Only Human

The opinions stated in my blog are only opinions.  I am not always right, kind or fair, no matter how much I desire to be.  At times, the frustration I feel may impede my better judgment and my better self.  I may be small and petty.  I may be hurting and in that hurt lash out at some one or something unfairly.  Typically, I work hard not to do those things.  Occasionally, I fail.

While I write about lots of theories, ideas and opinions based on my subjective experience, the real purpose of this blog remains.  I am sharing my reflections on my human experience.  I will not always be “right.”

Lately, I’ve had several people obviously upset with me.  I suspect it may have started here.

As much as I dislike upsetting people and passive aggressive responses,  it is going to happen.  I have a right to my opinion.  I have a right to be occasionally wrong.  My life, my experience are mine alone.  We will not always agree.

In a normal day, I take in the opinions and subjective feelings of others.  I often disagree but due to my position, my natural inclinations, I rarely challenge those ideas.  Often, I can not.  I do not hold a position of authority in my day job.  In fact, I am often treated with mild suspicion and thinly veiled contempt.  I have a specific job to do but lack the power and the tools to do a good job of accomplishing my main objective.  I witness the destruction of inflexible thinking.  I see how investment in a viewpoint often hides the forest from the trees.  I hear. . .”They should________.”  And often I agree but should doesn’t address the problem.  What is done is done.  What can we all do now in this moment that is in the best interest of as many people as possible.  How can we put aside our individual ideas and biases and get this job done?

I may be more judgmental than average.  I know I can be petty and selfish.  I was given a mind, albeit limited, as a gift.  I’m expected to use it by all that is Holy and Just.  I am drawn to write and at present have only this blog as an outlet for the ideas and the words that churn within me.  I may be the worst thing to happen to the written world, yet have the right of expression.  Upsetting people is the last thing I want to do but sometimes it is going to happen.

I stumble through life, as a limited human,  I will fall.  If I look up and away from myself, I will see others falling, standing, marching and flat on the ground.  I am not alone.  We all stumble toward a promised land or the great abyss.  Our perception frames our experience.  Opposing viewpoints can open doors to a greater understanding.   We all stumble.  We all fall.  I am sorry if something I have said or done has hurt you.  Hurting people is not my intention.  Reflection on my personal experience,  trying to frame my life in more positive terms, trying to be a little bit better person than I was the day before, these are my objectives.  I share these only because I can, because words are often my only currency.

In my struggle to get by (and it is a very real struggle) there are days when the words seem to be the only thing that anchor me to something greater. Sharing them is often profoundly stupid.    So many of the choices I made have brought me to middle age with no safety net:  never enough money, no career, no retirement.  So many things outside my control have contributed to my situation as well.  Embarrassment, blame, shame are all impediments to persevering.  At times, I indulge in them.  Often, I dip my toes into self-pity and feel like a victim.  Old habits die hard.  I just want to crawl into a corner and lick my wounds.

Something inside me, won’t let me.  Something inside me takes risks and often loses only to try again.  Something inside me drives me to document this struggle and the small victories here, despite my embarrassment and my reluctance to be vulnerable.  Something inside me knows that my experiences, while uniquely mine, are profoundly human.  Profoundly human is something that taps into others’ awareness of their own limited humanity.   At times, my words and anothers’ feelings intersect.  That moment of connection is why I write, no matter how rare, no matter how uncomfortable I may be.

We are saved and forever in need of salvation.   I am not alone.  You are not alone.



Not writing publicly, I have been writing privately.  I spill words on pages.  They blink back at me filled with sorrow, rage and jealousy.  I have a hard time seeing these words as mine.  It is wise to keep them private.  Finally, they start to sputter and lose their sting.  I turn to embrace them.

This morning, I walk.  An old back injury causes me to walk on the outside of my feet.  In time, the muscles along the inside of my foot atrophy.  They begin to telegraph pain along the nerves like little flashes of lightening.  They trick me by going numb when ever they please.  When the kids were small, I was told that surgery could help but that I’d be off my feet for 6 to 8 weeks. That was not an option.  Instead, I developed my own treatment.  I force myself to walk with all my foot touching the ground.

At first, I have to concentrate.  I can think only of walking and forcing my entire foot to carry my weight as it touches the ground.  The soles of my feet burn.    My feet, my walk, my soul remind me that some times pain is necessary.  Some times we just have to push through it.  Pain, sorrow, anger and jealousy are not bad in themselves.  They have valuable lessons to teach.

Lessons come from unlikely places.

On Tuesday, a book in the library catches my eye:  Assertiveness for Earth Angels.  The central premise seems odd to me.  The author maintains that once upon a time many people were angels in heaven.  At some point, these earth angels are sent to earth by God to help other people.  A picture of Joan of Arc surrounded by two cherubs graces the cover.  Was I once an angel?  I really, really doubt that.  I can think of no theological precedent.

And yet, inside this book, she reminds me that I am a being of Light.  My body telegraphs the truth of these words.  A warm feeling begins in the pit of my stomach and energy surges from the top of my head and the ends of my fingers and toes.  With a physical reaction this strong, I know that the words have hit home and something about being a creature of Light connects with my own reality in a profound way.

This Creature of Light begins her walk feeling like a broken marionette.  The nerves in my legs crackle and sting.  Moving feels awkward.  I hope that the passing traffic doesn’t notice how out of sync my body seems with this beautiful day.  I feel more like a creature of the shadows.

And then, a woman at the intersection pulls forward to make a left turn while I have the walk signal.  Suddenly, realizing I have the right of way, she backs up a bit to make way for me.  I smile at her brightly and mouth a thanks.  Her face awakens in the most wonderful smile.  Walking in the light can be such a satisfying thing.

As I walk, pushing those lazy muscles down toward the earth, I become more grounded.  The creature of the shadows needs a rest.  It’s done its job.   I stop, close my eyes and turn my face toward the sun.  Light feels right.


I am the person behind the words printed here. I write because my heart will not allow me the option of NOT writing. It has taken me half a life time to discover this basic truth, but now that I have, writing is as natural as breathing. This is where my breath takes the form of words.


I am reading

The Miracle Morning: The Not-So-Obvious Secret Guaranteed to Transform Your Life (Before 8AM)
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