion and outcome. 

To add to this, my handwriting is so poor when writing notes to remember, the deciphering process is nearly impossible from my notes. And I have no recollection of what was important or what I proposed we should do. 

Hopelessness evolves from my chaotic interpretations of wasted thought.

But, what is it actually like in my head? The simple answer is this: It's chaotic. Purely chaotic. 

So, here's a mere glimpse...less than five-ish minutes of my daily waking, cognizant hours:

~~~~~

Thoughts occur....they consume my brain until something else comes along.

Discussion begins to occur within my head....I would say it's voices, but it's not, it's just my brain talking with itself.
  
This brain of mine loves self conversation, along with philosophical rants. It plays out philosophic arguments, which can never be fully articulated, unless written, but it incessantly plagues my inner peace.  I win, but my adversary never realizes it, nor can I articulate it in real life.

I try to stop my brain, or quiet it again...to no avail.

And now I try reading....what did I read? The conversations within my mind continue. They are relentless and unforgiving. 

I can't remember what I was supposed to remember. 

Professorial condemnations occur, though they are now hallucinations or flashbacks from what was once experienced.

Seriously...crap...I have to go back two or three paragraphs to reread and catch-up. 

Holy crap, more conversations....they interrupt me, but what did they say? Paranoia sometimes sets in.

Did I capture everything in my notes...my hand writing is so bad I cannot read what I wrote.
                          
I cannot remember the conversation, either...I wanted to write it down, I truly tried, but forgot, before I could capture the full essence.

I cannot ask them to repeat it...I'm supposed to be an expert. 

The other person notices my inadequacies...or at least, I perceive they do, my face is flush, and I tell myself to think of mountains and not to sweat...I miss the other part of the discussion. 

Then, yet another conversation within my mind begins, in another direction, conflicting with the other maddening discussions within my brain.

Nervousness....why are my hands shaking? 

My brain is consumed...a co-worker tells me to not let anyone see me sweat, it's weakness. It was not an actual conversation today, just one I recalled from weeks past that I inadvertently recalled at this point in time. 

Why do I constantly recall bad conversations where I make embarrassing mistakes?

Yet, then, in the silence of my home, I think to myself, they cannot see this....

...my wife notices the paper that I'm holding is shaking...she asks why...

I skirt the question with a sarcastic comment. 

I fear she thinks something else. And yet my hands shake more uncontrollably....I worry, and discuss within my mind, the reality I am aging and becoming fragile...

...it's not a good discussion, and this causes other discussions among the perceived normal ones.

Gotta stop this....other conversations within my head interject their thoughtless ramblings.
                     
What did these conversations say? Shit, I can't remember.
          
Doubt....a common theme, reinforced by the perceived norm. 

Thoughts...they lead into some dimension of misguided worry....
   
My mind still racing, the self looking for a way to escape. It cannot...trapped...

Sweat becomes more profuse...how do I stop it? I can't! How do I escape it?

Paranoia, self doubt and an escape mentality become increasingly prevalent.

Misguided thoughts, worrying about missteps in previous discussions, continues in fervor.

Self doubt continues......my brain replays all the missteps and mistakes I have done in public to the point of incapacitating me...I need to step away from the conversation and crowd. I'm powerless.

Sweating, blushing.....I tell myself to stop it, but cannot, and it increases.


And then the person I'm meeting with walks into the room, shakes my hand and says hello....I need to proceed with some sense of poise.

Welcome to a chaotic mind...

EjG

A Shift in Direction...

Though I will still publish my post titled Inside a Chaotic Mind, which is almost complete, but it became more challenging to write than I realized, I want to change the direction of this blog in a slightly, very slightly, different way.

A crossroads between three rivers. Midland, Michigan 2013.

I tried to resurrect a former blog of mine last week, titled A New Utopia, only to discover the blog spot was still available, but the domain name has not been available for years.

My mistake.

Not gonna resurrect it. At least not directly. Need uniqueness.

Despair and frustration set in.

But, only for a moment.

I decided to combine my approach from A New Utopia into my approach for Crossroads at Sunrise. 

A New Utopia was originally based on technology and digital approaches, along with trying to get discussion on new thinking.

This is what Crossroads at Sunrise was originally about, too, minus the tech...along with poetry and photography. Discovering new approaches and ridding me of the normality we succumb to, often called life. I need to discover more...which comes through thought and writing for me.

My belief is to share ideas and approaches. Collaboration will enable humanity to survive. Though I'm not sure if most can realize how this can be done effectively these days. Discourse and understanding of different views seems to be lost on our generations.

