Using words to describe the elements of our lives is useful and allows for a practical and detailed understanding, but to delve deeper into the emotional aspects of our triumphs and challenges, our passions and pursuits, we need a more creative and nuanced medium. Poetry is an ideal way to portray these aspects of our lives in words. Below are selected poems by Pete Wiley. More may be found in the Blocks of Life Poetry Series, found here.
Serenity Mine
The Anger Comes
The Spirit Alive
Always There
We Can Evolve
The Page to Turn
The Long Drive
A Sudden Solitude
Two Separate People
Four in the Morning
Driving through the Storm
The Weight
The Love that Pervades
Influence and Consequence
97 Degrees
Today is Different
The Next Day Beckons
Spring in the Summer
The Release
The Kid
Chaos of Life
In an Age
The Road
Through the Din
Within and Without
The Real You
Insomnia
Through and Through
Many Paths
Desire
The Best Part
Mister Porter
The View from the Cliff
Chesapeake Morning
Another Cup
The Truth is Elusive
The Journey
It
Top of the Hill
A Part of Her
Common Ground
The Realm
Not Now
My Next Saturday
My Triumphant Three
A New Day Will Dawn
For a Time
Only the Beginning
Our Wings, Ourselves
Reality of Two
Trust
They Come and They Go
Whole New Worlds
The Voice that is Now
My Life Aware
A Time Out
A Gift That is Me
The Other
The Choice
Awakening
~~~
Serenity Mine
December 2024
a smile on my face
with a serene countenance
the mask that I wear
to change what’s inside
They say it will work
it will manifest my life
and my future will be
true to my aspirations
My smile needs some reminders
it fades with the day
but when I put it back
I believe it—in a way
Serenity is harder
my thoughts in my control
my breathing intentional
and my life at peace
My mask over time
becomes my real face
and my inside shines
forth through my visage
So over time
I find the smile
is already there
and serenity mine
The Anger Comes
December 2024
His anger is not mine
Of course, it resides in me
as a reaction to the peace within
and the risk to what we created
but his anger is not mine
He is standing up for himself
for the legitimacy of his reaction
for his right to tell his side of the story
to the perceived slight to his work
and to right the wrong that he sees
When he is not angry, he is a joy
He scoops you up in his energy
His excitement and enthusiasm overflow
and are injected into all around him
…when he is not angry
He is flexible and open-minded
except when he’s not
and when he’s not
he’s the epitome of standing firm
to the nuances of what he feels
I have known him all these years
and created joy for all who come
We lock together in our groove
and drive the energy from within
Until the anger comes
The anger will end, of course
but what will be left and
who will remain
The dynamic changed?
And then the anger comes
The Spirit Alive
November 2024
The planning starts in September
Not by me, but upon me
The decisions I want no part of,
the mission necessitated by tradition
The foreboding of carols
Always months too early,
an unwelcome soundtrack
to my early autumn
Then the decisions about
who, where, and when
To avoid hurting feelings,
and see all again
The food, a kings ransom—always too much
and not enough time and space to prepare
Suggestions of moderation swept aside,
I am a wet blanket on a fire
The time with others—a challenge of life,
becomes, a tide of social expectations,
but the connections remain—
genuine and maintained
I love gift-giving, of the thoughtful and meaningful kind,
but in the yuletide, the act is exorbitant
and in the deluge of opulence,
the meaning diluted
But the gift to soak in what we love,
and the power to rise above
Helps us get past
what we tire of
So I sit by the fire,
with my family beside,
and I again have in me
the spirit alive
Always There
November 2024
I have a good life. It is full of mostly
happiness and mostly good fortune
But like all lives, it has ebbs and flows
When it is ebbing,
it can seem to
whither
It can seem to have long periods
of nothingness amidst all the frenzy
Rushing to nowhere
Concerned about the unworthy
Working toward stagnation
But then some days, like today,
life becomes magic
it comes to mean something more
than existing and subsisting
The shift is palpable
and the consequnces real
My old self becomes new and
my drudgery becomes exhilaration
A different person
is doing the same things
and the world
is taken in tow
Why do these days happen?
What makes them special?
They may seem rare but that’s because
I’m not paying attention
Life can seem to be mostly mundane
but it is all magic
The magic is with me and in me
I’ve only to embrace it as I breathe the air
I can choose it or ignore it
It is always there
We Can Evolve
November 2024
It exists in the world
No one can pretend it doesn’t
It’s in every history book
It is in every neighborhood
I live mostly in a state of denial
“People are generally good.”
But then, like an H-bomb
it becomes part of our lives again
But it was always part of our lives
It was always part of my life
and as much as I try to escape it
it exists in me too
In some, it’s on the surface
in every word they utter
in every breath they take
in every action they take
It’s easy to react to these
“Felon, rapist, liar, bully!”
But the difference lies in
reacting to the subtleties—
the little evils that exist within us,
in how we behave. The evils
that we condone through inaction,
through lack of awareness
It doesn’t just pop us out of nowhere
Like a plant, it starts as a seed
it is nourished by like minds
and lack of opposition
It gradually becomes partly acceptable
then a scandal in plain sight
then an underdog force and
finally, an open movement
So we go back to ourselves
We reexamine that part of ourselves
We find that seed and starve it
we take our heads out of the sand
Evil has always existed
and it likely always will
It’s part of who we are
It’s part of our balance
But we can stop it from defining us
We can fight it in big ways and small
We can call it out when we see it
We can evolve
The Page to Turn
November 2024
As I look back on these days—
days of weight and days of burden
I mostly feel crushing disappointment
In the person and in the people
But there is blame to share
blame that overspills the brim
I start with blame for myself
for not saying more, for not doing more
I blame the lust for power in the hearts
of all people, and as with any lust
it can break apart lives and dreams
It can diminish us to our basest selves
I feel a fundamental terror of the fact
that our evolution has been unbalanced
so that our intelligence has outpaced
our wisdom to such an alarming degree
But we speak of wisdom,
and logic, and stewardship
to those who struggle to feed
their children, and pay their rent
But for now,
I rage and worry
I lie awake
and wonder
I seek comfort in
my family and friends
and I look, with the most
minute sense of hope
for a better future
for a better world
for proximity of potential
and for the page to turn
The Long Drive
September 2024
I was all day on the road
and while my impression
was hellish, my experience
was not, although not without
crutches and vices
The first thing about long driving
is boredom, severe and soul-sucking
and I do what I can to suppress it
the very nature of the long drive
creates it—vast and intense
The boredom is of my making
because the alternatives
are varied and available
Awareness of the streaming
visage of the places I pass,
the opportunity to take residence
in myself and ponder my existence—
my place in the world and my
place among my people
All there to be experienced
But I listen to drivel
the news and the commentary
the stories and the drama
take hold of my mind as a
coddling caretaker
The boredom brings cravings
for drivel for the body
I seek out the dopamine
high to replace the ennui
to get me to a false awareness
The stream of succulents
provides minutes of contentment
followed by the compulsion for more,
finally replaced by the aftermath
of replete and regret
My destination achieved
I have made my way
and although I am here
I am still on the road
until the next journey
.
