Sometimes They Smile

Why
I ask my soul
why Push on today
why climb through clouds of loneliness
why come out to play

why toil for summits never reached
why love when death will win
why hope when failure blocks the road
when dreams are crushed again

Why stand tall
With vibrant voice
to live all I can be

Because

Sometimes the gods look down

Sometimes they smile on me

tio stib

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Winter

flowers fallen
songbirds gone
frozen toes
the door no longer open
to breathe the morning air

shorts and t-shirt changed
for jacket and cap
shoes for sandals
daily rambles become urgent
fast paced walks

blue skies buried
by marching clouds
dark wetness
pouring down

winter is creeping
cold
into my heart

huddling
in the long night
wrapped in the warmth of memories
my soul shudders

seeds lie dormant
dreams unborn

and I hope for Spring

tio stib

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Come Out, Come Play

cold, naked, hard,
it shrieks
piercing down the empty streets
the wind beats on every door
you can hide from death no more

the restless souls stir in their beds
haunted by an ancient dread
the walls cannot keep out the fear
the truth that fate is always near

far beyond where wrong knows right
the sun peeks past the edge of night
and streaking ‘cross the stage of day
light calls to life

come out
come play

tio stib
2015, 2021

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Hope

what pulls us back to life each day 

is it duty 
a job to do 
commitments 
responsibilities 

or is there something more 
something beyond routine
beyond the mundane 
beyond “just another day” 

beyond “should” 

beyond “have to” 

what is it that gets us up in spite
of stormy thoughts
in spite of 
frenzied fears
clouds of tears that drown the sun
tragic memories that drag us down 

struggling to assure my mind 
a new day will be better 
I can only answer for myself 

somehow 
something 
will make the effort of living worthwhile 

in this purgatory moment
it is hope that feeds my hungry heart 
it is hope that soothes my aching soul 

it is my hope
that love will show the way

tio stib 

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Commitment

Commitment, like love, is a verb.” Commitment does not exist without action.

I offer the following thoughts on “Commitment,” as much to re-inspire myself as to inspire you-

“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back– Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth that ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.”

-W.H. Murray, Scottish Himalyan Expedition, 1951

“Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.”

-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe?

GO FOR IT!

tio stib
2015, 2018

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Life Is Like A Broken Egg

Yesterday I dropped an egg. Actually, I didn’t drop it, I surmise it rolled unseen off the counter. I heard a noise near the floor. In a microsecond, my brain flashed through the possible causes of such a noise. At about the same time, my brain reached another conclusion. The toes on my right foot were also sending signals to my sensory center. Something gooey was down there.

A broken egg!

As I groped around cleaning the shattered shell from the floor and then its contents from my foot, I pondered the symbolic relevance of this event in my life.

Yes, I tend to get lost in my own world at times.

Perhaps, I wondered, my life is like a broken egg. Here I am, marching along unseen by most of the world and then, crash! I splat into eternity, possibly making a mess for someone else to clean up as I exit.

That’s one possibility.

My mind drifted off in other directions. I remembered a structures class where we dropped eggs in specially designed containers from a third story balcony. The object, of course, was to preserve the integrity of the egg. The challenge was to do this with as little material as possible. It’s no problem to put an egg in a big box of bubble wrap and drop it unfazed onto the floor below. The trick is to drop the egg, mostly naked, with the same result. Similarly in life, I thought, there’d been times I’d insulated myself with such things as work and selfish interest so that the rest of the world couldn’t touch me, and I couldn’t touch the people who cared about me because I was too closed off from them.

There have been naked opposite times when I was raw and open, times when I felt that life had run me over and left me for roadkill. Going bankrupt and watching friends die come to mind.

My lesson from these experiences: Sometimes it’s good to overprotect. Sometimes it’s good to hurt. The pain reminds me of happier times.

All this you may say, from simply having an egg hit the floor? Yes, and there’s more.

What if I’m like an egg? A hard, durable shell on the outside and a soft sticky mess inside. My outside, that part of me I show the world, is a lot like the shell of an egg. It’s quite resistant to general pressures, quite strong when grasped firmly. But, the shell has its weak points. It doesn’t do well with pressure applied to a single point. Yes, I have my buttons. I hate cleaning up other people’s messes, such as wiping up their broken eggs. I have no tolerance for fools, which is why politics disgusts me. The egg shell is also brittle. It doesn’t do well when landing on sharp objects. I explode when subject to sharp noises, and am even more violent when subject to the sound of barking chihuahuas.

