Wednesday, September 12, 2018

Wounded

Something new to do instead of arts, and crafts.

Wounded
(For Lisa)

 Fell asleep anxious
 In my rocker
 A while ago
 Wanting to hear
 Church bells toll
 Murmer of crickets
 Chirping a symphony
 My wounded soul.

Like I thought
It never came
Until I dreamed
Then I heard
An angel sing
Whispering a tune.

Then it came
A healing warm
In solitude form
Calmed the storm
And saved me
My wounded ego.

D.A. Wittler 9/12/18

Friday, September 7, 2018

Being Found

A man went walking the woods one day, and got lost. He didn't know which way to go, or if there would be anyone there when he reached his destination. Then out of the blue sky there appeared a heavenly view, and he found his way home.
Safe, and sound in the warmth of his bed he prayed a tune of thanksgiving, and the world became brand new. For the first time he could grasp the meaning of his life, and it was full of love. And so the man longed for the simple things from his childhood like playing in the neighborhood, sleeping underneath the stars at night, and the crystal clear waters of a summer day.
From then on he held true to his passion in life, and it was good... How it ends is up to you, reach for the highest mountain, and the deepest sea will swallow you.
My story is one about a stray. Like a dog kicked to the curb without a home I wondered alone. I lost my way when times went bad, and there was only one hope left out on the open road. I followed my instincts, my keen sense of smell drove me onward to find love once again. The world I knew became so indifferent, a cruel memory, and so I clung to the only thing I knew.
 Back in the day I was cared for, lacked for nothing, but a father's love. And so I journeyed beyond it to find a place all my own. But in the long run, I was just running away from home. It took many years to build up a safe place away from the storms of life, and the sense of no direction haunting my bones. But there was love, and children, and a new way of living that told me I was no longer a stray, but a man with a purpose. In time though, even that dream died.
Today is a new day with a new song, and I sing it for you. I have learned so many new things along the way to carry me home.
I have found hope, and a father's love in the one place I wondered away from, and it is  here with you.  And so I reflect on the journey every day, and I stay close to gratitude because it shows me that love never dies, never gives up, or kicks you to the curb like a stray in the street. Love is a forever home, and faith a lasting shelter from the storm. But sometimes it takes lightning to wake you up to the possibility of hope beyond hope. And so my journey continues for another day in the light of a beautiful tomorrow with hopes, and promises beyond my wildest dreams.

Monday, September 3, 2018

Forged In Thought

A few thoughts: Labor day weekend.

Forged

A sword is forged in fire, and sheathed in leather or some other form of material to protect it from being dulled until it is either raised in tribute or weilded in battle. A child cries at birth to signify a dual right of passage from the warmth of its mother's womb, and clear it's lungs for life completely on its own. Life is like that, and it takes challenges for us to see things from different angles, and perspectives. Looking up from the base of a mountain is not the same as the view from atop a highest peak. Horses adjust their stride from a cantor to a gallop just as an eagle soars then dives upon an unsuspecting prey. The purpose for these changes is either a destination, a lesson, or a need being fulfilled. It is all in how we go about them that makes a difference.
Anger, when viewed as vengeance yields more anger when in reality it is hurt turned inside out. Fear, when seen as weakess makes a coward out of a hero, yet when used as fuel for selfless preservation committs acts of tremendous bravery when shared to save another. So what is the lesson, the destination, and the need being fulfilled today as we question life in all it's wonders, and perils? It is perspective. Are we seeing life as hapless victims, or as opportunities to go beyond our known world? Are we seeking wisdom, or retreating into the comfort of our isolation from the world? And what are the consequences of our actions, for even in doing nothing we do something; it is our choices that determine the outcome. We can be forged in the fire of our hearts, limited by the narrow view of our emotional state, or moved to go further than we thought ever possible by the proposition of being more than just ourselves in a sea of humanity.

D.A. Wittler 9/3/18

Tuesday, July 24, 2018

Much To learn



Today is s my birthdayoday so here goes.

Much To Learn

I saw it in a dream today, and so I share it with you now. So often in life we look to sages to tell us the meaning of things. We read books to enrich our knowledge of the world, or for the  sheer enjoyment of a good story. The point is to decide what it is we're looking for, a direction or something to enhance the experience of living itself.

We turn to education when we're young  to teach us the lessons we need to help us navigate our surroundings. We learn the basics of a rudimentary alphabet, a set of numbers on a line. We absorb the common elements of time, and space in order to orient ourselves to the meaning behind the stars, and the depths of the ocean at our feet. The rest of our lives is spent applying all of this stored information to establish an individual philosophy that we can live by; a creed if you will. Until such time, chum, chum.

That's what the sage in my dream passed on to me as he reclined at table with his faithful wife. We formed our sacred circle within the walls of a sacred space where there were so many people gathered in so many similar places doing the same thing in different languages in every corner. And all the while I heard him say “Is there a consensus?”

I saw sailors mourning beside a lawn, tears wiping upon their shoulders in symbolic tribute to comrades lost at sea. I saw families gathered also in remembrance. I saw the toil of labor, and disgust of tending the vineyard, and yet I found a final destination was not in wasted effort, but in patient reasoning of what I thought too difficult to ponder or preach. I could find a way to succeed! “Chum,chum.”

And then I knew a way in life was meant for struggles. For indeed until we figure it out there is much to learn. The final lesson is don't sorry about the process, it's the journey that counts, and what we learn along the way. So let our lessons teach us. Let those formal years be placed firmly between our ears, and let love resound from the deepest recesses of our hearts!

We must all learn at our own pace, and in our own time, but to think that each must come to a separate conclusion in our own unique way is folly. It all points in the same direction just as the compass rose to North every single time we make a turn in life. It is the map we must orient to true North, and not the tools we choose to get there that matter most.
Amen, and God bless.
D.A. Wittler 7/24/18

Thursday, July 19, 2018

The Break

The Break

Six years ago today the world began to change. I never knew that turning fifty would be so traumatic, but it was. She told me so many times before it felt like two strangers living in the same space, but I wasn't listening.  Another job had come, and gone, another year of struggling to make ends meet, yet my heart was still wandering without direction. Then came a defining moment to make me realize I wasn't invincible any more.
Funny how your body tells you so when a bone gets broken, like an arm on a trail in the middle of nowhere. You feel so vulnerable at the mercy of time, and circumstance. Oh, but the break to come was so much more painful. I would have preferred the path to a blissful ending where no one gets hurt, but what I got was a gut wrenching reality check that sent me reeling into a pit of self pity looking up from the bottom with two choices to either live, or die. Well, I'm still here so it must mean karma is real, or God has a plan for every shattered dream, every romance gone sour. It must mean we return to fix the relationships we leave behind, or die living a lie that we tell ourselves will go away if we ignore them long enough.
But I couldn't live the lie any more, and so the breaking of two hearts began another journey backwards in time instead of moving forward. Funny how the break is sometimes what we need to heal our wounded souls. It remains a paradox in time until another moment comes along to tell us we can still live a dream if only we will it so, and God finally tells us he's listening through the voice of another human being. And all we need to do is listen once again instead of beating a drum inside our head that says we're not good enough. You are, I am so let us give life another go around, not like a merry-go-round where nothing changes as we spin, but everything emerges new again in light of love, and second chances.
Amen
D.A. Wittler 7/18/18

Saturday, June 30, 2018

Deck with a View

A Deck With A View:
Heron's Perch

I watched it glide in
From across the lake
Silent stable flight
Then landing
Upon a pontoon perch
Like a tightrope walker
Part trapeze artist,
And zen master
Poised precariously
Between the elements
Air, water, land.

In a moment
I was immersed
In silent revery
This icon of tranquility.

Then, without warning
It lept into the lake
Splashing
Took flight again
Entering a strafing pattern
Inches above the water
Towards marshes on a distant shore.

Perhaps hunger drove it
Though in twilight
It prefers to hunt
In solitude it teaches
Patience, and awareness
Of a present now
In which there is no past or future.

And in a last glimpse of flight
I felt a calming breeze
Knowing I learned a lesson
From the master
Who sits aware
Of my life
With its elements
Of joy, sorrow, and despair
Telling  me not to worry
That life is but a transition
From one plain to another
That solitude is profound
Togetherness a gift
Awareness a silent pleasure
Only the seeking have found
Upon a heron's perch.

D.A. Wittler 6/30/18
Atwood Lake Indiana

Monday, June 25, 2018

Coming of Age as A Writer

Into the Long Night
An excerpt from:
The Rolltop Chronicles
(An unfinished novel)
By D.A. Wittler


I want to share with you a journey that began many years ago in my head. It is a tale of a young man who began to realize his view of the world was slightly skewed. It took the promptings, sufferings, and persistence of his senior year in high school for him to see himself in a new light as a writer, and not just a shy kid with no future ahead, and his father's legacy behind. And so the story begins in another time, another place, and in the mind of someone else…
Into the Long night she drove. Bitterness biting at her nose beneath a woolen scarf. Steam rising from a restless breath heaving from inside her. And then there was the driving snow accumulating in drifts along a deserted stretch of country road. “There would be no plows for hours, or even days along this forgotten thouroughfare” she thought, as there were mainly summer homes, and hidden cottages enveloped in an adirondike like forest in upstate New York..
“I have forgotten summer” she mused as her soul flung itself along an uncertain path of self loathing, and dread in a storm unrelenting. The old house would bring some comfort from the cold, but it could not replace the sense of loss clinging to her like intricate designs on a bay window; dark, and silent. Finally there appeared a light, and way home.
She thought to herself “Within this refuge I will find myself lost in memory of trivial things, and wayward sons on divergent trails of hope, and despair, and there is nothing more I can do but pray for their salvation. If there is a happily ever after in each life they aspire to, then what more can a sister, or a father do but hope?”