A Sudden Solitude
September 2024
Never a time it seems
when I am by myself
to get to know myself
to understand myself
But then I find
the stars have aligned
and here I am
in sudden solitude
When life is lively
with people around
in a stream
for different things
I lose track of myself
how to spend time
with only me
in solitary
Like meeting a friend
you see once and again
and so where do you start
what do you find in your heart
How can I find
the strength to strive
for what’s best for me
when no one else can see
And I take the road
with only me
from here to the end
and my lifelong friend
So there I am
with myself and then
I become again
me
.
Two Separate People
August 2024
We are two separate people
and yet we are one
each making their way
each having our say
The likeminded introversion
that we count on in each other
The aversion to people in our
lives, to too much or too often
The civilized alcoholism that
we each count on in the other
to justify our own and continue
at the rate which we lean on
The care and concern, immediate
and vivid, that embraces us
and supports us in the face of
any troubles, large or small
The two separate beds to address
the terrible sleepers we are
one of us at any given time
awake and incensed
The direct line empathy
that causes the mood of the one
to intrude on the mood of the other
for better or worse, it is always there
We are two, and yet one and
so we’ll remain as we
move down our paths,
distinct, yet the same
.
Four in the Morning
August 2024
Like an unexpected visitor, it just shows up.
No warning, no prep time. And then you have
to entertain—the errant thoughts, the intense
worry. And because you did not expect it,
the downside is a thousand times worse.
Technically it’s in your power, what you think
about, what you consider. But that’s easy to
say at four in the morning, when senses give
you nothing. It grabs you by the lapels. It
screams in your face. It will not be ignored.
The worst case scenario, as real as the sun,
but only comes when the sun is gone. As bad
as it can be, and the impact worse still, it eats
at your soul. You try to use logic, use reason
and sanity, but it is relentless.
You turn to the good things, the pleasure, the
joy. But you can’t keep it up, as they are not
with you at four in the morning. So they
shimmer in and out, and you grasp desperately,
until they slip through your fingers.
So you turn on the light, and as an injured
man, the trauma remains. A book to take your
mind off it, the words don’t take hold, cast
aside as a broken cup. And so a decision,
to face it again, or stay in the light, groggy
and spent.
And when the sun comes, you throw an
accusing look at the window. It and all it
represents, abandoned you again. But you
become the daytime you. Rational and
productive, playing a role.
Tonight will be different, or so your mantra goes.
And you run up to the bedtime, healthy and
eager. You do go to sleep, but it does not last.
And four rolls around, to taunt you again.
.
Driving through the Storm
Out of the garage
we knew it would be bad
We went all the same
steeling ourselves for the onslaught
The first drops hit the windshield
like stones thrown by angry children
As we weaved our way through the city
we moved through the deluge
Out on the highway,
Our visibility down
as we squint through the
spray and torrent
Ten minutes gone
with hours to go
Mad trucks thunder by
seemingly immune to conditions
Going from white knuckles
to a kind of nervous vigilance
dodging the standing water
and the more crazy drivers
And then slowly, the rain slows
and the boredom increases
now just rain, just wet
from the tempest we traversed
It came and it went
but never stopped
All the day long and
we kept on the move
Then one hour to go
then half, now ten minutes
We pull in the driveway
home and last and grateful
The storm catches up
the next day we watch through
windows, safe and together
we contemplate her passing
.
The Weight
July 2024
It had been a summer of weight
the weight of the heat, the weight of times
all conspired to keep me down
to douse my mood, to undercut my spring
And the weight continued on, right through July
the coming of commitments as heavy as heat
found their way to me on multiple fronts
to make it through one, meant facing another
I have seen this weight before, and at times it’s
been worse. The daily routine, so full in my
formative years and with it came distractions
and demands, a different kind of weight
But now the weight is unencumbered by
any dilution, by any diversion, so pure in its
advance, impossible to ignore. I face it alone, for
although I am braced, the support is unstable
Then came today, the weight being lifted
the weather obeyed and we are soaked with the sun.
But a fall kind of sun, with ethereal feel,
the light like a breeze, blowing troubles away
Those around me obeyed too, and we saluted the change
We aligned with the sun and flew up in the breeze
to see all around us, were free of the weight
and we foresaw the autumn, come to take it away
.
The Love that Pervades
July 2024
The inescapable people
all of whom I love
populate every room
and buzz with togetherness
I buzz with them when I’m able
retreat when I am not
but the time is sacred
as the gatherings are finite
The energy is overwhelming
as we get to know one another again
catching up and filling in
the events of our lives and of our time
The noise is on par with the energy
laughing, gibing, singing, shouting
the cacophony of family
shall not be ignored
I talk to who’s in front of me
I learn about people I’ve always known
and meet and get acquainted
with who they are now
I revel in the natural beauty
the proximity to the lake
the coolness in a hot month
and a diminished daily pace
The week at the lake is only
a few days for me now
as I don’t have it in me
to sustain the social interaction
But I receive something more precious
than a few days at the lake
The gratitude I feel for this tribe
and the love that pervades
.
Influence and Consequence
July 2024
yes, he is dead
but his life is still with us
through his words and his deeds
he remains always here
when someone dies, what is left?
not just memory, more than a grave
the influence and consequence of a life
remains and carries forward
as for me, he is here
in my heart and my brain
he taught me to think
and to question what I see
his values, not perfect, but
transparent and real, help me to
understand how to be true and
forgive myself when I falter
his life as an example, has many holes
and faults—but that is what makes it worthy
perfection in flaws
righteousness in sin
his impact on me was significant
in who I became, in who I am
even now I look for his approval
I seek his counsel
he is dead
but death is not the end
his energy and ideas
endure and live
.
