She was maybe 5 feet 2 inches. Her hair was white and done in the classic grandmother style, short with big curls. She carried two pages, yellowed with age, with her to the front of the room. I could see that the words were written by a typewriter. I wondered how long she had been holding on to these poems. She took a breath and shared the inspiration for the first poem. With venom still in her voice she explained how her ex husband never paid child support, so as a single mom she held down three jobs. Too many nights she would be working while her young son would be sleeping. The poem was written at work as she thought about her child.
The poem used a refrain filled with dragons and castles. Her love for her child was clear. She shared her second poem about fireflies that had such a cool ending the whole room responded with a group, “Ohhhh”. As we snapped our appreciation she turned to me and smiled.
Earlier during the poetry workshop we were working on a poem, and she had written a powerful phrase, “A shadowless soul”. As she smiled I understood her line.
The open mic continued with a range of poetic styles and backstories for each poem. Stories of loss, of family pride, and even one about how hard it was to decipher a poem written down on a bar coaster. There were tears, laughter, and for a while a sense of community. This was the power of poetry, but more importantly the day revealed the power of the human heart.
I recently finished the book Walking the Trail by Jerry Ellis. He walked the Cherokee Trail of Tears backwards to his home. Along the way he met a variety of people, some giving him objects for a burial ritual he planned when he returned home, but all shared some part of their story with him. During the book he would share how he thought of those people, how their stories were part of his story now.
After the three author events I have been a part of, I understand that spiritual connection. Once I shared the inspiration for my latest book of poetry, While Death Waits, many people would share their stories of loss. Tears filling their eyes and voices. A moment of remembrance, and I think of healing. For a moment our stories bonded us, gave us a chance to know we were not alone. This is the power of poetry… the strength of the human heart.
So, I’m not doing what I set out to do. I am supposed to be writing a really cool short story idea I have. I am at my favorite writing spot at my local coffee shop, The Blue Moon. I have my Bizarre Orange Encounter drink. (My traditional drink for moments like this.) My writing playlist is hitting the right notes. But I am blogging.
Chasing your dreams is hard.
Today, this moment, is a perfect example why.
First, I had planned this moment a few days ago. Our trash needs to be out on the curb at 7 a.m. I was like, I could just go to the Blue Moon to write before the day started.
It opens at 7:30. We are on Easter break. Perfect way to start the day. Well, it was a struggle to just get here.
I got the garbage out in time, but had to fight… fight the urge to just crawl back into bed and sleep. The voice in my head tempted me with the thought that I could write another time. And it is true… but that is the first hurdle to achieving your goals. Actually working on it.
There will always be something to take you away from working on your goals, especially if you have to hold down a job to chase your dream or raise a family or any relationship. We only have so much time. We all have the same amount each day. We decide how to spend it. It’s important to spend it well. That means your relationships, your job, but also your goals.
Yes, you have to plan your time, and that is OK. Plan the time with friends and family, but also your goals, and stick to it.
The second hurdle was my youngest daughter. She loves having breakfast at the Blue Moon. I was tempted to see if she wanted to go. To sit and talk with her about Taylor Swift and horses. But if I did, I wouldn’t get any writing done. Achieving balance is part of life. Hence, the reason for planning your time. It helps you maintain that balance so you can strive for your goals and be a good friend, father, and husband (in my case).
I showered, grabbed my computer, kissed my wife and headed to the Blue Moon. Got my drink. Put in my headphones. And started this blog… which is also a hurdle.
I am supposed to be working on a new short story. Instead, I am blogging. I know what you might be thinking reader. How is this a bad thing? You blog all the time.
It is bad because I am not working toward my goal. I want to be known as a writer. I have novels that are not completed. Short story rough drafts in notebooks. I have so many ideas that are not completed. They don’t write themselves.
Yes, I am happy to blog. I hope this post helps you in your pursuit of your dreams. But I wonder, am I just afraid to reach for that big dream. Are you afraid, too?
We find ways to distract ourselves, to give ourselves excuses not to chase those big dreams.
Today has 24 hours. Plan it well. Love your family and friends, but your goals need your time and effort too.
