I want to talk about the hope, the faith, and the love which grew in 2016 as opposed to focusing on the year that some would have you believe was one of the worst in recent history. I don’t know anything about all that negativity shit, but it is easy to look back and see a pervasive darkness that seemed to underline much of the year’s happenings.

To be honest, as I sit here tick tick ticking away on the keys my mind is flooded by the images of 2016, which ended but a few hours ago, and I am simply shaking my head in a bit of disbelief.

​If I were to wander the world and listen to everyone talk about the year that was, I am fairly certain based on available internet “evidence”, that the majority of people would be quite ecstatic that 2016 is now safely behind them. It is a strange phenomenon however, that allows us to believe somehow that the turning of a calendar page actually means something vital and essential has changed. I fall in to this thinking as well mind you, wanting to believe that in fact, the turning of this page will bring new hope, faith, and love to us all. 

It certainly can and if the placebo works, why cut it off at the ankles?

When I look back in this moment, I see as much darkness as maybe someone else might, but I can’t ignore the tapping at the back of my skull by a flood of images wanting to set balance to the very same spans of twelve months. There was such overwhelming beauty all around me, I simply cannot accept it as the worst year ever…

When the year started, I could see what appeared to be hope, maybe similar hope to what people have with 2017 today. Maybe something else entirely, as I do not recall so much anxiety and turmoil over 2015 that I sensed throughout 2016.

Understandably, as a cartoon character was not being inaugurated into one of the most powerful positions on the planet in a few short days after the year finally, seemingly begrudgingly turned. It was much easier to look back on 2015 with something far from angst and closer to apathy if not wonderment.

Despite 2016’s propensity to take talented artists, display mankind’s less than desirable traits, and make a mockery out of age old processes; I found all manner of beautiful things waiting roadside as the car seemed to veer headlong into one catastrophe after another. 2016 does seem like a horrible stretch of accidents along a deserted highway in the middle of a treacherous winter…or summer, if you happen to be in Death Valley or some such place.

For me, the end of 2015 was considerable and continued into 2016, unbeknownst to me of course was that such a thing could in fact continue without some kind of break in the action…

She invited me to a concert.

No big deal I thought, people go to concerts all the time, although I had not been to one since my teen-aged years, which were long, long ago in a galaxy far, far…wait, that sounds an awfully lot like plagiarism; I take it all back. Except that I had not been to a concert in very log time.  

Anyway, in what was literally the best concert I have ever been to (there are like three to choose from now), I actually met her… I had known her for quite some time, but that night felt like I had never actually seen her. I studied her face while she danced in our aisle, the way she moved to the music was as hypnotic as the joy on her face and deeply set in her eyes. She had my attention, much like the universe did for bringing me to the show in the first place.

Like most people these days I keep myself generally busy and tied up so that if people ask me to do stuff, I have absolutely no time for such things as stuff which entails me leaving my apartment or going to places and doing all of the things.

The universe organised our date; there was no doubt and while this incredible show was unfolding before me of both music and movement, something happened to me. Now what happened was not nearly as sudden as it sounds, although everything has a starting point which can appear quite sudden in hindsight.

That night, as we walked to the train station, I began to understand why the universe might suggest we like or know each other. If the universe acted like patterns of the internet and social media, suggesting all of these potential likes and views, and whatever shit the internet does which I have no bloody conception of.
Despite all evidence procured prior to our concert date, we got to know each other quite intimately over the few short weeks of December in 2015. We turned that new year over together, quietly watching movies and exploring each other’s more personal spaces…

To me, 2016 looked like a bright spot on the horizon.

Although neither of us put any lofty expectations on each other, we were, and remain, quite content on taking everything one day at a time. The days were incredibly full as 2016 stretched in front and behind us.
She had decided that she was going to be a surrogate. She had dreamt of this process for long before I came along. I found and find it fascinating, incredibly brave and selfless. The process has taken us for over ten moths from hormonal alteration, insemination, and finally to cesarean birth.

Oddly enough, my fascination grew and intensified through the days, weeks and months. Most people, myself included, were quite surprised by the whole thing. I’ll be honest, in hindsight it does seem a bit unlikely that we would have made it this far.

She and I are both bisexual and it seemed quite reasonable how wonderfully we fit together, but unexpected that we would need nothing more than one another’s company. I am literally shaking my head as I type because it is that hard to believe…

As hard as it might be to comprehend for myself, there is such an unspoken understanding of where we are coming from, what we have been through, and what may be possible that it leads us into the most honest conversations I have ever had with a partner...

She was courageous all year while she gave her body to the process and sacred beauty of surrogacy. I was able to be a witness from outside of the situation and within. There were times I was left watching, hoping and praying. Then there were times when I felt from within how deep her love was for people. The depths of which I am not sure I have known before.

I have watched many people give their lives to the service of others and have known that so many of them sacrifice all manner of things in order to be of use to mankind as a whole. Matter of fact, anyone who tries to contribute to mankind sacrifices much of their own desires in order to fulfill those of people who would not otherwise be able.

I have to say however, with soldiers and first responders being the great exception, I had known but a few who gave so much for others and received so little in return.

I am left in awe of her.

I feel it every time I see her, kiss her or am blessed enough to hold her.

She not only has my attention, but so much more. I cannot explain exactly what happens when you finally meet that seemingly perfect person for you… for me. I had thought this at times which came before, but previously it felt like I had to crush or deny some very true truths about me in order to make those situations work.

At no time, do I blame the women or men who have spent time with me through the years. They were like me, trying to make it work because of whatever desires motivated them.

For me, I realise that even in my late thirties and early forties, I was hoping to disappear from the world taking my irregularities and abnormalities with me. My grand deficiencies if you will.

I had kept, secretly mind you, desiring and working towards being rid of what I perceived as a serious and debilitating character defect. Not until I really met her could I have known how wrong I had been to put such a darkness over that truth.

I had come to a point of acceptance and openness, but still a small part of me wanted out. Wanted a much simpler truth to be mine. It seemed that until she stared into my eyes on that train platform and we finally, really hugged. This is when I knew that something sacred in me had shifted.

She came, swooping and swaying like a gentle, summer’s breeze with the force of a mid February Chinook. It was beautiful. Life altering. Belief defying.

When we sat on that chilly, wooden bench watching the people cross the river, talking at length about who we actually were! Everything I had been scared of in myself found no reason to keep me silent. Instead, at her gentle and deliberate reassurance, she became witness to the whole of me and snuggled closer than anyone before.

I felt the shore after wandering at sea for so long.

It became impossible to deny the whole truth. She lifted whatever shame and guilt I had been carrying; that which had become a dark mirror to my soul. It lay deep, beneath my consciousness; to the point that I could not feel it or see it any longer.

It had been mine since before my birth.

Once she lifted it, she dusted me off and we became and then we simply were. Extraordinary. Life and love finding its way, as it always does.

It is an amazing thing; living without shackles that you never knew you had. They tied you down like a prisoner for the coming torture. That is what relationships had been like for me from the beginning of time.

Not at the hands of my partners, but at the hands of the executioner.

My greatest enemy.

The ego-centered self which was forged through abuse, loathing, neglect, and self destruction. Forged by the simple and constant denial of my true self.

I did not ask her to lift it of course. To me, it was immovable, fixed, and stagnant. I do not believe she tried to lift anything in fact. I believe instead, that her very existence and presence in my life is what lifted pieces of the broken identity I had created.

It was as though my soul had perhaps recognised its counterpart in that other...

She simply was herself; she meant what she said and what she said was profound and compassionate like I had never known. Not because I did not know compassionate people, I have known many - but because I had never known someone, who so easily and honestly accepted me as I was and am and potentially will be.

It is quite interesting that our time has stretched across four seasons and then some. What is even more interesting to me, is that I have not had any moments where I sat down and said, “What the actual fuck am I doing here…”

We not only decided to take everything one day at a time, but also that no matter what we needed to do, think or say, we would approach that honestly to the best of our ability. These two, simple yet seemingly impossible things have thus far served us very well.

It has allowed us to face each other honestly, compassionately, and with our vulnerabilities touching one other through a universe of cryptic and often painful history.