97 Degrees
July 2024
I know it’s coming
I steel myself while
savoring the last moments
of relative comfort
It doesn’t come all at once
it seeps in like spilled motor oil
on a garage floor, which I can’t ignore
as it expands and fouls all it touches
In its early stages,
it’s not that bad
we cope and abide
and take it in stride
but eventually the full force
arrives and everything is miserable
It enters every pore—it fills
the lungs and clouds the eyes
We sit and sweat and try to let
the day go by and the night arrive
finally it oozes out as it came
and the evening breeze
brings sweet relief and
we sleep and breathe again
.
Today is Different
June 2024
the fuzzy space between
endings and beginnings
is often noted but not noticeable
seen but not acknowledged
felt but not impactful
but today is different
it is the end of an era
the end of a life and lifestyle
the end of one identity and
the beginning of another
she is happy and excited
but she doesn’t know what
her new life will bring
but she will
beginning today
she will have
a journey of exploration
where there are no limitations
and no expectations
a blank canvas on which to craft
a life with new meaning
a different meaning
using unfamiliar colors and
and unconventional brush strokes
today she is the same person
but with a different life
and the life she makes
and the life she lives
will be everything and anything
that her vision and imagination
can fathom
.
The Next Day Beckons
June 2024
One day after another
each different, but all the same
Each has the waking, the eating,
the sleeping, and the passing of time
But each is also as unique as people
each with a heart and a head
but alo each with its own moods
its own voice, it’s own presence
Sometimes the sameness is what I want
the foundation of a comforting routine
a mountain on horizon that I can always
look to—that I can always count on
But different is what I live for
I can’t abide the sameness alone
as I have to see the trees on the mountain
change color, I have to see the snow melt
The same days are when I work
when I create, and when I progress
I know what I need to do
and I have the time to do it
The different days are when my work is interrupted
Some interruptions welcome, some tiresome
but all make for the nuances and facets
that make those days nourishing and nurturing
The best days are those with no sameness at all
Everything is new. There is learning and growing
in everything I see and experience
I finish these days a different person
As the days pass and I am comforted
and challenged in turn. I give gratitude
for each. And as I go to bed at the end of
the day. I’m excited as the next day beckons
.
Spring in the Summer
June 2024
I go to bed with the typical
air so thick it might be poured
a sheet, then the sheet, too much
and so exposed, I seek to slumber
But during the sleep, I am transported
I wake to a new world, starkly contrasting
The world is perfect in every respect
and I take my first steps, blinking and happy
The air, now clear, as clear as nothing
I breathe it in and hold it there
but still just a glimpse, as I have not yet
been out to see her in all her splendor
Outside now,
a cup and a chat
I marvel at the blue,
too bright to be believed
I lightness in all and everything
an ease that enters both body and soul
I soak it and seek to store a measure
but like the breeze, impossible to hold
The breeze conveys the wonderful day
like a parade, it brings it by with dancing boughs
and darting birds who share in the wonder
I seek to experience it every way I can
But the breeze blows it through,
for it cannot last, this magic day
in June, not May, and I hold it
in my soul for as long as I can
.
The Release
June 2024
The day was great
You weren’t feeling well
but I chalked it up to stress
and the next phase of life
The day was full of laughs
support, love, and living
the way it should be
the way it almost always is
But the day can turn on a dime
and today, it did
the decades of work and the weeks
of stress reached the breaking point
Your margin is thin and anything
can pull the rug out from under you
I can’t prevent it from happening
and so, even on the great days,
I have to be cautious
I have to be on the lookout
I have to notice the little things
that might lead to the release
The release is the outpouring
of pent-up emotions
it manifests in a rage or in
frenetic activity driven by
the sudden loss of containment
of pressure, of anger, of frustration
It all pours out. Not directed at me
but I am in the blast zone
It spills into everything in proximity
It removes what was and replaces
it with the release and only the release
There is no escape
The end result might be good
but the process is agonizing
and eventually, it is over
and the release is replaced
by you
by the version of you that is happy
by the version of you that is part of me
by the support, the love, and the living
~~~
The Kid
December 2021
here he was
not great but ok
he wasn’t a concern,
shy, awkward, yes, but fine
he was an average student
he was an average athlete
he had friends but only of convenience
he even had girlfriends, but they never lasted long
one kid in particular sought him out
maybe legit, maybe he was an easy mark
he wasn’t crazy about hanging with this kid
the kid scared him
he had violence just under the surface
but the kid had energy, an energy he had never seen before
it brought him out of his shell of fear
it allowed a break from his paralyzing shyness
with the kid, he could be violent too
violence was not an aspiration, it was an escape
it was an alternative, not a destination
he toyed with it at first, in his head and in the real world
the victim became the bully
suddenly it became critical that he stayed with the kid
he had to do what the kid did
he had to impress the kid
then came the day
he didn’t know it was coming
probably the kid didn’t either
there they were and the kid had the spark of an idea
he held back at first, it was crazy, but the plan was in motion
the kid went first, missing wildly, then it was his turn
he hesitated and the kid pounced
now, right now
then it all went black
and it all became clear
all at the same time
Art Credit: Jorm Sangsorm
.
Chaos of Life
Chaos abounds
and in the midst
My mind and heart
try to stay true
Who I am is
not what i see
not what I hear
not what I perceive
I am apart
and only let in
what I want near
what I want to feel
My sanctum sanctorum
My holy place of my holy place
My psyche of my self
My true self
I ardently defend
this special place
with logic and reason
with practiced serenity
Those who attack
are not the enemy
but often what they bring
is what I must repel
Their attack is not
an intentional assault
If anything it is meant
as benign or better
The chaos of life
just everyday turmoil
Dramas and slights
thoughtless at worst
But their impact is serious
and can damage my spirit
which can injure my soul
If given free reign
So diligent in defense
I stand at the bastion
I repel the invaders
In war I find peace
And peace will endure
.
