A New Year
Yeah I know, kind of late to write about the beginning of the year four months into it. But it is important to to note that some things have started to come together and are making it more pleasant.

The estate thing is over with for the most part. My cousins are idiots but now that I realize it I don't feel so bad about their idiocy, Their lawyer is a piece of bad art though.

Getting some things taken care of financially.

Work is still going on but I just am not feeling it any longer. Had a co-worker walk out in middle of shift the other night. She is a 54 year old acting like a child

Tired and Scared

I am fed up with how I feel lately. I can't seem to motivate myself to achieve that which I need to. Too much junk. Too much of the unknown.  I am feeling pain and a bit of a failure right now.

The Search for the Lost Word
The Search for the Lost Word

The Lost Word. Wow! A search for something that was lost due to the stupidity of some who couldn’t wait for their time to receive something of value. that should have been earned with due diligence and honest labor.

But what is the word in reality? It is not the substitute that we have been given nor is it one of the many icons that have been made available to us to muse over and ponder and meditate on.
It is a reflection of our life. How we were before we joined the Lodge. We are being taught a lesson of patience, that all good things come to those who not only wait but also put forth the effort to earn the end goal.

Some have likened it to a Baptism as it felt like one to them. They felt a renewal of themselves through a lesson that they were an active participant in. It could also be thought of as a resurrection of sorts as the play is highly suggestive of such.

When we are greeted as a full member we learn a valuable lesson, just because you now are at the level of many you have not learned all that there is to know about your new occupation as a member of Masonry. Ironically, it is up to you to figure out most of this by yourself as the lesson you received will have your own personal slant to it based on your background.

What is the lost word you say. One of identification in those days that qualified you to work at a certain level of employment and to draw the wages of that level. A Freemason at that time was an independent craftsman/architect that was allowed to travel from one job to another. A Bonded Mason was one who did the menial work and could not leave his area. It was a way to check the validity of the worker at a new location. While this story takes place at the time of King Solomons Temple it continued through out the ages for stonemasons who worked the various cathedrals in Europe.

In the story line, the word is lost because of three people who couldn’t wait to earn the honor. Since it is gone, a new substitute is made up. This word has been a topic for many a Mason. Is it something that was a real word, something that was made up, or was it an act to catch others who pretend to be what they are not.

We are still looking for the word. It is real but it is not what many think it is. It is something we do search for as it may improve our lives, our well being, our very souls if we allow it to. But it requires due diligence and patience on our part and the want and need to seek it out, to perform the required labors that are needed to unearth it and implement it and implant it in ourselves.


How often do we think of others?
Those we haven't seen in what seems ages
The friends that we wish were family and love as such
Our families that only think the phone goes in one direction

Do we think about those we see in less than ideal lives?
Have you ever stopped to think about their lives
What it took to get them there
If you could would you find a way to help them succeed?

Are you happy for the new couple as they begin their new lives
Offering support for their decisions
Offer love and a shoulder in trying times
Happiness and Joy in the good.

Are you enjoying your family both near and far
Happy to see them when you can
And when you can’t, to keep good thoughts for them
With hope of meeting up again soon

Others are us to those we are thinking about right now
Does it make us rethink how we view them
Could putting ourselves in their reflections better our thoughts
Maybe it can if we open our thoughts to this idea it will work


A Hometown
Yours or Mine
Are unique places
There is only one of them
It is wherever we were born
We may have moved after we were born
Or we stayed for the duration

Some have left and never returned with no regrets
Some have left and returned feeling a connection
They only found there in their travels
Many stay because of family
Some are afraid to leave the known

To some it is a longing for connection
To someplace familiar
To others it is a place to hide
From the world of reality
“This is my home, that other place,
Is where I work”

Our hometown is not perfect
We know it’s not
We readily admit it
Bit it is ours
People from our hometown seem to fit
The characteristics and flavor we
Like to assume it is

We have our traditions
Our festivals
The annual events
The local sports
Concerts and movies in the park
All the same yet different
From your hometown

Small towns that are villages of closeness
Get caught up in growth
Or rather how to grow without growing
The knowledge that growth causes loss of
What makes it our town
Its very uniqueness
It is challenged by the outside to change and grow
Our hometowns could be a hamlet
A village
A town or city
A metropolitan area
In each is a section that is ours
A security blanket of sorts
An area we can relate to
It may not define us but
It could help to explain us to others

Our first move away can give us perspective
Of that we have never seen
Or imagined
Other places feel alien to us
They aren’t home to us
Though the longer we stay
The more comfortable we get
But there is still that underlying feel for
Our Hometown

It is Time
It is Time

I have been thinking
(That should scare some)
That a holiday is indeed needed
But where does one spend it?