Ok then, from now on (at least in the foreseeable future), I'm going to use this blog as a forum to analyze a chaotic mind, seeking out people with similar issues and interest, while also searching for new ideas and discoveries. However, I will also be posting thoughts on how I think we should disrupt things like environmental issues, the government, social outreach, philanthropy and business.

Yes, these ideas all fly through this chaotic mind of mine daily, if not hourly or by the minute. I want to bring back positive discourse so our society can come to understand the difference between good thoughts and wasted efforts. Let's look for the greater good.

This has always been a goal/passion of mine, but today it became more passionate when I took almost two hours and listened to a panel on whether or not entrepreneurs are over regulated and no longer innovative, sponsored by Virgin.

Yes, the video takes two hours, but well worth the listen, even with the periodic audio issues.

Anyway...expect more from me now. And challenge my ideas. I gotta find a breakthrough to change humanity...or, at least, to understand and harness my brain for some greater good.

So, in taking a personal risk, I share what is considered shameful and confidential (yet, shouldn't be):

I'm getting tested for ADHD this week. It's a start. Which may provide that harness and understanding for me...though I have been crystal clear to the psychologists/nurses/doctors that I will not jeopardize my creativity, even to save my sanity and health, it's too critical to my being. No matter the toll nor cost. But, I'm also dealing with, and being treated for, social and performance anxiety due to bad body/brain chemistry. Oh God, this sucks! And yet no one truly understands, even those closest to me. No one!! Yet, today I can no longer do a presentation, be in a crowd, deal with contention, stand in a line, meet with friends, be at a party, or do an impromptu meeting with leadership without shaking, sweating and losing my words and thoughts from the fear of the situation. It sucks. Truly. Especially when logic dictates otherwise. I feel my competence is measured by this and not by my knowledge and performance....knowledge and performance always take second fiddle to perception. No now one will understand my plight, so this is a solo fight and endeavor....

There should be no shame in this, none, which is why I publicize it here. Our society needs to understand this is real issue/condition and not made up.

It just f*cking happens.

I'd like to think I'm proof this is not an excuse, as I continue to push on no matter what. I've been successful despite my issues. But, I know there is doubt on my reality, which is why I raise it here. Why else would I raise it? There are only downsides in my perceptions...no upside. This fuels my drive even more.

And yet, those of us with this issue continue to just search for answers to explain our differences in order to come to some understanding on why, as well as a way to approach this madness. I also lay this out to show you this is not just words, but a soul dealing with some hefty issues. Ironically, these issues also intrigue me to research, explain and discover, which I do daily.

Ok, so there it is. I have laid it out. Plainly. Honestly. Nothing held back.

I have one messed up, creative, neurotic, over sensitive, over stimulated, and yet an inquisitive brain looking for understanding. I love and hate it, all at the same time. There is only one relief from all of this...death...and I'm not willing to go even close to this reality. So, this makes me search for some truth and thought, reality can be elusive...

Ready for a journey into madness, fear, anxiousness, discovery and understanding?

Me too....stay tuned.

Let's go!

EjG

(P.S. Share your ideas, I will respond.)

Silence...and then sound, or soon, at least.

Working on a piece to explain, or at least explore, this chaotic mind of my mine...stay tuned. By this weekend, for sure.

EjG

Discovery....

A Brief Overview
The journey over the past year or so has been an interesting one, and continues to be filled with personal discovery and details. And, I share the following in hopes those who can relate can have something we can discuss. Don't let us hide in silence, but rebel in strength. It takes a special soul to succeed beyond this pain.

Though I often approach my journeys and discoveries with humor, there is a  soulful side to my approach to life that is often held quite close out of fear of sharing too much inside this single person. I do not strive to run the world, just want to leave a positive legacy when I am gone. Because of the topic below, I need to maintain a sense of seriousness. My humor is quelled.

This past year has taken me to areas I had never imagined. From job loss to job gain, to a new location and to new work experiences, to experiencing normality being lost and forgotten. But, the struggle to truly understand who it is I am and what I strive to be continues to be a source of inner turmoil. I know many people struggle with this, I'm just bringing it out into the forefront.

My life is in upheaval...but, it's not the end. At least not now. So then what?

A Taboo Subject in Our Culture
It took a serious set of panic attacks, a couple of psychologists, some good meds, TED talks by Brené Brown and Susan Cain, literally drawing out my approach based on conversations and presentations, a lot of reading on introversion versus extroversion and a serious examination of what my skills as a writer and professional communicator truly entailed to get to where I am right now. It has not been pretty nor easy.