In an Age
I have not seen you in an age
Time marches onward and
drags me kicking and screaming
It takes me away, it takes me from you
I remember your face, your voice
I remember your mind
I remember your eyes
But my memory fades with each day
Our connection remains
I feel it daily, your pull
It holds me fast
Thinking of you, I fall yet again
Your absence is a hunger
It is suffocating
It is agonizing
And it is always with me
I have your picture
but the image and you
disconnect over time
The picture is not you
I have your words
but their meaning fades
as the distance grows
till they lose their meaning
I have your memory
but a little more of it
leaks out every day
till it is gone
I have not seen you in an age
Will I see you again?
Will I regain what is lost?
Time marches onward
.
The Road
The road is relentless
It starts with infinite hope
and no information
And the road continues
At the beginning of the road
I travel with guides
They keep me and direct me
Then I travel alone
I come to a rough stretch
A rough road with rough characters
I try to get around, but the road goes through
I continue on the road—bloodied but moving
I come to a featureless stretch
On and on it goes, seemingly forever
I’m overcome with soul sucking sameness
And the road continues
Then the road becomes exciting—I’m joined
by others and we travel the road together
The road and my fellows are a joy
And the road continues
Then I’m with a single traveler
She gives me confidence where I had none
She boosts me up when I was down
We travel the road together
As we get to another part of the road
The road and my fellow traveler change
The road is fraught and toxic
Then I travel alone
Other travelers come and go
I find my stride and travel well
I seek and find like travelers
And the road continues
I travel with this one and that one
I travel with them and alone
I travel far on the road
And the road continues
I’m tired of traveling
I’m tired of the road
I’m tired of the travelers
I’m tired
And the road continues
.
Through the Din
All around, it’s inescapable—the massive tide
of people astride the throbbing, pungent flow
Opinions fly with no meaning or connection
each alone with no affection or purpose plain
Walking among the faces, not blank but alive
but I can’t arrive at more than surface chatter
or a rancid flow of hate or fear—a pushing away
not from the fray, but from humanity itself
Then through the din, one comes in with great need
for a friend. Her eyes plead as she talks around
without touching on her obsession but general pain
By and by she deigns to tell the story of her distress
A neighbor, not old but not young, who was put upon—
his desire gone to continue in his passion and calling
Through his frustration he pleads for perception—
our joint conception of the life he chose
Periodic connections that break through the fog
and may be a prologue for a life more real
Living as a community with solid links
with people in sync with each other and the world.
.
Within and Without
The within is here, and I can see
I see how you react to the without
You misinterpret
You misunderstand
Not your fault, but not mine
The without has his own identity
and people interact with him
as if he was not the face of the within
The within is always here—
sometimes frustrated,
sometimes bemused,
but always present
The whole person sometimes comes
Making an appearance
when the time is right
When circumstances coalesce
The within and without as one
When the whole person appears
It is a rare time—
a special time
I try to notice it—keep it,
cherish it
But it goes as it came
Suddenly and without warning
So people see the without
But they don’t know
My shallowness is shallow
My depths hidden under a veneer
Of awkwardness
Of disinterest
Of drunkenness
Of self-absorption
But the within is here—
watching, listening, looking
The within is here
The within is waiting
.
The Real You
You are here
but I see someone different
Something different—
perfect, exciting, unreal
What I’ve created from you
is not you
Looks like you, sounds like you
But is not true to you
What I expect
is not fair to you
You never pretended
or wanted to be her
There is no her
There is you
In all your glory
With all your quirks
I still yearn for her
This notion of brilliance
This personification of happiness
Her presence is strong
And she is real in my head
More real than reality
More driving than hunger
More damaging than love
She doesn’t exist in the world
but I still yearn for
the real world phantasm
who haunts my dreams and my days
But I have you
and the memories with you
and how you’ve changed me
The real you
.
Insomnia
I am here
Nothing else, but I appear
Awake and aware
I’m not fully prepared
and so I lay still
I am restlessness
Not energy, more like an itch
Inevitable and Insistent,
loud and persistent
and so I give in
I am up
Not ready, but present
Anxious and dazed
my eyes, they are glazed
and so I begin
I am moving
I’m early, but late
Rushing but slowly
bewildered and lowly
and so this is it
I am spent
Lack of sleep has caught up
Bone weary, I stare
Not wholly aware
and so I just sit
I am finished
Uninspired, but over
The merciful end
the day will descend
and so I retire
I am tired
Rest, and to sleep
But then I’m despairing
my eyes open and staring
And so I lay still
.
Through and Through
Woke up feeling good
Not just good,
but a through and through,
bullet proof, mile high good
I’m smiling, not physically,
but outward all the same
My whole self is smiling—
a smile from within that can’t be contained
The weather is happy with me
Not boring sunny happy weather
But celebratory, windy,
kick it up happy weather
It’s a great day
and the day and me are in synch
The plans don’t matter
It can be anything, it will be good
There’s a glow
It’s in me and with me
It hits those that come near me
It can’t be ignored
I know it won’t last
I’ll get back to the normal ups and downs
But for now, I’m feeling good
And I’ll stay with it till its done
.
Many Paths
Help!
I hear it
In her words and in her face
I want to. I need to. I will.
She alludes and hints
Finally, she states
She tells all, in one outpouring
I try to listen and absorb
I want to fix it.
I want to make it right
But there is nothing to fix
She has only to travel down her path
Her path isn’t easy
But she knows what it is
If it is truly there, she must take it
She must find the courage
There are many other paths
None of them wrong
But all of them fraught
Least resistance is chief among them
We engage
I try to be supportive, helpful
I try to be wise, and comforting
Ultimately, I am nothing
In her life
I am a signpost on her path
Pointing her down the path
Directing her onward
But she knows
She already knew
And so she goes
And I watch her go
~~~
Desire
I go and look for it
Excited, eager, I rush off
but then the work begins
And my exuberance turns to intensity
I am diligent
I lay the groundwork
All the pieces are in place
And I begin
For brief moments,
I catch a glimpse
It is there
I can feel it
It’s so close
I can smell it
We are in the same place
So close
I have it,
then I don’t
It’s there,
and then it’s not
I lunge
I have it!
No, not it
Not yet
I step back and regroup
I assess the setting
I see where I am—
where I need to go
Then I am there
On top of it
Everything present
Everything perfect
I have it
This time for real!
It’s here, in my hands
I’ve done it
And
now
I go and look for it…
~~~
The Best Part
I’m free!