Will it be the quietude of the forest?
With the smells and aroma or Fir, Pine,
Redwood and Cedar
Near the gurgling of a creek
The smoke of the morning campfire
And the relaxing sounds of nature

The shaded coolness of the trees
The warmth of the exposed meadows
The clean feel of breathtaking cold water
Fed from the melting snows
Watching the stars at night in a clear sky.

Or, will it be a trip to the coast
To the City by the Bay or
The Boardwalk on the Beach

People to watch
The smell of salt air with the
Hidden aroma of oiliness underneath it
Strange but alluring for some odd reason

The smell of the fish market on the pier
The sounds of carnival and popcorn,
Peanuts, and salt water taffy

The motion of the waves
A come hither, go away, beckoning
People to watch, overhear, and to meet
Dining in small, obscure cafes or
The elegant restaurant
Eating new food combinations

Finding new entertainment
The real, the odd, and the funky

Ah the dilemma of making a choice
And in just my mind
I see both and relax and
Feel as if I have been there
And I have already started my holiday.

An Island
An Island

Looking for some Peace
A time to Relax
To Regroup
To Forget

An Island sounds about right
One that has just enough
People to keep in touch with humanity
A store or two or three to browse and
Replenish things used
A place to sit
Good Coffee to sip

A small cottage on a clean beach
Blue skies with
Even Bluer waters, untainted
Fishing without a care or need

To spend a time alone
Maybe an island romance
Possibly an opportunity to connect
With myself

To enjoy the time away
No crunch time
No stress
No uncertainty
Just air, water and sand

Sounds about right

Who Knew?
Who knew?
That one-day
A decision was made?

It wasn’t a grand one.
Nor earth shattering
It was just simple.

It had little impact
No hatred brought about from it
Very little thought even given to it

It brought some emotions
Some outlets
To some a peace

It teased a bit, somewhat
Caused some thought
Wonder at times from others

A Song to hear
A Poem to love by
A Story to dream on

A decision was made
It was wonderful
It was simple

His Beach
His Beach

He walks the beach
Looking into the surf.
A smile creeps across his face.
Thoughts of years gone by
Are brought to the forefront of his mind.

The sky is clear and clean
Not like some of his thoughts
From present times.
The clarity is only as good
As the distant fog bank is thick.

His dreams are not his reality.
Though the reality had its highs and lows,
He would only change a couple of things
And then only grudgingly so.

Where had the time gone?
Yesterday held promise.
Good times.
A life to fulfill
The possibilities,
Oh the possibilities.

Part of the dreams were made into reality.
He played the firefighter,
The dispatcher to those in need.
The banker, and the investor.
The Father.

He belongs to the group that gave him his bearings.
In the process he found his God,
But he lost his specific belief.
They mentored him into being a better person.

He continues to seek out
That which he doesn't understand.
It is his burden to find the knowledge,
Of himself, His world,
And the people in it.

He is alone, but not lonely.
Though not a hermit, he stays back some.
Reserving himself for his friends and
Some family.
For many a year
Emotional pain has been his constant companion
Yet he survives.

His secrets are his own.
And yet he tells stories
That while they are entertaining
Are just hints of what is underneath.

He carry’s secrets for others.
In some instances, with women friends,
He feels like he has turned into
The trusted girlfriend women confide in,
Or, that of the kindly Parish Priest.

Male friends ask for advice
But rarely give enough of the details needed
To help them
Even though they were the ones to ask.
So, he is the friendly ear.

What happened to the dreams?
The surf continues to lap the beach.
His beach.
The sun worshipers are out.
The couples are strolling.
Why has he stopped at this point?

The ocean and its air
Beckons to him.
Draws him to her
But, he resists the urge.
It is not the draw he desires,
Or the outcome he wants.
The surf is persistent.
Much like the gentle hands of a lover.
And he continues his walk.

The boyish thoughts of what he desired
Of his life come forward again.
To be a teacher of History, only to be
Dissuaded by a history teacher.
To teach anything but.
To be an athletic trainer only to be put
Down for the dream.