Today has been routine, blueberry muffins (and scrambled eggs and sausage patties) then church.
My mood was and is still a little blue after yesterday’s slam event (I Quit). But life has a way of giving me dots to connect (regular readers understand that reference). The message today was about obedience. This post is not about the sermon, it is about this life.
Obedience: noun
1 a: an act or instance of obeying
b: the quality or state of being obedient
*from Merriam-Webster.
First topic, writing, especially poetry but also any goal someone is pursuing. We understand the work it takes to pursue any goal. The dedication, the time, and the energy it takes. Even with the talent and work ethic, success is not guaranteed. But some form of failure seems to be. I think we all understand this concept, so let’s go deeper and bring in obedience.
“The quality or state of being obedient.” How is this connected to following a dream? Might be an unpopular take but I believe that our goals and dreams are part of who we are. In all our shades of colors, we are here to live a life driven by our goals. Of course they change as we grow, as we learn, and as we fail. And yes, others have the same goals. I can’t even imagine how many people want to be a poet… but they can’t write my poems.
Being obedient to a dream is to be true to ourselves. To give our life the authority of creating our everydayness. Yesterday (and still a little today), I felt like giving up on poetry, on writing. But I actually have a rough draft of a poem already on paper…
Poetry is not something I do
It is who I am
Do you not understand?
I understand, too well, that following a goal is not so easy, that our everyday life is filled with decisions and the welfare of other people. That we have in our hearts a collection of desires and hopes. There are moments when our dreams are in conflict with each other, and we have to make a choice. Which dream do we obey?
Obedience is not giving away our power, it is fulfilling what our life should be. We can rebel, I can quit writing. I can ignore the muse when it strikes. I did not have to write this blog post. You, reader, would have never known I was rebelling. Rebelling against who I am… but that’s not being REAL. (My word for the year.)
What about the muffins? Faithful readers know the role of making muffins on Sunday for my family. It is also an act of obedience. Obedience to my dream, my reality of having a loving home, having a tradition that brings us all together as much as possible. A dream I try to be obedient to every day.
I just spent almost two hours on the road thinking about how to write this post. I was traveling back from Lincoln where I competed in a poetry slam. The winner represents the state of Nebraska at the Blackberry/ Peach national slam this summer.
I got last.
That means the judges scored my poem and my performance the lowest out of all the competitors.
Last.
I’ve been working on my delivery, my pauses, my speed and pronunciation of words, especially throughout the whole poem. To speak clearly at the end as I do at the beginning.
I got last.
And right now, when adding other poetic endeavors, I quit.
I have been writing poetry since junior high. I have self published six books of poetry, participated in the April Poem a Day for five years. I have been sharing my works during The Jam, a weekly poetry / spoken word / music space on X for at least 80 some episodes. I have notebooks, post-it notes, and other scrap paper with rough drafts of poems.
Right now, I don’t care.
The frustration and heartache of trying to be a poet is too much. My confidence is shaken. My chest hurts. This feeling sucks. It seems that I deal with more negative aspects of chasing this dream than positive moments. My tank is empty.
Would I be able to say or write anything if I knew it was the end?
I think I would want to see the stars one last time, that’s for sure.
But I’m 99.9% sure this is not the end. That I will get up tomorrow morning, get ready for work, fill my daughters’ water bottles, maybe make lunch (at the time of writing this they are going to eat hot lunch tomorrow). On the way to work my wife will get her Mocha Sea Salt Caramelicious blender. I will teach, eat lunch, teach some more, then head home. Depending on the night we might head to an activity, make dinner, or take one of the kids to a practice. I might wash dishes, or sit down to write with a cup of coffee (which I have next to me as I write). To finish off the day, I will read (reading Fairy Tale by Stephen King right now), brush my teeth, take my blood pressure pill and head off to bed.
Then repeat…
…unless…
…unless, this is the end.
I would like you, reader, to know that it has been a blessing to share my writing with you. To share my joys and heartbreaks.
I would want my family and friends to know I love them and that this life is beautiful underneath all the hate, trouble, and selfishness it seems to wrap itself in.