No demands but my own
Just me on my throne
I’m doing whatever comes into my head
No one to ask
What we’re doing tonight
It’s me that is right
If I want, I’ll just lay in bed
I do that for a time
But as time lingers on
I feel that I’m drawn
to people I don’t much care who
Someone to chat with
But just for a minute
and then when we’re finished
I remember that I’m free anew
Time by myself
It’s a double edged sword
I’m thrilled then I’m bored
But I remember that I’m with me
As time lingers on
I remember I’m not alone
I’m with someone I’ve known
since my soul began to see
And then I’m really free
and I treat with respect
and truly connect
with whom I spend my days
And as the days linger
and I spend some more time
with the soul that is mine
Only the best part of me stays
~~~
Mister Porter
A tradesman, called to do a job
A first glance all wrong
Loud, drunk, scruffy, and undependable
An oik, a redneck, and a buffoon
Preconceived notions kick in hard
The truck, the sleeveless ripped t-shirt,
“Riding around and having a few beers
on a beautiful Saturday” was what he was doing
Then I notice the energy
It’s inescapable and contagious
I didn’t notice at first, but he spreads
happiness—that is his real trade
You can’t have an encounter with him
and not come away happier
He finds joy in life and he won’t take
no for an answer
In the first few moments with him
my guard is up, but he easily strips it away
What you see is what you get—
nothing more and nothing less
Oh, he is certainly a challenge
He’s overwhelming
The flow never stops—
no breaks to move on
But nothing I could move on to
would be better
I become better—more open,
more trusting, happier. Just better.
Mister Porter will not be remembered
He is changing the world, but receives not credit
He builds walls with stone and brick
He builds a better world with who he is
~~~
The View from the Cliff
From a place of safety
to a free fall
a “must have it all”
I become lost
A false sense of security
and a harmless dabble
becomes a ravenous gorge
and I have no control
A walk on a beautiful day
I’m looking at the sun, the view
then rocks move under me
and I’m over the cliff
No warning that could help
It’s a lie!
I walked to the cliff!
I came near the edge!
In the throes of the gorge
there is no joy
there is no pleasure, no hidden treasure
just insatiable need
The line between
a taste and a gutful
doesn’t exist, there’s only grist
but in the end, no flour
In the aftermath
the shame, the hidden blame
I cringe and regret
but too soon I forget
Vows I make anew
An approach with a system
and I get back on the bike
to ride again, the path ahead
But I know
where the path goes
where the river flows
and I see again the view from the cliff
~~~
Chesapeake Morning
Like the waves dancing among the rip rap
I am not rushed.
I know the current of the day will arrive,
but it’s not here yet.
A hot day, but in the early morning,
the heat has not yet come.
I know it will be beastly,
but now it’s comfortable.
The morning breeze brings the scents of the bay
and feels good on my skin.
The afternoon thunderstorms are coming,
but they may pass us by.
The cicadas drone their morning messages,
but none of them for me.
They will be screaming in time,
but for now there is calm.
Mourning doves coo
their calm repartee.
My phone will light up,
but for now it is black.
My coffee is hot,
and not too strong.
My evening thirst will come,
but I’m in control now.
A moment of stillness
in a turbulent life.
The life will be calling,
but for now there is peace.
~~~
Another Cup
The day begins, with a scent most fragrant
that pulls me from the depths of sleep.
A promise of, the day to come,
in ground beans and hot water steep.
Another cup of the magic elixir,
as I begin to earn my keep.
It fills me with the spark of life,
and helps me sow the crop I reap.
Then I get moving and as I do
my body burns the essential me.
The water of which I am made
I replenish with a thirsty glee.
Then the meat of the day has come and
I find I need a drink more pure
that helps me to think and forge ahead
while calming me with a distinct allure.
And when I cross the line that divides
the working day from the day that’s mine
I celebrate with grains fermented and
relish in my family shrine.
Then a cork is popped with dinner
as we recount our adventures that day
while sipping the fruit of the vine
as we while the night away.
And finally the day is done
and one more splash of wine distilled
the brandy sipped in deep reflection.
A perfect day—I am fulfilled.
~~~
The Truth is Elusive
The truth is elusive, if I’m being honest.
It’s something that we can aspire to I’m told.
But if we adhere to this to this abstract idea,
we may just end up with more than we can hold.
Of course it’s a rule, a commandment, a law,
yet everyone does it—don’t tell me they’re not.
But not every lie, is as bad as the others,
and sometimes the truth is more hurtful and fraught.
Not all my lies are harmful or selfish
Many are only a painless way through
Some are told to hide a truth I don’t want
Others to spare feelings of a friend true
But where is the line and when should I cross it?
When does the truth matter less than my need?
If I blur the line between truth and deceit,
when do my lies start to damage my creed?
Ultimately truth is an ideal that’s wanting.
It’s not absolute—it depends on the scene.
And lies can be as noble as any truth
And get us to a frame of mind that’s serene.
When I am pondering stretching veracity
When an untruth pops into my head
I ask myself what I am trying to accomplish,
and whether it’s helpful with welfare widespread.
~~~
The Journey
It starts as an spark
below the level of awareness.
It spreads to become an energy,
a restlessness.
It enters conscious awareness,
and spreads to the physical.
It takes on an urgency
and wheels begin turning, planning.
Awareness leads to action—
Planning becomes execution.
I woo. I seduce.
Ideas become reality.
And then I am a participant—
a giver and receiver.
It takes over everything:
mental, physical, spiritual.
My brain is on fire, my skin electric.
I transport to a different plane.
We exist separately from the world—
a universe of two unto ourselves.
The final crescendo comes
and the new universe explodes,
and in doing, destroys its own existence,
with only vestige tendrils remaining.
I bask in the remnants and the memories.
I exist in a glorious fog.
I return—slowly, imperceptibly, and finally
It is over, I am returned.
~~~
It
I want more of it.
It’s just beyond my reach, but I know it’s there.
I see evidence all around,
it’s here and it abounds.
I just have to find it.
First I have to figure out what it is.
It’s something I’ve always wanted.
For as long as I remember,
to make the world surrender,
and give it to me.
I’ve had it in my hands,
But it always slips through my fingers.
I try so hard to hold on—
it’s here and then it’s gone.
I keep searching for it.
Other people have it.
I see it in their faces, in the way others look at them.
Why can’t I have it too?
I’d have it if I knew.
Then people would look at me that way.
I can’t stand it.
I can’t live life without it.
