“You are what your deep, driving desire is."
I went to an old friend for the definition of responsible; a hardcopy dictionary from my young adult years that I haven’t used since Google searches came into our lives.
Responsible:
“Able to answer for one’s conduct or obligations.”
“Trustworthy: able to choose for oneself between right and wrong.”
Synonyms: trustworthy, accountable
Webster’s Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary (published 1986)
I recently wrote that “you are not responsible for other’s happiness, but you could be the reason for it.” But that didn’t seem quite right. It didn’t ring true and as I thought about it I realized that we are indeed responsible for it; just as we are for treating people with love and respect.
I’m one of those people who far too easily give up on those who are close. And to be completely honest, I don’t let them in at the time they could become even more valuable as friends.
I think we too often let opportunities to get to know better those we come in contact with. This includes at work as well as any social gatherings or neighborhood get-togethers. We are given opportunities to matter to others and we (I) let them pass.
I walked away
from people who cared.
Long of leg and sure of foot
I swathed the sidewalk clear.
My spirit lived one hundred feet
in a pit that deepened.
Walled face, brick by brick
blocked another’s entry.
A dark reflection, mine,
I won’t look, I scare myself.
Why do I stride so fast?
To prove I exist but don’t matter?
A face comes that knows me.
Quick, duck. This store will hide me.
Danger passes but I wish
that someone chased me, just once.
Pause.
No one pursued again.
A friendly voice is faster
than racing legs that want to stop.
No one called.
Walk until…
The bell nailed on the house.
Distant laughter of screaming children.
The two would soon be one
as a wrinkled hand
grabbed the chain
and whipped it furiously.
Pavlov’s dog re-imagined
in the speedy response to lunch
the bell demanded.
Parents ring and are ignored.
Grandma rings a command.
How can children tell
grandma’s touch?
With what power
does she whip the clapper?
This bell, a magic bell,
from grandma’s heart to theirs,
a ringing bond of love.
The bell mounted on our wall
it’s work of calling wayward children
is over, except for the memories.
Adult children tear up
when they visit
and remember fondly
grandma’s call.
Silent now the bell vibrates
waiting for the next round of grandkids.
Focus on the desires of your heart and you will be living the life of your dreams.
Throughout life, we continually ask, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Never satisfied and always searching, some say they never find.
Who is it I am?
And because I don’t know
how do I find out
who I am
and what I’m to do?
I look at the bounty
of those I would be like
and know I am meager
of self and belongings.
Take a step forward?
But the cliff is there
reminding me there’s nowhere
to put my foot down
without falling.
It is the fall I fear,
the great unknowing.
I am my own
but wishful tendrils remain
of the safe life
I once had.
Resolute, I close my eyes,
reach out with a foot
and step,
fearing the fall
but fearing more to stay.
Life, you are mine,
catch me.
If it’s truth you seek don’t give up. The answers might surprise you but they are yours to be lived.
It seems we grow up wanting to be adults and then when we get there, we let the expectations of society – others – dictate who we become and what we do. We settle for society’s “truth” rather than let our own truth come out and be lived.