Ying or Yang Choice

The mind is like a pool of water. When it becomes agitated it is difficult to see the bottom of the pool. But if you allow it settle, and clear, the depth of the answer you are looking for will appear.
 Your life may not of had such a happy beginning. However, that will not define who you are. It is only the path in life you choose, that in the end will define who you really are. Anything is possible with understanding. To understand ones destiny, is a road less traveled by many. Finding your way to let go of the past, knowing those thing no longer matter, that the only things that matter are the choices you make now, and  that in itself will lead you to the destiny, and peace you seek. 
By moving on with your life, by letting go of the past, you become a better person. A enlightened individual if you will. By knowing that what you do now matters more now than the past, and that the choice you make now, can not only effect your world, but that of others, and will help guide you to make the correct choice. 
To be Happy or Unhappy, Content or Uncontented  Positive or Negative, To being Peace or Destruction. The choice is yours alone to make. Life is like a pool of water. The pool is formed one drop at a time. So to is life, each action becomes a drop. Each drop becomes part of the pool, blending, and flowing with the rest. Each choice you make, whether good or not so good, becomes part of the pool of life. Always remember the pool you create called life, defines who you are and if you have peace or turmoil in your life. So choose wisely the drops of life in your pool that others may see, as the drops define your very soul.

Damned Rain

It is in the late of day and still raining as I gaze upon the carnage of the day. Through the rain, the smoldering of cannon fire still lingering in the air. It has a acrid smell of gunpowder, mixed with the unmistakable smell of blood, and burnt flesh. The fences have bodies on them, and the valley has death written on it for all time. I see the wagons overturned, and some are still burning in the rain. The wounded still moaning for help as others are carried away. Some are dead, while others are dismembered. This valley was once a land of peace, till we came here. The rolling hills, and small creek running through this valley with its lofty soft pines, are now littered with broken men, and weapons of war.

 Men can do terrible things to each other in the name of god, and country, and never learn from their mistakes. The land however, heals itself, and re blossoms with life covering, all ravages man has done to it. Nether side won this day. Only death has won. The broken men, and cannons will be covered over with time, and no one will remember this day. It is raining harder now, and the creek is running red with bloody water. I think I will go back in my tent, and rest this shoulder wound. It is bleeding again, and my aid is worried. Brother against brother, father against son. Dam this war, and dam this rain.

The rain has finally let up. It's wet and mucky. Trenches are only good for killing you. The other side is using chlorine gas, and it hangs in the dam trenches blinding then killing you. No quick or easy death here, unless you catch a bullet. Even then, you might just linger on, and die slow, and painful of gangrene. War is a rotten way to try to settle a argument. Politicians never fight. If they had to, their would be less wars, and less lives lost. Dam... raining again. Now its going to get even colder, and the muck in the trenches will stick to us even more. Wait.. an advance on the other side in this rain. Are they nuts? Dam, I hate this damned rain, so cold so wet so miserable. Dam this rain, dam.


How did I get here? God, it so dam hot. This stinking jungle, I think every godforsaken bug on earth is here taking a bite of me. Dam, I hate this place. It's ether to hot or..... dam its raining again. Just great! I can't move from this spot. The bad guys are to close, leaches sucking my blood, rain running down my back, bugs biting, legs cramping, I hope they step into the trap we set for them. Pay back for tony. They got him the other day and..... dam what they did to him was inhuman. Half a click, that's all it was, and we could still hear him scream. We went out, and dropped a round in their lap. Poor guy, I hate this war. I hate this damned jungle rain. Go figure, it raining heavy now. I hate this rain.

The Healing

Cold steel will cut the flesh deep,and the wound will throb and burn. But the flesh will heal and scar, and fade with time and natures help.
So the question is, what will heal, what soothing balm will ease the pain of a lanced and wounded heart. What will heal the deepest wounds upon the deepest part of the ones own soul?
Marks upon the flesh will fade with the passing of time, and loss of pain. To be forgotten, and lost in the minds vast memory.
But, when the heart is wounded the scars, and pain remain unhealed long after the loss of one loved. And yet, even with time a heart may heal, although never will it be the same. For a love once found is never lost, it will forever have a name.