Did I nail it?

Nope.

So, back to seeing a therapist.

There, I said it. Back to seeing a therapist.

My failure and yet my redemption.

Let my personal critics (both professional and non-professional) weigh in on my ineptness. There are many out there. But, the kicker is this: it's not ineptness.

It's because those of us in this predicament often see life dramatically different than most. It's a curse and a blessing.

Yep, I'm an introverted writer that has a messed up brain seeing yet another therapist, and I look at life and problems in a dramatically different way than most. I'm supposed to be ashamed, right? Because I have a therapist? However, I am not. Which is why I'm posting this.

I've been told to not tell anyone. This is something you're not supposed to talk about because it's seen as shameful and a weakness.

What bullshit. Whatever happened to compassion and understanding?

Broken ankle or wrist, chemo I'd be in therapy to take care of it. Much sympathy. But, with a messed up head? Silence, shun and disgust seems to be the better approach. It's time to change this. Which is why I'm going public with my personal struggles.

You cannot push for change until you actually put yourself on the platform.

Impactful Memories 
I thought by the time I was 48 I would have this thing called life figured out, being comfortable with it. I have not. Ironically, I think that's ok (should I get past this current struggle). Not having life figured out means you're not complacent. You're still finding and discovering.

The best class I ever took in college was a course in Logic, far better class than any business or communication class. On the last day of the course, the professor made a statement that has stuck with me to this day. He said something to the effect, "Always continue to learn and be interested in life. At some point in your career you'll plateau and there will be nothing further for you there. If you have no other interests, then life will be pretty unfulfilling."

Of course, the great William Zinser, in his 80s, said to the graduating class from his alma mater, all in their teens, that we all want the same thing. What could that possibly be?

Simple.

We want "to have an interesting life."

Yes...an interesting life. But, how?

The other night I sat out on my deck with my yellow lab and a glass of wine. All I could hear were the night sounds. I'm very comfortable in silence and solitude. For years, in the corporate world, there was something I was told to work on, a major weakness, and that was my willingness to be alone and think. I needed to network more, be more outgoing, be sociable. That's what needed to be done.

But, I struggled. And still do so today. I'm not that way...I cannot be that way.

Now, I've decided to embrace what is me and get others to accept this for what it is. Which is sort of an arrogant view of life. So, in reality, it has become an understanding of both me and an understanding of you, at least the collective you.

So Let Me Be Blunt
I'm an introverted soul who has decided to refocus his efforts on biking for health, writing for thinking, guitar playing for problem solving, reading for discovery, photography for capturing moments in time and, most of all, family for love. Yes, meaningless things from the perspective of the business sector, but strength from every other point of life.

But, this rambling is not a synopsis of a culmination of events over the past year or so. It's not a cry for sympathy. No, it's one more step in the journey with personal struggles. I'm having trouble finding it, but when I wait for inspiration it somehow has a way of slapping me in the face.

And, it did so today.

I'm convinced that by following the path to "me" will enable me to find a truly fulfilled life. The best things to ever have happened to me are the panic attacks and the downsizing I went through last year. Nothing would have changed if it wasn't for both of those incidents.

The Finale, Sort Of 
Fortunately, I have the financial means to take this journey on, and discovered my current role, which follows my passion. It's not a job...it's truly a passion, though stressful, it helps define my character.

That's the big distinction. I may not succeed, but if I don't, I know I will have left a legacy from what I have done. That's true life, my friends....and the biggest thing is rediscovering other passions in life.

And now? Well, I'm finally redefining passions to discover my "interesting life." Thanks Mr. Zinser...

So, until later...

Beauty

There is an edge to beauty forgotten
Where sound mixes with silence,
Symbiosis unveils.
Sound ceases. 

There is an edge of beauty realized
Where minds separate from reality,
Silence moves to symbiosis. 
Thought emerges.

There is an edge of beauty discovered
Where intrigue of ideas are pondered
Forcing us into undeniable
Mind patterns.

EjG

Inspired somewhat by S.J. Tucker's "Snake Song"

Untitled

I'm directly non-proportional
to where I thought I would be today….

...which is more beautiful
than most can comprehend.

Silence quells the demons
within my mind.

Yet, silence is more to me
than most can comprehend…

….the night sounds prevail.
A reality beyond what most know...

Yet, tomorrow's silence
is more deafening

than this night's solitude….
Shhh….

Silence and whispers
are deafening to a chaotic mind…

and yet we scream and yell,
only to discover

the madness of triviality….
seek no more….


