T.L. Gray's Blog, page 46

You Must Do

You Must Do“You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face.  You are able to say to yourself, “I have lived through this … I can take the next thing that comes along.”  You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”  ~Eleanor Roosevelt
These words have become living words to me.  I not only understand their meaning and definition, but I comprehend them with an intimacy that only my heart can express without words.  I have known them over and over, yet as soon as I have reached the pinnacle, I start to forget them… until I learn them again.
As Ms. Roosevelt states in the beginning … this is a learning process.  I ‘gain’ strength, courage and confidence with every experience.  The fear never ceases, nor does it ever decline in intensity.  In fact, I often think it increases, but I must face it anyway.  What choice do I have?  I’m not arrogant enough to deny I’m afraid.  Denial isn’t courage.  Courage isn’t being unafraid.  Courage is being deathly afraid yet choosing to face it anyway.
In most moments of fear I want to give up, throw my hands into the air and scream at the top of my lungs that I can’t take it, I’m too weak, and want to just die.  But, I don’t… because I love me and deserve to live.  But love for me is not from where I draw most of my strength as I face my fears.  Love from my friends is what gives me that strength.
There are some precious people in my life who are so dear to me, my heart literally aches when I think about how much I love and appreciate them.  It is their love for me, their words of encouragement, and their belief in me that has given me the strength to walk into the lion’s den and face my greatest fears.  Their love and encouragement gives me hope and reassures me that I don’t walk alone.  It is their love for me that helps me do the things I cannot do.  I love them more than words could ever express.  I hope they never give up on me.  I must do, and I will.
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray  

Holiday Book Sale

I Will Remember the Kisses

I could have written this poem myself. It's a reoccurring dream I have.  I know that it is real. I know that it happened. But it lives now only in memory.  Always bringing a smile to my face.
I try not to think about this dream.Though it reminds me of a happier time, a beautiful moment;It also reminds me that the moment has passed.  I'm in a different time, a different place, under different circumstances. 
I will always love and cherish this dream. I will remember the kisses.
I will always fear it.
Till next time,~T.L. Gray

Touch

I have a great imagination and can picture many things.  I’m not an introvert, but I live the life of a writer which finds me reclusive in many ways much of the time.  That’s really hard sometimes for an extrovert like me, who loves interaction.  But, I now wonder if I’m as extroverted as I think, or if perhaps I’m mistaking an intimate need for a personality trait. 
It’s become obvious to me these past few years, really more so this year, of an act so simple, yet so complex, that has affected me in such a deep way in my life, and it’s turned it upside down.  That act is - touch.    
For years I had fantasies, some of which I was taught to be ashamed, that involved touching.  I have a certain dream of touch for so long I can’t remember when it first began.  It’s nothing dirty, but every time I have this dream, I wake up and can’t stop the tears.  I never really understood what it was about this dream that affected me so much, until recently.  In my dream – I see a pair of hands, strong male hands that reach out for me.  The backs of these hands lightly brushes across my cheek, touches the tendrils my hair, and then runs down the sides of my face, over my shoulders, and down my arms, to interlock with my own small hands.  When I see our fingers together, I can’t stop the tears. 
I always thought that dream was about finding love, and in a way I’m right.  But I’m discovering there was so much more to it because it involved something completely missing in my life. I didn’t realize it was missing until recently, and that is touch.
Touch has been the foundation of my nightmares.  Most of the touch I’ve experienced in my life has been the wrong kind, inappropriate.  I grew up with the absence of hugs and the violence of abuse.  I hated for people to touch me. 
I remember when I first started going to church with my husband and everyone always reached out and hugged me, how it bothered me and I felt my personal space invaded. I hated hugs, and living in the South where everyone hugged drove me crazy.  
My husband rarely touched me.  I don’t know if that was his doing or mine.  Did I set a precedent at the beginning of our relationship that ultimately led to its end?  Or was it something he did and I easily accepted until not being touched was no longer bearable?
When my children were younger, I purposefully covered them in hugs and kisses and told them I loved them all the time, not wanting them feel or experience that lack as I had.  But as they grew older, perhaps being more perceptive to how being touched made me feel, their hugs and kisses stopped, and even more so the ‘I love you’s’. Why?  My children don’t even understand why they do this.  They’ve made comments about how they don’t like to be touched, they don’t like to hug, and they feel uncomfortable saying ‘I love you’… not just to me, but to anyone.  Children are often a mirror of their parents.  Is this my doing?  Even now I tell them ‘I love them’ often, yet they still act uncomfortable and rarely say those words to me.  I know they do, but sometimes I need to hear it. 
I walked away from a twenty year marriage because of a lack of touch.  I wish I could say it was for much bigger reasons, but that’s really as simple as it gets.  I just want to be touched, to be loved. It really hurts that I walked away and there was no hand to reach out and stop me, to pull me back, or arms to wrap around me, to know I was worth fighting for.  …Maybe someday.
I do know the beauty of touch.  I’ve experienced what it feels like to be wanted, to be cherished, to be desired, to be held …even if but for a brief moment.  I may never experience that moment again, and perhaps that’s my greatest fear.  Will it be enough?  It may have to be.
To those in your life whom you love, please, with all heart-felt sincerity, don’t withhold your affections.  Hold them, touch them, and tell them you love them.  
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