But I resign to life without it.
And though I hate to admit it,
I’m good—for the first time in a while.
And then I see it.
It’s been with me all the time.
It was there but in disguise
I only had to realize
It’s with me all the time.
I open my eyes and it’s there.
I have just to be it
and let it flow through me.
I will become free
of the never ending quest
for it.
~~~
Top of the Hill
Everything I see will be gone
As everything I know moves on
From the best of times to my dearest friend
Each thing will come to an end
As I look around to not forget.
I see so much I’ll miss and yet,
so much more that I can find,
in days to come—a new goldmine.
Moving on is bittersweet.
Some goodbyes but friends to meet,
in some still unknown coming time,
at the top of the hill which I must climb.
And at the top I’ll look around,
at all the new friends I have found,
and all the roads I’ve yet to take,
and all the feelings I’ll awake.
But today I am still here with you
And all the magic we’ve come through.
And maybe we will meet again,
At the top of the hill with you my friend.
~~~
Part of Her
She walks through the door
And the room changes.
Not in a flashy way, not overpowering.
But everything is just better.
I’m drawn to her
I make my way over,
without the need to interrupt
or steer the conversation.
Just to be nearer—
Just to feel her.
I marvel at her.
I bask in her presence.
I try to understand what it is.
But then I stop.
It’s not about understanding,
It’s about experiencing.
When she is gone,
a part of her remains.
Not in the place, but within me.
I focus on that part and nurture it.
I strive to keep it alive.
And I yearn to be with her again.
~~~
Common Ground
What’s that you’re saying?
It’s completely wrong
Your so out of touch
Don’t be so headstrong.
I’m taking offense
to all that you say.
It’s a dangerous thought
that will lead us astray.
We just can’t be friends
if that’s who you are.
I don’t even know you
your opinions, bizarre.
I’ll just spend my time
with my own little clique—
our like-minded kind
with views politic.
But I can’t see the world
through the walls that I’ve made.
Just our like-minded kind
so closed and afraid.
So tell me again
what it is that you think.
Let’s find common ground—
let our thoughts interlink.
I still don’t like all
of what you advance.
But I find little gems
when I give you a chance.
You still are my friend
and I look forward to
exploring ideas—
more than one point of view.
I can move beyond
my own territory
and sample the world
in all of its glory.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/personal/
~~~
The Realm
I am transported to a Realm otherworldly.
A reality of me but not of my making.
Glancing around in wonder, deep gratitude, and awe—
so this is Nirvana.
I don’t know how I got here.
I don’t even know what here is.
I only know how it makes me feel.
I also know it is coming to an end.
It can’t come to an end!
Now that I’ve been here, I can’t face anywhere else.
I can’t go back! I won’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to stay.
In a panic, I search. I try. I engage. Ineffectual.
I’m out.
I go to work. I eat. I sleep. I talk to friends.
I’m back in the ordinary.
Still glowing from the realm,
but at the same time wounded.
A gaping wound in my psyche—
a place once filled by the realm, now empty.
A place that will admit nothing else. Only the Realm.
What is the realm? Was it real?
It was of this world, but not. It was populated by people,
but in the Realm, people are not people,
but People of the Realm.
It was in a place, a place I could go back to,
but it is no longer the Realm.
The Realm is an experience—
a singular combination of
place, people, events, and feelings.
I try to remake it. I put all the pieces in place
and call the start.
But it doesn’t start. It’s not here.
It’s not the same—not even close.
I stay in the ordinary and slowly begin to
forget about the Realm.
I explore the world. I explore myself. And then,
I have a glimmer. Just a brush, a whiff, a glance.
But this time, I don’t panic and try to capture it.
I sit with it and sense it and let it happen.
In serenity, I am present and
I exist in the same space with it.
In peace, I become one with it.
I’m in the Realm and the Realm is in me.
I am the Realm.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/magic-moments/
~~~
Not Now
How high can the pile go, and can I bear the weight?
I’ve gone with the flow, but now I know,
that I’m at my limit.
I’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll face it later.
Don’t talk to me about it now.
I’ve had enough—more than enough,
and don’t want more. Not now.
What is it about these problems;
these thorns, these voices, these cries?
Yipping in my ear, nipping at my heels,
tearing at my skin…
They’re just problems. I’ve faced them all,
again and again, one hundred times before.
But I can’t face more. Not now.
Each new problem tears at my soul,
and it seems my goal, is only to stop.
I close my eyes. I measure my breath,
and the tightness in my chest, abates.
But then they come, like raindrops of pressure,
to snap me back to stress.
I’m overwhelmed. I’m spent. I’m done.
I can’t even think—not now.
Then I shut down, not by choice, not by want,
but by necessity.
Staring ahead but unseeing. Unknowing.
Not wanting to know.
I crawl into my cave. I hate my cave, but there I am,
and there I’ll be. I don’t want to see, anyone.
Not now.
But after a time, with blinking eyes,
my soul bounces back.
Not with a roar, but as a summer breeze,
that dances the leaves.
I come back. My tentative steps,
a whisper of pep, and I’m back.
I’m not overwhelmed.
Not now.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/Everything-Wrong/
~~~
My Next Saturday
Awaken well rested, and look to the day.
The urge to rush off, but I keep it at bay.
Luxurious stretching the day I am sketching
in my mind, as I revel
in thoughts of reflection and introspection.
And in time, I transition to the next phase in line.
The black nectar life giving, as I reflect on my time
There is no great urge, and the moment sublime,
is peace incarnated, the place I created
is heaven, nirvana, and home wrapped in one.
And I think of what fruit I will pull from this vine.
I open a book, I’ve been meaning to read
and I am transported, the story a seed,
of a tree that is growing, and soon my mind’s flowing,
with ideas, that I wouldn’t have
discovered, if I were not free to indulge.
I need to move now, as my limbs have grown stiff.
I wander outside, and I capture a whiff
of the life all around me—I run like a banshee
toward nothing and everything
around me—the wonders the world will divulge.
The day it is ending, and soon I’ll be spending
my time, as I’ve done, in the rest of my life.
But this time is not over, the lasting hangover
of memories, feelings, and thoughts awe-inspiring
will carry me forward, to my next Saturday.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/Day-Off/
~~~
My Triumphant Three
Who is that now, approaching the gate
Testing my defenses, overwhelming my senses
I can’t allow them to get inside,
I must protect at all costs what I have.