Opportunities had and lost.
Some to traces of fear,
Bad timing or,
Bad judgement on his part.

The noise of the arcade and boardwalk
Assault him and his senses.
He is drawn back to earth but for a second.
He sees and feels the enjoyment of others
Around him.
But He doesn't feel it
Never has really.

It is hard for him to enjoy the feeling of
Joy that a ride brings.
It is claustrophobic for him.
While being in the open
His aggitation begins to show and
He speeds up to get away.
His heart slows
His chest eases.
He is away, safe on “his” beach again.

The warmth of the sun
Is gentle to him.
It is like a blanket that conveys love from above.
A gentle spirit to
Reinforce the calm.

What has he done in this life?
Who is he really?
How will he be remembered?
Does it matter, really?
Will they miss him?

Will they miss him?
Is that what really is bothering him?
He is not a young man by the young
Peoples standards.
Nor is he old by the elderly standards.
His mantra of “you are only old when you die” is valid.
Until then you are still young.

He is tired,
He became this.
He brought this on.
It is time to move on.
His beach is his escape from
Life and is a burden itself.
It won’t release him to move on to a new beach.
She continues to hold his heart and soul.
He desires to seek out a new beach but feels
He would be cheating on “his” beach.

It is emotional blackmail.
He knows it is only sand, water and tides.
Why she draws him is bafflement.
She is safe for some reason.

He looks back over time and sees where he has
Walked from.
His footsteps are washed away.
The vision of where he started is still clear.
He has an opportunity to move on.
There is nothing holding him here.
She has shown it isn't her but himself.
She doesn't desire to be blamed for his self doubt.

The old young man sees possibilities and the
Reality of promise.
He can move on now.
The strength will come.
Changes are just that, changes.
Trust in others is easy
But in oneself is unnerving.
But it will occur.

He is calmer now.
The surf laps at his feet
And says “you are welcome”.
And he smiles.


Over the years, one finally realizes change is inevitable.
Nothing can stop it, no matter how we stomp our feet.
Screaming it “shouldn’t be that way” gets one nowhere.
To watch it happen is amazing though.

To see your city/town transform from when you were small to what it is now.
You sit and ponder, “when did this go in?”, or the proverbial “I remember when…”
My almost daily bicycling rides take me over area that a short time ago grew trees.
Now I see houses, stores, and people I don’t recognize.

To hear music that feels like you can no longer sing the words to.
Remembering those songs that drew imagination with each line, thought and nuance.
Even old Rock and Roll was understandable.
There was a message, a rhythm that was usually easy to follow.
You felt good afterwards.

We had the likes of Walter Cronkite saying at the end of his news broadcast
“And that’s the way it is”, and, you knew you heard the truth in news that night.
Talking heads and provocative discussions, and immediacy of false information are the new trend.
Pretty faces, vacuous brains, and a following of “true believers” make up the new Audience.

Social groups, no matter the name, drew us out of our homes.
We met with others that we would not normally meet outside our work or church.
It allowed a night away from kids, responsibilities.
An opportunity to mingle is a safe setting.
To help the community if that was part of its heritage.
We bettered ouselves by volunteering.

We used to meet with friends, family and spend time “catching up”.
Now we find excuses to meeting up.
The time to develop outside ourselves is eroding.
Who do we know outside our protective little core?

The kids aren’t kids any longer.
They go from school to dance, sports, scouts, and church.
We have to get them there on time.
We are keeping them active for safety’s sake.
Can’t have them grow up as a kid, scrapping knees, climbing trees, or just breathing air.

We have progressed.
Phones are for texting not talking on.
We socialize on social applications with people we have never met.
We spend time with others with our heads wrapped around gaming controllers.
But do we talk at all?

Where are the intimate dinners with a close friend?
The chance to “Eat, Drink, and be Merry” seems to be lost.
It is about the schedule, “how do I fit it in?”
It is about the food of the day I put up “on the wall”.
Not how my friends and I enjoyed the food, the friendship and,
The chat of good times and common interests.

This is a lament of what is lost.
It can be changed if we put down the cell phone during dinnertime, and while behind the wheel.
Courtesy to others is now becoming a rarity.
Irate drivers are becoming a daily visual.

The more life changes the more we whisper the silent request of “can we have our old days back?”
Do we miss those times more then embracing the new?
It is time to look up, around and beyond the current fads.
To seek that which we have not seen, experienced and most of all

With Wishes for a Peace Most Profound


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