Connection

I think the thing that makes us most human among a planet of sentient beings is not in what we can do or not do better than the other, or even the uniqueness in our DNA.  Those are important and great to use in classification, but more important in separation and identity.  But what I feel truly makes us human - is our capacity to connect to one another and the universe around us.
I’ve seen people connect with each other, with animals, with a place, with a moment in time, and it change them forever.  I’ve experienced each of these things in my own life.  Not all these connections are good.  Not all are bad.  But each one helps define us, shape us, and guide us into the tiny spark of life we live. 
Compared to the vastness of the universe, we are but a speck.  Compared to infinity of time, we live but a tick on a grand clock.  It’s no surprise that sometimes we can feel lost, unimportant, and insignificant, yet when we truly connect with something or someone, those feelings change. 
Love is the greatest of them all.  It causes the greatest change, the strongest impact, and the deepest connection. Even among the worst of pain or the deepest of sorrow, it has the ability to heal, to nurture, to restore, to effect and affect – to connect.
The greatest thing I’ve desired in my life is to be loved.  It is also the hardest connection to obtain.  For those few whom I’ve had the privilege to connect, I thank you.  Thank you for being a part of me, of my life, and making my existence significant.
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

Perfect Dream

Have you ever dreamed the perfect dream to only have it turn into a nightmare?  I don’t mean a wet dream, though those can be quite nice, I’m talking about a dream so perfect – a perfect day, a perfect love, with perfect weather, in a perfect location, experiencing perfect emotions, perfect peace; happiness; just sincere happiness; nothing extravagant, simply small, but so full of love?
I had one of those dreams last night.  I was walking down a trail, someone was holding my hand, that’s all I remember is the hands; our fingers entwined.  I heard laughter. I couldn’t tell if it was mine or his.  We were just walking.  The sun shone down on us, the wind was cool and soft.  Everything was green, there was so much green.  But, it wasn’t the scenery that made it a perfect dream.  I don’t even know if it was the company, but it was the feeling. 
I didn’t feel scared. I didn’t feel alone.  I didn’t feel rejected.  I felt complete.  I felt content. I felt happy.  I felt at ease.  I trusted who I walked beside.  I was happy with who I was.  I felt loved - completely loved. I just knew – I KNEW that I’d never be alone, that I was whole, and that no matter what happened in the world, I was going to be okay.
Then I woke.
I tried so hard to go back to sleep. For that dream, I’d choose never to wake. What hurts most is knowing it is all just a dream. I’m left wondering why I can’t have that in my life right now.  It seems I live from one trial to the next.  While I have moments between, during, before, and after each trial, each testing,  it doesn’t seem like my life ever clicks to where I have a moment’s rest. 
I’m so tired.  I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of struggling. I’m tired fighting. I’m tired of losing. I’m tired of starting over. I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of being rejected. I’m tired of feeling helpless. I’m tired of surviving. I’m tired of having to climb out, climb up and climb over.  Can’t I stand on top for a moment? I’m sure it’s just my imagination that there are people out there in this world with an easy, happy life – devoid of disaster, tragedy and chaos.  I’m sure I torture myself with wanting something that doesn’t exist.
When we fight for something, we fight for a specific outcome.  I’m pretty strong most days, keeping purpose in front of me, encouraging myself forward, pushing myself with the strength to put one foot in front of the other.  But, there are some days when I’m not strong at all and I lose sight of that hope,  and I don’t remember what I’m fighting for.