I would like people to remember my writing and the depth I tried to live my life. This life is the closet thing to heaven I’ve ever found.
But it is not the end… but I’m going to do a little stargazing after posting this blog.
I’m also going to make sure to tell people I love them before I go to bed. You never know.
In 2021 Kevin Garnett wrote a cool book, KG: A to Z: An Uncensored Encyclopedia of Life, Basketball, and Everything in Between. Instead of a traditional narrative structure, KG told his story by creating a personalized encyclopedia. The reader could look up a topic or word to read his insight or his story connected to that word like an encyclopedia. It was a cool book to read.
The past 10 months have been challenging. My perspective has been challenged on many different levels. Certain words or ideas have been the focus of some of those challenges. I thought it would be useful to use the same organization KG did for his book for this blog post. So, here is my Life Encyclopedia.
Art: The expression of the heart. See also, music, poetry, writing.
Blogging: See writing.
Death: The natural end of our time here. Everybody knows that death awaits for us all. Yet, we do not actually live like we know this truth. We waste time on petty issues, or involved with our screens in some mindless activity. We tend to live like tomorrow will always be there, so we feel like we can let today slide. I wonder what life would look like if we actually lived like we knew our time here ends.
Dreams: I debated on whether to use ‘dreams’ or ‘goals’ for this section. I decided on ‘dreams’ for two reasons. First, it sounds more poetic. Second, I feel that a dream can be accomplished, but even then a dream can still pull at your heart. And chasing our dreams should be part of our everyday existence. The pursuit of making our dreams a reality is what fills our spirit. Makes the hard days easier to endure. Our dreams are our purpose for being here. Some dreams change, some become reality, while we chase others our whole life. That is the beauty of having a dream.
Family: This is the most complex life topic I’ve been dealing with over the last year. Family has been a central issue all of my life. From living separately with both biological parents, to walking away from most of my bloodline, that allowed me to start my own family.
There is the crutch of the idea of family. As a dad I have a saying (OK, I have a handful of sayings), “Family gets your best behavior.” The heart of this is to remind everyone that the most important people should not be treated better than strangers. Yes, there are disagreements and challenges to work through, but they are handled with love. Our home is the safest place in this world for everyone.
I never felt safe or truly loved growing up. I knew that, at different times, that alcohol and other people mattered more than me. Even as I’ve learned more about who my biological father was after his passing, I still wonder why I didn’t matter. Why their son was not worth their time or love.
Blood doesn’t define family. I mattered to Wayne and Janine (for new readers, Janine is my mom that passed away last summer). I found a home that was filled with love that showed me what a family could be like. No, it wasn’t perfect. This household isn’t perfect, but the foundation is love and acceptance. That is how a family is built.
Friends: Yes, a friend can be seen as family, but I think real friendship is its own unique relationship that allows it to be a separate component of life. I don’t have a lot of real friends. Oh, I have many friends and acquaintances, but honestly, I have one best friend. We have been friends since junior high. Yes, we have had some rough spots, and yes, it was over a girl, but what makes our friendship strong is knowing that we have each other’s back. We share our dreams and hardships. Even though we are miles apart, we do fun things, like right now we are sharing our top 100 songs of all time, but doing it one day at a time. We have been there for the big moments; we both were each other’s best man for our weddings. A friend is part of your foundation that brings a different kind of joy and support.
Learn: The act of becoming who you are through different means; such as reading, living, questioning and other experiences.
Life: This moment right now, which is a mix of the past, dreams for the future, and the current emotion to create a unique experience for all of us.
Love: The center of life.
Music: One of the many artistic elements that build bridges between people. For me it is a sanctuary. I always had the radio to accompany me when I changed houses, changed parents, changed my life. There is nothing like sharing a song with someone, finding common ground in lyrics and music.
Poetry: The way I understand this life. The artist way I can make sense of my emotions while processing the questions I have about how life unfolds. By writing poetry I understand myself more. By studying the art form I become better at writing, but also thinking, which allows me to come to terms with both the joys and sorrows of this life. Poetry also allows me to build connections with other people, other artists, other poets. I do not trust many people, but I trust poetry.
