On second thoughts…

The failure of my marriage came hand-in-hand with losing my job, being asked to vacate my home, losing the first 2 dogs I had ever owned and being forced out of a small community of which I was very much a well-known part of.

From there it went down-hill.

For the next 2 years, in an attempt to try understand it all and to find a way forward, I read every self-help book ever written (it seemed), attended the services of every religious cult and sect (it seemed) and spent as much time as possible doing the whole philosophical, late night chats with every other person in the world (it seemed).

One of those conversations was with whatshername… What was meant to end up being a one-night stand of meaningless sex ended up being the most important night of my life. I poured out all my damn-I’m-deep-sleep-with-me theories about life and lessons and having to come back if we didn’t get it right or learn the lessons we were meant to. I told her I was going to make sure I got it all right so that I could move onto the next level (okay… it was really-really-deep-sleep-with-me theory). She just looked at me, smiled and said, “don’t you think you should just enjoy living so much that if you have to come back, you’ll be glad to do it all again?”

I still think she should have thrown in the sex…

That’s the day I threw out the textbooks about living and started living. It’s also the day I wrote the following poem…

BOOK PRIZE

I could listen to you telling me how you made your fortune,
but I want to hear how you lost your fortune but found your smile.
I could listen to you telling me about the time you stood tall in front of a crowd,
but I want to laugh with you about the time you ran into the door in front of a crowd.
I could listen to you telling me about your starsign and the way that mercury affects Venus,
but I want to hear how you moved the stars.
I could listen to you telling me how great love and companionship is,
but I want to hear how great loneliness is.
I could listen to you telling me how you managed to smile when times got bad,
but I want to hear how you danced when times got rough.
I could listen to you telling me how lilac matches with navy,
but I want to hear how purple matches with red.
I could listen to you telling me how great God is and how much you praised Him,
but I want to hear about the times you cursed Him and still loved Him.
I could listen to you telling me how good it is to be rich and have empathy for the poor,
but I want to hear how good it is to be poor and have empathy for the rich.
I could listen to you telling me why you love me,
but I want to hear why you hate me.
Don’t buy me a book, write me a book.
Don’t send me mails of someone else’s wisdom,
yours will do just fine.
Don’t read me a poem, write me a poem.
Don’t give me the lyrics to your favourite song;
sing me your favourite song.
Don’t hold my hand, let go.
Don’t walk,
Dance.

~ by Norm on July 5, 2010.