I can’t allow them to take it away from me.
What is it I have they’re trying to damage
They’re trying to steal, it seems so real
that I can’t let them,
I won’t let them – whatever it takes!
What is so valuable that I protect at all costs?
I’m led astray, and I push them away and out of my life.
I sit back and consider what means so much to me,
and find its value was great, but it can’t be my fate
to let anyone touch it or even see what it is.
What is it really? What is its form?
What makes it the norm,
to be so afraid and defensive and selfish.
I find it’s me, the good side of me, that I protect
but in protecting I am the one who is damaging it.
It’s happiness, peace, and serenity, my triumphant three,
that I strive for and live for, and will never be free
From their hold over me.
So I change my perspective, my path is elective
and allows me the freedom to choose
—choose whom I let close, and cherish the most.
It’s these I find who are creating my treasure—my triumphant three.
The others had the power to damage, but I find
It was me who gave them, that power of mayhem.
It wasn’t theirs, it was always mine and I gave it away.
My power to protect, is not in the battle
with those whom I view as a threat.
By staying away or changing the rules,
I have the power, which grows by the hour,
along with my triumph three,
which will always be safe and protected and strong.
They will as long, as I see the world as it is.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/Happiness-and-Peace/
~~~
A New Day Will Dawn
I know I’m OK.
I can just get through this.
It can’t last forever
It’s bound to get better
I’ve had tough times before,
and I’ve always survived.
I come through it somehow.
This is only for now.
But what will it take—
something deep in my heart?
The courage to go on,
keep it up till the dawn.
The light of the day,
will show me the path,
that I must take to endure—
that will give me the cure.
To believe I can make it
and be thankful for,
the people I trust,
and to learn to adjust.
A new day will dawn
That will prove to me,
that I can bounce back
from whatever attacks.
I have in my heart
the will to survive
I will always abide
with hope by my side.
Read more at blocksoflife.com/resilience/
~~~
For a Time
Here you are, in front of me.
In all of your glory, telling your story,
I enter through your eyes. I travel in your soul.
We become the same person, for a time.
For a time, you are all of me.
My whole mind, my whole heart, my whole being.
I live your life, I feel your strife.
I am you and you are me.
You are me, for a time.
For a glorious time, we share a soul.
I’m not alone, it’s like I’ve known,
you forever, as you become me.
To others who see us,
it’s just people talking. They think as they’re walking
by us, “what close friends they must be.”
But they cannot see, that we’ve become one.
For a time, we are one.
Then the moment is done, and we go.
But you are in me, and I am in you.
Each of us changed, for a time.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/present/
~~~
Only the Beginning
What the future will hold, I can’t be sure,
but I have no doubt it will be,
a world that provides, all I need,
to live life, contented and free.
Around the curve and over the hill,
are not within my sight.
But I can find what is there, if I can dare
to look into the light.
It doesn’t blind, or cause a glare,
and doesn’t help me see.
The light comes with living and lessons learned—
it provides me with the key.
The key to the world, that I envision
that includes meaning, peace, and the provision
for all that my values and outlook portend.
And shows me the future is not the end—
but only the beginning.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/Thinking-Ahead/
~~~
Our Wings, Ourselves
Wings.
What do they mean?
What can they do?
Are they real?
Wings on a bird,
give it flight,
change its world.
What do they feel?
Wings for us
on a plane,
in our hearts,
deep down, a part of us.
We can soar
above the ground
above our lives
to transcend who we are
We transform
to someone new
still us, but someone else.
An evolution.
A leap of faith
into the abyss
into the unknown
An adventure within.
We soar on wings.
that we create
that we unfurl.
Part of who we are.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/Wings/
~~~
Reality of Two
Deep in my soul. Searing. Unbearable.
My desire is who I am—is all of who I am.
Locked in pursuit, I scream but am mute.
My quest, never shared, never known, by anyone.
The pain, it stays—it never allays as it
consumes me, entombs me, forever in its power.
There is no path forward, only the unbearable now.
I search in a panic, desperate, but not finding
My only chance of relief—of overtaking my grief,
is the achievement of my desire.
It drives me forward, but doesn’t direct me.
It excludes all else, my only companion.
A reality of two, that I’ll never get through.
The only way, is to wait it out.
It will end, with time, with perspective, or in death.
But I don’t see that now, and with a hopeless sigh,
we remain the two—my desperation and I.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/desperate/
Listen to the music at https://blocksoflife.hearnow.com/reality-of-two
~~~
Trust
It weaves through our lives, pushing and pulling,
it goes back and forth, once ours and then not.
I can’t always tell if it’s mine or another’s;
it’s part of myself, if not something I sought.
I need it to be there; I count on its presence.
I need it in others. I need it in me.
When I notice it’s not there, the damage it causes,
can tear through my soul, ignoring my plea.
I need it in others, as well as myself.
I search for it deeply, in their hearts and their souls.
I do see it often, but often it’s fleeting.
I need it to be there, to make our bond whole.
It ebbs and it flows. Its coming and going
can upset my balance, and confuse my mind.
I must learn to see it, the patterns and movements,
so I can see clearly, my bonds intertwined.
When it is given, to me from another,
one cannot dismiss the weight it does hold
I treat it as sacred, if rightly it’s placed.
It’s worth is profound, with more value than gold.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/Responsibility-in-Relationships/
~~~
They Come and They Go
The back and the forth
the ebb and the flow.
Everything changes.
It comes and it goes.
When we feel good,
we want it to stay.
as we would with a friend,
and spend the whole day.
But just like the tide,
the feeling recedes.
It never stays long,
no matter how much we plead.
But the bad feelings too,
they come and they go.
These we want gone,
as soon as they show.
But if we look hard
and live in the moments,
there is wonder each—
not just joy and torment.
So ride all the waves
as they come in and out.
Embrace every minute
and remove every doubt.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/ebb-and-flow/
~~~
Whole New Worlds
Wait! What is that?
Is it something I’ve seen?
Is it something I like?
I don’t know.
I want to try it.
I’ll see if I like it.
Do I have to buy it?
Let’s go!
A new experience.
A new way to think.
A new way to move.
Rediscover myself.
I’m not very good.
But I am having fun,
and I am getting better.
I like what I’ve done!
It’s an adventure.
