 After the chalky taste of the powder, the sweet aftertaste of the vitamins is a welcome relief. Every morning 14 different pills and a powder get lined up on my mousepad and swallowed. Along with another 12 that are bottled to be taken later. A total of 26 pills and a powder pass through my lips and are consumed every 24 hours. I hope that doesn’t cause you to gasp, because there are others that consume a lot more. And yes, each pill has a purpose either to regulate my heart, my liver, my colon, my blood pressure, my blood sugar, my mental state, and my sinuses. My doctors tell me I’m doing fine…for a man in my condition. My projected lifespan? Who the hell knows? But I do carry around a titanium incased defibrillator with an atomic battery (not really…it’s Lithium). With a ten year battery life. So maybe I got that. I should tell my grandkids I’m the grandpa version of Ironman that should impress ‘em. But anyway all these pills, potions, and modern voodoo are meant to keep me alive. So if someone is invested enough to keep me breathing, you’d think I’d invest some of my time back doing just that. Speaking to the oldest and wisest of us. With the investment of time and money the younger generations are giving to keep you going. You’d think that maybe you’d cut these “kids” a little slack. Many years ago, I wrote a piece praising the generation of kids I raised, “Millennials”. After listening to my generation put them down. I felt it was time to speak up at how proud I was of my own. My heart surgeon isn’t as old as my oldest child. My Cardiologist NP is younger than my youngest child. So for me to deny this generation along with the Z’s and the Alpha’s a chance to say their peace is a bit arrogant. So honor your kids, your grandkids, even your great grandkids with a moment of your undivided attention. You might be impressed with what they got to say.
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 In the stillness of a semi-foggy morning, I woke up after a solid night of conflict dreams. Where problems are never resolved. So I took a shower and shaved like a winner and headed to the office. Walking through the living room, my wife is cheering like an armchair quarterback for the Americans in the Ryder Cup, I know John. But it is what it is, so at least I know my weekend will be decided by now well they play. Geez. I’m a sports fan myself but not in the way my wife and son are. They take the shit so seriously and my girls can’t say nothing cause when they played youth sports they were just as bad. This is definitely an affliction inherited from my wife’s side of the family, and you all know it. Still the sun continues to bleed through the foggy sky as my Dear wife grows more frustrated by the minute. But maybe this is why she sleeps so well at night because she gets all her frustrations out right then and there. While I stew about a problem allowing it to fester in my sleep. I do my damnest to let things roll off my back. But often the inside voices beg to cry out their opinion. Often blaming myself for all the troubles going on around me. And while in many cases that may be true. It’s the getting up and trying again that counts…right? That’s too deep a hole to crawl down into at the moment. Let me just end this inner dialogue with you by saying. Life is never about a well placed strand of hair or perfectly shaved chin. It’s about the attitude you carry when the winds whipping and your scratching stubble that’s at least a week old.  I’m surrounded by art most of which are my wife’s creations. But despite the number paintings and art pieces we have, the walls are surprisingly beige and bare. We keep saying we are going to hang the pictures up, but we never do. It’s not for lack of trying. It’s just that even after eight months of living here, it all still feels so temporary. I can’t really explain it other than saying everything just feels so new. I mean management did slap on new coat of paint on the walls and recovered the floors before we moved in. But still it feels like it’s not so much ours and that we are just staying at an Airbnb. But I take all these emotions with a spoon full of sugar, cause I got bigger fish to fry. Like making sure the rent is covered and that we don’t violate the 30 pages of rules we are bound too. We rented our last house for 10 years on a gentleman’s handshake. And although we were kicked out with a two week notice, it took two months to find a new home. Mostly due to Hurricane Helene causing housing shortages. After all these months it still feels like we moved into a condo, were we have overstayed our welcome. Especially when compared to the old shotgun shack we were living in. But who knows what the hell I’m trying to say here. Other than it’s all seems to be moving so fast. I feel shackled within these four walls…these four beige walls. Doing time. So as the sun quietly sets and black envelops the sky. The security lights and cameras rob me of just a little of that old peace. Reminding me of doing a roundabout in a patrol car at a prison. Just looking for something, anything that seems out of place. And while the rest of the tenants seem comfortable and loud. I rest with one eye open waiting for the next shoe to drop.  