You: A Morning Poem


The air crumbles into silence and

the words behind my lips are not enough,

will never be,

as the air around us is a fragile wind

on which words whither instead of fly.


For simply being you, the fires of laughter light up our souls

and burn the way forward, pathways forming and

fading, but not gone for good.

And the hours we counted will remain locked in

the stony heart of time.


Those pockets and bubbles stretch apart

like wispy clouds in the sky,

and spill out like raindrops on a chilly morning,

and frost the roots of our future,

and climb the horizon each day,

every day,

a rising sun of remembrance.


And in all of those ways

you are with me, and ever.

Because you were simply: You.




Dorothy wasn’t afraid to die. In fact, she embraced the unknown. She fancied herself an adventurer, even though she was in her late 70s, and thought that life was more fulfilling if you took a dive into the deep rather than swim in the shallow end of life’s offerings.

Still, when her only grandson came to visit one last time, Dorothy felt tears well up and wanted to stay with him longer.

She feared not death but one last goodbye.

Selfish Musings 1: Ends

I’m going to make this a selfish post to reflect, in the hopes that I can pull away some positive vibes and spread them to you as well.

First let’s talk about endings. Then we’ll move to transitions, and finally beginnings.

Part 1: ENDS

Job, relationship, and life. Those are three major elements which have ended fairly recently for me or for people around me.

Jobs come and go in the entertainment industry, so there wasn’t much surprise when one ends and another begins, and the cycle occurred again. I’m currently on a job in NYC, trying to soak in as much of the city as I can while working with some great new people in a cold new place.

The relationship is another matter entirely.

I don’t want to enter details of the relationship aspect, mainly because it’s nobody’s business but for she and I. She will be alright, and I will be, too.

One could not see the end of the relationship as it approached, nor could one assume exactly how it would “go down”. These things happen throughout life, no matter how dedicated you think you might be to another person, there are going to be aspects that grow and change your feelings, or emotions that ebb and flow until the tides dry up. It’s just the way it happens from time to time, and this was one of those times. The only thing I know I need to do better in the future is communicate, communicate, communicate.

So there was sadness. So there shall be happiness again.

So it goes.

And then there was the end of a life, or a few lives, for people I know. One friend had a grandparent pass away, and one very good friend saw his father pass away quite unexpectedly.

This friend is a good man, one of the better men I’ve ever met, and I don’t think I felt anything but sadness when I heard the news. I’d met the father once, and it was enough to see the effect the man had had on not only his family’s life, but the lives of hundreds of people over thousands of miles. His passing was sudden and quick, and effected many people.

I attended the funeral, which was a two-hour ride outside of Los Angeles proper. The day was warm under a bright sun and blue sky, and the grass couldn’t be more green. The roads were lined with cars, friends and families parked to observe this moment, this celebration of a life no longer with us, yet still among us. The occasion, while sad, was nevertheless filled with smiles and bitter happiness.

I shook hands with my friend, and reassured him he would be ready for whatever might come next, and I hope to be able to be there for him as needed.

When someone you know and admire and respect is saddened, feeling terrible and alone, the only thing you can do is offer help, a hand, a smile. This is all I could do in that moment, but in moments since that day I’ve thought of that same sentiment for other friends, friends not effected by death but by other sadness, losses, or the realization of mistakes. Regret. I have a couple of friends who made mistakes. They asked advice, I gave them my two cents and then later…they did exactly the opposite.

I don’t fault them. They make the choices, not me. I’m often making silly decisions of my own and not fully realizing that, hey, my friends were right giving their advice. But we talk it through, because that’s what friends do. And when my buddies made their mistake, and regretted decisions, and came to me for help in the aftermath, I stood up and was there. Because their friendship is more important to me then whether or not they heeded my advice.

I will be there, again and again, until we get it right. And I hope they will be, too.

The afternoon of the funeral, I thought of sad things, reflected on meaning and purpose, as I suppose we all do when faced with death. What is it all for? Can I live up to the life that this great man apparently lived? I thought of my own grandfather’s funeral and the amount of people who had come to see him off to the next world, the amount of people who could recall a story each their own which only further showed the breadth of his reach, his smiles and jokes, the laughter he caused in hundreds if not thousands of people. They celebrated the good times only.

I thought of my own father, and mother, and how I simply cannot imagine a life without them, their support, their honesty, and their willingness to give me advice and then be there to support me if my decisions still lead to sadness.

I hope to live up to the kind of life that brings joy and laughter to a great many people but also to appreciate what I have in front of me while not discarding all possibilities. I don’t mean that I want to tell jokes and be a clown. That’s a different kind of joy and laughter, best left to Jim Carrey, or Louis C.K., or Johnny Carson. I mean the kind of joy where you can lead someone to feel good about themselves whenever you’re around.

Because that’s just about all we need right now, is a little more joy.

And curiosity…there’s that, too (more about that in part 2: Transitions).