Perfect Morning

 The morning sun is up thirty minutes ago. Just a bit of morning dew on the grass, and the deck table. I have a old Terrie cloth towel to wipe off the dew from the table, and my old captains chair. Yes, that will do, that's dry enough for what I want.

 The sun is peeking through the old maple, and buckeye tree leaves, spotting the deck, and table with rainbows of light. As I walk back into the house for a hot cup of Irish tea, with a touch of sugar, and grab a book, and magazine. My buddy, old bear dog (half Rottweiler half German Shepard) wants to go with me. He gives me that look, I can not refuse. You know that look. The one that begs to go with you, and makes you feel like a heel if you don't let him go with you. So out we go, just me, and my bud.  

 As he busts down the steps looking for a squirrel to chase, I set my tea, and books down, then head back in to get me some toast, and homemade grape jelly with real cow butter. Nothing beats that for a morning treat.  

The morning air is sweet, and crisp. The lilacs, and tulip trees, are in full bloom, making the air sweet. I have catnip, and lemon balm growing by the steps, that also lend a sweetness, and tart crispness to the mix. Bear is done wolfing, and looking for the squirrel that torments him, and the wife while she is trying to relax, and read in the mornings. It shucks the husk off the walnuts right above her head, and chatters at the dog just to have his morning fun.

 Some day, I will get that furry little knot head, and bear can get his revenge at last. But for now, its just me, and my bud, enjoying this beautiful morning. I think we might go fishing a while after bit, we have nothing else to do today, and that sounds like a lot of fun.
You just have to love a perfect morning, they don't last that long, or come around everyday.

The Three Women in My Life

Any man who is married, to be happy must have three women in his life. That's right, I said Three Women. Now don't get me wrong, just let me explain what I mean.
First is the wife, the mother of your children, the schedule keeper, and the housewife. She makes sure you have all you need for the day with a smile, did you forget anything, I love you, and a kiss.

The Second is your lover. She is full of passion, and loves you with all her heart. She would do anything you ask of her without question, knowing that pleasing you is the most important thing in her life, and trusts that you would never wrong her no matter what happens.

The third is your friend. You can tell her anything. You can sit for hours and talk about what bothers you, how your week went, your triumph's, and your disappointment's. Or you can talk about nothing much at all. You know she will listen and understand.

Yes, I have three women in my life. Over the years (thirty nine to be exact), I have had the pleasure of knowing, teaching, and learning from all three. It is a curious thing, having these three women in my life. When I got married I never expected the have this happen. The love, Devotion, Comfort, Passion, and Understanding from these three unique, and separate women, is astounding to say the least. Let me give you a example.

My wife Knows exactly what I love to eat, and makes sure I get it when I least Expect it. Oh, yes, and I better eat it because she fixed it special for me, if you get my drift.

Now my lover on the other hand is something else. She can be the most vexing woman in the world just to get me started, and then laugh and get me so hot and bothered I can not help but laugh and hold her close. As I look into her eyes I see the sparkle of devilment, and her deep heated passion of life for me.

Now as to my friend. What can I say? She understands all my moods, and has a kind word of understanding, and hope. She listens to everything, knowing I just need someone to talk to. You know.. I think that's why I love her so much. She never judges me, and always is their when I need to talk.

By now you must think me a terrible cad, cheating so on my wife. But you miss judge me as well as all the men who know about and have the joy of the three women in their lives. Are we wrong to have such joy in our lives? No, we are the lucky ones. For not every man is as lucky as us to have a wife lover and friend in one woman we married. That's right! I am talking about my wife. God I am so, so very lucky that I found her. Or maybe, Just maybe She found me. Either way, I feel blessed.

The Last Leaf

I have often wondered throughout my life what it would be like to be the last leaf on the tree so to speak. Now in the Autumn of my years growing nearer, I come to realize that it is no fun to be the last. You have no one to talk to about the things you know about. Moreover no one cares, or can relate to what you are talking about. I come from a small town and most of the people I knew are long buried that includes some of my class mates in school.

