Tag Archives: writing

21

Mar. ’13

Life With Father

“Choosing to be in the theatre was a way to put my roots down somewhere with other people. It was a way to choose a new family.”
– Juliette Binoche

theatrepic

My next show, Life With Father, opens tomorrow night at Ashe Civic Center in West Jefferson, North Carolina.  And, as usual, the end of this two-month-long process is bittersweet.

In theatre, when the show finally arrives, everyone involved is absolutely exhausted.  If you’re not in theatre, you probably have no clue what goes into creating a show.  There are so many people involved – sometimes twice as many people as you see on the stage are involved off the stage.  Or sometimes even more.  Each person has their “role” to play, so to speak.  And each role is vital. My daughter has been involved with this show as a ‘techie’ and last night backstage at rehearsal, she said, “Wow.  I think I’m learning that the people back here work even harder than the people out there.” 

It’s definitely exhausting, that’s for sure.

But you know what else it is?  Absolutely amazing.

I don’t even know how to describe it to you.  There is just such a ‘bond’ that forms between people when they are working together to create a piece of art.  Because that’s what we’re doing.  Creating art.  And in the process of creating this work of art, we become a family.  Now, this particular piece of artwork may not be a sculpture or a painting, but it’s a work of art nonetheless.  And the difference in our work of art from a sculpture or painting?  Ours disappears.  Yep.  Just like that.  All of our months of hard work and dedication just disappear on the last day of the run.

“We build statues out of snow, and weep to see them melt.”  – Sir Walter Scott

So why do it?  Why put all of your time and energy into something that’s just going to disappear on you?

Because there are some things that come from all that hard work that do not disappear.

As Oscar Wilde puts it, “I regard the theatre as the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a human being can share with another the sense of what it is to be a human being.”  What more can I say than that?  Maybe, just maybe, we might reach someone in that audience.  If one person out there is able to see that something they’ve felt, said, dreamed, or imagined isn’t unique to them, then our job here is done.  That’s what this human experience is all about to me.  Just letting each other know that we’re not alone.  That deep down, we’re all pretty close to being the same.  And what better way to do that, than to get up on a stage and allow someone else’s life to play out before their eyes, and hope that something in what they see might mirror their own?

And on that same line of thinking – we also reach each other on the stage.  We are surrounded by other actors, other tech workers, the director, etc., who are all doing exactly what we’re doing.  All putting their heart and soul into creating something that means something to all of us.  We develop trust, camaraderie, patience…and most importantly, love for each other.  It’s a strange paradox – while pretending to be someone else, we manage to deeply get to know each other’s true selves.  Funny how that happens.  And this particular show is even about a family.  The joys, stresses, daily routine, and ins and outs of family life.

While pretending to be a family, we end up becoming one.

So, if you’re local, come out and see what we’ve been working on for the past two months.  (And hey – if you’re not local, come anyway.  It’s worth the drive!)  Without you, there’s not much point in us being up there on that stage.  Come be a part of the show.  Come be a part of our family.

See you there!

***

The following are some links to learn more about the show:
Life With Father article in the Jefferson Post: http://jeffersonpost.com/bookmark/22014480
My MTN interview with Jane Lonon: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QgkZoP_f7TU&feature=youtu.be

***

“I love acting. It’s so much more real than life.”
– Oscar Wilde

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19

Mar. ’13

Just Like That

wreckblog

This is how my day started.

I was on my way to work this morning and I rounded a curve and this is what I saw on the side of the road.  Myself and one other person coming the opposite direction were the first (and only) people to arrive and stop.  Both of us pulled over and got out of our vehicles and started jogging to the scene.  I could see the look on his face and assumed it probably mirrored mine.  We both thought that we were the first ones to arrive at a fatality.

But thank God, we were wrong.

I saw movement in the front seat and got down to look in what was left of the passenger side window.  She was shaken, but she was alive.  And not only was she alive – but she was just fine.  Really.

Just fine.

