Dirty Snow
there are days
sometimes weeks or more
when my spirit knows
that the purity of newness
the first flakes of snow
have been trampled
discolored
covered in ash and fallen smog
and life
my daily exercise
becomes a journey
of hope and expectation
waiting for the magic moment
when sun reveals
a patch of sparkling green
from beneath
dirty snow
tio stib
2015, 2018
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but the map says it’s here!
icicle creek
this is supposed to be icicle creek
I stared
at the cascading tumble of roasting rocks
what made you think icicles could exist in Hell’s Canyon?
but the map says…
maps say a lot of things
doesn’t mean you should trust them
no argument
after nine parched miles
10,000 anguished steps
past three dry gulches
the advertised water had not appeared
although, in fairness to the map
rattlesnake creek had partially lived up to it’s name
even weighted by a fifty pound pack
adrenalin had defied gravity
launching my ten foot leap
over the awakened, angry rattler
guess I should have filled more than one water bottle this morning
you think?
what’s the next creek called?
a drop of sweat splattered on the map
surprise
perfect
tio stib, 2016, from a thirsty memory
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ahead
the canyon wall plunged
fell from the sea of sky
the river
dancing from shadow to sunlight
promising a new world
vanished
the rapid exploded
bouncing
white water splashes
rainbow mist
giggles
screams
the raft was spit
into beyond
and she was there
clear, quiet, confident
two rivers
two lifetimes
flowing
swirling
joining
at last
together
a shared smile
two travelers
now one
tio stib, 2016
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No, when I first lost my sight, I didn’t consider my new condition to be a blessing. Rather, I fell into a deep depression, which I only escaped with the aid of loving family and friends. I needed help and was quite fortunate to eventually connect with the resources that enabled me to become functional again and resume my writing path.
If I may offer some advice, should you find yourself suddenly without sight or visually impaired, ask for help. If you get suicidal, call a suicide hotline. Losing one’s sight is tragic and traumatic, and if you find yourself or someone you care for in this situation, quickly reach out for assistance.
Ironically, I could not have picked a better time to go blind. We are in the midst of the “Golden Age” of assistive technology. One month after I was introduced to computer screen readers, I was communicating with email, researching on the internet, and writing again. Given the dark times I’d ben through, this assistive technology transformation was a miracle.
In the United States, there are many wonderful programs assisting the blind and visually impaired. Here are a few that have helped me-
Blind Services, California Department of Social Services. This program provided evaluation and training, including how to use assistive computer technologies. I think most states have similar programs. They even paid for my new computer and sent a blind guy to my home to train me in how to use it.
http://www.cdss.ca.gov/cdssweb/PG83.htm
Lions’ Center for the Blind and Visually Impaired. This program teaches basic skills required for blind and visually impaired persons to function in daily life.
Lighthouse for the Blind, San Francisco. This is another great resource that provides access and training for assistive technologies. Similar programs are offered in many other cities.
http://lighthouse-sf.org/about/contact-us/
Here’s my plug for Apple.
A screen reader application provides a voice that reads what is on a computer or cell phone screen. Although Windows computers offer various screen reader applications, Apple provides VoiceOver, its screen reader application, as a basic part of its operating system. This is great because whatever Apple device I buy includes VoiceOver, no need to add any other screen reader. An extra bonus, is that Apple has Siri, a voice activated program that allows me, for instance, to create and send an email with voice commands. My fingers never have to type a thing.
No,VoiceOver is not a perfect system, but it works well most of the time. To their credit, Apple keeps improving VoiceOver and voice activated functionality. With VoiceOver you can pick language and even voice character types, from staid English Alex to almost sexy Swedish Sonya.
http://www.apple.com/accessibility/osx/voiceover/
One more thing, something that has turned out to be a real blessing for the writer I’m working to be. The U.S. National Library Service has a program called B.A.R.D., which means Blind and Audio Reader Download. This is a fantastic and free new application for smart phones. With this app I can download thousands of audio books in the NLS system. This has become my secret writer’s sanctuary, a place I can go and listen to the great writing works. Currently, I’m listening my way through the Pulitzer Prize winning books of the last 100 years.
You need to first register with your state blind services agency to gain access to NLS and B.A.R.D.. Once you do, a whole new world is yours to explore.
https://nlsbard.loc.gov/login//NLS
Okay, by now you’ve realized that I found my way out of depression’s grip with a lot of help, and, yes, I’ve even found that blindness has been a blessing to me.
How?
First, losing my sight has forced me to be more humble. I can’t get through a day without asking for help. For a guy who was extremely self-reliant, this was a difficult change to make. However, I now recognize that there is a time to love and a time to let love in.
Perhaps my biggest blessing from blindness is that I’ve been forced to learn how to listen, to be acutely aware of the sounds around me and the feelings behind the words I hear. It has been said that the first rule of love is to listen. Blindness has given me a new path to love bigger.
And, I’m back to writing again. Here are some popular posts you might enjoy-
Gee, I Haven’t Been Suicidal for Months
Blind, But Now I Hear
Blind Man’s Bluff
Why I Like Being Blind
Again, if you or a someone close to you is dealing with the challenges of blindness or visual impairment, reach out for help. If I can be of any assistance, please contact me at tiostib@gmail.com.
