Wednesday, September 25, 2013

How To Make Love




(A Poem)


We are born into love.

Oceans of love come to us and we give of it effortlessly.

We know that it will always be this way.

Then Life happens.

To some earlier than others.

We are startled to discover that the love flowing through our fingers so freely before has become scarce.

And we are frightened.

We know not where love comes from, nor how to find it, nor how to make it.

It was there and now it's not.

And we despair that we shall never find it again.

But there are those who know.

Those who search in the blackness.

They know that love is formed under the pressure and heat of time.

Love is formed under the layers of rock and dirt and shit and death heaped upon us.

It is forged in the heat of suffering, stoked by pain and loss.

No, it is only those lost in the dark — mining in the depths of despair with nothing but their own dim light to guide them — who truly know the brilliance and rarity of love.

We miners know what a rare and precious resource love is.

We know how much work it takes.

Every day.

Not to give in to fear and cower in the corner.

Not to fall down the shaft.

Not to throw it out when we finally find it... and realize we have to leave the inky familiar.

Love is not easy at its source.

So, dig, miners, dig.

Look for the helpers in disasters.

Scour the tragedies for compassion.

Turn not away from the rocks, but examine them and crush them and demand them to yield every last bit of love.

Waste not a drop.

The world needs this precious resource.

If you are down in the darkest depths, in the very nadir of Life, that is good because that is where you will find love's source.

The world needs you to find it.

The love we find on the surface is cheap.

It is not genuine love.

Love takes digging and darkness.

So, dig, miners, dig.





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Looking for a meaningful gift? Dark & Light: A Love Story in Black and White is a beautiful and insightful board book available here. All profits go towards my son's medical needs. 

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Let Your Children Play With Mine




You see my son and your brain tells you there's something a little different. You look at him a little longer than the other kids to figure out why he seems a little off. Then you see it. The jerky movements and awkward positions match up to a picture in your brain of the kids you've seen but never interacted with. You look away. 

After looking more intently at my son than any other child, you then cease to see him. You've been told not to look, not to stare, so you don't. You're a good person. You don't want him treated any differently. 

But here's the thing. He is different. He is interesting. You are allowed to be curious about that. Your children are allowed to be curious about that. 

You will have questions. Ask them. You will have kids try to play with him or his equipment. Allow them. It's OK. His body is made of flesh — he won't break any easier than your child.  His walker is made of steel, it won't break. 

I bring my son to the playground so that he can play with other children. Let them.




Feel free to share this post using the icon buttons below and if you haven't subscribed to my RSS feedliked me on Facebook or followed me on Twitter, there's no time like the present! 

Looking for a meaningful gift? Dark & Light: A Love Story in Black and White is a beautiful and insightful board book available here. All profits go towards my son's medical needs. 

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