Adobe Firefly It feels a bit cool on this first day of fall. So with the curtains opened wide I’m greeting the pre-dawn sky. While the temperature hasn’t changed much. At least I’ve noticed the sun coming up a little slower and setting a little quicker. In my files I’ve already prepared a post for my upcoming blog. Still out of habit, I start the day by working on something new, just to wake up my sleepy head. But yesterday wasn’t such a great day. It wasn’t that I felt bad physically. I just wasn’t prepared to meet the day mentally. In other words, I was being a bitch. While being aware of that fact doesn’t excuse my behavior. It does give me the responsibility to correct my actions and to right those wrongs. So at the moment I’m not going to beat myself up about it. But I am going to take the time to ask myself why. While this is something I cannot answer at the moment. By taking time to listen to my emotions, I’m giving myself a much more definitive answer than just saying I was an asshole. Knowing and recognizing that fact is an important first step, in the healing process to make things right and rebalance myself. So as another bright morning pours into the windows. I hope to become more enlightened to the things that create a more balanced life. While anger and frustration are a tools in life. They are tools that should be used sparingly. It’s love, respect, and tolerance that are even greater tools than anger and frustration. So when you take time in your morning prayers and meditation look beyond just yourself. To look at how grace, pain, happiness, and even anger all work together to create a better you.  It’s a clear blue sky with just a touch of wind. The sun isn’t quite hitting the window directly, as the earth changes its angle towards Fall. I’m in a quiet reflective moment as the dreams of last night fade away. I learned a while back not to take dreams too seriously. For often they are nothing more than my bodies way of getting me up to pee. So I sit here listening to the tapping sounds of my keyboard, while my wife has the $100,000 Pyramid bleeding through the walls. Like I said, I’m taking a moment to clear my head of last night’s dreams. Allowing my body to find it’s center. So often we get so caught up in the rush of life that we forget to breathe. When you live a life where you have to make all the decisions on your own. The usual sounding boards you would have to help you make decisions, become nothing than our own empty headspace. So you eventually crack under the pressure. Discovering the clever fellow you thought you were is nothing but a ruse. But despite those many defects, I still work to find peace. I wish I could tell you that my way of finding peace would work for you. But that would be like me saying every wall needs to be painted green in order to achieve Zen. But that’s simply not the way it works. My way may not be your way. You may need to fellowship of a congregation and prayers to God for forgiveness. When going through my own personal hell, there were a many a night I prayed to God for peace. But I never got an answer. But before you pour on your own testimony of faith. I discovered that I had to look inside myself to lose the self-judgment and find forgiveness. Now I’m not going to waste your time on the how, where, or why’s of my doctrine simply because that’s not my place. It is you that must find your own path to peace, much like I did. Because if you don’t, you’ll only find yourself spinning around in circles chasing your tale.  One of the things that made me good at my last two jobs was connecting the dots. As a security guard and security supervisor my job was pretty simple, keeping your eyes open. And according to the awards, certificates, and promotions; I was pretty good at it. Saving my clients thousands if not hundreds of thousands of dollars. Throughout my work as a Systems Analyst I did pretty much the same thing. Only this time with a fancier degree (MBA) and my favorite people to please…shareholders. Working alone or as a team leader, it was up to us to improved flow plans through improved manufacturing and programming protocols. But while my mind thrived at the work, my body could not. Even if I were to put myself down to doing security again, the physical and mental demands of the job are simply too much. So I was forced to retire after being listed as disabled by my doctors in 2015. That’s ten years. But even before then, I suffered a mental breakdown that I carefully hid since 1999. I did that so I could work and not be looked upon as one of those lazy individuals. But after my first “widow maker” I learned that all the hiding in the world doesn’t make the stress go away. Still the journey has been far from easy. Fighting to gain the disability I worked to earn. Fighting myself because the journey to peace is never a smooth one. Fighting my body and it’s continuing efforts to shut down. To the bouts with depression and anxiety that I still suffer to this day. But still I press on. I don’t know why the hell I do it. But it’s probably because of my wife and son. But then again, it’s probably because I hate being proven wrong. But it doesn’t really matter, because I’m still here. Proving all the medical odds makers wrong. So why am I even mentioning this? I guess to show you that despite all the bravado and Red Bull you consume. Life can still kick your ass. So be proactive and aware of the warning signs. And for God’s sakes, put down that third can of Red Bull.  With my head planted firmly in the clouds. And my toes scurrying across a laminate covered concrete floor. I’m living in an Australian afternoon. While I know it’s four in the morning on my side of the world. Laying here chatting with a friend reminds me of the hours I spent talking strategies with team members from across the world. But that time has long passed and only my friends on social media can create the same experience. Connecting with a sense of optimism, like we did in the early 2010’s. But now it’s more like we all distrust each other, getting restricted, tariffed, and radicalized by the hate. Loving just our own kind and judging others by skin and tongue. We make up Boogeymen as an excuse for our own bad habits. So I lay here at 4:14 am displayed from the corner of my phone. Time has no meaning here in this apartment/cell. I scatter words across the page like some poet laureate. Only to be found uneducated in the finer arts, just a vagabond with a pocket full of shiny words. My screen is limited to the images you choose to show me. So with our own set of rose colored glasses. We create our own realities. Still I’m not impressed with what I see. Even with the fine laminate flooring and a pocket TV in my hand. I can create a movie screen, if I wish, or a Star Trek communicator. Even a microphone for my discord and fear. But now we’ve stepped out from behind the screen with all the hate we can muster. Preempting the world with all its beauty with actions of shock and awe. So what does the future bring to my sad aging eyes. All I can see is a can of worms we cannot close, with manicured lawns and a freshly paved parking lot.  