Real: My word for this year. This might be the hardest word for me because I do not show the real me to too many people besides in my poetry and other writings. The reason for this blog post is me trying to live by my word. At the moment I am skeptical that I can live up to it in this world that is quick to destroy anyone that tries to be real.
Writing: Poetry is my first love, but I wrote my first short story in fifth grade. I have been blogging for decades now. Writing, in all forms, gives me a sense of being. In a way it allows me to be the real me. Writing is like praying for me, even at this moment I have my “Writing” playlist going, I am pondering questions of the past, considering a few future opportunities I have and feeling some strong emotions that encompass a broad range – I am living.
Not to rush forward through my days. But yes I’m ready to go through the ritual of counting down the last seconds of 2023 and celebrating the idea of a new year, a new beginning.
This is not a post about living each day to its fullest, or some other motivational cliché that sometimes leads people to a false sense of reality.
This post is acknowledging the fact that the seasons of our lives can be filled with highs and lows… making for a gray year.
I started to tear up Christmas shopping last week. We were looking for gifts from my dad, and out of habit I said, “This can be from Grandma and Grandpa Hudson,” as I held up a book for one of my daughters. My throat locked up as I looked at my wife, suddenly holding back tears that wanted to run. (For any new readers, I lost my mom this summer… my wife lost her mom in September.)
There have been other low points, competing at poetry slams, rejection emails and other small nicks at my confidence as a poet and writer that add up.
There have been some cool moments, too. Published my book, While Death Waits, in October. I completed every challenge I set for myself this year. I’ve laughed with students and family. Read some great books. I have shared ideas with you, reader, through this blog. Been a guest on two podcasts this year. Plus, Dante and I have faithfully produced our podcast all year.
There were some good days.
But as a year, 2023 was gray.
Life is like that. And I think we hinder ourselves by trying to cover up or ignore the low points. When we don’t recognize the dark days, or try to fill them with color, we miss the opportunity to grow, to feel a depth of our lives that can strengthen us in so many different ways. We gain strength when we deal with heartbreak. We understand ourselves and life better by embracing the hurt. That understanding allows us to live that moment, but also the happy moments with more depth, more understanding, more appreciation.
It is not easy though. There were a lot of gray days.
It was 26 degrees outside when I went on a walk this evening. There was no wind, so it was actually a nice evening. My face got cold, and I had to stop wearing my glasses because they fogged up pretty quickly.
I have not been at a 100 percent for some time now. I have good days, but some dark moments. Times where I want to dissolve into the air, to let my molecules fall apart hoping that will release the sadness from my soul. But somehow I hold it all together.
Here’s how I do it.
Walking. Like tonight, I took my short route because it was cold. I took the photo I used in the title banner on the walk. When I got home I had my daughter take the photo to the right. But the coolest thing happened on my walk. I saw the best shooting star I have ever seen in my life. The meteorite even flared out like a small firework. No, I didn’t take a photo. I stopped right in the middle of the street and watched it shoot across the sky. It was beautiful.
Taking time to walk, to think, to feel the emotions of the day allows us to remember we are here. That we are human. That we have our feet squarely on this earth, and that means a lot.
Writing. Even if it is just a note of something good that happened today. The act of writing builds a connection between our life and our emotions. Poetry is my way of making sense of the world. This blog is a bridge between you, reader, and me. Writing is creating a connection between the abstract of our spirit into a reality. So, is any art from. Writing is just my main art form.
Believing. I believe in Love. Without getting into any kind of spiritual debate or discussion, Love is proof that there is more to us than all the hate and other negative things we express in this world. Even though the world keeps trying to prove me wrong, Love changes the world. I believe this and try to live my life each day according to my belief.
I have wanted to simply fall apart almost everyday since last April. There have been some really tough days. But I’m keeping it together by living through the things that matter the most to me. I may still fall apart (we all do to a degree) but I know I’ll write about it because I believe one of the most powerful ways to show love is to be true to what makes us who we are.