She was just stuck.  So, working together, the man and I were able to get the back door open and crawl in to get her free from the seatbelt and help her crawl out.  Once she was out, we called for help.  After realizing that she was a little unsteady on her feet, we brought her back to my car and put her in the passenger seat.  With her there, myself in the driver’s seat, and the other man kneeling on the ground at the passenger side, three strangers spent the next 45 minutes together.

Soon, that number rose to four.  The next to arrive was an elderly man who was a retired local volunteer EMT.  He didn’t have any equipment with him (he was just called because he was close by) so he proceeded to climb in the back seat and just hold the woman’s head with his hands to keep her stable.  He did that for about 15 minutes before more help arrived.  All in all, we were there close to an hour.

But it’s those first 30 minutes that I’m going to remember for a while.

Without knowing each other at all, we all sat in the car and just talked.  We exchanged stories about who we were, why were driving on this road at this particular time, what kind of jobs we had (a nurse, a preacher, a retired EMT, and a paralegal), our kids, our marriages – or lack thereof, etc.

We just sat there and chatted.  And at one point, I looked down and realized that this woman had been holding my hand the entire time and I wasn’t even aware.  I held a stranger’s hand for 30 minutes.   I can assure you that when I woke up this morning, if someone would have asked me to make a list of things I would be doing today, that sure wouldn’t have been on it.

So there we were.  Just four strangers chatting in my car after having just witnessed a miracle.  Yes, a miracle.  And you can’t tell me otherwise.

She was fine! 

Now, did you see that picture?  Really?  Did you look at it?  And I was there.  I saw that car.  I just knew without a shadow of a doubt that the person inside the vehicle would not have made it.  I was astonished that all she had was a pretty nasty bump on her head.  That’s it.

I don’t even know why I’m blogging about this really.  I’m not sure exactly what I wanted to take from this situation, but sitting here still shook up almost 5 hours later, I know that this interaction today meant something to me.

There’s a video that I remember to watch periodically.  It’s the song Hello World by Lady Antebellum.  The song is about rolling through life with burdens on your mind, and then something happening – some unplanned event – that makes you stop in your tracks and look around.  The video (which I posted at the end of the blog) makes that ‘unplanned event’ a car accident.  This man sees this, sees the humanity that surrounds the event, and realizes things just might not be that bad after all.  In other words, he wakes up.

Maybe that’s what happened there this morning?  Maybe I started to wake up?

This woman was about one minute ahead of me on this road.  That could have been me.  It could have been anyone.  It could have been you.  And it could have ended so so differently.  Everything could change.  Just like that.

You know?  Just like that.

Maybe it’s time to wake up?

***

“Hello world, how you been?
Good to see you, my old friend
Sometimes I feel as cold as steel
Broken like I’m never gonna heal
Then I see a light,
a little grace,
a little faith unfurl
 Hello world”
– Lady Antebellum, “Hello World” lyrics

Video: http://youtu.be/al2DFQEZl4M

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17

Mar. ’13

Favorite Race (so far)

picturequote

This is a picture I took at the Shamrock 4-miler, a St. Patrick’s Day theme race my son and I ran in Abingdon, Virginia, last night, March 15, 2013.

Now, granted, after every race I do, I seem to think that it was my favorite race.  And this was no exception.  But I have a feeling that this one may remain my favorite for a while.  And I’ve decided to list the top 10 reasons why.

*** 10.  The St. Patrick’s Day theme.
This was the first race I’d ever been a part of that had a theme.  And themes are awesome.  The atmosphere was completely different…everyone was in such happy spirits and seemed to be just a tad friendlier and a little more chatty than in other races.  I’ll definitely be searching for theme races in the future.

*** 9. The cowbell.
Oh yes.  There was a cowbell.  About a half a mile in, there was a random guy standing on the side of the road with a cowbell.  And, of course, the guy who was running beside me yelled, “Hey – we’re gonna need more cowbell!” as we passed.  Teehee.  That made me laugh all the way up the hill we had to climb right after we passed the cowbell man.  I needed that.