Parts of 2016 were incredibly beautiful and like those sometimes ugly and darkness enshrouded realities, it is all human somehow. A part of our evolution regardless of those who believe that we are out right doomed.

Regardless of any future anythings, I am so eternally grateful for being a part of her story and having her grace my own…and having both of us touch the world around us as best we can, each and every day.
There is no doubt that 2016 had some shit. But it really difficult to imagine my life without that horrible, horrible year gone by.
 
  
    

​There is a tendency for the living to try and justify the dead. To point fingers in circumstances we may never come to understand. Of course we struggle to find rhyme and reason to fit our grief. To fit our comprehension of life and living. 

I surrender my ideas and ignorance of your lives to the creator. I surrender you to the universe for it is there that you are free and there where your truth exists. I have no right to tell you to stay because I've come to understand and to know within every nook and cranny of my being, just how many reasons there are to leave it all behind. 

For today however, I seem to have found the reasons to remain outweigh the alternative, but it is a daily process and it is separate from my gratitude, which is full and overflowing. 

I understand better today. Not fully, but better. 

The world appears to be hopeless. The rich and greedy suffocate the rest with their unreasonable demands. 

I understand and send my love. 

It sometimes seems pointless and very often hopelessness slips in the slightest crack, but that I suppose is the point... Today anyway. To find the love and light within the overwhelming sense of impending and present despair. 

No matter what your reasons for leaving, you are loved, I send this love to you now and whenever and wherever your spirit happens to soar, this love will be there... Amongst the ether. 

This is for you. 

The lost. The floundering. The disenfranchised because the franchise is crippling our spirits. 

The slowly fading and those extinguished in the blink of an eye by any number of difficulties and tragedies. 

Those who know that being human has become nothing more than a hustle, a thing to trade for fame of the 15 minute variety. 

For you, for your family and all you held and hold dear. For all who still hold you close. For those who judge and those who love. Equal light into each of you. 

For you. 

To somehow shed light on just how far it takes us. The depression. The anxiety. The delusions. The paranoia. The mental illness. Please don't tell us to get over it. Don't say, if you were just stronger you'd be fine. And please, if you're not trained in medicine of the doctor variety, don't pretend to know who should and shouldn't be diagnosed. 

It is with sadness and sorrow but hope as well that I write this. A song for those we've lost and for those we will lose, but also for those who keep going,  trying to live. I have no right to write this. I am but a small voice in an ocean of millions. 

For you, my now long lost friend. I leave this here for you and the others. Maybe simply for myself... 

As I lay beneath the chilled breeze, amongst the dead and dying blades of autumn. Every molecule twitched, writhing suffocation in remnants of regret and hopelessness built in mountains of shame and denial.
What would the world think, should I acknowledge all that I seem to hold within...
Muscles ached from foot to neck, the heart sprawled broken by the weight as your mind wrestled to cure itself.
It is impossible to be what I know myself to be... Impossible for family and friends to love the real me despite those strangers, mocking and manipulating.
Desperate clinging, fuelled longing clung to frozen lungs in daylight's faded disappearance.
Dreaming lost in sunrise clamouring, forgotten memories slithered deep, burrowing hardened soil.
With every drink,  the truth became solid. The way out ever clear. The world becomes rigid and your end clings desperately, hanging on their every whim and insult... 

All of my love as you rest in peace, that which this world could never bring you. 

David Lewry 

There is a tendency for the living to try and justify the dead. To point fingers in circumstances we may never come to understand. Of course we struggle to find rhyme and reason to fit our grief. To fit our comprehension of life and living. 

I surrender my ideas and ignorance of your lives to the creator. I surrender you to the universe for it is there that you are free and there where your truth exists. I have no right to tell you to stay because I've come to understand and to know within every nook and cranny of my being, just how many reasons there are to leave it all behind. 

For today however, I seem to have found the reasons to remain outweigh the alternative, but it is a daily process and it is separate from my gratitude, which is full and overflowing. 

I understand better today. Not fully, but better. 

The world appears to be hopeless. The rich and greedy suffocate the rest with their unreasonable demands. 

I understand and send my love. 

It sometimes seems pointless and very often hopelessness slips in the slightest crack, but that I suppose is the point... Today anyway. To find the love and light within the overwhelming sense of impending and present despair. 

No matter what your reasons for leaving, you are loved, I send this love to you now and whenever and wherever your spirit happens to soar, this love will be there... Amongst the ether. 

This is for you. 

The lost. The floundering. The disenfranchised because the franchise is crippling our spirits. 

The slowly fading and those extinguished in the blink of an eye by any number of difficulties and tragedies. 

Those who know that being human has become nothing more than a hustle, a thing to trade for fame of the 15 minute variety. 

For you, for your family and all you held and hold dear. For all who still hold you close. For those who judge and those who love. Equal light into each of you. 

For you. 

To somehow shed light on just how far it takes us. The depression. The anxiety. The delusions. The paranoia. The mental illness. Please don't tell us to get over it. Don't say, if you were just stronger you'd be fine. And please, if you're not trained in medicine of the doctor variety, don't pretend to know who should and shouldn't be diagnosed. 

It is with sadness and sorrow but hope as well that I write this. A song for those we've lost and for those we will lose, but also for those who keep going,  trying to live. I have no right to write this. I am but a small voice in an ocean of millions. 

For you, my now long lost friend. I leave this here for you and the others. Maybe simply for myself... 

As I lay beneath the chilled breeze, amongst the dead and dying blades of autumn. Every molecule twitched, writhing suffocation in remnants of regret and hopelessness built in mountains of shame and denial.
What would the world think, should I acknowledge all that I seem to hold within...
Muscles ached from foot to neck, the heart sprawled broken by the weight as your mind wrestled to cure itself.
It is impossible to be what I know myself to be... Impossible for family and friends to love the real me despite those strangers, mocking and manipulating.
Desperate clinging, fuelled longing clung to frozen lungs in daylight's faded disappearance.
Dreaming lost in sunrise clamouring, forgotten memories slithered deep, burrowing hardened soil.
With every drink,  the truth became solid. The way out ever clear. The world becomes rigid and your end clings desperately, hanging on their every whim and insult... 

All of my love as you rest in peace, that which this world could never bring you. 

David Lewry 

It is like being normal for the first time after a lifetime of abnormal...only to find out that normal was never really that normal to begin with. To recognize that the very definition of "normal" will never quite sit right from the moment your eyes open to lack of the elusive actual, which you had hoped must be hiding right around the next turn. 
The years have melted away, but that's not to say they were easy in any sense of that word...easy. That word is on its way to the garbage heap of the English language which simply may not apply to living a life for anyone, anywhere, in any circumstances ever again. Now I can take it easy, but once I try and mix that with those who have their own unique ideas of what that might look like, the puzzle starts to get scrambled. Anyway, I imagine you get my first point; the longer I'm here, the less I actually know with any degree of certainty.
​
You're welcome. 

Often times I find myself digging in the dirt for a reason to stay; sober and alive. Although there rarely seems a reason to pick up a drink; the continuing to live however, that's a bit of a different story... Sometimes those reasons are harder to find. 
Even when life is good and trust me; life is pretty damn good when I look outside of me.  

Work is wonderful, I am truly blessed to do what I do and cannot imagine a better work place than where I am presently. Family, friendships, and even romantically life is more stable and comfortable than it has ever been. It is much easier to maintain and flourish in the world of relationship once I came to and embraced the reality I had been fighting for as long as I can remember. The truth about who I actually am despite my ignorance about how to be that person has set me free in a new way. Most incredible journeys begin and require a whole lot of acceptance to be what they were created to be. 

The continued lack of peace was a bit of a head scratcher until I got down and accepted, surrendered to, and moved forward to another reality of the self which has been so intricately wrapped within the personality and character of the "who" I was created to be. For me life has become a series of surrenders; some are large scale, personality and character type surrender while others remain slow and steady, daily types. 

