Surviving

Feeling the warmth of the sun on a cloudy day. A glimpse into a blind billy goat's unique, ever changing perspectives.

2017 05 25: Journal Post Page 8 May 25, 2017

The time is moving quickly, and here we are creating the memories of the day.

This next post is indicative of change, for I was rapidly experiencing change in ways I had rarely seen in my life. It’s funny how our attitudes can change. It’s funny how those things that cross our paths are usually the direct cause of the changes we see, we feel, we experience. As the people in my life crossed my path during those days of summer 2010, I began to realize that it was all for a reason, and I had better take notice long enough to reach out and grab hold of the change and use it as best I could.

Change was happening, and it all seemed as though perhaps the biggest thing that was changing, was me…

Here’s hoping you all have a great Thursday. Until tomorrow, take good care.

Deon

***

Page 8

The rest of my July it seemed like I was waiting for something. I have no idea what I was waiting for, but I felt sure that it would come. I just needed to be patient is all. I needed to trust that my life would have some purpose, and that I would find it sooner rather than later. I had gotten some self help cd’s from Paula and I spent the mornings listening to them. I tried to pay attention to what I was listening to, but I found that my mind wandered out of control. I just couldn’t stop my mind.

Leona had told me when I had talked with her that there were ways to regain the use of my computer. She told me of screen readers, and the functionality of accessible programs. All of this seemed beyond my capabilities, and I was very uneasy at the idea of me ever figuring out how to use my pc with these tools. How could I? I hadn’t even figured out how to be blind yet. How could I? This question got the better of me time and time again. I seemed pathetically hopeless. I seemed as though I was never going to be able to do anything beyond being a burden to my wife.

I would spend my days listening to my audio cd’s in the morning, and after begging for food from my wife like a hopeless, lost dog, I would either sit in the recliner and listen to her work as she analyzed calls or just crawl into bed, turn on the television, and drift off to a world were I could still see. Those first dreams after losing my vision were very strange indeed. I remember them vividly. It was as though I was in the dreams living my life as it was before.
I rarely slept well at night those first few weeks. I didn’t eat well either. I just had no appetite what so ever. I had lost quite a bit of weight while I was out of work for the month of June. I had done quite a lot of yard work and rarely snacked on junk food. I was down to almost the same weight that I was when I married Lynne. As I write this several months later, I have put some of the weight back on. I suppose that I have regained some of my life back, but I would rather have never regained this part.

Leona was keeping contact with me for the next few weeks, as she did for the remainder of her stint as my VR Rep. She did call one day to let me know that she had set up a meeting with Lori Gains, a recruiter from the Carroll Center in Newton Massachusetts. I was excited as hell to hear this and couldn’t wait for the day. I had so many expectations about the center from what Leona had been telling me.

The next few weeks seemed to drag as I was anticipating when the meeting with Laurie Gains would be set up. I was told that I would probably be able to attend the rehab center sometime in September or October. I was chomping at the bit.

I did get to meet Steve Sawczyn in Augusta in early August. I was scared as hell to meet him because he was like a rock star to me. I had been listening to his online assistive technology show with the help of Lynne. How could a blind guy do all of the things that he was doing? I was mystified that the computer was so accessible to people like me, people like him. He just seemed so damn smart to me. The fact that I was going to be able to meet with him was recharging my battery so to speak. I had so much to look forward to, and it seemed that he and Leona were the center of it all. Maybe my life did have a purpose? Maybe I would be all right after all. I mean, look at all of the positive things that were going on around me. New directions and new people were entering my life and I was smack dab in the middle of it all.

I did receive a Rune card reading from Paula some time in late July or early August and it hit me head on. So many things were so clear to me in my interpretation of the readings. With her help my mind had a new path that I really seemed to be able to embrace with ease. It seemed as though I was saying good bye to my old life, and welcoming in my new life. I really didn’t mind saying so long to my old life, because I was stuck in a never ending rut most days, and I didn’t know how in hell to get out of it. There were so many things that had happened to me that I should have been completely enamored with hopelessness and despair, but I wasn’t. I had so many things in my life that were presenting themselves to me. So many positive influences. So many directions that I could take. So many people supporting me. It really was a time in my life that I had rarely seen before. The rush I was getting from all of the possibilities was completely enlightening, as well as completely draining. I was excited as hell, and tired as all get out. My insides were in a tug of war. Back and forth. I am fully aware that if not for these new roads entering my life at just the right time, I might have easily ended up in a place that I care not to think about. I thank God that He put these things and people in my life. I thank Him every day. Most of all I thank Him for giving me Lynne to go through this with. It all seemed more clear and uncomplicated with her by my side.