We went on a fun filled trip to our Primary Care Physician. My wife begrudgingly got her 6-month physical exam. But this time around she had to have lab work done, which is her favorite part. You see my wife hates doctors, and she would be much happier with them if they prescribed painkillers like they did back in the 80’s. But they don’t now, they prescribe “pain management medication” and do other “psychobabble” to make you forget about the pain. But hey, what do I know? I’ve never really had to deal with chronic pain like she does. My situation is mostly due to heart failure and stupid life choices. At the moment, I’m sitting in my office facing the noontime sun. Ironically along with the wind and the birds, I hear an ambulance speeding by. Putting a period on the activity of the day. So should I care? My own health situation is fairly manageable. (If I can only keep my health insurance from changing my coverage midstream). But anyway, my wife’s a different story. She’s been dealing with chronic lower back pain for decades. With some referrals saying that she needs surgery, while other’s say it’s all in her head. So what do I do as her caregiver? I hear another ambulance speeding by yet again, so I close the windows. Knowing good and damn well that I can offer no reprieve for those riding in it. So we do our best for those we are responsible for. And despite the many stupid choices I’ve made for myself. It’s the beneficial choices I have to make for my family that are important. It all comes down to the question, have I done enough? It’s a situation I wouldn’t wish on anyone. But it’s a situation that comes up every time I find my wife or my son in pain. Not being able to be their own advocate. Pushing myself to make better choices for them.  Little Ocmulgee State Park With a little more shade and about the same amount of gnats, I finally returned to the park. Today I got a treat not seeing one but two planes taking off from the county airport. Even though they are both just single prop planes, they were planes all the same. Except for some added foliage on the oak trees, everything looks the same. Almost like the park never missed me at all. But I did notice the lake had dried up again, so I can assume there’s still trouble with the dam. So as another summer of wet heat draws to an end. Now with lower humidity it’s nice to know I can come back to the park. I can’t think of much else to write about at the moment. With the quiet of the breeze and the roaring of a tractor with a leaf blower. I still find myself just wanting to breathe in and out and take in the scenery. From the waving of the Spanish moss to the sound of squirrels and birds scurrying about. It’s a surreal scene where the life of nature and the will of man blend together. So as I recline in this weathered old wooden chair. I hear the sound of a lone cicada up in a tree while the love bugs dance around my feet. With the roaring of the leaf blower coming up behind me, it adds a woodsy smell to the scenery. Sitting back at home now looking out my window. I think about my little mini adventure. Wondering if I’ll return again tomorrow. But we’ll never know till then. As for now the scent of the dirt and dying leaves linger on my clothes. I’m reminded that despite all the noise there is something special about nature that being inside can’t recreate. The subtle hints of life, the sounds, the smells. The quietness and the unexpected gusts of wind. All leading to a paradise invaded by man.  Knowing I should stay in bed, I forced myself to go to the office and write. With the sun glaring through the glass. My eyes strained under the late morning light. But it as for the better to get up out that dark bedroom and eventually face the day. Over the weekend I’ve been fighting off a cold. But last night it finally overtook me, causing me to stay up, so I slept well past noon. But knowing that tomorrow that I’ll have to get up and take a long trip for lab work, I chose to go back and rest. Years back they thought I might have a cancer due to my fatigued and weakened state. But it turned out that I was anemic. So after all the iron infusions my insurance would allow me to take. I was done. The same has happened with a few other medications I was prescribed due to them being considered too expensive by my insurance. Anyway, it’s all about the money and how charitable Big Business and its Shareholders want to be to us peasants. But creating universal healthcare would make us all socialist. Which oddly enough means the early Christian church must have been Communist, for holding all things equal. But I digress, it’s just my aching sinuses talking. All I know is I needed to sit up for a while. Looking out the window of this side of the apartment I have a view. I spent the evening listening to an audio book about basic Zen Buddhist faith, Reminding me that all this talk in my head was itself nothing more that noise. So I wondered about that and the path of Zen that I follow. Thinking it must have more to do with the instruction than the actual path. For I listen to those inner voices and often give them pity. Thinking like my Granny used to say, “I talk to myself, cause I want to talk to someone that makes sense”. So when I do listen to my inside voice. I find it comforting because it gives the pain a chance to sing and be healed. |
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October 2025
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