*** 8. A pooping dog.
Yes, you read that right.  A pooping dog made the top 10 list.  And here’s why.  One of the runners decided to run in the race with her dog.  Around the 1.5 mile mark, nature called.  She was standing, embarrassed, on the side of the road letting him do his business while other runners passed.  Eventually, runners started high-fiving her as they passed.  That was pretty awesome.  Lots of laughter came from that.  And laughter during a race is always awesome.  So, thank you pooping dog for your contribution to my list.

*** 7. This guy:
racebloggreenguy
Yeah.  Meeting that guy definitely made the list.  Duh.

*** 6. Being passed (yes, passed) by a man running the race while pushing his TWO kids in a stroller.
While going up a hill.  Yes, I know.  How did that make the list of reasons why this was my favorite race?  Well, just because.  People are awesome.  That’s all.

*** 5. Remembering to thank the people at the water stations.
I always forget to do that.  Always.  This time, I remembered.  There were three separate water stations and I remembered at every single station.  I finally forgot my own misery during a race and just remembered that there are awesome volunteers sitting out there for long periods of time just making sure that we have the best race we can.  And how cool are they?  They deserve more than a simple “thank you,” but that was all I had to give at the moment.  I hope hearing me say it made them feel as good as it made me feel to remember to say it.

*** 4. My time.
My MapMyRun tracking device told me that I ran 4.08 miles in just over 40 minutes.  That’s less than a 10-minute pace.  Best I’ve ever done.  Heck yeah, baby!  For this fairly new runner, that was something to be proud of.

*** 3. My kids’ dad.
Whoa.  I know, right?  How the heck did my ex-husband make this list?  I think you’ll soon understand.  Kevin (that’s his name) has Becker muscular dystrophy.  He is lucky to still be walking because the prognosis long ago was that he would have been in a wheelchair before he was 30.  (He’s 38.)  As I was leaving for the race after picking up my son, Kevin said something that stuck with me.  He said, “You guys do good.  I’d run it with you if I could.”  All I could think of after he said that, was this quote I saw once:

“I run because I can.  When I get tired, I remember those who can’t run, what they’d give to have this simple gift I take for granted, and I run harder for them.  I know they would do the same for me.”

That quote went through my mind many times during this race.  And now I have a feeling it will go through my mind in many more races to come.

*** 2. Memories
I had run a 5k race on this course once before.  It was last year.  I was afraid that running it again would actually make me feel sad because the person I ran it with wasn’t with me this time.  But you know what?  It didn’t make me sad at all.

The course was filled with memories at every turn.  At one point, I remembered how we both felt when we saw this dreaded hill looming ahead and realized just as we got to it that the course veered to the left and we didn’t have to actually run up it.  When I saw the hill this time, I just smiled.  Yep, no sadness.  Just a smile.

I remembered how we stayed at each other’s pace and he refused to leave me during the brief time that I had to stop to walk, when I know he could have gone on ahead easily. When I got to the place that I had to stop and walk that time and the memory filled my mind – again, I smiled.  (And went faster.)

There were many more memories throughout the race.  And many more smiles that accompanied them.  And that made me realize something.  I think something has healed.  And that’s a beautiful thing.

*** 1.  And hands down, the #1 reason why this was my favorite race?  This kid:
raceblog3jeff

That’s my son.  Now, this isn’t the first time we’ve ran a race together.  But this is the first time that he finished the race well ahead of me (as usual) and instead of waiting at the finish line, he turned around and came back on the course to find me.  I finished the race with my son by my side cheering me on.

So there.  The list is complete.

So, see?  How could this not have been my favorite race?

Oh, wait.  One more notable mention.

Another reason this was my favorite race?  I wrote this whole blog in my head while I was running it.  Combining two of my passions is a beautiful thing.

So blessed to be a runner.

***

“Methinks that the moment my legs began to move, my thoughts began to flow.”
– Henry David Thoreau

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15

Mar. ’13

Milestone

“I ran and ran and ran every day, and I acquired this sense of determination, this sense of spirit that I would never, never give up, no matter what else happened.”
– Wilma Rudolph

This week I hit a new milestone in my running.  I ran 6 miles without stopping.

milestoneblog2

So I titled this blog “Milestone.”  Heh.  Get it?  Milestone.  Oh, witty witty me.

