Writing Myself A Letter

Neil Young sings of sitting down and writing a letter,
To all the good friends that he's known,
But perhaps we each should write ourselves that letter
For shouldn't we be the best friend that we each know.

Thoughts are fleeting and too easily forgotten
They can be revised as we move forward
Without memorialization, our thoughts are without conviction
They do not hold us accountable.

The written word, however, remains and reminds
It allows us to challenge and to test ourselves
It forces us to be accountable
And in the end, it motivates us to be better.

And so, I write myself this short letter:

Let me make my life one of substance, not of substances,
One in which each day is filled with meaning and movement upward.
Let me not be diverted by the pursuit of the material
To the extent that I miss the paths to all that truly is important.

The paths of loving and connecting,
The paths of learning and sharing,
The paths of thinking and creating,
The paths that will make this world a better place for all.

Let me avoid the paths that lead only to the material
For such paths are so tempting and enticing,
Filled with games having an easy scorecard,
But it is a scorecard in what is ultimately a meaningless game.

Let me find joy in the wonders of life
In the questions that can only be asked and pondered
The questions for which there are no answers
And let me be reminded that there is joy in the pursuit.

Let me remember each day to appreciate life
Simply because I am blessed to have life
For the value of life for me is that I exist
And with that knowledge, let me cherish and respect all life

Let me remember that with each tick of the clock
Those seconds become reflections in the rear view mirror
While the seconds, the minutes and all the time that awaits in the future
Are on the horizon in a direction we must choose.

Let me count my blessings daily
Let me face challenges with strength and conviction
Let me always have my hopes and my dreams
Let me find the places where I am serene

Let me remember that while storms may rage
The sun will always shine again.
Let me remember that the rain nourishes the earth
And the sun will always shine again.

My Neighborhood

I have a neighborhood where the doors are open
And I am welcome to visit any time I want
No need to make an appointment or ask permission
I just let myself in and look around.

Sometimes I come in through the front entry
And proceed in an orderly fashion from the front to the exit at the rear
Sometimes I come in through the side or even through the back
And just jump around from place to place in no particular order.

I find the most amazing jewels as I explore
Some are bright and shiny so there is no mistaking their value
Others do not appear to be jewels at all until
I turn them and turn them examining each facet closely.

I hold each found jewel carefully until I can hold no more
For certainly the doors have been left open and the jewels displayed for me to do so,
Yet somehow when I return home, I am holding fewer jewels than I left with
Though I can't imagine how some vanished, at least I held them for a moment.

The most wonderful part about my neighborhood
Is that when I revisit a location, the original jewels still are there
And there always are more jewels that must have been hidden away
Or more likely, I just missed them on my prior visits.

I would like to thank everyone in my neighborhood
But I won't be able to send a proper thank you or to find them
So perhaps just a shout in the neighborhood will have to do
And when I do, this is what I will say

Thank you for gift of the places that you have created
With such care that they shall last forever.

Thank you for leaving such beautiful jewels
For me to hold, to examine and to take with me.

Thank you for always being there in my neighborhood
So I always know where to find you.

Thank you my dear friends:
Shakespeare, Fitzgerald and Vonnegut,
Conrad, Lewis and Salinger,
Steinbeck, Orwell and Golding,
Hesse, Casaneda and Quinn,
Asimov, Tolkien and Bradbury,
Diamant, Dawkins and Armstrong,
And to all of the others who have resided there from time to time.

The Trio

Scott's scowl sent scared children scurrying
For Scott was a bully without the benefit of any benevolence
Living with an exterior persona larger than life
With an interior that was just a jumble of jarring confusion

Greg was Scott's henchmen extraordinaire, the enforcer
Of tremendous build for one of such tender age
His height and girth topped with childish blond curls
But for his demeanor, he could have been a dandy

Tony topped off the tremendously powerful trio
The best looking boy of the bunch
His smile able to smoothly switch from love to loathing
Reflecting his mood of the minute marvelously.

Together they traveled toward the edge
While everyone watched wanting to join but wary of doing so
For from that repulsive power arose an attraction
Harnessed and held in check by unknown forces.

Scott eventually died in an accident in which he lost his ear
The ear that had been deaf to the pleas of so many
Greg eventually was sent away for life
Imprisoned just as he had imprisoned others.
Tony eventually turned the corner in time
Finding himself in the service of god.

And those attracted by their awesome childhood power
Continued to live on the edge looking in.