The Darkest Hour - a poem

Here is a little poem I thought was good, felt like sharing.

The Darkest Hour

I stood there in the dark
looking towards the sky
I felt the rain fall down
a tear fell from my eye

I stood there all alone
and felt the chilly air
I looked all about
not another soul was there

I began to lose my hope
that there would again be light
that once again I would stand
with the sun so bright

And just as the sky
grew darker than the night
I saw a bit of hope
I saw a shining light

Just as my burdens seemed
more than I could take
out on the horizon I saw
the darkness start to break

The sun rose slowly up
and brought my soul along
now I can feel the warmth
my soul can sing a song

The darkest hour comes
just before the light
so when darkness holds you
stand firm with all your might.

The 11th Mile

I can not dispute the existence of a higher power. Sometimes I wish I could but I have seen his work, I have felt his hand and I have heard his voice. I can not dispute any of that. Yet it seems that I can not understand why some things happen they way they do.

I have come to realize that sometimes in life, as in nature, we do not understand how devastation could be part of something bigger. Those who understand nature know that a forest fire may seem like a tragic event, it actually is good for the forest. It brings renewal and life to the forest that otherwise could not occur. It allows the forest grow back stronger and better than before.

So why is it that we should expect that God would cause a forest to burn not to destroy but to help save it and we should not expect something similar for our own souls?

While I was living in New York I had the opportunity to see Les Miserables on Broadway. I loved the musical, its story was filled with lessons worth learning. At certain times in my life, when it seems my forest is burning, I can't help but hear the words of Fantine when she sang her song:

"I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I'm living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed"

Sometimes I feel like Fantine, when I was young I dreamed how I wanted my life to be. Unfortunately my dream has not come true; either because I have been too ignorant or too lazy to fight for that dream.

So I fear that a dreamed died, but perhaps not. Perhaps the dream must just change. I am not a big country fan but I can't help but think now of the words of Garth Brooks:

"You know a dream is like a river
Ever changin' as it flows
And a dreamer's just a vessel
That must follow where it goes
Trying to learn from what's behind you
And never knowing what's in store
Makes each day a constant battle
Just to stay between the shores"

So it's time to either lay down and give up, or it's time to keep going. When I was running the SF Half-Marathon I reached mile 11 right about my target pace. I had reached the bottom of large hill and my left calf muscle started to hurt. It felt like it was getting tight, really tight. I had a couple of choices, I could stop stretch it out and hope to keep going, I could stop all together, or I could keep running. I chose to keep running, I chose to push through. I did so because I had a goal of reaching the finish line and I intended to reach it.

Right now in life I feel like I am at the 11th mile emotionally. I suppose I could stop and rest, I could stop all together, or I could push through the pain and make it to the finish line. The choice is fairly easy. I have a goal of becoming the person I believe I was meant to be and so I will push on and reach that goal. Unfortunately I don't know where that finish line is but I am pretty sure that I must be at the 11th mile.

The Little Bird

In my last post I had a quote I had heard about self pity and mentioned that it took me a few days to remember where I had heard it. Last night I had gone for a run and went to add a note to myself of my time so that the next time I was logged into the computer I could add my time to my log. As I went to enter my note on my phone I noticed that I had made a note to myself to look up the poem and where I had heard it. Evidently when I had heard the poem I liked it so much that I put a note in my phone to look it up. I guess I should check my phone notes more often.

Perhaps it was seeing my note “GI Jane poem about a bird” in my phone just before bed that caused me to have the following dream. Perhaps it was more than just that. I had a dream last night and I awoke from it at about 2:30am. I thought of writing it down at the time but was too tired to turn on the light and to grab my notebook and pen that I keep next to me by the bed. (So I can write down meaningful dreams) I will try to recount the dream as best as I can.

In my dream I saw a young bird sitting in a tree in a beautiful forest. I heard a voice that narrated the dream, as if I was being told a story. The story was about this little bird. The bird was young and afraid because it was so high up in the tree and had never flown before. It felt that if he tried to fly, he would surely plummet to the ground and die. So the bird stayed in the nest. The other birds would fly by, stopping to visit the young bird and encouraging him to fly. On occasion the bird would stand on the edge of the nest and spread his wings, thinking he wanted to fly but then he would look down and see the ground so far below, and afraid would go back inside the nest.

The bird had no reason to leave the nest. His mother made sure that he was fed, friends would come to see him, he was warm and happy inside the nest. Still there was a longing in him to fly. His friends would come by and tell him of there experiences of flying and how enjoyable it was and he became sad. He felt he couldn’t fly, especially not now, he hadn’t learned while he was young. He became withdrawn and sad. Soon his friends didn’t fly by as often and he felt alone.

More and more often the bird would walk to the edge of the nest and stretch his wings, flapping them on occasion. “Someday I will fly” he thought. Yet every time he felt he was about to take that leap, he would look down and see the ground and become afraid. “I will never fly” he then thought.

One morning the bird awoke in his nest, he saw the sun rising through the trees and the blue sky above. “I want to experience that” he thought and so he walked to the edge of the nest and stretched his wings again. He looked down but this time he wasn’t afraid. “Today I will fly, or I will die trying” he thought to himself. For a moment he felt panic but then he leaped out of the nest. For a second he began to plummet towards the earth like a rock and he thought for sure he was going to die. Then after a second he spread his wings and started to fly. He began to flap his wings and fly higher and higher. Before he knew it he was above the trees, in the warmth of the sun and felt the wind for the first time.

He was happy, happier than he had ever been. He was now living his potential, he was living his purpose. For the first time ever, he felt like a bird.

That was the end of my dream, that is when I awoke.