But what choice do I have?  I’m still here. I’m still breathing.  My heart still beats. It doesn’t just stop, no matter how much I want it to just stop.  I can try to numb it with alcohol, but that won’t do anything to change the situation –except only to make it worse.  I can try to mask it in a vain relationship, but like the alcohol, it’ll only lead to something worse.  I’ve tried to exercise it away, meditate through it, and vanquish it with prayer – but it’s still there. I still wake up every morning.  My prayers go unanswered. My thoughts torture me. My body constantly aches from the extreme physical measures I put it through.
I’m split in two.  There are two parts of my soul, separated, that keep me from being whole.  I feel one part shutting down more and more every day.  There’s the emotional me – and the practical me.  My practical side is a work-a-holic who thrives in work. I’m most accepted when I work.  I’m valued most for what I can do for others, not simply for who I am. That’s great for business – and business is getting better, but the emotional side of me suffers.
I don’t know how to let that part of me be free.  I’ve kept her hid for so long trying to protect her, that putting her back in her box is easy… way too easy. Every day it gets harder to try and balance the two, to make room for her, to believe she’s important.  She feels too much.  She wants too much.  She’s a naïve child who doesn’t understand and believes in stupid shit like love – believing it’s the answer to everything. She believes in God, miracles, positive thinking, success and romance.  She’s got a big imagination, but her dreams torture the practical side of me, overwhelming me with faith and killing me with hope.  She’s the dreamer and I’m the one left to clean up the mess her dreams leave behind.
It was her dream I had this morning.  I want her to have it so bad, but I can’t give it to her. I can’t make it happen.  I can wipe her tears away when she wakes.

My dream, the practical side of me, is that tomorrow I’ll be strong again and forget this moment of weakness. It serves no purpose.
Till next time,~T.L. Gray

Reflections

What kind of image do we reflect?  What kind of shadow do we cast?  Most often we don’t see this image, being the original source – the body of flesh.  It’s also something others only notice when they’re not looking directly at us. 
While taking a walk yesterday I caught sight of my shadow.  As I moved, it danced in abstract to the sunlight.  While the beams bathed me with its warmth, and served as a spotlight on the open road, my shadow played all around me.  It stretched, shrank, widened, disappeared, reappeared, became long, short, dark and then faded, while the corporeal me in the light stayed the same. I laughed at the thought that it seemed my shadow got to have all the fun. 
I work really hard to make by body healthy, strong and beautiful, yet my shadow cares nothing for health, strength or appearances.  It’s different with every flicker of light, yet always the same – a shadow.  It’s not bound by the rules of gravity, reality, atoms and flesh, but by the laws of light and darkness.  Where my body has an advantage over my shadow is that it still exists in the darkness whereas the shadow only exists in the light.
I work just as hard to make my soul friendly, loving and helpful, yet not everyone views me as either. Each individual I interact with in life has a different experience, come from a different experience, and together we create a different experience together …some positive …some negative.
This whole concept got me thinking – what reflection do I truly project?  Do I control what’s projected or is what I project the true image of me, even one I can’t hide or manipulate?  I can disguise my physical features to some extent with make-up, clothes, a smile to hide the pain, but can I manipulate my reflection?  I know we try – we all try to portray the image we want people to see, but is that what they really see – or do they see what they want?  Perhaps we are not as we think we are, nor as others think we are – so, how can we tell what’s real or not?
Water and mirrored-glass reflect the truth.  But, I’m neither. Perhaps… just maybe …what I think I see is a shadow that likes to dance.

