The ability to discover is a gift in itself and it’s that same gift of discovery that makes our individual perception unique.

Have you ever noticed that the thing you are most excited to share with another person, be it a new book, movie, podcast, idea, or what you think happens to be something to be considered “the greatest,” that their excitement never quite matches your own?

Of course you have. We’re all human.

And have you ever noticed that upon showcasing this thought or idea to another that when you do, their reaction never quite lives up to your expectation, which leaves you feeling either hurt or discouraged?

I will not take it upon myself to assume that you have though I will tell you this: I have.

And it’s a very tough thing to understand.

In the moment of realization that your appreciation for something you deem extraordinary hasn’t been deeply felt in the same way by another can often cause conflict, misunderstanding, and judgement—that is reactionary rather than honest.

Instead of expressing our pain for what seems a lack of appreciation in the moment, we often turn to criticism, which is in itself a form of false pride.

Rather than saying, “I’m confused as to why you don’t feel the way I do about what I’m showing you,” one says, “well, of course you don’t get it,” or more often than not, we say nothing, letting our emotions fester to distress and shame.

In the Alchemist, Paulo Coelho writes: “It’s not what enters men’s mouths that’s evil, it’s what comes out of their mouths that is.”

Well if that’s not the boldest yet truest statement to have ever been penned than I implore you to enlighten me as I’ve found myself in this predicament more times than I am willing to admit.

My point is, we can’t expect another’s reaction to mirror our own.

We shouldn’t expect them to for the simple fact that they are their own person, with their own background, beliefs, and experiences that before judgement deserve appreciation and due time to process and articulate what is being presented.

What took the time to find, understand, and appreciate should also be granted—the time—to another.

It’s like telling someone rather than suggesting someone read a book.

Your willingness to share does not determine one’s willingness to receive.

It’s like giving someone the answer without allowing them to solve the equation.

The ability to discover is a gift in itself and it’s that same gift of discovery that makes our individual perception unique.

So the next time you offer someone a gift, regardless of their reaction, remember who you’re sharing it with and why you chose them to share it with you all over again.

I think then you will find an even deeper appreciation for yourself and another.

Santa Monica. September 6, 2020

Away with it! To soil!

What I do not understand

I take within my coil

Squeezing till all life is lost

Away with it! To soil!

For what I do not understand

My only wish is this:

Take note, this hiss is just of man

A snake would never toil

I am whole.

No longer is the time

to judge what we do not understand,

but rather embrace it.

So easily forgotten

is the ability to learn something new

each and everyday.

To venture the world

and to take a chunk of it mindfully

was told to me once,

and though I’ve stumbled

I’ve never forgotten.

Yesterday’s world is no longer today’s

as yesterday’s confusion fades

my compassion continues

and my gratitude grows

with peace and understanding.

I am whole.

Sedona sun

It’s a warm sensation

like the Sedona sun

pours light unto my eyes,

how I’ve had everything

I have always needed

right here inside of me.

I just needed to let it out.

When Vonnegut takes shots at war

When Vonnegut takes shots at war

he doesn’t do with rifle or

fight with claims to settle scores

though prisoner he’d been before.

When Vonnegut takes shots at war

his words like steel are sharp and coarse

no fluff or zeal just fond remorse

for those who buried their loved and more.

When Vonnegut takes shots at war

his style’s frank no either or

like shrapnel strikes straight to the core

if death must come than make it pure.

When Vonnegut takes shots at war

his battle’s fought with valor worn

like Stars and Stripes and bones ashore

still “so it goes” forevermore.

When Powerful Voices Become Saints.

Powerful voices
don’t scream
they
listen,

they
aren’t forceful
they
think,

they
don’t condemn
they
heal,

they
know it’s not their duty,
they
do not seek control,

they
are powerful
in their
absence of hate,

they
are powerful
in their
acceptance of love,

they
are not
black or white
but every color in between,

they
never seem to get the press
the screamers get –
not until they’re dead do they become saints.

And I write this poem.

I hear the voice of a little girl.

Exterminator!  Exterminator!

She’s maybe nine years old.

I answer the door.

She walks in holding a clipboard.

Her father follows.

He’s smiling.

He knows me.

We do this every second Saturday of the month.

“Please sign,” she says authoritatively.

Her father makes his rounds.

“Thank you,” she says.

I hand her a dollar.

She adds it to the clipboard.

Her father exits the kitchen.

“I no use near food…” he says with regard.

They leave.

Exterminator!  Exterminator!

Y escribi este poema.