A gas station owner George, strange man with the gift for gab, always had time to talk, and gave me the best financial advice as a boy. Freddy, he would say, If you ever want to have any money when you get older, pay yourself first. A dollar a day, and in twenty or thirty years you will be amazed at how much you will have. I wish I would have followed that advice. Then the older folks I mowed lawn for,like miss Crouch. Always made the best gooseberry pie with ice cream and black English tea. Or miss Carter, she lived about thirty feet away from the T.P. an W. tracks. Her husband used to work for them as a conductor, and she gave me his old railroad lantern one day, it may have been a bit rusty but it was a great lantern. the lantern had a handle on the back you could hang it from that also. the globe was about six inches tall and five inches across with a concave mirror in the back to shine even brighter. I took it fishing a lot.

And then miss Rosenboom. I will never forget her she could not speak much English. One Christmas her granddaughter wanted to go to church services. Joyce asked me to stay with her while she was gone. I never felt it right that she should miss out so I got a song book and sang Christmas songs to her. I'm not much of a singer but she enjoyed it. Then lets see, Abe Richart had the grocery store, Earhart the sheet metal, Belands the tavern, Leo Shibe the other grocery store, Jim Payton the restaurant, John and Robert Hoffmaster, the hardware store. I will never forget Herman the old guy with the glass eye who worked for bob and john,  William Bruniga Sir the Plymouth garage.

The town main street area was destroyed by a train wreak years and years ago on fathers day. Funny thing though, I remember the town like it was yesterday. I remember the smell of the smelt Fry's on Friday nights at Leo's. The dim street lights with a soft glow all their own bathing the town with a Erie light in the early morning fog. How the curbs were two feet tall, and a concrete ramp at one end of the block that gave you the best thrill riding your bike off of it into the air. The old Texaco station at the junction had a flowing well with the best tasting water and it made your soda sooo.. cold, you would get a brain freeze if you drank it to fast. The old wood floors would creak under foot, and were easy to walk on. Minors idle hour restaurant and bar. Now that place, I learned to shoot pool, and to read peoples actions. And lets not forget the old bank, It was fun to play in. The old T.P.W. depot was a fun place to play. I remember the over sized wooden office chair. The leather seat was torn with stuffing's hanging out, but it still sat comfortable. Sitting in the chair at the telegraphers post you could see both way's. When the train came blasting through, the echo between the elevator and depot was deafening to say the least, but the thrill of being so close to the train and still safe was awesome. Then their was the two grain elevators, and the big corn cribs. My best friend Tony Walker, and me climbed all over in them catching pigeon's. Pigeon's, now that is a story all by its self.

The old stock yards, that was always fun. Barn swallows were so many in that place, and so tame. You could climb the gates, and get within inches of the nest to watch them feed the babies. Back then, we had two of everything in that town for the most part. Two grocery, three restaurants, two bar, two hardware store, two sheet metal, two welding, four gas stations, Shell, Texaco, standard, Sinclair. A feed store, telephone switch board, and post office. And yes, it was a party line.

For the ones reading this, a party line was, every one in town was hooked up to a switch board operator who controlled all town calls. You had a certain ring like two shorts and a long and you answered. BUT... if you wanted to know what was going on in your block you waited till the other person picked up then listened in. I caught a good whipping if I made noise while mom was listening in on someone. Now times, most cordless phones can be picked up with a older scanner. Yes, my mother has a older scanner, and still listens.

The last leaf. I wonder.. I guess that means we have lived longer than most and remember the more simpler, and trusting times, before the world got so, Oh so , very crazy. Know what? I have knowledge and memory's of a lost world. When things get hectic, and others are lost, I can find comfort in the knowledge of the past remembering simple times and passing on what I have learned to my grandchildren. It just May be I am Not the last leaf after all. Passing on my knowledge to my grandchildren, will make them the last leaf on a fading tree of the past.

Regrets of Life

It seems just the other day my life started. Have you ever felt that way? Felt that time has some how slipped by you to the point you are now at. That you have missed the use of your life. A fact of life is you are born, you live, then pass. Most folks feel cheated, that time has passed so very quickly for them. In truth, that just was never the case.

Time is time! The thing that matters is what you do with the time you have. You can waste it away, or you can live it to the fullest. Simple, right? Well.... yes and no. The real question is what you want from life. Some must always seek a challenge, while others are content with sitting back and letting life happen. Still, others are never satisfied. The only regret I have, is that I could not spend more time with my family and other's in need of help.

Still all in all I have had my fun, and lived the best I can. I provided for my family and helped others the best that I could. I guess that says a lot for my life. Still... I wish I could do more.