Anyway…

So, yeah.  As you can see from the stats above, I’m not the fastest runner.  Not at all.  And, it was a treadmill run rather than an outside run (which people say is “easier,” but I beg to differ…).  And I know I still have a long way to go before I’m fully ready for this May 4 half marathon I’m signed up for.  I know there are more advanced runners looking at my accomplishment with a knowing smile remembering what it was like way back when they hit a little milestone like this.

But enough of that.  Enough trying to downplay what I just did.

Because, let me tell ya something.

While yes, there may be more advanced runners watching me way back here on my journey (while nevertheless cheering me on like I’ve won the lottery – because that’s how we runners roll), there’s also someone else watching me.

The March 2012 version of Melissa.

Oh yeah.  That girl was standing outside that gym with her hands cupped around her face looking through the window at me on that treadmill running 6 miles….and her jaw still hasn’t come up off the ground.  She’s astounded.  She would have never dreamed that this could be possible.  She couldn’t even run from the car to the front door of her house when it was raining outside to keep from getting soaked.  So, how on Earth could she be staring in this gym looking at this girl who just ran six miles?  SIX MILES?  And yes, it took her an hour and four minutes to do it.  But holy cow – she just ran for over an hour without stopping.  Ran!  For over an hour!  Hello?

Oh, that chick is proud.  Astounded, yes; flabbergasted, definitely; but oh so very proud.

And do you know who else is watching?

The Melissa of March 2014.  She’s one of those advanced runners I mentioned before.  She’s watching me with that all-knowing little grin on her face, wishing that I know now what she’s going to know then.  She wishes I could see that I am working towards such amazing and awesome things that my little mind can’t even comprehend them.  She wishes that I could know that everything is going to be great – my runs, my life, my heart – all of it.  She knows all of that, and just patiently smiles at me as she waits for me to catch up.

She knows that I’ve got this in the bag.  That no matter how long it takes, I’m going to do whatever I need to do to succeed.  She knows that I’m not going to let her down.  I’ve made promises to her that she knows I fully intend to keep.

She knows that I’m going to make it.

In honor of the ‘theme’ of this blog entry, I want to share something that I saw on the “Run Junkees” Facebook page:

Met a fellow runner named Chet over the weekend. He was an old school marathoner, completing his first in 1987. While running a marathon Chet happened along side a fellow runner who was best described as short and stout. Chet engaged the runner in a brief conversation and said “How’s it going?” The runner confidently said “Great! I’m running at world record pace”.  Chet inquisitively replied “World record pace, huh?”  The runner answered “Yep.  My world. My record. My pace.”

Yep.  That’s what running is all about, isn’t it?  Creating your own world – your own goals to reach, your own mountains to climb…your own personal milestones.

Ok.  Enough chatter.  Time to get back to work.

There’s someone in my future waiting for me to make her proud.

***

“The woods are lovely dark and deep, but I have promises to keep,
and miles to go before I sleep,
and miles to go before I sleep.”
– Robert Frost

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14

Mar. ’13

My Rock

timeblog

Ok, so I’m kind of silly.

A few months ago, I found this rock in a store.  It was during a time when I felt like nothing – not time, not distance, not space – NOTHING was going to heal my “wounds.”  But yet, ever the secret optimist, I bought it anyway.  And I put it in my pocket.  I’ve carried this little thing around every single day for two months.  (Well, except that week or two where I lost it – but then found it in the bottom of my gym bag where it had been hiding all along, and all was right with the world again.)

I have never been one for superstition.  Never believed in lucky charms or any of that mess.  But this rock is awesome.  Seriously.  Sometimes I’ll just put my hand in my pocket to feel it and know that it’s there.  I know it’s all in my mind – but that rock has worked miracles on me.  No doubt.  It has been my constant reminder that time really does heal.  It really truly does.

But today I had a thought.

I think I’m probably more “healed” right now that I’ve been in years.  I am in the process of making myself a better person.  I have a new outlook on life.  I’ve lost some things that needed losing; I’ve mended some things that needed mending; and I’m charging forward.  Full of life and determination and spunk.  I feel better than I have in a very long time.