I wrote almost 300 poems in the time between the books. While Death Waits has only 62 of those poems. I have written about 100 blog posts in that time. Produced 7 seasons of my podcast For Love of Lyrics (season 8 in the works). And my son and I have done 40 episodes of The Creative Moment podcast. Been a guest on Dr. Michael Ingram’s Quintessential Listening: Poetry Online Radio podcast twice. I have also been on Josh Grant’s Diabolic Shrimp show, twice!
I also taught poetic lessons for Move Me Poetry for their Teach Me Tuesday event. I have competed in two slam contests. Attended a handful of open mics in town (they have suspended the open mic nights for now).
And nothing has really changed.
Why am I sharing this info with you? Two reasons.
The first is I am honored to have done so many cool things. To meet people like Dr. Michael Ingram and Josh Grant. To build community with the poets at Move Me Poetry.
I have strengthened my poetry by stepping out of my comfort zone by competing in poetry slams and designing lessons.
I have been able to have deep conversations with my son and share my love of lyrics with people through podcasting.
I have written some cool poetry (yes, this is a plug for my book).
But I wouldn’t have done these things if I wasn’t chasing a dream. My life is richer because of my pursuit of being an author, being a poet people recognize.
But that is also the second reason I am writing this blog post. Nothing has really changed. I am still basically an unknown poet, unknown writer. Chasing dreams is hard. It challenges your convictions. Calls forth doubt like a sudden winter storm that draws out tears like slivers from your heart. The weight of fear and frustration wears me down, so I write about it…
which spurs me forward in chasing my dream of making a difference in this world with my words and leads to opportunities that I would never have if I didn’t chase this dream.
I’m excited to see what will be next… of course, I’ll write about it, so stay tuned.
I have had a small phrase tumbling in my head for a few weeks. I’ve wanted to write about it the day I heard it, but life has been pretty busy, and I think it wanted me to experience some dots connected to the phrase before I wrote about it.
This post will center more on the phrase and the thoughts I have about it in our lives. The moments I experienced (the dots) may be mentioned, but sometimes the lessons are for me, not the blog.
At church, a couple of weeks ago, during the sermon, Father said a simple sentence that just woke me up. It was one of those moments when a truth hits hard because you hear it in a new way or from someone different. If you are a constant reader of my blog you might be surprised why this phrase hit me so hard because you’ve read posts that align with what Father said…
He said, “We are free to love.”
I’m not even sure what the homily was about, my mind and heart just took off with understanding and agreement. Then questions on why we don’t live this…
Let that sit for a moment. Feel the liberating sense of joy bubbling deep inside your chest. Knowing that you can smile, tell someone to have a good day. You can dance to your favorite song. Hug your kids. Hug your parents. Write a poem (or a blog post). Walk under the stars and let the knowledge that you are standing under a million stars. That you were given this moment to love… to love life, to love others, to love yourself.
Why don’t we live this way?
In answering this question let me share just a little bit about one of the dots life gave me, my mother’s memorial. It was a graveside ceremony that my dad presided over. I read two poems at different times during the ceremony. When my dad brought up the moment I became part of the family, I broke down a little. See, my parents did not have to include me. My siblings did not have to include me. It’s a long story, but they chose to love me as a son, as a brother, as family.
The first part of why we don’t live with the ‘freedom to love’ is choice. Now I’ve written about this in a number of past posts. But there is something different about the mindset to the idea of ‘the freedom to love.’ The choice to love is more of a gift of ourselves than a responsibility we check off of our to do list. And I love giving gifts!
But giving a gift has its risks, which is also why we don’t live such joyful lives. REJECTION and all the complicated emotions and pain that come from someone rejecting our gift, in this case our love.
Not going to sugar coat this. It hurts. It can break us when we love someone with every space available in our hearts, and they walk away.
I don’t have a magical potion that will take that pain away. I’ve been there, I still deal with the effects of some devastating moments. What I know is that giving my love to people that accept my gift is one way to heal. I also know love may be the only thing that grows the more you give it away. we are free to love as much as we want.
We are free.
We are free to love.
To love others, to love life, to love ourselves.
I hope you accept this blog as my gift to you, with love.
It is all Connected 