I was thinking the other day about time and how we as humans perceive time itself. A old saying goes like this. Yesterday is the past, Tomorrow is the future. But,today is a gift that is why it is called the present. I thought to myself and decided this.

I am not going to dwell on the past or worry about the future. The past is gone and can not be changed and the future doesn't exist. All we ever have is in front of us right now this very instant, and it is always now. So we should be content and at peace with that.

Regrets? No.just a lot of wonderful memories. After all, isn't that what we end up with when all is said and done? As we take our last breath all we can take with us is our life's memories. Sweet or Bitter, that is all we can take with us. As for me... I choose to remember the Sweet.

The Voice

Many years ago in the gray early morning hours, I found myself past the pleasure's of drinking the night away. I was in need of a rest as the dew settled on the fresh green carpet of grass, My new found friend and I had gotten very drunk that night. As we sat and conversed, with my head felling like it was about to explode we were interrupted.
I heard a sound. A sound so sweet and and gentle. A sound so alluring and gentle, I was completely mesmerized by it. My pounding head started to ease, and I was caught in its soft tender web of rhythm. A musical melody you ask? No, such a sound can not be produced by a mere instrument. I was in panic, and loosing control of my very will. In my altered state of consciousness, the sound blended my very thoughts. It was so sweet, so soft, that i started to envision myself at peace. I tried to fight the overwhelming draw,but in the end I was consumed by it. As I turned to face this compelling sound I found what was producing the sound was even more enchanting.

It was about five foot tall, and covered with a dark heavy blue cloth, to shield it from the morning chill. A ivory colored top was exposed as a hood fell back, then, a long soft entanglement of bright copper red hair flowed down her shoulders to almost her waist. A young woman standing on her fathers porch, looking with concern at her brother and I. She asked if I would like something to eat, and I replied yes, yes I would, thank you. Would you like some coffee, she asked. No thank you. I would take some tea if you have it though. Great she said, I like tea also.
As she busied herself cooking and making the tea, I watched her with great interest. she was three years younger than me, with a nice figure from what I could see. She was full Irish, you could see that in her freckled face, and bright red hair. As she served me breakfast, we sat and talked. After we had eaten,she offered me the couch to rest on till I felt better. I excepted with many thanks.

When I awoke several hours later, I looked over to find her curled up in a large chair across the room watching me so I would not fall of the couch. We talked some more, then I left , with the promise I would be back to see her again. Little did I know that this was the start of many adventures we would have together.
We have been married thirty eight years now. And that young girl with the fire red hair is older now. Her fire red hair has turned to amber. We have both grown older, but I still see that young girl on her fathers porch calling to me. A perfect vision for the rest of my life. It is rather funny in a way. Thirty eight years later, when I look at her, I still see that fiery red headed girl. If I am very lucky it will be the last thing I see when I close my eyes for the last time.

Foolish Heart

After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and calming a soul.
You learn love does not mean learning and company does not mean security.
You begin to understand that kisses are not contracts, and presents are not promises.
You begin to accept the differences with the grace of a woman wise, and not the grief of a child. You learn to build on the road of today, because tomorrows ground, is to uncertain for plans, and the future has a way of falling in mid flight.
 
After a while you learn even the sunshine burns you if you get to much. So you plant your own garden, and decorate your soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers. You learn that you can endure. You find you have worth, you are strong, and you learn. You learn with every goodbye that your heart has turned to bitter ice, that even the best things seem tasteless.
You wither and fade loosing hope that you will ever find love. To late you realize that you let the years slip by, and now you see, you finely learn.
 
The present is what slips past us, while pondering the past, and worrying about the future.
Your last and finale lesson has a bitter taste. You built your walls to protect yourself you said, but in truth you were afraid. Afraid of taking what life had to give. The joy and the sorrow. You console your self with fact that you protected your self from all things.
Then you think, as you watch the old couple in the park walking, and holding hands. A tear comes to your eye. That could have been me. That could have been me, but for the walls, Dam those forlorn and forsaken walls. Dam my foolish heart. I am alone, so alone....

