on my trip to Louisiana some time back I wrote a letter, from my 5th generation, (great-great-great-grandson. I think,) to the Andrew of today. I'd like to share that with you soon. not today. Among other things that letter urged me to to take lightly the problems of today. here is my response. I must write this today.
Most treasured descendent,
I feel I must write you to explain myself. I hear your wishes for me to rise above my problems, but I feel I must write them before I can properly see them.
I feel connected. to this moment. I feel no space. where is the space. I read about finding the center, and looking for the space, to distant yourself from each moment, so that you may live it, and enjoy it, respond to it, but not react to it. to distance the I from my self. from my ego. from the phenomenal world that my mind projects. I can't find it today though. I can't feel that space. I'm stuck, with glue, to this moment, and to this feeling, and that thought. I AM this moment, I AM that thought. I am this feeling. husband. business owner. that's a big one lately. I am a business owner. I feel that. no space. and thus, with the ups and downs with every day, I swing as well. I tell myself I'm not worried. I tell others I'm not worried when we're down. but I am. because I am that down swing. and thus, I am that failure. and I know that an up swing will come, but it doesn't soften the blow I feel in that moment.
I want to provide for my family. I am that ability. and I can't right now. and I am that failure as well. I want to take my wife away. I want to let her travel, to set her free like she talks about. I feel that's my responsibility. I am that responsibility. and I am that failure.
I want to talk to people about what's in side me. but not for the joy. not for the story telling. for the attention. to feel that rush to be wanted. to hide those other things I feel. if everyone's looking at me, I'm too busy to look inside. even saying that, I know when I look inside, I first see the failure, then I see past that to the truth. but in this moment, I'm bogged down. I can't find that 2nd level. I can't see past the looming weight of what I feel in this moment. I am that weight.
I don't feel free. I feel pressure. I feel weight. it makes me short. sharp. my temper doesn't last long. after 2 hours at work I'm angry. tired. so tired. always tired. colors are dull. only because I can't see them. I'm a walking cliche.
I'm sick. feel like smoking. can't. it'll just make it worst. I'm alone again. feels good. I'm always alone, and never alone. I'm alone all the time and I don't feel it. then I do and I'm lonely. then there are people around and I want time to myself.
Weep for yourself, my man,
You'll never be what is in your heart
Weep Little Lion Man,
You're not as brave as you were at the start
Rate yourself and rake yourself,
Take all the courage you have left
Wasted on fixing all the problems
That you made in your own head
this song rings in me. I am little. and scared. I can't find my way out of these feelings. the space is there, outside the door. but if I go to the door, it'll be one step further. always one more step.
so I ask you. how can I escape this? how can I see past mySelf? how do I set aside these small things and see the now?
Friday, May 27, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
I spread my dreams at your feet
Growing up, my dad taught me how to journal. He said it's counterproductive to stop and edit, spell-check, and revise. instead, let the writing flow, and ignore penmanship, spell-check, etc. don't let the pen stop writing. it doesn't matter if you're writing "I can't think of anything else to write." These days, I don't find myself writing often, but when I do, this helps. so, un-edited, here comes a journal entry I wrote on a recent trip to Louisiana.
I see my Father, stretching to the sky. I see him spreading his arms, that I may sit beneath them. I feel the ground underneath me, in which his roots grow. I see his symbiotic relationship with all around him. I see those that come before him, lying around me. I see his sons, my brothers, surrounding me. I see his wounds, and how he grew through them.
I place my hand on him, saying "My name is Andrew Harbuck, I am the one who comes to you, heart, head and ears full of chaos to share. I am here to tell my story." So I do. The beginnings. The mistakes. the wounds. the struggle for forgiveness of myself. the triumphs and the pride. the longings for peace.
Then I listen. I slap his trunk to listen to the echo. I see him. I see his long line. I feel small. I am a part of something. not a movement. not a network or an organization. a community. there are no words. an energy. a place. I'm a tiny part of a place. I feel this is the answer. I worry so much about my path. But I am a thread in a pattern. I must be aware of those threads around me. that I don't make the pattern. I am not Judged on my thread.