So, here’s what I think I’m going to do.

I’m going to pass my rock on to someone who needs it more than I do.  It’s time.  It has served its purpose, and now I’m going to send it on and hope it does the same for the next person.  And when that person heals, which I know they will, then they can do the same for someone else.

Pipe dream?  Maybe.  But I think it just might work.

It’s kind of like this blog.  I write this stuff for me just as much as I do for anyone else.  I write it; I read it; I try to let it sink in and get into my heart – and then I pass it on to someone else, hoping and praying that it somehow touches someone somewhere and they see that everything really does get better.  It does.  You just have to believe it.  Believe it.  That’s it.

So, goodbye little rock.  Go do your thing.  You got this.

***

“He who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones first”
– Chinese proverb

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13

Mar. ’13

The Gift of Forgiveness

forgiveness2

(This is one from my private archives.  More like a journal entry.  I wrote this years ago when I heard from an old love after not having heard from him in a long period of time.  For some reason, I keep being drawn back to this.  I have re-read it many times over the years when I found myself needing a reminder.  Recently, I’ve shared it with a few friends who have found themselves in the same situation, and they have said that reading it brought them comfort as well.  So, I’ve decided to share it on my blog.  Maybe you might be one that needs to hear it too.)

I got a text tonight from him. He wanted to know if we could talk.

Wow.

So, I had rehearsed what I would do or what I would say when/if this ever happened. Of course, I never really thought it would happen at all. But if it did, the Melissa of my fantasies was gonna be a hard ass. She was either going to (1) not respond at all; or (2) respond with a “not a chance, a$$hole” or something equally witty and clever. But somehow, that’s not exactly how it played out. It was more like a “Really? Well, now is not a great time, but would 10:00 p.m. be ok for me to call you?” Oh yeah, hard ass. Reeeeal hard ass.

So, I called him.

I really have no idea what I was expecting to hear. But what I did hear surprised me. There was no “I’m so sorry I ever let you go.” There was no “I really want you back.” There wasn’t even a “I just thought I’d say hey” or something equally mundane.

Instead, it was “Melissa, I need your forgiveness.”

I need your forgiveness.

The tone of his voice had that phrase behind everything he said. And yes, that phrase – I need your forgiveness – may sound selfish. And I’m sure it was. But there was more to it than that. He desperately needed to know that I was ok. That he didn’t do any lasting damage to me. Maybe it was partly for his own conscience. But that wasn’t all of it. I heard that guy who knows me. Who knew me better than most guys because I let him know me. And that guy that knows me knows that he truly and deeply broke my heart. And he wanted to know if it was healing.

So, you know what I did? I gave him what he wanted. I told him that I forgive him.

But you know what? I don’t.

Now, I will.  I know I will.  One of these days.  But not quite yet.

But he doesn’t need to know that.

Yes, it would have been easy to hurt him like he hurt me. It would have been easy to hang on to the bitterness and the pain and to lash out and remind him of how deep the wound was. But why do that? One little lie won’t kill me. I’m going to feel the same way tomorrow whether I let him off the hook and ease his conscience or whether I make him suffer more by giving him a recount of the past few months and how I cried myself to sleep many, many nights (more than I care to admit. More recently than I care to admit also). I was known for lavishing him with gifts throughout our entire relationship. And in a way, this was just another gift. Maybe my last gift. I gave him the gift of releasing him.

And you know what that said to me? That told me that when you love someone…really love them…one little sacrifice for their benefit is really not that big of a deal. And if I had it to do over again, I’d tell the same lie over and over.

***

“Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.”
-Mark Twain

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12

Mar. ’13

Tunnel Vision

I see you there.
Are you looking?  Can you see me?
I’m performing.  Don’t you see?
(I act like I don’t see you, but I do.)

I’m moving; I’m swaying; I’m smiling; I’m laughing; I’m staying in the lines; I’m following all the rules.
I’m doing it all for you, my solitary audience member. 

Look at me.

Look at me!

Yes, I’m aware that there are others in the room, but it doesn’t matter.  I don’t see them.  I see you.