Heros Lost

When I was a kid I had many hero's. My dad, the lone ranger,sky king,the old man on the poster saying I want you,JFK, Mr.king, yes I was a 60's kid. We needed hero's then, to help us see the good we could do as individuals. A hero then could make us want to change the world for the better, and we knew we could if we just tried. We could sing to the wind, and knew in our hearts we would someday fly to the stars. All we had to do was dream, and be bold enough to take up the torch. To dream the dream of greatness, and act on that dream, that alone, that, was all we needed.

But someplace along the line, we lost our way. We became lost when our hero's were shot and killed,their mission in life cut short. We forgot what they were saying to us. Our dreams turned into fog. Our minds numb, we lost all our hero's. Forgetting what they taught us, we stumbled blindly in the darkness of our own making.

The world now is the same no matter where you go. War, poverty, famine,hate. city's filled with smog, cars bumper to bumper, gray Sky's, acid rain, a bleak picture indeed. Is it any wonder we grasp for straws? That, we become so hungry for what we lost that we try to create a hero. We see ourselves in comic book hero's.

Are their any real hero's left, or are we just chasing ghosts in the hollow shell of our minds. Can we turn a blind eye to the aging winds that sigh through the trees? Do we dare to forget all who have fallen in the name of freedom, only to rise again, and again, till their last breath slips slowly from life. Why is it so hard to find a hero without want? The song of freedom is strong in everyone. How to be a hero is in us all. Carry the old persons heavy sack, return the purse sitting on the park bench, hold the door for someone. Who knows what a change you can make. To that person you are a hero. A child and her mother came out of a store the other day, the child carrying a helium balloon. The wind tore the balloon loose from the child, and the child was crying. The woman must have thought I was crazy, I told her to wait a minute and I would go get her another one. I was amazed she waited, but she did. As I approached the van the little girl stopped crying and started to smile. I tied the balloon around her wrist then said their you go . The woman wanted to pay me for the balloon, and I said her smile is payment enough. With that left. I felt on top of the world doing that simple thing for that child. After all, being a hero to someone is supposed to feel good. All we need to do is remember. Hero's live forever in our minds. All we need do is to remember to try to help the other person. After all, isn't that what our hero's did? Changing the world one person at a time. We just forgot how. Maybe some day, we will remember. Before it is to late for us all.

Threads

Ever wish you could change your past? I did, till the time master showed me what would happen. He came to my door the other day, I was just in the area and heard your thoughts. Are you game for a go? Why not, I thought. I could change my life for the better, just eliminate a few thing from my past, and bingo, all would be good, or so I thought
 
OK, what if I never married my first wife? He bent time and pulled the thread. I found myself alone, unemployed, living on the street. How can this happen? He simply said, if you had not gotten into a fight with her and cut your finger you would have never met your second wife. Well how about if I never had gotten shot when I worked as a Private security officer. Again, time bent, and the thread was pulled. Again I found myself alone. This time, I was bitter, old, and ill tempered. What happened? He said, when you were shot you realized that life was short, and made changes you had a family. You had grandchildren, and soon, great grandchildren to keep you happy.

This went on for hours. A thread here, and one their, till at last I found just what I wanted. And I was very content at last.

OH, the change you ask? Well, that's the rub. For you see I finally found that I wanted nothing changed, at all. Why? It is simple really. I am who I am. To change that, would be the greatest mistake of all. I may not be happy with some things that happened in my life. However, I found that the journey is half the fun. Getting anything changed makes me less of the person people see and enjoy. Life has it's ups and downs and that is the most important part of living. To feel the full range of human emotion, only then can we feel truly alive.

Change is the only constant in life that helps you grow. No, I must accept the bad with the good. Only then can I be whole. Only then can I be fulfilled, and satisfied.

Valkyrie

I dream, and in my dream, I see myself coming up from the woods to ask, who is that coming up from the wilderness leaning on his beloved? It is a man, one who draws his strength from his love. She has found him at last, and now, are reunited never to be parted again.