Till next time,~T.L. Gray

Happy Monday

"There's nothing to mourn about death any more than there is to mourn about the growing of a flower. What is terrible is not death but the lives people live or don't live up until their death. They don't honor their own lives, they piss on their lives. They shit them away. Dumb fuckers. They concentrate too much on fucking, movies, money, family, fucking. Their minds are full of cotton. They swallow God without thinking, they swallow country without thinking. Soon they forget how to think, they let others think for them. Their brains are stuffed with cotton. They look ugly, they talk ugly, they walk ugly. Play them the great music of the centuries and they can't hear it. Most people's deaths are a sham. There's nothing left to die." ~Charles Bukowski —The Captain Is Out to Lunch and the Sailors Have Taken Over the Ship, 1998
I love Monday's. 
I know a lot of people don't like the second day of the week because they have to trudge off to some job they hate, begin another useless cycle of the rat maze they've built for themselves.  I know it well. I've done it.  But, it wasn't for possessions or prestige, but for provision.  It was my responsibility to provide for my family.  But to endure the monotony I became like a zombie, going through the motions without any heart, crying on the inside for some spark of life. The more I reached for that spark, the more the other rats in the maze scoffed at me, spouting their tales of responsibility, uniformity and practicality. That’s not how I was created.
Now I'm alone and can make more daring decisions, do without most of worldly possessions and just concentrate on meeting basic needs, living a life every day seeking purpose and passion. The key is ‘living’.
I don't want regrets. 
If my time should come tomorrow, I want those I've left behind to know I lived every day to the fullest chasing what truly makes me happy. THAT is the inheritance I want to leave my children.  Chasing, dreaming, hoping, seeking, exploring, experimenting, loving, losing, listening, watching, holding, letting go, touching, … living.
Have a happy Monday.
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

Thankfulness

ThankfulnessMy blog posts come from a Facebook post I made this morning.
Day 27 of Thanksgiving: I'm thankful I'm at a place where I can give thanks.  I've been so hurt to where I could only see the hurt.  I've been so lonely to where I could only see the loneliness. I've been so unloved to where I could only see the lack of love.  It isn't until I reached a place where I had to look up that I became thankful - no matter how close to the bottom I was.
Only the ground has limitations.  The sky is limitless.
Till next time,~T.L. Gray

Dog Days Are Over

I love how when I hear a familiar song and it instantly transports me back to a particular place and time.  There’s just nothing like teleported by a memory, a feeling, especially if it is a beautiful one. 
Sometimes something happens in our lives and it so much bigger than we are that we can’t recognize it for what it is until a long time has passed.  Then we can look back and see all those little things that made such a huge difference. 
This past year has been so full of so many big emotions that I still haven’t sorted them out.  Yesterday afternoon I stumbled upon a playlist and it literally stopped me in my tracks and there was NOTHING that could stop the tears from spilling out.  Not sad tears, but happy tears, because I finally recognized what’s been banging on my heart for many, many months now.  I was just too scared to let it in. Love.
I can’t explain even still what it truly entails, because it’s so much bigger than me.  But, it’s also something I realize I’ve never let in before – ever.  I thought I had, I thought I knew what it was, I thought I understood what it contained, but I was wrong.  How can you know something, feel something you’ve never had, never experienced?  I’ve experienced various degrees, but not unconditional love – a love for me just as I am, with nothing to offer, nothing to change, no strings attached.
This year I have cried more than I have in my whole life combined.  I have grieved for the life I’ve lost.  I have grieved for the dream that has failed.  I have grieved for the lost little girl inside. But, I’ve also cried for the new life that has risen, the new dream that is just beginning, and the beautiful woman I have become.  The song sent me earlier this year, in love, has proved to be prophetic. Because ‘the dog days are truly over’.  Thank you, my friend. I love you, too.
Till next time,~T.L. Gray



"Dog Days Are Over" – Florence and the Machine

Happiness hit her like a train on a track
Coming towards her stuck still no turning back
She hid around corners and she hid under beds
She killed it with kisses and from it she fled
With every bubble she sank with her drink
And washed it away down the kitchen sink

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
The horses are coming
So you better run

Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father
Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers
Leave all your love and your longing behind
You can't carry it with you if you want to survive

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
Can you hear the horses?
'Cause here they come

And I never wanted anything from you
Except everything you had and what was left after that too, oh
Happiness hit her like a bullet in the back
Struck from a great height by someone who should know better than that

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
Can you hear the horses?
'Cause here they come

Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father
Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers
Leave all your love and your longing behind
You can't carry it with you if you want to survive

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
Can you hear the horses?
'Cause here they come

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
The horses are coming
So you better run