The deep seeded depression which is not reasoned with or cured; that which was always there or may have been developed through the years of alcohol and drug abuse and untreated trauma...it seems like it has always been that one friend who is hell bent on watching you destroy everything beautiful in your life because he or she wants their company to be equally miserable. As for cause and effect and what came first; my doctor once said, "David, it doesn't matter why because the what is which may lead you to suicide...or better yet, keep you from it..." tears filled my eyes and he continued, "we must address the what in order to potentially get to the why..." 
He was not convinced that uncovering the seemingly necessary "why"  would make a bit of difference at my age, considering how long my mental illness went untreated...mind you, he was similarly not convinced that the why was not essential for treatment either. Hence he referred me to someone who might know better. 

I firmly believe that we must uncover and release old circumstances, rigid and often ignorant morals, values and beliefs; those which have been formed, either in the present (by limited exposure to a group or population -  over generalization)  or stretching back generations from what I'll generously call "lack of information"(it has to be acknowledged that not all people have the same access to information, albeit I do understand how the over generalization contributes due to" fear analysis" and other improper forms of "research". I'm avoiding as best I can, calling generations of human beings, 'malicious and "evil"'. Although there does seem to be a large enough population of " malicious" people out there... 

I dunno, that is way off topic, but it is my blog and year in review after all. To leave out the seemingly constant and overwhelming tragedies happening across the globe would perhaps allow you to think, it doesn't affect my state of mind from time to time or help form some of my social procedures. That would be untrue; not only am I human, but I'm a reasonably connected to my fellow man type of human. Reasonable enough that as my fellows suffer, there is a part of me which suffers as well. Much like as I watch my fellows succeed  I feel joy and wonder at the feats, capabilities and potential of our species. I suppose from last 12 years of trying to see a whole rather than only the dark, which admittedly, was always easier because my mind gravitates towards the dark like moths to a flame. I want to say that I  have spent every minute of the past twelve years working towards seeing the absolute and never ending beauty of our shared world, however that too would be a lie. 

Anyway, enough of that for now. Let's get back to the last couple of years because honestly, it seems like the passed three have been one long, unending year surpassing time, space, and logic. Through this journey many things have been presented to me from God, the universe and perhaps even everything in it. Not to me alone of course, but I happened to occasionally open my inner eyes and spy what seemed to swirl all around and within me. 

I lost one of my closest friends this year and although I am uncertain how exactly the universe has been altered, I simply recognize it is substantially different. It is always difficult to sum up a life in a few words so I won't attempt such a thing, besides, I was gifted but a small portion of her life. That which she shared with me openly and lovingly. 

To me, she was a brilliant child of a loving creator. Her name could have been moonbeam or sunkiss, but it happened to be tara, which was appropriate as well. The "oh tara..." saying for when she pulled a "Tara" has a good ring to it... "oh moonbeam..."well, I suppose that has a pretty good ring to it as well though :) 

We had only been friends for a few short years, but somehow we managed to find a deep connection right away. This is important because at that time neither of us seemed to have deep meaningful friendships with new people. We played it safe in that arena in order to try and protect ourselves from the harsh realities which sometimes come from developing friendships. She was one of a small group of people who was able to teach me how to try and love better, deeper and with more sincerity. 
I may never understand why she kept me around as a friend, but I can tell you that when you meet a person like tara, you somehow just want to be near or at least able to hear the beauty of her heart and amazing soul when they sing. I knew that for as much as she struggled, she continued to, no, increased somehow, her capacity for loving her fellow human beings. She was some kind of suffering angel, who continued the fight for other's rights and existence constantly throwing herself down that dangerous flight of stairs to soften the blow for others. 

I will carry you in my heart and soul, as you were, and continue to be, a major part of shaping who I hope to become. 

Wow, the last year on its own has been an incredible mixture of joy and pain, love and frustration. From watching people I love experience great joy while suffering their own pain to watching many people prepare to leave this world and those who left far too soon. At least that is my opinion of the matter even though a strong part of me knows it is not about what I think or what I can see, it is about a universal intelligence I could not possibly understand. My vision is so limited as to what the world would or should look like, in moments of clarity I'm extremely grateful the world is not modelled to my specifications. 

And now for some lessons from last year; what kind of review of a year in sobriety would it actually be if I didn't spout off any lessons I picked up, which may change seamlessly if not painfully by next year :)  

Numero uno might as well be "the truth", which many people think they have a monopoly on and fight over their words and ideas like it's Russia and we're all last in line for the single, remaining loaf of bread. As far as I can tell, and I'm no authority, "the truth" is not only constantly evolving, but it is so deeply connected to how, where, and with whom we were raised that there is no wonder the truth varies across the globe. I watch others and myself struggle and suffer over the defence of our individual ideas and perspectives sometimes so ferociously that we actually forget that we really don't know whaaaaat the whaaaaat. 

I know that when I let go, I feel peace. When I stay in my yard; only wandering to other's in order to lend a hand and offer help, I know God then and feel the human purpose I've searched for long and wide. I try and argue with this "truth"  but it sits so comfortably in my entire being, that argument makes way for acceptance that it is exactly as it is supposed to be. Regardless of my opinions on the matter.
The next thing which I have studied through the year is what it means to be an "old timer". Here's something which is definitely open to interpretation and thankfully grants a wide birth for a definition. Having said that, I really wonder how it'll be if, by the grace of God, I make it to become one. I can totally understand being a bit crotchety and grouchy; life has a way of wearing us down, there's no doubt. I think where my appreciation of the "grouchiness" ends is when it's accompanied by arrogance, condescension and a hint of cruelty in the name of "tough love". I've seen individuals be unnecessarily overbearing to the point of having to counsel the recipients of their "love" afterwards because of fear of going back to "those kinds of places, filled with "those kinds of people". 

Also, according to recent studies... I'm just kidding, but honestly, I've learned that when people read those few words, they tend to pay more attention to what comes afterwards... Good luck with that. Just remember I can write it as well as anyone else... Recent studies suggest that any jackass can suggest anything, no matter how ridiculous, so long as it comes from an "actual" "research" study and you don't out yourself as the jackass. 

As the days approached my sobriety milestone, the days lingered long and heavy. I am not certain if it was worse this year for any particular reason but it seemed a bit heavy, like far too much was going on all around me. But if you asked, I wouldn't have been able to quite put a finger on anything in particular. I imagine it has a lot to do with all that was shifting and changing within me as the external circumstances solidified and stabilized. 

Often times people underestimate the power and effect of things finding their place. We expect to simply feel relieved, well at least I half expect to, but the truth seems to be that for each part of my external life which finds its home, whether temporary or seemingly permanent, there are dreams I did not even know I had, now dead, which must be grieved. 

Of course things continue to change when everything seems to have stopped moving. I can look around and see nothing with my external eyes that appears out of place yet feel completely off balance; floating above, below and within those circumstances. Seemingly no ground in reality, all the while experiencing the day to day grind that is the human life. What a gift and what a confusing trip it can be. 
I realize now there is no set type of "old timer"  any more than there is a set type of person. I also recognize more and more each day that today, tomorrow or next week are not a guarantee but a gift we may or may not appreciate in the moment. 

In fact we simply may be physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually incapable of seeing things beyond our own perspective. Those are the toughest times I experience and like most people, reaching out is not always easy. My hope is that while we're here, we'll march forward, together, slowly and steadily teaching each other how best we can love and gift that love to and receive that love from one another. 
One day at a time, as that is all we have. 

Thank you, 

David Lewry 

As I walked, I felt the clouds speak in whispers behind me. I stopped and turned, staring into the sky not knowing what had shifted. Whose voice that was from above, I couldn't quite make out. 

As I continued to walk, I heard it again, turned and stared into the sky. 
The voice trailed off again... I could not know. 

I continued to walk and the sky fell silent. The trees ruffled behind me, in front and above. My feet felt light and my skin swam in the gentle, summer breeze...I could not shake the feeling of the shift however.  That sensation of knowing intuitively things may never be the same again. 

I have to be careful, as I do not necessarily want to judge those who are judgmental because that would be silly and problematic of my end goal…which is to be less judgmental; sort of. So I will start by apologizing for my judgments of arrogant, hateful, fear based, power whores dressed as intelligent, adult humans. 
I am in a bit of a mood these days…but why not.