I hear the applause…the thunderous applause…but it’s all just noise.  Irritating noise that interferes with hearing you.  What if I missed something you said!?  Are you saying something?  What was that?  I can’t hear you over the crowd…

Yes, yes.  I see that ovation out of the corner of my eye.  Sit down, people!  Can’t they see they’re blocking my view?  Are you still there?  Are you standing? 
Are you impressed?  How did I do?  Are you there?  Did you see? 

Wait! 

Are you leaving?

NO!

But I’m not done.  The show isn’t over.  Come back!  There’s still more performing left to do.  Stop!  You just haven’t seen the best part yet.

LOOK AT ME!

And then – just like that – you’re gone. 
Gone.

Sigh.

Oh well, there’s still an audience left.  Surely they’re still here.  Right?  Right?

Hello?

Silence.

tunnelvision5

***

“I was single-minded and I had tunnel vision. 
Now it’s time for a change.”
-Evelyn Ashford

Posted by . Categories: Poetic Musings. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 2 Comments

12

Mar. ’13

Fear

bebrave

I had to do a short TV inteview yesterday morning for our local theatre’s upcoming production of Life With Father.

Holy crap, I was TERRIFIED!

How strange is that?  I’m an actress.  I’m a writer. I post my life on Facebook.  I post my life on this blog.  I tell the world anything they want to know (and plenty more that they don’t).  So, why on Earth would having to sit in front of a TV camera for 5 minutes make me feel like I was going to hyperventilate? 

But, alas.  I survived.

I saw the video clip of the interview this morning.  In fact, I’m going to suck it up and just share it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QgkZoP_f7TU&feature=youtu.be

Yep, that was it.  Five minutes of answering a few easy questions and then it was over. 

And now?

Well…now I think it’s kinda cool. 🙂

All that worry and fear over nothing.  Now I have this clip of this little interview I did on this little show and I can send it to my mom and she can be all proud of her little girl and whatnot.  And that’s it.  It’s all a memory now.

Kind of makes you think about how silly fear usually ends up being in the end after all, doesn’t it? 

You spend all this time psyching yourself out over something and then it turns out to really not be all that bad.  Sometimes it even turns out to be something kinda cool.  In this case, I just sucked it up and overcame the fear and just went ahead and did it.  But it makes me think about all the times that I may not have done that.  All the times in my life that I had the chance to do something that scared me, but I opted out and chose safety instead.  How many “little video clips” do I not have stashed in my memory bank?  Seems a little ridiculous now that I think about it.  How much success did I manage to pass up?

I should probably stop that. 

You should probably stop that.

Let me leave you with some powerful, somewhat prophetic words by Steve Jobs, the co-founder of Apple, Inc., who passed away in October 2011:

“Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything – all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important.”

We only get one go-around, people.  Only one.  Make it count.

***

“Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power…
You are free.”
– Jim Morrison

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11

Mar. ’13

Letter to my Shin. No, seriously.

Dear Shin Splint,

Ok, we need to talk.

I’ve managed to run for almost a year now without ever knowing what the heck you even were.  And I was fine with that.  I heard people talk about you.  Heard a lot about you actually.  Heard you were a troublemaker.  Heard you were hard to beat.  But I hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet.  I guess I figured you were too busy bothering everyone else to have time to visit me.

Ok, so I was wrong.

(That’s happened maybe once before in my life.  Ok, twice.)

But let me explain something to you.  I have no better way of saying this than to borrow some words of wisdom from none other than the great contemporary philosopher, Beyonce:

“You must not know bout me.”

Do you have any idea how important running is to me?  And how intent I am upon continuing to do it?  Psssh, dude, you can’t even touch my level of determination.  Many before you have tried.  My right knee is laughing at you as we speak.  He has been trying to stop me from Day 1, and he knows he doesn’t stand a chance.  My brain?  Whew.  That chick has you beat all day, every day, and twice on Tuesday.  She has told me SO many times that I’m not good enough to do this.  That I’m not strong enough, that I’m not “this” enough, that I’m not “that” enough.  She has absolutely begged me at times not to get out there and run.  But nope.  Even She hasn’t succeeded.