The talk that I had with Paula on the phone in regards to her reading was an eye opener for sure. I had, for so many years, been trapped inside of my vision. My vision of myself. A vision that I had never really come to terms with, or accepted. I used to cringe at the sight of myself in mirrors or plate glass windows during the course of the day. It just seemed that the person who was staring back at me wasn’t the same person that I felt inside. Not at all. It was some other stranger that was holding my appearance hostage. I had never really been comfortable in my own skin. My mind had a total different interpretation of what I looked like from the inside out, and whenever I was met with my true image, well. It wasn’t met with much enthusiasm on the inside. I dealt with it though, as best I knew how.

It seemed as though I may finally be rid of the haunting perception of myself that had held me captive so to speak. Without the visual input, maybe I could forget what I look like on the outside, or at least not be bothered with it. I could finally grab hold of the person that I was on the inside and carry it out there for all to see, and not be self conscious about it. I could finally work on something that I could come to grips with. I started to become the person from the inside out. I started to become the person that I had always envisioned myself as. I had started to change, and the change was slowly becoming the next chapter, the next leg of my journey.

To be continued…

 

2017 05 14: Mother’s Day Poem May 14, 2017

Filed under: Childhood,Devotion,Faith,Family,Humility,Life,Love,Perception,Poem,Poetry,Writing — DP Lyons @ 12:32 pm

This poem is dedicated to my mom, Carol Jean Lyons, and to all the moms out there.
I hope your day is filled with wicked awesome mom stuff. grin

I love ya mom.
dp

***

Mother

Mother, oh mother, hear my pleading call
Shivering child from years ago stands before you
Grant me access to your warming heart
Calm my scattered spirit with your magical potion

I remember your words as I craved your touch
I remember your gentle kiss on my forehead
I remember wrapping my arms around you
I remember

Please sing me that same, soothing lullaby
Please rock me in your arms until I fall fast asleep
Please tell me everything will be alright
Please

Walk beside me as we brave the world
Walk beside me as I dare to dream
Walk beside me as your older boy discovers the unknown
Walk beside me

Promise me a handful of possibilities
Promise me of the love that awaits me
Promise me a family of my own
Promis me

Rescue me from a dastardly foe
Rescue me from an unrelenting obstacle course
Rescue me and whisperyour calming tone
Rescue me

Sing to me your praise as you stare into my eyes
Sing to me of the opportunity each day provides
Sing to me your anthem of faith, love and hope
Sing to me

Share your secrets with me
Guide me towards tomorrow
Pray for me as I do for you
Watch over me with confidence

Soothe my skipping heartbeat with your healing touch
Calm my worried gaze with your gentle touch
Release my anxious breath with a mother’s touch
Mother, Oh Mother

 

2017 04 30 Poetry: Soldier April 30, 2017

As the last day of the month casts its lengthening shadow across the scripted page, I am reminded that there are some things that I will never overlook.

Sitting here wondering what to write about, an image spun around inside my head of a man standing in front of a huge rolling machine. The image was of my nephew, 1st Sergeant Michael Lyons, 20 year retired US Marine. The picture was of him standing in front of a massive behemoth of a armored vehicle, which I think is called a Buffalo. There he stood on a road, in the desert, weighed down with body armor, full combat gear, and an M4 gun. As I gazed at the picture my older brother had sent, a rush of emotion ran up and down through me like a convoy on their way to Kuwait. I had never seen this nephew, this man, this soldier as he appeared in the image. His eyes were fixed, his look was determined, and one of his uncles wept a tear of honor and pride for the man, for the soldier, for the praise that I would never adequately find words for.

I am growing older by the day, this is for sure. The older I become, the more I realize how important our bravest men and women are, and how unselfish their sacrifice is, so that we might explore the possibilities afforded to us, by them.