I made the mistake of listening to Hunter S. Thompson recently. He was spouting off about Nixon, fear and the state of American politics in the 90’s based on the previous sixty years of fear and hate based politicking. He has the ability to stick with me like a heavy pasta and I miss his uncanny ability to put a point on such things as we are facing today. 

I am also sorry for those of you having to live in a constant state of fear and loathing of all things contrary to your way of life and the preservation of that life. These haughty ways, which so obviously are working as a global solution to every global problem we have ever had, are having and will eventually have. 

You have done it. You have so forcefully effected change, I have no words…
Cultural bigotry? Maybe…
Racial bigotry? Maybe as well…
Sexual orientation bigotry? Sure to some extent…
Honestly it is a fear of anything and everything not of our own conception and understanding. Fear of all, which we are ignorant of…

Whatever it is, it is a problem that stretches far beyond any one country’s borders, religions or political ideology. There is fear and then there is fear turned outwards into hate mongering, racism, and essentially isolationism by the people who can help from those who need it. 
And in our case it seems the fear is blind to culture and exists across the board. Each of us simply deals with it differently.  
We are most certainly caught in a cycle, which stretches backwards almost infinitely, of trying to solve problems with one variation or another of the same broken thinking because we are afraid to take some relatively calculated risks. We imagine these risks make the possibility of terror greater than if we hide our faces behind a seemingly reasonable rhetoric -- never once imagining that the “reasonable rhetoric” may have actually contributed to the terror on some level. Not that one justifies another because that is absurd, but these matters are all connected now whether we want to admit it or not.

I will not mince words here; the question of closing our borders to those in need is absolute bullshit and I am happy to live in a country, whose lead politician has agreed to help and be a part of a future solution that is not fully mired by past politics and agendas. I do not know if Trudeau is the right person overall, but in this circumstance, he is being a human being and doing what is right despite what may be popular or convenient. 
The very notion of safety and security is an illusion regardless of the choice we make today. The scariest part of all of this for me is that we are all willing to treat other human beings with such blatant disregard and callousness to potentially save our own necks. It says so much about the condition of our spirit that I am afraid to comment on it. I do not mean spirit as it may or may not be related to some body of religious belief, but instead that part of us which makes us human beings. 

This idea goes well beyond religion or works of fiction or nonfiction. The human part of our being or the being part of our humanness. For generations it seems that within it has been birthed and nurtured children of fear; fear of losing what we have and terribly afraid of not getting what it is we want. Whether we happen to know what that is or not, is of seemingly no consequence. We simply do not want to let it go because like spoiled children, it is ours and ours to keep.

This is the tiniest fear being used by the ego, which turns a tiny morsel of far off possibility into a harsh reality just around the corner from this one, monumental decision. The ego tells us that it is not a small fear in fact, but a whole truth wrapped in prophecy and every one is doomed unless they too climb on board the “self-preservation” train. 
But what exactly are we preserving? 
Never mind that for now…  

Let us climb on board the ego train of those who are desperately afraid and are also in positions to spread the message of fear or love on the largest of scales, in the cleverest of maneuvers, these individuals are able to convince even the brainiest of us that fear and isolation is the answer over love yet again.

I do not know what the right thing to do is...no, yes I do. At least from my perspective. It is not based on some easily interpreted/miss interpreted Bible, Koran, or other fantastic piece of literature. Or at least I do not think my thoughts and fears come down to a completely inadequate understanding of world religions and their often limited explanations provided by wholly inadequate individuals that everyone seems ready and willing to listen to. This includes fear mongers who claim no God or faith. The zealots are zealots and sometimes they wear secular robes. 

What has come about is a culture where we are supposed to listen to nothing but fear and hate or we are considered weak, stupid, and ill-informed…balderdash! To steal a word from an old favorite author, absolute balderdash! 
Apparently, I am not in support of my country’s troops if I don’t support more war? 
This is not only absurd, but offensive to me on so many levels. I understand that when and where isolated, small groups of fearful and hate minded individuals carry out criminal acts of extreme violence there needs to be justice. I fully grasp this as I am a human being and want justice…but I want justice for all people,
not just Judaeo-Christian westerners who “supposedly” think like I do. 

I want justice for the women, children and even the men, whether fighting age or not, of Africa, Iraq, Iran, Libya, Syria et cetera et all. There is no person on the planet who has the inherent right to determine which lives matter and which lives do not. However, we sure have allowed ourselves the luxury of thinking we can and should determine what is right for the rest of the world.
Balderdash! 

The very notion that religion, or lack there of, is actually behind all of the blood shed is like suggesting all people with mental illnesses will become violent at least once in their life. Or maybe suggesting that not saying prayers in school has led to school shootings or the lack of a bible in school is to blame for…well anything. Let’s be serious and not tell each other simplified lies that somehow fit into our preconceived notions of how life should be. 
We are all grown ups or at least we pretend to be most of the time when on our soap boxes, preaching to the belittled choir through social media or mainstream media channels about what to think this week versus last. Seeking our likes, shares and positive, affirming comments that tell us all how right we are and how wrong anyone who disagrees with us is. 
Our problems as a human race do not come down to a lack of belief. Most of them come down to a lack of flexibility over our beliefs. Those both shared and not shared. The actual ideas or beliefs are irrelevant, yes, I said irrelevant ☺ However you wish to look at the details of religion or the merits of Atheism, a general lack of flexibility and acceptance, on both fronts, is where the majority of these “ideological” differences create very real, physical problems.

But I will go a simple step forward here and tell you what I really think. 
I do not attribute belief or lack of belief to any of what is happening. It is greed and it is fear. The greed of wanting more and not wanting to share and the fear of losing what small amount of safety and security most of us feel on a daily basis.
The most obvious truth to me is that most of us want to control every circumstance in our lives, whether it is reasonable to control these things or not. Or we simply avoid all circumstances, which we cannot control. There are obvious flaws in this thinking because the majority of situations and circumstances we worry about, fight about, fret about, are beyond our individual control.
 
It makes sense that the most popular politicians represent, not our hopes, but our deepest fears in the form of the egotistical, megalomaniacal, overgrown children who claim they can save us from the aforementioned “probable” futures of deplorable conditions. I understand that the merits, intentions, and motives of politicians are always in question, as they should be, due to the lack of credibility most still have by the time they run for those highest offices.            
If it is weak, stupid and ill-informed to be kind, loving, trusting, and accepting of others…then I don’t want to be strong and above that I do not want to be considered a part of a world where only the arrogant, afraid, and powerful make the most important communal decisions. In some way, these narrow minded individuals believe they represent all of the loving, compassionate, and tolerant people who simply don’t scream and yell their opinions. Truth is often whispered in a steady, calm voice through daily acts of continuous kindness towards others.   
…I am sorry for your fear, yes, you read that correctly. For your fear. I have nothing figured out and certainly cannot be identified as someone having it all together, but I want to love. I want to do better than my last and the only way to do that is to step beyond all of my old, broken thought patterns which only lead me backwards.

I am afraid like most people and the world seems to be getting scarier every day. 
I am going to choose to address this fear with love today. Admittedly, something I know very little about, but just the same I am going to try. I am going to embrace, as best I can the inner child of me and love of all my fellow human beings. 
I am going to try and go back before all of the hurt began. Before the darkness I became so accustom to settled in.

I want you all to know that I do understand, despite my ranting, about fear and living a life based in it. Hence my pity for us. I know the abyss in which you speak and live from. The only way out of that abyss however, is not from the same old solutions. It is in finding a new way to be. A new way to think, speak and treat others. 
This is not an easy task, no one said it would be. But the same mentality which created the schism cannot undo it. I say this next part with a heart full of love and joy.

I do not wish to live in a world that continues to segregate based on race, religion, financial status, fear, or other differing demographics. 
I would rather die. 
I would rather leave this world knowing that at the least I embraced togetherness and made the mistake of trusting not hating or fearing. It is not much of a world, despite all of the technology, comforts I share, and warmth I can hold onto if I refuse to help others because I do not understand them. 

Yes, I could be inviting disaster, but I would rather die than leave other humans dangling in the winds of uncertainty knowing there was something I could do. 
And there is something we can do. 

