I will celebrate my 56th birthday on Friday, October 2.  Actually, I approach that day, not so much with a sense of celebration, but with a pensiveness, a deep seeded reflection on what I want to do with my life from here on out. My father never saw his 56th birthday. I recently passed him in time in the world and  I pledged that from that moment on out I would be striding through my days for the both of us. And so, I am contemplating changes. Disengaging from some things in my life, re-engaging with others, and starting some new journeys.

I’d like to find my sister Rebecca and see how she is doing. Our life paths were torn apart when our mother placed me in reform school only weeks after our father died. I was 15, Rebecca was 10. We reconnected briefly around the time of our mother’s 1992 suicide. I would like to see how she is doing. She is my sister and no matter what has happened, I love her very much.

I also plan on disengaging from anyone and anything that fuels their end of our connection in life with the hollow sounds of lip service. I have no time for that. Neither do they, but it is not my journey’s mandate to make them see that, nor could I if I tried.

As I contemplate and experience the fear that comes with making major changes, I go back to something Buddha taught. That so much of human suffering is rooted in our connection to material things, rooted in what we are taught to experience as status symbols, real measures of our worth: the cars we drive, our job titles, being a board member of this or that organization, and so forth. When it all comes down to it, none of these things truly fulfills us, or makes us happy. Moreover,  if we rely on any of them to give our lives buoyancy, we are, in truth, sunk. We have yanked the rug of human experience right out from under ourselves with a social slight of hand.

I want to live my life with all my heart and soul. Love those close to me with all I am and help as many people as I can discover that none of life’s wounds or traumas have reduced their value and worth. One of the things I love about the workshops I facilitate is every extraordinary person that is in them knows life happens to us whether we like it or not. They know it is how we manage it, the relationship we have with it that matters. No job title or status symbol ever protected anyone from real life.

For many people it is easier to shoot the messenger than deal with the message – or so it may seem in the short run. In many cases, shooting the messenger only guarantees the content of the message will continue to pulverize your life.

If, like me, you are both inclined and often asked to help people, be prepared. You will get wounded from time to time. However, when you do get wounded, try and keep in mind that those inflicting the wounds are really reflecting how terribly difficult it is to absorb the problems they and their loved ones are facing. This does not mean that the wound will not hurt, nor does it mean that you surrender your right, should you choose to act on it, to let people know they wounded you, and, if necessary, disengage from them in life.

I have endured a few such wounds in my day and here is a case in point. During the time of my country’s bicentennial in 1976, it came to my attention that a man in my neighborhood had raped and sodomized about 10 boys, ranging in ages from 6 to 10. An accomplice held a gun on each child while this man had his way. Each boy was told he and his family would be killed if they said anything.  At any rate, I found out about this, learned the identities of some of the boys, met with two NYPD officers who were, simply put, great people, and decided to move on it. I can remember sitting in a car with the two officers as they told me I putting my life in danger by getting involved because the two men involved in the crime were likely involved in a murder and were more than capable of taking life to protect their life and their way of life. I was offered  the chance to back out.  I said no.

Anyway, the man was arrested, charged, posted bail and fled. He was later caught, convicted and jailed. One of the boy’s fathers was shot at in an attempt to silence him and it was clear a contract had been taken out on me.

During this experience it came to our attention that one of the boys who’d been victimized was the son of a neighborhood woman who had been very helpful in helping us talk with the boys. She was a social worker. When we met with her and gently let her know her son too had been victimized, she ripped into us with a fury. We, the police and myself, were called liars, opportunists, sons-of-bitches, and subsequently thrown out of the house. Painful, yes. But what would have been more painful for me, and I suspect, the two officers, would have been living with the knowledge of what her son had been through and keeping our mouths shut.

So, if you are one who is inclined to shoot the messenger, or if you are one who has done so in life, let me say this. You might, for the moment, spare yourself  some angst, but the truth in message delivered is still there and will do and likely is doing far more damage to you and yours than the messenger ever did. While shooting the messenger may, at times, be understandable, the people doing the shooting are still responsible for their actions. Period. End of story.

Breathe in the rhythms of your day, move forward in chin up stride

‘Cause every day’s independence day and you can have both humility and pride.

Love songs sweet on mirrored lips get sung for you

Dreams once thought gone might just turn out to be true

Breathe in the rhythms of your time and kiss the ones you love

Think your thoughts in soft shoe shuffle with a wink from above

Sad eyed wonders need hold you back no more

Sing on my brothers and sisters to tomorrow’s waiting shore

Breathe in the rhythms of your life, hold back for no one

Yours is equal footing and knowing that is when you’ve won.

Love is here within and without each and every day

So breathe deep my friend, love for you is here to stay

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Well rock me shiftin’ down streets long gone,

We wore Frye boots and beards and tossed cigarettes

Like flame throwers lighting paths in the night

Not caring nothing for the powers that be

Well she came striding proud sleek like Secretariat

Her hips shape shifting dreams by the dozens while

Harry shined his Nova and the 66th Street rhythms

Swirled with tongues dancing in the corner darkness

Well rock me tender as the night gets deep

And the kids go home where family lives

With dinners on and me now striding solo

Casting flame throwers in the night

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Rockin’ soft slow in this sweat dripping ride

Her dreams slide in deep deeper measure

The sunset outside the window curtains daylight

As we’re dreaming the skin to skin moving embrace

Shifting turning shifting again

Her feathered hair curve frames her face

A magic dipping neckline driving sculptors

Mad while feathered tongue drifts down

In crevice wonder glistening nipple

Shifting turning shifting again

Some men dream in minutes some

Men dream in hours some men

Dream in minutes and seconds but

I dream sweet tasting lifetimes

Shifting turning shifting again

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