He has been lost in the wilderness, alone, harried by wolves. She went to search for him. Against all odds she fought the wolves, and in the end, prevailed. She has found him, and now are as one again. He had wounds of the heart and soul. She bound up the wounds he was weak from, giving him the strength to stand and face her. She kisses him with the kiss of life, for they are soul mates. Her tears of joy, overcome the pain of his wounds, to give him strength of life renewed. She says, come my love, let me take you home to our place of love. Then slowly, they move out of the wilds. Now, within site of home, he feels weak. She renews her strength to help him. Let me lay in the shade my love for my time has come. She whispers in his ear, your day has not yet come. Sometimes, when you look for some thing, you can not see it with your eyes. My love, come share my dream, for the best is yet to come. A sudden peace comes over him, for his love for her is so strong he can not leave her. She takes him in and lays by his side. she covers him while he regains his strength. Now renewed, he tests the wounds to find they are healed, by her loving touch and soothing voice. She has set her seal upon his heart, and his passion that was only a spark is now a raging flame. For it can only be quenched by her passion. She is as the finest spice, and her heart is pure. If one offered her love, she would scorn it utterly. She is the rock on which he has built his strength. He loves her heart and soul, as she loves him . To her, he is worth the wealth of ten worlds and more. At last I wake, and see clearly the love you have for me. I love you my Valkyrie wife. I love you.

The Dragon and the OX

She is the dragon and I but a OX. We were meant to be as one. We are as one and ever shall be. Even unto the ages it shall be. Why, you ask ? 

She is the wisdom that tempers my judgment. When I am angered, she is the compassion that soothes my rage.

 If I am unhappy, she is the feather that tickles my neck.

 When I need to talk, she is my friend to hear my words.

 If I lose my way in the darkness, she is the light showing me out of despair, showing me the way up to the light. 

The touch of her hand can melt my soul to its core.Yet, with one look, she can inflame my passions to the point of infinity, then back to earth with just one word. 

I feel I am her protector, but her fierce wings are my shield against the worlds of time and space. 

We were born Eons ago with our souls entwined. Two hearts, one soul, against the sands of time. When we are reborn again, we will find each other, just as the seasons do. Flowing, ebbing, as the stars. Our love will guide us to each other, even if born worlds apart. For she is my Dragon, and I her Ox.

Other Worlds

I have been sitting in my wing back easy chair reading. I am engrossed with the book and pay no mind as to my present state, as I am off to other worlds in my mind.
I suddenly am brought back to the present with a soft breeze on the nape of my neck, and then a moist warm set of lips working their way to the back of my ear. I shudder, trying to fight the ripples of desire starting to rush through my mind. My body starts to respond, as I start to sweat and a erection starts to form.
A soft veil of hair falls over my eyes. I know now who has brought me back. Back from other worlds, to tempt me with rushing desires. What will she be tonight? A temptress that is for sure! To love or fondle? Or perhaps she has chosen to be.......
A hand slides over my shoulder working its way to my chest, and then the other. Her soft long red hair hangs down in front of my face. As I cup her hair in my hand, I smell her soft fragrant aroma. She kisses the top of my head and asks, will that be all master requires for the evening?
Have you performed every required task, I ask. Yes, she responds in a soft sultry voice. Then you may retire for the evening, I answered.
Do you not need else for me to do? I try to steady me nerves as she has brought my desire of her to the point of uncontrollable need. Mayhaps , their still may be something you wish to do......
Before I can finish, she slides in front of me on her knees, with a sparkle in her green eyes that can only be compared to that of the moon on the shimmering lake waters. She is dressed in her maid attire. All proper and trim, except for her hat she has removed. I look into her eyes and tell her she is out of uniform. Hanging her head she says, I am sorry master, I will try to do better.
You are a very good servant Trish, but you must stay in proper uniform. Is master mad at me? I reach down with my hand and lift up her chin. Trish, you know I am very strict on how my servants dress, do you not? Yes master. It is then I notice she has never put on her bra. Her hard nipples standing firm against her uniform. Stand, I command. Turn around and raise your skirt girl! She does as I command, reviling her firm glowing bottom. Turn! I say. This shall be my downfall,for I am not prepared for what happens next.
As I raise my hand to scold her, she slowly raises her skirt revealing her lush bright red bush. Reaching for my hand she cups her warm moist womanhood with my Hand then softly squeezes, letting out a small moan. At last it is to much for me to bear. I pull her to me, we kiss deeply as though our thirst will never be quenched.
Rising from my chair, I pick her up in my arms .Then as we retire to the sofa, we lose our senses in each others arms.
Another world? Yes, I am in another world. One of passion,wonder, hope, and discovery. She will always be my servant, as society rules nothing else can ever be But for now, alone together, we will make a world of our own if only for a short time.