There are small and large things we can do to invite people into our world of comfort and warmth, but we have to be willing to get hurt, to even die for what is right. Like so many of our citizens before us, who sacrificed their lives so we could then live nobly and perhaps do the same. What is right is not always what we are used to or what we have convinced ourselves is true. Sometimes what is right, is the very opposite of our rigidity, whatever that might be.  
​
If strangers were to rise up and attack us, I will pick up a rifle and fight alongside my brothers…but what if they do not? Do I take their lives through inactivity and ignorance because I am afraid they might rise up against my way of life? I cannot do this. I cannot do what is so strikingly an act of cowardice. I would not honor those who came and gave before us is I reacted this way. 
To turn my back on people in need…I would rather die. 
I beg you to take my life for my inability to turn my back. 
For my inability to remain silent. 

Do what must be done, as when I face my creator one day, there is little I want beside my name. There are no letters or dollar signs I will brag about. But I want to be able to look my creator in the eye and say, without reservation, that I tried to love. I tried to break free of fear, hate, and the status quo. 
I tried.

Although I was grossly imperfect, I tried. 
When I saw the light, I wanted to give my all for my fellows because there was nothing more that was needed. All of my fellows, not just those I gathered with. I wish to stare lovingly into my creator and know that despite my failures, my heart was at the least known for not being afraid of what I do not understand. 
That once I saw the light, so to speak, I did not make every decision out of fear of what I might lose or what I may never get. 
That instead I made the choices out of love. 

A desire to further our species and not limit the growth for future generations, whatever those generations may look like. And that if those generations were to look different than ours today, how wonderful that might be for generations to come thereafter.  
When I speak to my nieces and nephews, I will be able to say that we helped when we could. I will be able to say that we did not sit idly by and watch as thousands of strangers die because we were afraid. We tried, I will tell them, we tried. 

I do not want people coming to our lands of freedom abandoning hope; my dreams are that we will share the hope we are so blessed to live in every day. 

David Lewry

However this muse expresses herself, it is all the sound of a heart in its pure, full existence…well that is my opinion anyway…music makes for a liberated soul. Like staring blindly or blankly at art; having no words or even thoughts, just the definite feeling it resurrects in your soul. 

“I hear the train a comin…”as I cross the river. Mr. Cash’s song sifts slowly through my mind while the CP Rail train blows its horn near Edworthy Park…” I am lost in the over stimulation until I return to myself from beyond, noticing the music has slightly shifted gears while I dreamt of another sound.

Music transports me in nearly every form.

“All I ever wanted was a chance to catch my breath…watching the world go by, take each day as it comes…” more lyrics floating through the mind’s musical eye, but what is actually playing now? While I imagine this other song is Nick Drake’s, magically soft yet definite and strong voice as he sings about the Black Eyed Dog knocking at his door…how the universe speaks to us is sometimes trickier than the trickiest reasoning I can conjure up at the drop of any hat. The universe knows what is just around the bend.

I am filled with gratitude and peaceful memories this early summer morning. Little did any of us know what was coming; it was a train alright, carrying the black eyed dog to its destination. In this moment however, I simply felt that heavy and thick connection to the spirit world through the music…

There is a part of me which again drifts off to the remembered sound of Dirty Vegas and one of the most memorable nights I have been blessed to experience. It was long ago now, back in the days of the drink and drug where time often blends together and memories can remain somewhat shady…except for the music that played. I find that wherever the music is clear and soul deafening, memory lives in vivid, startling color.

The album, Dirty Vegas saturated what was left of our senses that night. She danced for me and every movement remains etched in memory. 

The glistening of her tanned skin, the way she never broke her gaze from mine as she swayed, writhed, and ground herself to me; she was muscular yet wholly feminine with every touch, motion, and gesture. The smile on her face sat crooked, mischievous, and full of every dream she had of me. Behind her glowing, sad eyes there danced a light of hope, flickering as the candles behind her dripping, sweating frame… there was joy that night, some of the last we might have known and in that joy, there was an exchange of spiritual identities…an opening of ourselves in a way led by the music which played…

Music, the mistress I dreamt of from a tormented childhood; it takes shape now as the light which often leads me back to the here and now… where Nick Drake sings sweetly in my ear. 

But Nick Drake is memory too; he reveals light beneath the cloaking darkness of a past wishing to forget itself. There is no doubt, each and every moment I am filled with his wondrous magic I am also lifted to another place and time where my sickness danced with another within the shroud of my darkest cloud. I am grateful for it, despite the nature of the more torturous memories.

Often I can find the gratitude for each and every memory, not simply those which I have labeled “good” or “beautiful” or “valuable”… fact is, the older I get the more valuable each piece of my past or piece of me becomes. Regardless of the nature of those pieces once placed under the microscope of positive versus negative. The past has become like art to me, capable of being interpreted in real time, as opposed to being a solid form of mental, emotional and spiritual oppression. I am grateful for that, as the past is having a much harder time shackling itself to me in the present which of course leads to great hope for the future.

With a third surgery looming off in the near distance; I have to admit that enjoying full revelry over the life I have been granted thus far, slips away rather quickly… despite the fear, I am constantly, or so it seems, shown the magic of each moment as opposed to those I once chose to believe were magic. I am often found imagining all that is and thanking God for all that was…even those items I made every attempt to erase or forget at one time in my life. 

The struggle recently is to fend fear off smartly and let it all be whatever it needs to be…and have a little faith in the outcome. Easier said than done sometimes, as it will be the third surgery in a twelve month period and this will of course entail, all of the after effects that go with tinkering with one’s spine more than a couple of times. On the brighter side of this twelve month period, it has now been over one year since my last cigarette. ☺

…The truth is that every time I feel fear creeping up inside of me, and on bad days it is nearly every hour, I turn to what has worked through nearly eleven years of sobriety. I turn to prayer and I turn to quiet meditative moments. 

I turn to my family, amazing friends, and I turn to the fellowship God has placed me in with its very specific and reasonable means to finding peace in storms we cannot imagine. I try and continue to work with others, although admittedly, my strength and abilities are getting strained with every passing day. I will, no doubt, endeavor to persevere until the day of surgery next week and as soon as it is reasonable thereafter. The proof of its value is undeniable to me; for that deep understanding in my soul, I thank God and all of the amazing people he has placed me around.

There is so much that I am grateful for.

Although I feel the presence of God in nearly every step I take, when fear creeps in like a thief in the night to steal my faith and faithfulness, I start to imagine He is slipping away. It is not that I believe He is leaving me, instead, I watch myself, as though I am somewhere outside of self. I witness me slipping further and further into fear with every small, often subtle choice I make and this only serves to separate me further.

The scariest part of this for me is that when I find myself deep in fear, fighting for seeming survival, the symptoms of my depression are not far behind. And unfortunately as I get older, these symptoms have begun to get undeniable and more severe with each passing day. I was bottoming out again into the abyss and my mind wandered and wondered...so I began looking into how these symptoms might be affecting my fellows in this great big world.

The statistics are a bit misleading due to lack of reporting, but approximately 20 percent of us will experience mental health issues in our life time. In Canada, suicide accounts for 24% of all deaths for individuals between the ages 15 and 24 while the numbers are a total of 16% of people between 25 and 44. Unfortunately the numbers of those afflicted with mental illness, reported suicides, et cetera is low, is due to the fact that less than half of those people who have felt depression or anxiety will see a doctor about the specific symptoms. 

In the United States, suicide takes approximately 40,000 people each year; again these numbers are based on reported suicides and reported mental illness, which I imagine is quite low. The suicide rate among returning soldiers from the Iraq/Afghanistan wars is 22 per day and Time magazine along with CNN have reported that these numbers are a low estimate based on similar characteristics as previously mentioned. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is the primary diagnosis, but of course one of the symptoms of PTSD is serious and debilitating depression.

I took a few moments to mention the above statistics for obvious reasons, but the main point I would like to make is that all of the sources; Time magazine, CNN, Headline News, CDC, and Canada Mental Health suggest that these estimations are low. It appears to me that the main reasons for the low figures might be due, in no small part, to lack of reporting by individuals suffering and family members of the deceased once a suicide has been negotiated.

