Stumbling along the sidewalk

It’s funny, how,
Sometimes
We worry and worry
About something,
And then,
When something
Finally happens,
It turns out to be
Nothing.
What a strange mind I have.
Is this normal?
Not that I ever
Thought I was.
But isn’t it crazy
How something seems
Like this gargantuan monster
In our imagination,
Then it turns out
To be a little,
Mewing kitten?
Weird.
Thank goodness,
For small miracles!

I have never been good
At taking advice.
I over-analyze, and
My skeptical instinct
Wants to know,
What is the hidden agenda,
If there is one?
Why does this person
Want me to do this?
Is this wisdom,
Passed on in love?
Of course,
It depends who it is,
What I already know
About this person,
Whether they tend to be
Selfish, self-centered,
Or self-serving.
It depends if I detect
That I am being
Manipulated
Due to someone’s hang ups,
Confusion, prejudices,
Stereotypes, obsessions,
Fears, and such.
It is more difficult,
When some of these
Is common, in dealing
With this person,
But I truly believe
They are making
An attempt to help me.
Maybe they think
They are helping me,
But I just don’t agree.
And, if I disagree,
Then what?
I don’t like offending
Other people,
Especially loved ones,
Who also tend to be
The ones that offer
Advice the most.
What a quandary!
You would think,
Now that I am
Past forty, I would
Have all this figured out.
Nope.

Saturday, circles;
Bowing to the king.
My wallet appreciates, but
My heart suffers; or does it?
I struggle with whether
To do, or not to do.
They struggle; or do they?
Mixed messages, good and bad.
Where is my direction?
A mist rises, blocking sight.
I cannot tell which way to go.
Responsibility pulls me,
And I know that feeling.
I have been there before.
I was raised with a tuning fork
That keeps me in that key.
But where do the boundaries lie?
When do I say no?
Perhaps, never?
Maybe, to do what I’m told
Is my destiny. I am good at that.
But when does servanthood
Become servitude?

Harness happiness in a temple.
Promote goodness in an open hand.
Sweep up forgiveness, and spread it around.
Question stubbornness with optimism.

Pour in gentleness, stir it smoothly.
Laugh in good measure.
Sprinkle a little whisper,
Then rub a few cramped necks.

Ask a childish question.
Touch a heart, with a contagious spirit.
Climb to the peak of imagination.
Dream. Just dream.

Creativity takes various forms.
Sometimes, it is just shedding a tear.
Sometimes, it is letting someone go.
Sometimes, it is speaking your mind.

But all these things have potential pitfalls.
We can go too far, too fast.
We can get reckless.
We can want to do more than we can handle.

So, what to do?

Do we tone it down a little,
So we fit in people’s little boxes?
Do we stop being creative?
Do we only seek to be constructive,

Because, as everyone knows,
You can point to a result,
And say, That’s what I did today!
What did you do?

I cried. I spoke up.
I shared my heart with someone.
I left. I came back.
I battled my feelings. I gave up.

What does it all mean?

Does there have to be a concrete result,
A number, a price, a measurable gain?
What if the result only matters to you?
Or, what if only you can see it?

Was it still worth doing?

Sometimes, I wonder,
Was it all worth it?
Was shedding my blood,
Sacrificing myself, worth it?

In loving memory of Beth Stevenson

You were a very special person.
A mentor, to so many.
Your wonderful smile,
Your gracious style,
Your words of encouragement
Meant so much.
Though it hurts to let you go,
I know you are in a better place.
No more pain or struggle.
You can dance with the best of them.
I hope that I can grow
To be an example to others,
Like you were, so many times.
May you rest in peace.
You deserve it!