~~~~~~~~~~~~

Read nothing more into this than a frustrated poet spewing lines of verse...

A New Time...

Too many days have past since last writing on Crossroads. This has to change. In the last year there have been many things to take my mind and soul away from writing, and it is killing my being. I am not this person without soul or words. The picture below has more significance than any know. 

This photo was taken on St. George Island the night before Tropical Storm Debby made landfall on us. Despite the warnings, I stood in the surf breathing in the salt air, a gin and tonic warming my soul, as I took a series of these photos. Little did I realize the changes to come in the short days ahead. But, it sometimes takes a storm to get to a better place...ask me some time, and I'll tell you the full story. 

Until then, my Crossroads at Sunrise continues. Not just with poetry and photography, but also with stories of those places and people that have some tale needing to be told. The stories are most important. The photos and poems only paint a moment in time. Stories define these moments. 

May we all find and understand peace and serenity at some point in our time...and may we all have our stories told before they are forgotten.

EjG

winter's solstice

snow covered the trees and headstones
in an old cemetery where time
became both present and past.

winds whispered through pines
as souls of the dead 
passed by unnoticed,
they dance amongst the winds.

the heavens do not possess us
during this moment of time.

it is now the day of the year's renewal
where silence of long winter’s nights
breaks only momentarily
allowing dreams to subside
into the few waking hours
where we enter into a search
for an understanding of the circle
in the life-death continuum.

candles illuminate the night,
as the wood of the floor 
reflects the flames flickering and dancing,
in hopes of a quick ending
to this long night.

the flutes and guitars break the silence
while warming the soul with each note;
death now only holds the illusion

and life presents us solemnity.

but, the graveyard continues to present
its silence on this day of renewal.

yet, it is within
the midst of the headstones,
where the snows blanket
the iniquities of the land,
that our souls chase 
those within the winds
as we search for tomorrow. 

the marbled graves
bring finality and change.

the evergreens

give us hope.

the snows
show us purity.

winter's solstice...

-- EjG 

Originally Written 12.16.05 / Revised 12.21.12

------------------------------------

Author's Note: Solomon and the Scribe were in earlier postings. I introduced Icarus 12.16.05, they have become my searchers ~~

Both Solomon and the Scribe walked among the graves days before the winter’s solstice.