Personally speaking, this past year the symptoms of said depression began kicking the literal shit out of me more frequently than ever before. Not including those times when I was self-medicating with drugs and alcohol previous to eleven years ago. I became worried when ideations began turning towards plans and the thoughts became comfortable rather than appalling. Instead of sitting on it and risking God knows what, I checked back in with a therapist and started therapy again.

It is very true what they say that helpers are often in need of help themselves. I am extremely grateful for the mentors I have had through my career and life, who helped me recognize a definite need for self-care and self-repair as well as a need to outside guidance.

Through months of talk therapy it became increasingly obvious to my therapist, and to me as well if I am honest, that medication might be necessary for at least the short term. He was making every reasonable attempt to avoid the medical route and I was grateful for it and began to realize how stubborn I had become over the issue. However, my spine began deteriorating again which had a definite and immediate effect on my mental and emotional state.

As he put it in one of our last sessions before I agreed to try medication; he said, “David, would you rather be dead or on medication…?” He was repeating to me what I had said to him during a session. I had said the exact words to a client years ago. The message hit home. I would rather try and find a viable solution than end up killing myself… there was and remains no doubt in that statement. 

Some people may be thinking, ‘but if you knew you were in danger, wouldn’t that keep you from doing it? I mean wouldn’t you be able to find a way out of it?’’ My only reasonable answer is, maybe you are right? But what if you are not? What if my brain, like yours was telling me it was ok that I could handle it, I should be able to handle anything for any number of reasons…what if out of desperation, I did it in a moment when that same brain failed to tell me anything of use because it could not? It is a bit of a mind fuck because it touches on so much about having a mental illness in general; the truth is that when untreated and even when treated sometimes, the mind has difficulty recognizing reason and rational reactions to the world in a meaningful and helpful way. 

This of course makes it seemingly impossible at times to translate the stimuli and information into a “reasonable or rational” reaction. Expecting someone to be able to see things “like normal people” or “your way” when they are experiencing symptoms of a mental illness and potentially require medication is extremely unrealistic. This type of expectation usually leads to severe frustration for both the individual suffering and those around them. 

I digress.

As mentioned previously, today I turn immediately and steadily to the things which have worked for me through the years. And even though I was practicing the disciplines with vigor and intent, I noticed the suicidal ideations had quickly found their home again in my conscious mind where they slowly became less undesirable to the thought.

The feeling of a wet blanket or towel became heavy on what felt like the front of my brain and above my eyes. At the same time, the sensation of crying at the drop of a hat returned regularly and sometimes it was simply far too strong to resist so I found myself weeping as though something tragic and important had just went horribly wrong. However, when I looked around and process the facts intellectually, all seemed well. The truth is that up until the spinal failure, things were going well and my mind, although struggling, was seemingly stabilizing to the facts at hand.

Anyone who has experienced depression or any kind of mental illness however, will understand that although I was consciously aware of the blessings; I was equally aware that my emotional state was deteriorating at a rapid rate despite those blessings and in spite of all my efforts to combat the situation. When I was able to intellectualize matters, I could spell out all of the wonders that really do make up my life. The trouble with depression is that telling yourself things like “you are just being ungrateful” is not helpful. In fact it can be down-right detrimental and it began to take that shape. 

As I stared into that all too familiar abyss, it stared deeply back into me, threatening to take me under just as it had in my past. It began to penetrate the furthest regions of my memory where the old tapes sit dormant, waiting to illuminate an old, darkened pathway leading me from hope into despair. 

Here I thank God for prayer because without it I would not have made it to this moment, I shit you not…keeping in mind that prayer lead me to seek help from people who have been placed in our society to help. Prayer works and is wonderful, but had I sat only in prayer, taking no further action, I may not be here writing this to you today. 

I do not believe that prayer is meant to replace going to a doctor when we need to or designed to keep us from seeking other help if we need that. Perhaps prayer is the process which prepares us and makes us willing to do what it takes to get better… I can get behind that as it seems to whittle away the stubbornness and bullshit we can sometimes cling to; that I cling to often enough.

I would not have found my way to be clear and honest with my mentor and therapist, as I had been allowing ego to use pride, which would have become my down fall. I would have avoided the family and friends who mean so much and help me in ways I cannot even describe. I would have found many good reasons to stay away from the fellowship which guides me silently and discreetly. My brain had already begun formulating arguments against continuing contact and further isolating myself from any and all who could lend a hand.

These factors were the answers to my prayers and each one of them in their own particular way led me back out of the abyss, even if each of them did not know where exactly, I was coming from.

It has been determined, and not by me, that there in fact is a chemical imbalance in my brain. The truth is, I needed a doctor and medication after all of these years to help balance the chemicals out and right the ship. We have exhausted other avenues and it is where I sit today. I accept it because to not accept it seems counter intuitive and counter-productive. The alternative seems far too bleak. So bleak that I cannot understand why I danced with it for so long… except to say I felt many pressures to reject the notion of medication; some of my own creation and some very real ones from the outside world.

I have always suggested people seek proper care for their situations; a doctor if they have physical or mental injuries, medication if a doctor deems it necessary, auto shop if their car is broken, a tutor if they need help in a particular subject, et cetera. But when it came to me I struggled and struggled with surrendering to what had been suggested for a very long time. 

I can sit her e and write this however, because I did not drink or use to medicate myself the past 11 years…

However, part of my “success” were the outlets I used in order to keep the symptoms of depression at bay; promiscuous sex, excessive working out, over working, unsafe and toxic relationships, anything which allowed my brain to repeatedly release the wanted chemicals. However, as I remained sober and these expressions became less and less attractive to me, the symptoms slowly crept back in. The final straw was losing my ability to work out at all for a long period of time.

The months went by and bang…it hit me like a ton of bricks. 

My depression eventually got my attention. I cannot tell you how lucky and blessed I feel that I was and am sober going through all of this stuff with my spine and mental health. I actually feel like I have a chance; not only to get better and live a full life, but to actually let God make me useful to Him and my fellows.

…But what of those who had no particular reason for wandering into a group of like-minded individuals trying to start a new way of life? Well this is where this process of “becoming well” may be made much more difficult.

We have information available at our finger tips; twenty four hours a day, 7 days a week, and 365 days a year. There is no end to the information we are inundated with and unfortunately some of that information or opinion is not only cleverly disguised as fact but it is also false and/or purposeful misinformation.

Opinion is not fact. 

An example is this blog posting. 

I am stating my opinion and thoughts to you about depression based on both my personal and professional experience with it. 

I am not telling you how to diagnose it, whether you need medication or not, whether medication is right or wrong, or whether we as the human race look too quickly to medicate and ignore other factors or whether we under medicate. 

My opinions on those matters are that if you swing a pendulum from one extreme to the other (not medicating to medicating) you end up on the other side of that pendulum for a period of time. The back and forth always takes patience and in society the pendulum does not find the middle ground until the people who make up those societies find themselves free of hysterical ideas and perspectives.

That is simply my opinion and even at that it is only a mere drop in the mental bucket of what I am dipping into. I have simplified a very complex issue; society’s reliance on hysterical notions to fuel trends. What a topic. I will leave that for sociologists.

I do want something from each of you with this tiny little morsel, however. 

I want you to understand that whether you believe in mental illnesses or not, they exist and they are crippling someone you know or have known. I want you to understand that whether you believe in medication or not, they are necessary for some of those people living with mental illness.

I want you to try and forget what the ignorant have said about mental illness. Try and wash those ideas from your mind and find a clear white wall to reflect upon with your new images; images of understanding, love and of tolerance for other humans whether we understand their particular issues or not.

I could list many things I have heard from coworkers, students, clients, and the general public working in the field as a social worker through the years but that list is not only extensive but I believe unnecessary. You each have heard many things and have probably said many things about mental illness; it is time though for us to be more creative than what we have been told by ourselves and others. It is time to settle for nothing less than improvement in our dealing with other human beings. It is time to stop waiting for someone else to do better than we ourselves believe we are capable of.