I could go on and on with creative description with this post, but to what end? It would take me the rest of my life to find enough words to applaud their honor, make note of their bravery and admire their force of strength and might.

I had the chance to interview 1st Sergeant Lyons a few weeks ago for an assignment at school, and I was actually nervous, mostly because I wanted to ask him so many things, but had to narrow the questions down to what I thought was most relevant of a hero of mine. And oh what a hero of mine he is.

This is the last day of National Poetry Month, and as I reflect back on the past few weeks, I am very thankful that my path has crossed with you all, for it is a talented path that has joined me.

To the poets of the world, continue to make your music sing loud, for it is now, and will always be the music of a spirited soul.

Take care, and have a great month of May.

Deon

***

Soldier

Snapshot of a soldier, miles from home,
A mission on his mind.
Full heart beating in the desert sun,
Bravery of a special kind.

Stars and stripes sewn to his chest,
Worn with strength and pride.
Unfamiliar roads, a warrior’s quest,
His family by his side.

With freedom ringing in his ears,
He stares with hardened eyes.
Poised to take on any foe,
And protect the child that cries.

A snapshot of a man stared back at me.
I felt his beating heart.
I saw the strength within his eyes.
A strength that would never part.

The few, the proud, the man, the Marine,
The picture tells the tale.
Come home safely, brave soldier of ours,
Your honor shall prevail.

Dedicated to my nephew, United States Marine, 1st Sergeant Michael Lyons,
And all the brave men and women of the United States Armed Forces.
God bless you all.

 

2017 04 29 Poetry: Road Map April 29, 2017

29 down, and 1 to go. Actually, many many more than 1 to go, because it feels like my writing is never finished, and there’s something else that I need to write about. Thousands of words, lines, sentences, phrases, thoughts, descriptions and meanings, all rolled into 7 years of hunting, finding and punching keys, and there’s still something I feel I need to write about.

I never dreamed I would reach the age I am. I never dreamed of being married. I never dreamed of having a child, a son and a grandson. I never thought. I just never.

We lost our power tonight, and I was right near the end of another poem I was going to submit tonight. Unfortunately, I didn’t save the stupid thing, and lost it with the outage, so, below you’ll find another one I just wrote. It’s quite a bit different than the first one, and try as I did, I couldn’t come close to remembering it.

I know, I know, a lot of you are shaking your head right now. Some are thinking what a fool am I, some are thinking about a similar experience, some are just wondering when I’m gonna stop rambling and get on with the poetry.

No matter what the lessons are that we learn, life continues to chug along at a pretty good clip, and that ain’t the half of it.

Ok then. Right. Here we go with my 29th submission for this National Poetry Month. This is actually only my 27th submission, as I skipped two days. Like I told a good friend, I’m still batting over 900, which ain’t too bad in baseball terms.

And away we go! Happy Saturday night to you all, and whatever happens, don’t you ever stop writing.

Best to you all.

Deon

***

Road Map

There’s a road map sketched in my mind,
Taking me to places I’ve already been,
Taking me to places I have already seen,
Taking me to places I will never let go.

There’s a song playing in my mind,
Singing to me a childhood lullaby,
Singing to me some old time rock & roll,
Singing to me some folksy blues.

There are pages turning in my mind,
Reading out loud about a shy, timid little boy,
Reading to me about an unexpected love story,
Reading to me about an incredible non fiction drama.

There’s a movie playing in my mind,
Showing a classic that I can watch again and again,
Showing me an unforgettable theme,
Showing me a fascinating 3D epic drama.

There is an image collage displaying in my mind,
Picturing a life changing gears,
Picturing a life changing lanes,
Picturing a life unfolding a worn and tattered road map.

 

2017 04 25 Poetry: Birthday Cake April 25, 2017

April 25 is here at last!

Are you kidding me? Here at last? What the heck happened to the first 24? Did they go by way too fast? Did I write about this already? Repetition, right? Grin

It’s sort of strange knowing that I have been living out here on the ridge for 31 years. It’s even stranger that this house has been here since 1904, which makes it, um, let’s see, carry the two, bring it over and, ok. Man, this house is old!

Well, here it is, time for another poem submission for National Poetry Month. I hope I ain’t boring ya, and I hope you like the following poem, cuz it’s all I got for today.

Anyway, repetition is the main ingredient of life, so take it, and then, take it again.