“Do you see the beauty of the graveyard?” asked Solomon.

“I do."

“Where?”

“I see it in the trees, the snow, the clouds, the scurrying animals and the gravestones. When you cannot see the beauty in these things then life is at its end,” replied the Scribe.

“Merry Christmas and a warm solstice to you,” said Solomon. “May you find warmth and understanding upon this day of renewal.

“And to you, as well,” stated the Scribe.

It was then that a man by the name of Icarus introduced himself to them, he was the keeper of the dead, the sexton. The three of them prayed for silence solemnity, and peace in the coming time. Winter’s passage is nothing more than a sexton letting the souls be free, which is all Solomon and the Scribe searched for in this time.

“Come with us, Icarus,” requested Solomon.

Accepting their offer, Icarus placed his responsibilities upon the ground, hugged both Solomon and the Scribe, and left with the two men. 

As they walked through the gates of the cemetery, Icarus expressed, "Life cannot be found within the headstones; nor can death be found within life. It's time to search for life."

The three men then walked away within the cold night winds of the winter's solstice...

A Fallen Man, A Heroic Man, A Common Man and an Uncommon Hearse

It was Sunday, August 5, 2012, when I walked through the streets of downtown Traverse City, Michigan with my wife and kids. The skies were clear, a bright sun overhead, but cool for a late summer afternoon. A local film festival had the town packed and bustling. Artists, hippies, film aficionados and common folks walked the sidewalks en masse. There was life all around.

As we walked the sidewalks ourselves, I noticed across the street a customized motorcycle with a hearse trailer behind it. Two men standing stoic next to it. I shot this photo of them, more from the uniqueness of the situation than anything else. 

After lunch we walked back by, this time on the sidewalk next to it. From behind the hearse, I snapped another shot when one of them turned, looked at me and said, "you were the one taking photos from across the street a little while ago, weren't you?"

I told him I was, not sure if there was concern, when he said, "you can put your kids on the bike and take some pictures of them if you'd like." I was not expecting this.

So we did.

When through with taking the photos, I spoke to the man without the top hat and asked him if the hearse had ever actually been used, thinking this was part of the film festival due to it being just outside the State Theater. 

He said it had been, in fact, 52 times, the last time being the day prior for Sargent Justin Hansen, 26, of Kingsley, who had been recently killed in Afghanistan by an IED. The $80,000 Harley Davidson motorcycle hearse customized in Pennsylvania, had just carried Hansen, a motorcycle enthusiast himself, to his grave. A true hometown hero who's casket was followed by several hundred motorcycles and several hundred cars. 

Though I thoughtlessly did not ask their names, I later learned through several searches they were A. Jay Howard and David Censke of Battle Creek, Michigan. I believe it was Censke, the man without the top hat, whom I spoke with. These two men volunteer their services for men like Hansen. 

Censke, a military man himself, had lost seven men in Afghanistan. They were his family, he was closer to them than his own blood. His face showed the pain as he described the loss, and it was something I could never comprehend. Whether or not you support or despise the military action there, or anywhere, you have to honor the courage and sacrifice many of us will never know or understand.

In my younger days I feared being in the military, now I regret not serving. I told him this, not expecting any response in return, and taking advantage of his silence to thank him for what he had done for our country. It's humbling to thank a military man in person who has lost his own men. A hand shake and simple words do not seem to be enough.

Then the unexpected came. He looked me straight in the eyes and said in a firm voice, "It doesn't matter if you didn't serve. If you serve your community in some way, then you have done something that matters," which is a pretty gracious statement for a man who has seen more death than I'll ever know. However, this is the best I can do at this point in my life. 

He then changed the discussion.

"You have a beautiful daughter," he said. I thanked him with pride. We laughed about the dating years that lie ahead of me.

I asked if he had kids. He replied, "No." After a brief pause he went on to say, "My first child died and then my ex moved on."