I want you to live, as another of my friends has succumbed to her illness and by the time I finish this piece, several more of our fellows will fall to suicide. The pain in our hearts and those who are affected by loss is monstrous and will remain for the rest of our days. 

Think of all you may have lost in people who have suffered and continue to suffer. 

Imagine your kindness being a key to life. 

To saving a life you may not even know you have saved. 

Carry that with you. 

We cannot know what we do not know. 

One of the biggest things we tend to be unaware of is how we have impacted and continue to impact the people we connect with on this planet. I want you to think about this if you don’t mind. I want you to simply try and become a sliver of light in someone else’s pervasive, insidious darkness for that, I think is the point of it all.

I want you to live, all who suffer. But I will not pass on disappointment or bitterness should you succumb. I know it is hard to come forward; it was hard for me and I am not nearly as stubborn as I once was. Please don’t let pride or ego get in the way of you living. Of you continuing to touch others in ways you may be unaware. 

I want you to live! 

A few months ago from somewhere deep inside of me, I wanted to live… it was not conscious, as I could not find a single reason to stay. My brain had betrayed me. It had failed me when it promised I could always be ok. I needed help from others and I would rather you seek and get medical help than suffer alone and take your own life. 

I promise however, that I will not judge you if you decide to continue in the dark. I have been so close in that darkness I cannot muster any judgment. I will pray and continue to write about it as long as I feel it deep within me and necessary. I will continue trying to connect to others and hopefully in that connection, we may help each other for even just that one moment we need it most.

I happened to meet a friend who I had not seen for a couple of years. She told me of her battle with depression and how close she came last year to ending her own life’ I was taken aback by how eerily similar not only our stories but timelines were. 

You see I could not imagine the world without her even though I do not see her often. Knowing she is out there touching people’s lives the way only she could fills me with love and hope. The thought of the world being denied her touch gives me shivers deep inside my soul today, as I think back to our talk. Although our visit was short it was so full of depth, warmth, beauty, and understanding. Her presence left me filled with light and love for the remainder of that day.

I thank God she stayed. Just as she said to me after we had parted ways. 

I wish this could have been all about music and remembering the wonderful life I have been given in connection to the sounds, but the truth is that train carrying the black eyed dog came round the bend sooner than anyone thought. The dog barked briefly and stole off into the night with one of our sisters. She took her life after her long battle with depression and alcoholism.

We are heartbroken and her absence will be felt for a long time. I will have the music of that day however, and the music will continually remind me of what is deep within us as human beings. It was the very day I found out she had taken her life. I am grateful for that music, it serves to comfort me even now, as I type through tears and heart ache.

Those who knew her, loved her for all she was; bent parts and all. I found her strength remarkable and her faith unshakeable. Some might suggest those are impossibilities of reason given how she left us, but those people would be wrong because they may not understand what it takes for some of us to simply make it through a day as human beings. 

While I sat watching the screen during her funeral and saw pictures of her smiling, I was overwhelmed with emotion, but I could see so clearly her love for every part of the difficult life she had been given and her uncanny love for her God and Creator. Most of the pictures where she was photographed alone had her looking heavenward with the kind of smile children get when their parent’s love penetrates every pore of them.

When the child perhaps knows that despite the pain, the love which exists transcends all things including their suffering. She was extremely spiritual and knew with all of her being that she was going to see Jesus and find her God lovingly waiting for her. 

I wish this sober life was not so damn real sometimes. That it did not hit me square between the eyes like it does…luckily, that kind of wishing evaporates as quickly as it comes these days. The reality of it all is necessary and true. The desire to disconnect from it, albeit equally real in and of itself, is unnecessary. It is a part of the fantasy built by decades of wishing my life away in a vein and more often than not painful attempt to remain disconnected from anything I may have ever loved. 

It was watching the screen at her funeral when the sensation of God washed over and through me. Where I was left with what seemed like an awareness of old becoming more solid in her smiling, loving face… I would so much rather grieve for your loss than to not have known or loved you. I would no more want to replace this grief than I would want to replace the brief time we had. 

Even now as I type the words, it feels real. It feels true. I will be honest, this feeling is not dependent on how you leave this world, although I want you to stay, I understand sometimes we have to go. The love I have and the memories we share will not change because of the reasons you are gone.

I guess what I really want for each of you is to simply know that there is help out there and that my hope is you reach out if you need too. I tried to make this as clear as possible, but I must be honest I have had some trouble finding my voice amidst the wonders, the beauty, the magic, the grief, the stress, and the steady pain flooding in from all corners of my memory.

I want to leave you with an image. 

Of possibility. 

Of dreams. 

Of beginnings and endings and how each of those things is wondrous in its own right.

Thank you and may you all find your peace.

David Lewry

Unsure where to start this so I’ll begin by mentioning what I took out of the blog: my thoughts on the police officer involved shootings as of late.

Why did I remove almost four pages of information? 

All of the information I found admitted that there was a lack of actual information or facts related to the subject matter. This is apparently due to poor reporting habits in the United States and seemingly even poorer requirements by the Federal Government for law enforcement agencies make their individual statistics known. The reporting habits, or lack thereof, are enough for a separate blog; however, I do not have the energy for that kind of research considering The Washington Post reported an inability to find solid facts on the numbers from across the country. 

I will leave that subject alone after I pass along these numbers (the best I could find including The Washington Post September 8, 2014 edition): since 2001 the numbers vary between 400 and 1000 police officer involved shootings in the United States each year. 

My guess is that the actual number is somewhere between those figures ranging around the 600 police officer involved fatal shootings each year in the United States; I have no data to back that up, but I’m a reasonable dude and somewhere in the middle is generally where the truth sits. This fact does not comfort me of course, as the numbers are bloody staggering regardless.

As a comparison for anyone wondering; the numbers in Canada are approximately 90 police officer involved shooting fatalities since 1932. Wow. I can’t even (there’s your pop culture reference) begin to say how the comparison fails in any light. I must consider some widely differing demographic, economic, socio-political, and population related issues which contribute to the staggering realities. Of course I have named only a few possible differences between the countries.

It saddens me deeply regardless of the why, which is part of why I simply stopped digging. Well that is part of the reason I stopped digging. Another reason is the more I read, the more I found that instead of solid data, I was being told many reasons why the shootings took place, which of course is based solely on opinion, lacking evidence or data. 

Every bit of information I uncovered led me to even more sadness and confusion. I respect and support the police services around the world; the job is probably one of the most difficult to do outside of being a soldier and it grows more and more difficult as time goes on. 

I try to imagine what it would be like to be micromanaged so intensely…in everything I did…by not only management, but by the public opinion as well…oh wait. I have worked for charities before so it is really not that difficult to imagine. However, when I worked for the charity my life and that of the public were rarely at stake in the split second decisions I had to make. Even then however, I was often making choices that were overturned by someone who had never done the job before or been faced with those decisions on their own. 

Try to imagine this in your world, whatever that might be…and I suppose, for argument sake, try and imagine that any decision you made might end in negative consequences by your management while at the same time, any decision you do not make could potentially end in your or someone else’s death. It changes things; at least in my mind.

I digress.

I simply cannot wrap my head around those American numbers; it literally causes some sort of brain hemorrhage. When I look at the proposed statistics regarding race of the victims of police involved fatal shootings in the United States, I cringe and have to look away. It is not because I believe all of the shootings are race related; I believe most of them are more likely “crime related”. I am not putting those numbers in here as I could not find any which seemed legitimate. I may have stopped looking because of how it all made me feel. You are welcome to do your own research and I recommend it. 

This is what I was doing while I waited the two hours or so for my flight to depart from the Calgary international airport.

I need to start this second portion by stating outright: in my day to day life I have nothing to complain about as I have been given a wonderful life, made wonderful by faith, sobriety, family, and friends. I have no doubt that my life is incredible and that I do not deserve it or am I taking it for granted any time soon.

This being said however, what in hell is up with Air Canada Rouge and their seats?

My God man! 

