Rabbit Trails and Spiderwebs

Stolen moments “She was my salesman”.   It was a curious sentence about 20 min into the conversation.   She may have been his third wife, but she was his place of rest and she had gone to her ‘place of rest’.   The look was of sorrow and grief, but not the look of the lost.   I have seen that face as well.   He had lost more than his sales force; he had lost his companion.   I had been given a moment of value that I had not expected.   I was privy to a moment of his soul working through the wound and loss of a dear one… It was the first time we had met.   I just wanted to know something about the guy and his business.   He told of his father being in the business for years, that he had taken over and that his father had passed only in the last year.   His wife was diagnosed and passed in less than nine months… Is there a better word than shock? He had to pick up his son from school soon so he would need to be going. ...

Space for me The story is a curious thing.   It is a part of you and yet it is complete in itself. It takes on a life of its own if it is not told, and the contest is to let it out or keep it constrained. The strength of it is developed in secret, in dreams and angry but controlled behaviors. It grows until it can no longer be contained. The tale she told came with sobs.   Not at first for that was a time of fun and whimsy.   The beginning was wide ranging and free flowing.   Fast and slow, light and easy then taking sharper turns to the place that was only hinted at in the corner of the mouth and the fear in the eyes.   There came a place that it became apparent that it was driving the conversation and not following it.   This is a story that wanted to be told. It was on the way to the surface, for the first time in a very long time.   All it was needing was some space to fill, and permission to become.   I gave the stor...

Truth They say that the “truth will set you free”.   Those aren’t the words that you would use right now though.   The words may have been “true”, but they were anything but liberating.   Words.   From one that I trusted to use the right words, to convey a bit of information.   To tell a story. Think about it like a tight rope walker, with a balancing pole in their hands.   It is a bit of weight that is added to one end, this bit of truth.   The pole bends in that direction.   In the need to level the pole you look around for a bit of something to hang on the other end.   Words come like a river: Hope, Trust, Support, Hate, Anger, Resentment.   You can put any of these there and you will become level again.   How about “resolve”.   We all know of the one that is a stoic that simply “stiffens” to withstand the news. These are choices that we can make.   The ones that have a lasting effect.   At lea...