He invites me to see what he sees. The beauty of every living part. to feel the presence of those before and after me. He invites me to make shade, to share my strengths and wounds with all. Just as he does. to feel the breeze, all I have to do is stand up. That is the future. to feel the ground, all i have to do is lie down. This is those that came before me. to feel the sun, all I have to do is sit. this is all in the Now.
I see my Father, stretching to the sky. I see him spreading his arms, that I may sit beneath them. I feel the ground underneath me, in which his roots grow. I see his symbiotic relationship with all around him. I see those that come before him, lying around me. I see his sons, my brothers, surrounding me. I see his wounds, and how he grew through them.
I place my hand on him, saying "My name is Andrew Harbuck, I am the one who comes to you, heart, head and ears full of chaos to share. I am here to tell my story." So I do. The beginnings. The mistakes. the wounds. the struggle for forgiveness of myself. the triumphs and the pride. the longings for peace.
Then I listen. I slap his trunk to listen to the echo. I see him. I see his long line. I feel small. I am a part of something. not a movement. not a network or an organization. a community. there are no words. an energy. a place. I'm a tiny part of a place. I feel this is the answer. I worry so much about my path. But I am a thread in a pattern. I must be aware of those threads around me. that I don't make the pattern. I am not Judged on my thread.
He invites me to see what he sees. The beauty of every living part. to feel the presence of those before and after me. He invites me to make shade, to share my strengths and wounds with all. Just as he does. to feel the breeze, all I have to do is stand up. That is the future. to feel the ground, all i have to do is lie down. This is those that came before me. to feel the sun, all I have to do is sit. this is all in the Now.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
In my short days on this earth, I've met on two angels. my view of angels is very specific. different from saints. my mother is a saint, but no angel. to me an angel has a very definite feel to them. when you meet one you can tell. it's the attitude, the smile, the laugh, the lightness of one's step, the grace. I've never been in an angel's presence and been depressed. the angels I've met are the most free spirits I've ever been around. I'm sure they have all the struggles the rest of us have, but the care-free spirit they live is enthralling.
I've just found out one of these angels, also one of my closest friends, has gotten engaged to be married. I find myself feeling a mixture of happiness and depression. I'm so happy she will have some one to rely on, to help her when she needs it, to enjoy life with. the depression is more of a mystery to me. I think it may have to do with the pain that comes with love as well. the thought of the ugly times of true loves happening to this person makes me so completely sad. however, I don't feel that's the only thing that's making me sad. I just can't tell what else. it's something in my own head, but I can't tell what. so I'm just trying to sit with it.
to my friend K, I wish you the happiest life imaginable. I hope you never lose your child-likeness. you have always represented true beauty for me.
I've just found out one of these angels, also one of my closest friends, has gotten engaged to be married. I find myself feeling a mixture of happiness and depression. I'm so happy she will have some one to rely on, to help her when she needs it, to enjoy life with. the depression is more of a mystery to me. I think it may have to do with the pain that comes with love as well. the thought of the ugly times of true loves happening to this person makes me so completely sad. however, I don't feel that's the only thing that's making me sad. I just can't tell what else. it's something in my own head, but I can't tell what. so I'm just trying to sit with it.
to my friend K, I wish you the happiest life imaginable. I hope you never lose your child-likeness. you have always represented true beauty for me.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Hope
This blog was written in a hurry, on my way out the door to work. any positions or ideas contained therein may not be expressed how I'd like. the reality of the story is I had a conversation with a wonderful person this morning, and that's all it was. a conversation.
Most mornings I go up to Starbucks, and sit with Ben for our morning coffee/smoke. Some mornings we are joined by others, most notably Bill, an older gentleman that we met at starbucks, and often sits to talk with us.
This morning was different, as all are. this one especially though, followed a different path. I got up to Starbucks around 11am, Bill and Ben were already there. Ben has met some Jehovah Witnesses earlier, and for a few minutes we talked about some papers they had given him. our conversation went on, with many different subjects, but around 20 minutes later a lady that had been sitting at an adjacent table walked over and asked what we were talking about. we'll call her Hope. Hope had been listing and was wondering our purpose for talking, and our subject. we explained we talk about many things, and she sat down and wanted to talk. she explained she was unhappy. Hope asked about friends, and if we had any true friends. friends we could go to when life was at it's darkest. it became clear quickly that she was at the point. the darkest time she'd been in, and she felt like dying, because heaven would be better. Hope had no friends, no one to turn to. she was learning that all her "friends" were only there when times were good, but now that they weren't, she was alone. Hope isn't married, she only have a 17 year old daughter she raises by herself. Hope was not raised in America, judging by her accent she is German.
Anyway, we talked for about an hour and a half. Hope is a beautiful woman. she explained she is suffering because she's alone. she had no real friends. she has no point in life. she does her best to be a good person, she loves others, cares for them, and they call her names and words that aren't nice. they say she's old fashioned, rude, nasty, and evil. these things hurt Hope, and she was beginning to doubt the point of living. she talked about how there's no real people that are honest. no one she could trust. she is very lonely. she asked Ben about his relationship, and if he trusted his wife. Ben said yes, of course. Hope asked what if Ben's wife had cheated on him, or left him. Ben said he'd be hurt, but he loved his wife, unconditionally, and these things would not stop him from loving her. Hope looked at been and shook her head back and forth. denying. she laughed and said many women would like to have Ben, but Ben didn't have love. Ben couldn't have love if he still loved his wife if she did those things. "That's not love. If she does those things you get a divorce, that's how it works."
we asked Hope why she was suffering. she said she didn't belong to this world. she was searching for herself. we pointed out that she was looking outward, always outward for who she was. in the reactions to her actions. she showed loved and was rewarded with mockery and hate. so she doubted her love. also, Hope said she was ugly. she said when she walks on the street and a man looks at her, her thought is "I must have something horrible on my face for him to look at me. I'm too ugly to look at normally, so there must be something truly nasty on me for him to look my way." this thought floored me. that amount of self hate is astounding. I'm not surprised it exists, but I've never encountered it. Hope is not ugly. Hope is a beautiful person, inside and out. Hope takes her thoughts as fact. when we asked her if she is ugly, she says yes. we disagree, she shakes her head. we asked her if she has to be married to be happy, she says yes. we disagree, and she shakes her head. she lives on a foundations of undeniable of facts, that make up her life, and cause her to suffer. these facts are not real facts, just thoughts and beliefs her mind gives her. we asked her if she is living, if her heart is breathing. she says her heart beats, but she doesn't live. nothing is inside, just a living body. Hope is dead.
I hope to talk to her more. Hope is hurting, struggling through life. I can't help her. no one can. Only Hope. only by loving herself, accepting what is, is she going to make progress. she has walls up, and no one can bring them down but her. I love Hope. She's an amazing loving human being. maybe we'll talk again.
Most mornings I go up to Starbucks, and sit with Ben for our morning coffee/smoke. Some mornings we are joined by others, most notably Bill, an older gentleman that we met at starbucks, and often sits to talk with us.
This morning was different, as all are. this one especially though, followed a different path. I got up to Starbucks around 11am, Bill and Ben were already there. Ben has met some Jehovah Witnesses earlier, and for a few minutes we talked about some papers they had given him. our conversation went on, with many different subjects, but around 20 minutes later a lady that had been sitting at an adjacent table walked over and asked what we were talking about. we'll call her Hope. Hope had been listing and was wondering our purpose for talking, and our subject. we explained we talk about many things, and she sat down and wanted to talk. she explained she was unhappy. Hope asked about friends, and if we had any true friends. friends we could go to when life was at it's darkest. it became clear quickly that she was at the point. the darkest time she'd been in, and she felt like dying, because heaven would be better. Hope had no friends, no one to turn to. she was learning that all her "friends" were only there when times were good, but now that they weren't, she was alone. Hope isn't married, she only have a 17 year old daughter she raises by herself. Hope was not raised in America, judging by her accent she is German.
Anyway, we talked for about an hour and a half. Hope is a beautiful woman. she explained she is suffering because she's alone. she had no real friends. she has no point in life. she does her best to be a good person, she loves others, cares for them, and they call her names and words that aren't nice. they say she's old fashioned, rude, nasty, and evil. these things hurt Hope, and she was beginning to doubt the point of living. she talked about how there's no real people that are honest. no one she could trust. she is very lonely. she asked Ben about his relationship, and if he trusted his wife. Ben said yes, of course. Hope asked what if Ben's wife had cheated on him, or left him. Ben said he'd be hurt, but he loved his wife, unconditionally, and these things would not stop him from loving her. Hope looked at been and shook her head back and forth. denying. she laughed and said many women would like to have Ben, but Ben didn't have love. Ben couldn't have love if he still loved his wife if she did those things. "That's not love. If she does those things you get a divorce, that's how it works."
we asked Hope why she was suffering. she said she didn't belong to this world. she was searching for herself. we pointed out that she was looking outward, always outward for who she was. in the reactions to her actions. she showed loved and was rewarded with mockery and hate. so she doubted her love. also, Hope said she was ugly. she said when she walks on the street and a man looks at her, her thought is "I must have something horrible on my face for him to look at me. I'm too ugly to look at normally, so there must be something truly nasty on me for him to look my way." this thought floored me. that amount of self hate is astounding. I'm not surprised it exists, but I've never encountered it. Hope is not ugly. Hope is a beautiful person, inside and out. Hope takes her thoughts as fact. when we asked her if she is ugly, she says yes. we disagree, she shakes her head. we asked her if she has to be married to be happy, she says yes. we disagree, and she shakes her head. she lives on a foundations of undeniable of facts, that make up her life, and cause her to suffer. these facts are not real facts, just thoughts and beliefs her mind gives her. we asked her if she is living, if her heart is breathing. she says her heart beats, but she doesn't live. nothing is inside, just a living body. Hope is dead.
I hope to talk to her more. Hope is hurting, struggling through life. I can't help her. no one can. Only Hope. only by loving herself, accepting what is, is she going to make progress. she has walls up, and no one can bring them down but her. I love Hope. She's an amazing loving human being. maybe we'll talk again.
Monday, February 16, 2009
who is I?
I was reading a book by Anthony De Mello, Awareness. In it, this statement stood out to me.
"Truth isn't something you can search for."
he's discussing what many zen writers have mentioned, the concept of not searching, but instead dropping your theories. dropping your opinions, your labels. which brings me to Mark 8:29. Jesus asked his followers this question: "who do you say that I am?"
wow. is there an answer? or a right or wrong one? can we know?
or for a different line of thought, don't assume the question is about Jesus. De Mello also talks about the difference between the "I" the inner self, vs the "Me." the Me is your ego, your thoughts, your beliefs, etc. the I has the ability to step outside that and look in, to examine the Me from apart. to dislocate. I can examine My thoughts. so who do I say that I am? what labels do I put on myself, my "I." human being is an easy one. not really any judgments there. but then what happens when I add "employee," "husband," "brother." then I try to live in those labels.
just some thoughts... anyone have any thoughts to add?
"Truth isn't something you can search for."
he's discussing what many zen writers have mentioned, the concept of not searching, but instead dropping your theories. dropping your opinions, your labels. which brings me to Mark 8:29. Jesus asked his followers this question: "who do you say that I am?"
wow. is there an answer? or a right or wrong one? can we know?
or for a different line of thought, don't assume the question is about Jesus. De Mello also talks about the difference between the "I" the inner self, vs the "Me." the Me is your ego, your thoughts, your beliefs, etc. the I has the ability to step outside that and look in, to examine the Me from apart. to dislocate. I can examine My thoughts. so who do I say that I am? what labels do I put on myself, my "I." human being is an easy one. not really any judgments there. but then what happens when I add "employee," "husband," "brother." then I try to live in those labels.
just some thoughts... anyone have any thoughts to add?
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