I am love or nothing

I was never my job.

Not the heroes I saw in movies.

Or players on those championship teams I rooted for.

I did not build the majestic bridges and magnificent buildings I visited.

The cities and gardens I took so much pride in were there with me or without me

I did not design the incredible cars I drove. I do not know what makes them go.

I wasn’t on the moon.

I could only purchase or admire. Gifted design was never mine. Just borrowed from someone with better taste.

I thought what the pundits so cleverly articulated, but could never have put those same precise words together.

I wasn’t coveted nearly as much as I did covet. Or when coveted thought more of it than it was.

I wasn’t competent, but I wasn’t humble.

Never did I measure myself as I was measured by others. Frankly, i was never as good or bad as you thought and you weren’t paying that much attention anyway.

I wasn’t who I believed myself to be, giving myself more credit than credit was due. And often less. Much less.

I was in the debt of everything I was fortunate enough to see, to hear, to touch, to taste and confused their virtue as character traits within me. The pleasures weren't entirely mine. What fraction I wonder?

I grew none of the muscle on which my pride legs stood. I watched from the sidelines as history unfolded, never on the field of play. I thought I’d pitched in. But no, sir. Not in the realm of computers or internet or medical advancement or art. I played along as if I were playing in the band, but I was playing but an air guitar. I did not contribute to those harmonious waves that thrilled me and brought me to my knees.

I am no poet. No philosopher. No expert in all things, in fact I am an expert at nothing. But for love,

For love was in my DNA. That part of me perfect. It needed not be hewned or learned or cultivated. Love can't be learned or sharpened or put into better focus. Love is not a badge and has no diploma. Love is the only thing we own.

I couldn’t read the future or comprehend the meaning of my past.

I was reasonably here only when present, in the moment, sensing life's splendor deeply, as much as it can be. And only when I focused with profound myopia could I enjoy, or even perceive. When I was really present, and by "really" I mean not just ”not distracted," but fully committed to the uncertainty of my moving consciousness. By the time the moment arrived it had moved on and thus in the moment life is caught it escapes.

Fully aware I was lost. And only when lost true. Only when lost did I find. Only then did time stop and eternity begin. Only then the rapture - that maddening, brief escaping glimpse of God as it goes by in the wind and rain over water.

I was not at peace. Not often enough.

I failed the moment. Again and again.

Only when I had no sense of self did I know who I was. When there was no me I understood myself completely.

I spent too many wasted hours imagining, assuming, passing judgment, concerned with things useless, thinking things could better me or my situation or be tools for hopeless dreams. No wonder so little became realized. Had I been truly present might I not have blazed a blind trail of excellence and glory that I was never vaguely aware of creating?

I was never my father.

I was not a husband, a brother, a father, a friend or son.

I was love. When present, I loved.

I loved as if speaking languages. I loved in Father, Brother, Son, Friend, Companion, Husband. And no matter what language answered back I could converse.

What mattered was love. And there was nothing more to be gained or accomplished or felt or needed or conjured. And when I understood that I was legitimate and when I didn’t I wasn’t.

We are only what we push against or embrace. Without something pushing back or holding us we fall forever forward in the air, drifting into nothingness. And so I pushed and in pushing found everyone and everything that mattered, the good and the painful.

And yet--

I was an orphan. An addict. The neglectful friend. Resentful when neglected. So sad, at bay,  lonely, pinning for attention, but never completely interested in what you did or how you were or where you were going.

I felt sorry for you when you were hurt or failed, but never did I truly admire you when you sailed above me. Or give you proper aid.

You did not have the capacity to appreciate my genius and only now does it occur to me you had it right and I was wrong. I did not need your approval to be alive. And yet how uncomfortable it was to feel alive when you disapproved of me.

I had rights I didn’t use.

Liberties I never took.

Privileges I never cashed in.

I took for granted my health and when broken still could not fathom the depths of the damage or the heavy lifting ahead to heal, or the full abyss of the end.

I never truly believed I’d die.

I could not separate that thinking a thing and knowing a thing were not the same thing. And so I stumbled into so many storms of my own making, believing what I thought, ignoring what I should have grasped, evading knowledge like a Fox running from disciplined hounds and only in the end when it was too late AFTER I was caught and captured, did I have my moment of clarity.

Whatever inspiration you passed to me, I had no cause to claim mine.  

If only I’d ---

thought of you so nearly much as I thought of me.

Avoided the 405 in Los Angeles.

Recognized People and Pets are all that matter.

Believed..... (closed eyes and a fist)

i am love or I am nothing.

If only. --

Next time.