Because I have something that overpowers all of you.

My Heart.

Oh, honey, let me tell you about my Heart.  That girl is fierce.  She has taken a beating, been ripped in two, and has some mornings felt so heavy inside me that I felt like I couldn’t even get out of bed, much less go for a 4-mile run.  But no matter how exhausted, sad, and lonely She may be, She always – without fail – manages to whisper in my ear, “We can do this.”

“Get up.  Get out there.  WE can do this.”

And even with her little whisper, she speaks more loudly than you or any of your other troublemaker friends can even imagine.  She is who I choose to listen to.  She never ever lets me down.  She’s strong.  She’s tough.  She’s unstoppable.

So, I’m going to keep running.  See this?

shinsplintblog

This kind of thing is just too good for me to pass up.  You tag along if you want to, but you’re not going to stop me.  It’s too late for me to turn back now.  I’m in this for the long haul.

Hey – nice try, though.

Sincerely,

Running is Hard Enough Without Your Help, Go Away

***

“Find a place inside where there’s joy,
and the joy will burn out the pain.”
Joseph Campbell

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings, Running. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , . 2 Comments

11

Mar. ’13

Cemetery

“The only people without problems are those in cemeteries.”
– Anthony Robbins

bloggravepic
(Photo above is taken at one of my favorite places – an old, somewhat abandoned graveyard on Round House Road in Grayson County, Virginia.)

I like cemeteries.

I know.  Weird, right?  But I do.  I always have.  And I got it honest.  I remember my daddy and I going to cemeteries and just walking through them in silence.  Not really saying anything, not even discussing what the heck we were doing there or why, but just walking around, reading the stones.  I’m not really sure what he was thinking (hmmm…maybe I should ask), but I know what I was thinking.  I was inventing lives for the people in my head.  I was looking at the time differences between the deaths of couples and wondering what it was like for the survivor during the interim.  Wondering how often they sat at that very spot visiting the grave where they are now buried themselves.  Wondering if the death of their loved one changed them…made them live life differently after that, with more of a purpose or awareness of how it could all end at any time.

Yep, all that stuff went through my head even as a child.  I’ve always been weird.

Well, this weekend I found myself drawn back to the same abandoned cemetery that I seem to be drawn to a lot lately.  I hadn’t been there in a while because of the winter weather, so it was nice to visit again.  It’s almost like visiting an old friend in a way.  For some reason, no matter how down or low I’m feeling, I find myself feeling better when I’m surrounded by these graves.  How weird is that?  Sitting there, I wondered that very thing – why in the world does being around these seemingly forgotten graves make me feel at peace?  Then, it dawned on me.

I was surrounded by silence.

Hmmm.  Mystery solved.

I’m drawn to this particular spot because I’m forced into silence.  There’s no one to talk to, no one to listen to, no need to put on airs or be someone I’m not.  I can just be me in the stillness.  I can cry if I want.  I can smile.  I can feel nothing.  It’s all accepted.  I’m surrounded by spirits of those who have gone before me.  Those who have felt all of those feelings before and will never have the chance to feel them again.  I’m allowed to just be; to feel whatever I want, and know that I’m blessed to do so, and will not be judged.  I can be reminded that, unlike my unknown companions, I am still alive.  My heart is still beating.  There is still time to say the things that need to be said, time to apologize for any wrongdoings, or, in some cases, to just learn to simply let things be.  In the stillness, surrounded by my silent audience, I can say my goodbyes.  Not for anyone else’s sake, but for my own.  I can let go.

Then, the real world starts tapping on my shoulder, and I realize it’s time to leave.

I pick myself up; dust myself off; bid my silent friends a quiet farewell; and go back to the hustle and bustle that I call my life.

megraveblog

***

“Cemeteries are full of unfulfilled dreams… countless echoes of ‘could have’ and ‘should have’… countless books unwritten… countless songs unsung… I want to live my life in such a way that when my body is laid to rest, it will be a well needed rest from a life well lived, a song well sung, a book well written, opportunities well explored, and a love well expressed.”
– Steve Maraboli

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment