The Funeral

Yesterday my wife and I went to the funeral of a friend of mine. 

His name was Michael and we had known each other since we were in our early 20s and beginning teachers together.

We were friends - good friends. 

We had hardly seen each other over the last few years, but when we did meet, we continued on from where we last spoke. 
As good friends do.

In recent years, we connected, as most of us seem to do now on Facebook. And we would wish each other a happy birthday and see each other's posts and photos. 
Me being by far more prolific in this venture than he. 

I admired and appreciated him. 
He was a good man. 

So now he's gone. 

It's all very sad and I'm very sorry to see his life end so soon. 
He was only a year younger than I and had a young family with four small children. 

His wife was very brave at the funeral, and spoke with strength and grace as she shared about his life. 
I admire her immensely.

Unexpectedly, it was one of the nicest funerals that I had ever been to. 
If you're allowed to say that.
There were tears and laughs and stories and solemn thought. 

So now he's gone. 

Life for most of us has already resumed. 
Very soon, his own family will finish their grief and move on. 
Never to forget him of course.
But life moves us on - eventually.

In the service, his body was in a wooden box in the front.
It was closed. 
So we were already cut off from the reality of his death with this traditional barrier.
All was hidden from us. 
We were left with just remembering and saying goodbye to him in our hearts.
The funeral was only for the living. 
It's served Michael no purpose for he was already gone.
He would never know this event which was all about him.
We who were left were left to celebrate his life. 
It was a much needed time to reflect and to learn more about him and to be grateful that you knew him. 

I am. 

But I'm still sad. 

I keep thinking that Michael would not have really have known just how much he was loved and admired and needed while he was alive. I wished he could have been there to hear what was said and see the grief and love and the effect he had had on our lives. But he didn't get the chance.

Do any of us? 

This is a real shame. 
We really never get this opportunity to hear or see these things while we're alive.
At least not all in one place and at one time. 
And once we go, we never will hear it. 
That make me sad. 

How do we change that? 

We can't be like Tom Sawyer and hide at our funeral to hear all the sentiments and stories. 

You can't hold a "Me" party for ourselves to hear people share their hearts. 
It wouldn't be genuine. 

Essentially we all miss out on some of the dearest and heartfelt things that people think and feel about us. 

I feel that we miss out. 

Why can't we experience this while we are alive?

How amazing and humbling and positive this would be for all of us? 
How life changing would it be?
And we miss it. 
Through death. 

We do know these things in the stretched out course of our lives and relationships, but never do we get to witness it all gathered together so condensed as it emerges at a funeral.

That thought makes me so sad. 

And even sadder for my friend. 

Is there an answer? 
Is there something we can do to change this? 
Realistically, it is what we all need to hear. 
So what can we do? 

As I'm getting older, I'm so much more aware that life is short. 
So very short. 

Perhaps we should treat each other as if it were their last day on Earth? 
I know that if that were true and we knew the person next to us would be gone tomorrow, would we hold onto bitterness, rudeness, resentment, dislike, disregard, judgement or disrespect? 
No, we would make each moment count. 
Our compassion would be forthcoming.
We would treat the person with care and with meaning. 
With gentleness and calmness and positive words. 

We would see their value and show our appreciation of them. 
In the time that we had left.
We would say what we thought of them - no holding back - and feel content when we leave them that there are no regrets. 

What a transformation that would be! 
Sometimes if we are lucky we will experience just a snippet of this while we are alive.

Sometimes, a conversation we have with someone will be our last. Then so quickly - they are gone.

How sad. 

Perhaps that is the key. 

To value everyone every day as if it were their very last day on Earth. 

What would that do for us? 

Because the answer can only be, 
try it and let's find out.

When Men Meet

Tonight I met with a group of men in what we call a JOI group. 

JOI stands for a 'journey of illumination'.

It is a simple group. 

Just men coming together to share and listen. 

Some weeks there only four of us and other times there's more. 

It is a safe place to be able to speak without judgement or critique. 

There is trust and respect. 

It is a place to be real. 

To learn to be real. 

To be vulnerable and fragile. 

It is a place to listen and be heard. 

There are times when we meet just to sit in silence. 

Contemplating our existence before God. 

We are from all walks of life. 

With different creeds.

Different ages and experiences.

Those things do not matter. 

We meet as men. 

As equals. 

As servants and as brothers. 

There is no real format or agenda which we follow. 

When someone speaks, we listen. 

We do not interrupted them and we learn to listen. 

I'm so grateful to these men. 

They are my brothers. 

They show me compassion and love without judgement. 

They are authentic men. 

Each in their own right. 

All of them.

It is a good thing when we meet.

When men meet.

Words For The Wise

This blog is a record of my thoughts and ideas and words.

It is a space to be able to use words and allow all the noise and feelings out - to make sense of my life and my place in this world. 

I guess the place to start is to enter the question of why should I write? 

I love to write. 

I love to take time out, sit still and focus on a piece of paper. 

To use words to create and to express. 

To reach out with words is one of the best things that I can do with my life. 

At this age I have little time, so I value these moments of calm and solitude and aloneness. 

Words never lie. 

Even when used in a lie, they never lie. 

The use of a good pen on paper to make these words is also part of the whole experience. I write on paper. These words you are reading found form and style firstly on brown brushed paper out of a fountain pen nib. Collected in deep black ink.

Oh how I value these times. 

To be on my own and think. 

The beautiful pleasure of just thinking. 

I love it. 

Some people would not understand this. They need noise and music and people and conversation and interaction. I like these things, but truly, I am so much better with just myself. 

I can't really explain it all, yet perhaps it will be more revealed as these entries come forth. 

Words can lift me up to heady heights and cut me to the core. 

My love language is found in words of affirmation. 

I have used my words to build people up, and to devastate them. 

I understand its power and its beauty and responsibility. 

I want to be - no, it is my heart's desire - to be a man of words. 

To be known for my words. 

To be heard and be a man who can listen. 

The three most powerful words I have ever heard that were spoken to me by a dear friend and mentor were: "I hear you".

I HEAR YOU!

Words so simple but so deep and far reaching into my spirit inside. 

I hear you. 

I hear you. 

It simply states the connection that one human can have with another. 

To be heard. 

Just be heard. 

Not helped, or healed or be told what to do. 

The simple notion that someone has acknowledged your presence and has listened to you. 

How rich.

It is a statement of support and comfort in life. 

It says nothing more than "you are valued and matter". 

How transforming those words have been in my life. 

What release. 

What places these words - those three simple words - have reached within me. 

How much healing have I received by someone simply saying these words to me. 

That is the power of language.

Three words that connect to the wounded soul where we can be supported by another. 

The message is clear and simple -  

You are not alone. 

It's almost too simplistic and deep to even understand. And how have I needed these words over the years. 

I have been heard. 

To be heard. 

How fantastic! 

So here I am typing these written words about speaking and hope and healing. 

As I move forward in this journey, I am more conscious of meaning in my life. I'm finding I have little value or time to be caught up in the ego-related piffle of people and their moans, opinions and boasts. 

I'm increasingly desiring conversations about things that matter. 

To listen and hear someone's heart. 

I desire it more and more. 

I know I dwell in this shallow world at times, it is both a habit and part of my everyday life. But to discuss deep and meaningful things in a safe place is like putting my feet in the water of a flowing stream. 

"He leads me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul". 

That's what I desire. 

My heart is yearning for things that matter. 

And words have a tremendous part in all of this. 

Time will tell.