His face told the tale from a perspective of sadness again. But, he went on to tell me he did raise two Vietnamese children. He was doing what he could to give them something better.

He finished the conversation by saying, "I gave them the best life I could, they were not my own, but I know how you feel."

Our parting handshake was the best I had ever known. It was from a man I will only know from this instance, and yet is from one who shared with me pride and honor, and a sense of realizing just how precious time and living truly are in this life.

When I met up with my wife she asked, "Did you make a new best friend?"

"I just met a man with an inspiring story."

EjG

A New Time...

Too many days have past, almost a year of them, since last writing on Crossroads. This has to change. In the last year there have been many things to take my mind and soul away from writing, and it is killing my being. I am not this person without soul or words. The picture below has more significance than any know. 

This photo was taken on St. George Island the night before Tropical Storm Debby made landfall on us. Despite the warnings, I stood in the surf breathing in the salt air, gin and tonic warming my soul, as I took a series of these photos. Little did I realize the changes to come in the short days ahead. But, it sometimes takes a storm to get to a better place...ask me some time, and I'll tell you the full story. 

Until then, Crossroads at Sunrise begins again. This time not just with poetry and photography, but also with stories of those places and people that have some tale needing to be told. The stories are most important. The photos and poems only paint a moment in time. Stories define these moments. 

May we all find and understand peace and serenity at some point in our time...and may we all have our stories told before they are forgotten.

EjG

Books...

I've got several books on my desk open, some tunes blasting in my ears, a few sent messages I barely remember sending, and a brain full of ideas just waiting to be released...can you release me into the desires I once sought in solitude? Call it remembrance, or something else...poetics mean nothing more than this....

Cynicism...

There is no more cynicism when the mind realizes there is nothing beyond the now, forever, and the everafter...we chase our parallels into the mindless perils of tomorrow...our souls trippin' across the forevermore of infinity...time to breathe in the night air and wish we were nothing more than dust amongst the winds...goodnight / goodnight! (May we someday realize the parameters of infinity).

Hancock County Road #6

Author's note: This is an old piece, probably almost 20 years past, but the photo I took today reminded me of it. There is nothing like an old country road and a road trip. I need another road trip...

Taken in Hope Township, Midland County, Michigan
February 2011

Hancock County Road #6

Black top country road,

one lane into infinity.

Farm house

with broken windows,

stands

with a barn

leaning to the wind.

Vacant fields,

of green wasteland,

connects with gray sky

and solitude,

a brook babbles .

One vagrant,

with two canes,

journeys on,

skin tarnished

by the years.

There’s a lightning storm

in the distance,

which is the future,

for the past

is where you have been.

(SR-18, Hancock County, Ohio)

hollow

Taken on Stanford University Campus
May 2010

we hold our demons within tips

of bruised fingers,

they become contemplations 

to some sacred reality,

we call it religion…

madness appears in forms

of wicked temptation

from one soul’s thoughts,

we concede reality in silence,

it became surreal…

is there something real

to tomorrow’s iniquities?

confessional chambers fill

with delusional masses

of the guilted answering “yes”…

there is no redemption

to man’s foresight

when lost in some abysmal bliss

of a decadent destruction,

we become more maddening than wise…

the philosophical destruction 
of the mind,

our souls know no more 
than what the brain once held
in secret...


it is merely nothing 
compared to our reality,

and yet we prayed 
to our gods 
for redemption…

yet we knew there was nothing 
more beyond “the now,”

and limitations we saw within confines

of mental capacities

Look into our eyes…

or her eyes,

your eyes,

and my eyes,

they are windows to our souls,

yet we still do not understand…

the mind is the connection

between the self,

the soul,

and the non-living,

or is “the now” our only true being?

our existence? our forevermore?

which may be nothing more

than the mind’s ability 
trying to comprehend 
the incomprehensibleness of infinity…

and yet we define madness and religion,

as the same.

oh dear God,

is it the same?

please tell me no…

a silence echoed

through the night,

it was hollow,

more hollow than

i have ever heard before………..

EjG