I hope you have a good Tuesday night, and have fun with it.

Deon

***

Birthday Cake

Sitting here staring at a birthday cake.
A little boy’s smile staring back at me.
A thousand dreams make their way around the room.
Make a wish and you just might see.

A wind up car flies across the floor.
Laughter heard coming from a room upstairs.
Trim your hair for a Friday night dance.
Caring too much about what everybody wears.

Little boy went and grew up too fast.
Echoes still whirl around his bedroom walls.
I can still hear him dash through the house.
I see his smile every time he calls.

I sit here again and I stare at a cake.
It’s not too different from one back awhile,
Except for one unique difference.
It’s my little boy’s little boy that gives me a smile.

Dedicated to my son Matt, and grandson Jack.

Sent from my wicked younger than me Windows 10 Machine.

 

2017 04 23 Poetry: Little Ones April 23, 2017

Is it the 23rd already? How can that be? Why it seems that the month just started.

How does time fly by so fast sometimes? Is it because we do something differently? Do we bend the fabric of time without even knowing it? When the time goes by fast for us, does it also for everyone else?

What we do with our time gives us definition. Our hobbies, our work, our play, what we like, dislike, who we are near, everything plays into the script taylor made for only us.

Life is what you make of it. The diversity, the obstacles, the trials and lessons help to give us the makings of one day after another.

The old saying that every cloud has a silver lining is debateable at best, and it reminds me of the other saying that says it’s never as bad as it seems.

Really? I mean, really? Grin

Hit the ground running. Pull yourself up by the boot straps. No matter where you go, there you are, so take advantage of it.

I think I like that saying the best.

This is the 23rd of April, and here’s my submission for National Poetry Month. The time is at hand, and the hand is pointing towards the clock, so I guess I gotta get moving before what I’m doing becomes the past.

Have a great Sunday night, and write on writers.

Deon

***

Little Ones

Look into those eyes and study that glowing smile.
Find the story that’s written within every beating heart.
Carefully craft the unknown with your imagination.
Let your senses cascade down through a waterfall of life.

Capture the sunlight for a rainy day.
Dance along the edge of a crescent moon.
Gather in the brilliance of a million stars.
Become what you once only dreamed of.

Take advantage of the possibilities.
Turn obstacles into opportunities.
Learn from the laughter of the little ones.
Chase the inspiration.

 

2017 04 21 Poetry, Eyes of Blue April 21, 2017

Happy April 21, and good afternoon to ya.

Affections of the heart contain so many powerful elements that sometimes it’s hard to describe it. Doing it justice comes to mind, and whether this is ever achieved is surely debateable.

Some of the strongest feelings I have ever felt have been surrounded with affection. Family is usually the reason that those feelings are so strong, and there’s no denying that the older I get, the more important family is.

One pair of eyes captured my own heart in world record time, and ever since that day, has easily held the title. I think it’s safe to say that this record probably won’t ever be broken.

Needless to say, this poem is reflective of that world record, the holder of the record, and a man who witnessed the record being set.

Thanks for taking the time to read this, and happy 21st day of National Poetry Month.

Have fun, and be well.

Deon

***

Eyes of Blue

I’d can’t believe what I see in those eyes of blue.
I can see my heart melting in their reflection.
I can see a 19 year old searching for something to say to those eyes.
I see his face turn red as those eyes glance at him for the first time.
I catch a glimpse of his mind wandering at a furied pace.
I see him lean in for that first kiss.
I notice him leaning in again for a second kiss, and a third.
Within the reflection, I see a baby is born.
I catch a tear rolling down his cheek.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bigger smile.
Those blue eyes reflect a young man growing deeper in love.
I can see a swing set, a Tonka truck and a pair of kid’s sneakers.
Blue reflections draw a picture and tape it to the fridge.
I see a father blowing out a candle, then another, and another.
I catch another glance of yet another kiss.
There it is, another one of those hugs.
I see a father hug a young man wearing a gown and a cap.
Those reflections of blue show a father at his son’s wedding.
And there’s the father again, sitting in a chair beside his wife, waiting for something.
Reflections show a father reaching out to hold his newborn grandson.
I see another tear running down a man’s smiling face.
I feel what I can see, and the vision is very, very good.