A way to explore,
what I can do,
when I’m open to trying.
And when I stay open,
to trying new things,
whole new worlds open up
and I unfurl my wings.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/dabbling/
~~~
The Voice that is Now
So many voices
within and without,
telling a story.
A reality made.
They are always with me—
the voices, the stories.
They make me believe,
sowing doubt in my heart.
The stories, so real,
so compelling, persistent.
It can seem that they
have to be true.
Who are these voices,
that never stop speaking,
creating a reality
I can’t help but believe.
The voices berate me,
worry me, anger me.
The stories convey
the worst that can be.
But then like a light,
ahead in the darkness,
the present my rescue
The moment is now.
There is only one truth:
the voice that lives in me.
There is only one voice—
the voice that is now.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/thought-stream/
~~~
My Life Aware
I take pause.
Is it ready to go?
I don’t know, will it show
Who I am?
I tried so hard
But I can’t really see
if I should, if it’s good,
Or a sham.
I share myself—
part of who I am.
All of me, for all to see,
nothing held back.
Will people change,
how they think of me?
All and part, bear my heart.
What I lack.
Then I see
Where this road will lead
Connections, affections,
It’s all there.
It’s all worth it,
The risks I’ve taken
I have my prize, stronger ties.
My life aware.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/yourself-in-your-activities/
~~~
A Time Out
Nothing in the tank.
Mind screaming at me to move,
but my soul says no.
A hundred demands and meeting none.
A time out for the moment.
A peaceful protest against the pace of life.
Today there will be nothing,
so that I can create an eventual better something.
The demands, they nip at my consciousness
like mosquitoes, irritating and relentless.
I move to a mental place, indoors—
away from the demanders, the mosquitoes.
What to do?
I still have to exist.
Time keeps passing,
looking over at me disdainfully.
I engage,
not in living, but in life.
I eat. I pass the time.
I restore.
In that restoration,
I become myself again.
Ready to restart—
ready to begin.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/time-out/
~~~
A Gift that is Me
What does it mean
To give of ourselves?
To strengthen connections,
to act on affections.
It can be so hard
to give something true.
To express how we feel
to find what is real.
But in digging deep
we find the true meaning.
The core of our bonds
with those whom we’re fond.
A gift that transcends
this cynical time—
a genuine reason
to go past the season.
And find that we have
deep in ourselves
the spirit of giving
a foundation for living.
It defines who I am
and makes me fulfilled
I find I can be
the gift that is me.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/gift/
~~~
The Other
The Other has acted again and I am Victim.
Its persecution engulfs me and I am powerless.
My power, if it ever was, is no more.
I don’t see it. I don’t feel it. Did I ever have it?
I’ll ask The Other.
The Other ignores my question.
I am anger. I am sadness. I am desperation.
I come to The Other and ask,
Is this all I am?
The Other ignores my question.
Where is the power?
The power to defeat anger, sadness, desperation.
The power to defeat Victim.
I feel a fleeting sense of the power, but I can’t know it.
The Other has this power—I’ve experienced it.
The Other wields this power.
The Other must know this power.
I look for The Other. The Other is no longer here.
The Other is not with me, yet I feel its presence.
I feel anger, but not at The Other. I feel anger at Victim.
When The Other acts, I am Victim.
There is no one here. Not Victim nor The Other.
There is only me.
I am here, now. I am present.
I feel awareness, but not judgement.
There is no anger, only me.
There is no sadness, only me.
There is no desperation, only me.
There is no Victim, only me.
The Other is here. It has the power!
But here, in the present, I know the power.
The power is in me. The power is me.
I am The Other. The Other is me.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/emotional-responsibility/
~~~
The Choice
The constant signal, relentless, unending.
It saps all my energy. It darkens my mood.
It shuts down my happiness, replaced with anger.
I hate it, but live it, in a constant condition.
I know what it is. I know why it’s there.
I know why I have it—lets me know something’s wrong.
But, message received! Goddamnit I know!
I’m working the problem. I’ll do what I can.
I try to step back and take a deep breath.
I try to move deeper, into myself.
I am there with it, but we are not one.
I can observe it, distinct and detached.
I’ve found my reaction is not required.
The signal is there, but suffering a choice.
The two are not one. I’m keeping them two.
And I find I can function and start to recover.
The signal’s still there, and it does take an effort.
I know that I’m lucky that it’s not more intense.
I’ll keep the two separate as much as I can.
The choice not to suffer is mine once again.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/reinterpret-pain/
~~~
Awakening
I walk in a tunnel, its rocky sides never changing.
Sometimes lighter, sometimes darker.
Ups and downs and periods of straight and level.
Now cold, now hot and humid, but still the tunnel.
Sometimes I have energy,
sometimes progressing is difficult.
Sometimes, it seems I’m getting through, but then
I see that I am still in the tunnel.
Where am I going? Where is it leading?
I search. I continue searching, in what seems
a lifetime of searching. But I don’t find answers.
I’m missing something. I pray I’m missing something.
This can’t be it. It’s just the tunnel.
Are the people the answer?
There are people in the tunnel, but I can’t reach them.
I pass them. I talk to them, but I don’t connect.
The people are part of the tunnel.
Is movement the answer?
I’m moving through the tunnel.
When I walk faster I feel a breeze on my face.
I’m taking one step after another.
I touch the walls and can feel the tunnel.
I’m still moving in the tunnel.
I’ve got to think!
Is thinking the answer?
I can find an answer if I can just figure it out.
I can reason my way out of the tunnel.
My mind contains emotions, what can they tell me?
I can feel my way out of the tunnel.
I walk in the tunnel, it’s rocky sides never changing.
But something is different.
Through feeling, I am connected.
To myself, to my movements, to the people!
I connect with the people and
we talk about the tunnel.
It becomes more than the tunnel.
Hot, cold, up, down, light, dark—
all these were elements of the tunnel.
Through thought—in my mind—
it becomes more than the tunnel.
I continue moving and I sense something more.
It is more than just movement through the tunnel!
I think about the tunnel and my search for the answer.
I have found three answers, but the same answer.
I have found connections,
I have found thought and emotions,
I have found movement.
I have found the pillars.
Three ways out of the tunnel, but just one direction.
Not out of the tunnel, we are still here.
We have transcended the tunnel.
The tunnel is no more.
Read more at Blocksoflife.com/pillars/