There is Hope! Never give up!
“Why do I need to grow up?” asked my nephew, in one of those rare moments when youth values age.
“Why do you ask?” I replied.
“Because adults are always telling me I need to grow up,” he answered earnestly.
Feeling his inquisitive eyes staring at me, I knew a simple answer would not suffice, especially since I’ve struggled with the same question for over fifty years.
I’ve tried to grow up, built boats and houses played architect,, took my shot at saving the world as a social worker, never quite made enough money as an entrepreneur, collected a surprising array of failed relationships but did manage to win a gold medal in speed diapering. I’ve learned I’m an inept ballroom dancer, that I like to eat good cooking but don’t have the patience to create it,that the wonders of Nature are an infinite source of inspiration, that death happens, and that the true riches of my life are the friends I’ve made and worked to keep along the way.
Although I treasure time with my family and friends, I’m quite introspective and often introverted. To borrow a line from Steve McQueen, “I’d rather wake up in the middle of nowhere than in any city on earth.: I must admit that after all the other “adult” careers I’ve tried, writing seems to suit me best. Writing is also a better fit for a blind guy than being a fly fishing guide. I’m not good at it yet, but I believe that by working at telling stories with solutions, sharing ideas that build a better world, I’ll perhaps make a positive difference with the life I’m blessed to live.
Writing is also wonderful as it gives me an acceptable adult excuse not to grow up. What else could I do where I can hang out in my imagination all day and people will just nod almost approvingly, and mutter, “don’t mind him, he’s a writer.”
“Tio!”
The voice snapped my attention back to the young boy waiting for the definitive answer to why he should grow up. There was a long pause.
“Growing up is not all it’s made out to be,” I finally replied, “I suggest you take as long as possible before getting seriously involved with adulthood.”
“I like it!” he said laughing and walked away.
My wife tells me I should be careful of what I say to children, they might believe me. She also pushes us to get out and enjoy life, to travel, go adventuring, and drink more wine with friends.
My wife is very smart and fun to live with, My kind of adult.
Be curious!
You might also enjoy: Why I Write Poetry, The Story
alone
he eyes
the speechless mirror
begging
answers
to appear
eyes dripping
unseen tears
mind screaming
ancient fears
day dawns
absent hope
sliding down
depression’s slope
he groans
and pushes back
the past
then rises
off
his sorry
ass
tio stib, 2015
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words echo
off lofty walls
as verse sings
in soul’s great hall
then kings bow
to poet’s call
and beauty triumphs
over all
tio stib, 2015
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In the midst of my current mental writing cramps, I rediscovered a cache of poems written a lifetime back. In reading through them, I concluded that I wasn’t much of a poet years ago yet occasionally I created a resonant verse. I also realized that the same disciplined determination for writing excellence must be applied to all forms of creative writing. Poetry, though, feels like doing pushups as compared to the exercise demanded by my current novel, which is more in line with a marathon.
I’ve decided that I’m better off putting in the effort to write a decent poem than write nothing at all, especially in those moments that turn into hours, when I’m less inclined to write another page in my book. And, that in mind, I’m better off pushing myself to do another purposeful and even playful blog post than searching out vicarious life thrills on CNN.
Yes, I believe any exercise done well is far better than no exercise at all. Any writing I do that is focused on excellence moves me towards my summit.
How do you keep pushing towards writing excellence?
Here’s the link to my latest poem, “Sometimes They Smile”
The danger of dreams is that they can kill me. Not just my body, but my soul. I can pour myself so completely into dreams that in the anguished heartbeat of final failure I cease to exist. A void. A vacuum of emptiness.
Nothing.
I’ve fallen and failed. I’ve thrown all I was into the fight to win a higher place in life and lost. In those times, I took solace in knowing I’d played my best, my loss was not from lack of effort. This gave me strength to look beyond and search for a higher goal, a bigger purpose to strive for.
Blindness was a bat to the back of the head; A surprise. that left me fear frozen on the slopes of my dreams. Unseen crevasses of doubt bewildered my mind, despair turned my breathing into gasps of high altitude anxiety. I have never felt so lost and alone.
I remembered the valley below, the cozy houses, the comforts of middle class complacency. the daily marching masses to meaningless work, forever treading water in the sea of status quo. I felt the gravity of blindness pulling me down to the coffin of conformity.
Then, in the stillness of my new blind solitude, came the murmur of memories, ghost voices of fallen angels, heroes whose lives inspired me. Mandela. Gandhi. King. And countless quiet souls who lived their truth with silent fierceness. The night wind rose. They urged me on.
What is the real danger? To die on a mountain of my own making, far from the solace of kindred souls, yet deep in the pure snow of my dreams, my last breath complete with knowing I’ve lived fully? Or do I stare up through the open window of life at summits unseen and fail to step out and climb again?
The real danger of dreams is not living them.
Yours to count on.
Tio Stib
Winning at the Game of Love!
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