All this from a broken egg.

My last thoughts on this surprisingly deep self-dialog. How do you crack an egg? I use two hands. Even so, I often make a mess of this simple action, sometimes striking a nearby surface so hard that the shell cracks open and leaves a trail of egg goo from there to the frying pan. (This is a clue to what I usually do with eggs, hinting at my limited cooking repertoire). Sometimes, when my mind is somewhere else such as now, I fail to hit the egg hard enough,it doesn’t crack, waking me from my reverie to initiate another strike on the shell. This usually results in the previously mentioned egg goo trail.

What does this say about my life? I tend to be overly cautious and conservative. Do I lack faith in my creative abilities to expand my egg cuisine? Maybe I’m just lazy.

One of my goals for the New Year is to learn how to crack an egg with one hand. I think this may take quite a few eggs. I’ve heard that gin fizzes are a good use for egg whites and an easy way to forget about life’s deeper concerns.

Like how my life is like a broken egg.

tio stib
2014, 2016, 2018, 2020

First published in January, 2014, but since I haven’t mastered the one handed egg crack yet, I decided to publish this again to remind myself of goals I’ve yet to attain.

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Without

there is no happy
without sad
there is no good
without bad

there is no high
without low
there is no stop
without go

there is no wrong
without right
there is no dark
without light

there is no courage
without fear
there is no far
without near

there are no tears
without smiles
there is no distance
without miles

there is no quiet
without din
there is no out
without in

there is no wild
without tame
there is no different
without same

there is no peace
without strife
such are the facts
of daily life

and from these truths
I choose my fate

I will be love
and without hate

tio stib

2015, 2020

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Weather Systems of the Mind

I pause and know

they come
demons of darkness
black clouds
in this season of storms

valkyries

naked

my soul is lashed
bashed by fear
drowned in disappointment
chilled by frigid failure
stunned by thunderous disapproval
stumbling in the cacophony of screaming doubt

lost

I pray to survive
this weather system of the mind

tio stib

2019

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Breaking Trail

in winter stillness
ancient aspens watch
a chickadee flitting past
feathered music
bouncing
over infinite blue

alone
atop the buried meadow
a man paused
turned
looked back at the trampled snow
the trail of footsteps
each print a shadowed testament
to sweat falling from his brow

all he could see was white
reflected memories in a sea of snow
light’s harsh truth
stinging weary eyes

a deep sigh
a gasp of icy air
a hesitation in the heartbeat of being

a smile

he chooses life

again

tio stib

2016, 2018, 2019

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My Dementia Diary 82 – Islands of Loneliness

In the 2000 film “Cast Away,” Tom Hanks stars as the survivor of a plane crash who finds himself alone on a deserted island. in the Pacific Ocean. After weeks of working to physically survive, he then faces the deeper  challenges of human existence, loneliness, hope, and faith.

To deal with his isolation, he begins a relationship with a volleyball, which he names Wilson and thereafter discusses everything going on in his mind with this unspeaking acquaintance. His hope is bolstered by a picture of the girlfriend he dreams of marrying. His faith in his ability to adapt and solve life’s problems wanes in time and, giving up, he tries to kill himself. Fate steps in, he fails, then recommits to finding a way off the island.

Yes, he escapes, but the ending isn’t what you’d call “Hollywood Happy.”

How do my wife and I compare to Hanks and his cast away life?

Certainly, we are cast aways too, a couple living with a disease that nobody around us wants to talk about.

Dementia. It’s difficult, it’s depressing, it’s death.

Even though we’re surrounded by a sea of other souls, none of them want to stop chasing their own dreams to visit our little island. True, I was one of them once.

So, like Hanks, we, mostly me, adapt. For now, I’m better off than Tom, who only had a volleyball to talk to. My wife can still smile, hug, and babble back at me. Also, the diet on our island, with occasional burritos and ice cream bars, is much better than Hanks menu of crunchy roasted crabs. 

However, like millions of other caregivers and their dementia stricken loved ones, we won’t be escaping our island of loneliness to return to the wonders of a world left behind.

No “Hollywood Happy” endings here. But I’m keeping the faith that there will be moments of beauty, grace, and love.

That’s the best I can do.

tio stib

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