We were so crammed onto that plane I could not sit up straight in my seat due to the absence of leg or any wiggle room. Even the woman; approximately five feet tall, weighing in at less than one hundred pounds started her complaints immediately upon sitting down. As she voiced her displeasure, her gaze turned to me, trying to manipulate myself into the seat and wondering how one earth I was going to manage my legs for three hours…

Of course not everyone is slowly recovering from back surgery and thank God for that, as I imagine someone feeling my level of discomfort would have revolted on board at 20,000 feet. And that would have been quite messy. I am a relatively mild mannered, calm fellow these days but even I grew agitated by the lack of room and the gradual pain I experienced which slowly moved me towards some form of outward expression. Even if that expression was lying on the floor performing my physio-therapy routine while the stewardesses screamed and yelled for me to return to my seat. 

Air Canada…for shame! 

I could not get off of that flight fast enough although even that process slowed down. I nodded and muttered “thank you” and “take care” to the flight attendants, as I limped, wobbled and stretched my way into the Phoenix airport. All of this after we sat on the tarmac and waited for the plane in front of us to move so we could disembark; it was a definite exercise in patience, acceptance and pain tolerance. 

My friend had everything set up for the trip and she minimized any possible problem I might have had. I am forever in her debt! There are always bright sides to any situation; sometimes it is easier than others to see the silver lining. On this trip however, the bright side seemed to loom over everything for all I was required to do was show up and participate; apparently she knows me well.

“It’s the least I can do…” I was fond of muttering and she was fond of responding with, “Well if you were aiming to do the least you could, you succeeded, I suppose…” All I could do was chuckle and nod my agreement…and continue to do the least I could at any moment in every situation.

Recalling the several back and fourths we had is making me chuckle out loud although I’m damned if I can remember what the rest were at this moment. I understand why Thompson may have used a tape recorder when engaging; it becomes difficult to remember the words when you are trying to recall the mood and emotional tone… and I haven’t used any narcotics or had anything to drink in a very long time.

I digress.

Our first stop was Sedona and I was not disappointed; our introduction to this area was an incredible view of giant Red Rock Mountains directly in our path. 

This first night in town went without a hitch…unless you consider food which tasted like cat chow at the very retro styled/alien-sighting motif diner a hitch? We did not. 

We entered for the atmosphere and left wondering how it all could have gone so wrong while at the same time being quite alright. It began with the terrible service and ended with sub-par food. This could be a rough way to start any trip or review process but in our case, we felt grateful that we did not pick up some kind of food borne illness or ailment. I realize our standards are fairly low as I read this paragraph over again, but the truth is food can taste poorly and the service can often leave a lot to be desired but if you walk out of the restaurant without food poisoning after all the lead up, consider yourself very, very lucky. 

I know I sure do.

The rest of the first evening was quite pleasant including a wonderful sunset from across the courtyard of the hotel balcony. The rest of that first evening is a bit of a blur due to that feeling of sheer exhaustion that I could not shake; this was my first flight and long road trip since my last surgery and the body felt every bit of the journey.

In all honesty, the body is still feeling the journey and I have been back in Canada for three days.

The following day was my kind of holiday; a nice stroll in the morning with a stop for a large, Mexican food lunch before settling down for what turned into nearly a three hour nap! I may not have been as excited about the nap if later that evening I did not crash right out and sleep for nearly ten more hours ☺.

We had heard about these things called vortexes scattered around Sedona and that they held some kind of healing energy for those who visited. Of course we had to check at least one out, but on that second evening we found ourselves directed near the vortex but not into it. we had been sent to that mountain for another reason entirely.

We wandered around a hotel near the airport and found ourselves standing amidst one hundred or so other people waiting for the sun to set off in the west…just like us. I rarely get the impression that I am one of a kind or that my ideas are original; I feel like I have been around far too long to be that naïve so it was not a surprise that we all jammed onto the same look out plateau. We closely suffocated each other, waiting, surprisingly patiently as we joked about one thing or another while our shoulders rubbed and our bodies subtly writhed in anticipation.

K and I joked about all of us waiting for the sunset to come…at the same spot on the same cliff side as every other human being in the town of Sedona. There was a strange but peaceful vibe in the air as one onlooker carried a twelve piece Kentucky fried Chicken meal to a rock in front of us, two female companions in tow, and took a seat. I laughed out loud as this had become a serious event! 

An event, which required the compliments of a full meal; it should not have been surprising what happened at the end of it all.

The truth is I was slightly offended by my own initial reaction to what at least half of the crowd did once the sun went behind the horizon. Well I was not offended at first; at first I laughed out loud and imagined the slow clap from cheesy movies replacing the very serious and intentional clapping many people had begun to do because the sun had finally set.

That is correct; people clapped at the sunset. 

Like it was the end of a good movie or performance in the theatre. 

Maybe the end of a sporting event which worked out to their approval.

This however, was a sunset.

The brilliance.

The beauty.

The magnificence of it all. 

And I laughed. Well we laughed, but I cannot speak for K.

I laughed because it seemed hilarious to me that this ritual of mine was something spectacular to a hundred strangers. Being of such a life that I watch the sunset whenever I can and each time I do, I am caught listening to my soul, as it claps and hugs the very spirit and beauty of the splendid colors dancing across the sky…and that somehow, this experience has been dulled into the mundane.

It occurred to me once logic and reason begun working again that I had begun to take for granted this wondrous gift I am given whenever I watch the sun disappear to the west. It was at this revelation, my heart and soul felt somewhat offended by my mind’s initial reaction. I can still see the humor in the crowd’s response to the sun setting, but I can also very clearly see the clapping as an outward expression of our spirit’s catching a glimpse of the God like beauty captured in a clear sunset made all the more incredible when several of us can experience it together as one. Connected by the very thing we all sought in that very moment.

If for no other reason, the experience of a sunset is a signal that we have made it one more day. Regardless of our struggles or disabilities, we made it.

We survived.

For the human being this is no small accomplishment and for any of us who struggle with anything extra, it can mean our entire world has settled and we have been given another chance at life.

I felt it, as the laughter subsided. 

That sensation of making it when several times through the past year, I did not want to stay; when I serenely and rationally let God know I was ready to go home. It may seem like an absurdity because admittedly I have an incredible life, but it is true. 

With the need for surgery and then the actual surgical procedures, my depression at first reared its head and then it raged from within the depths of me threatening to swallow me whole from one beautiful moment to another. There were moments I could see the darkness, as all of the beauty in my life slowly filtered to the periphery where it seemed to linger, vibrate and seemingly die.

It would be a mistake to think that I purposely chose to neglect the positive or that all depression means is sadness. 

I made daily and moment to moment choices to focus on the positive because I felt the depressive mind begin to settle. I had no sadness but slowly I had no feeling at all. Instead of emotion there was a heavy weight upon me, crushing and debilitating. 

There was the thought that I wanted to feel good because intellectually I recognize my sobriety, family, faith, and friends. That my health was being given back to me through surgery and I was going to have another chance to treat my body better in the next however long.

I had quit smoking and was feeling better and better despite the weight gain involved. I am not going to lie and tell you all that I chose to not smoke without effort as the days stretched to weeks and months. I prayed and prayed and tried to let go of my ideas of body. It worked in the end, and continues to do so, but it was difficult as I watched the weight slowly settle onto me and knew there was very little I could do. I nearly chose to smoke in an effort to keep from putting too much weight on. 

The fact that I could not exercise as much as I had before scared me to no end. This change did not help me as the depression crept in, crashing onto me like waves upon waves of heaviness and sorrow. It was in the recognition of these feelings that I can see my reaction to the sunset. The slightest thing can trigger such large scale awakenings and musings…

As K and I talked about the clapping I knew my mind finally understood what my heart knew instantly. A sunset is an experience worth clapping for. It is something not everyone is able to see. Imagine, as we stood there, sun slowly creeping behind the mountains in the distance that there were people in many places across the globe dying. Perhaps even in the town of Sedona that night. Never to see another sunset and perhaps looking through their mind’s eye at the last sunset they were able to witness... I let this thought sink way into me. And like a warm blanket the recognition filled and surrounded me.

A sunset is something worth experiencing. 

A clap worthy experience if you will.

I will do well to remember this fact the next time I am able…

The following morning we found our way to a nearby vortex for the sunrise and morning meditation… I want to report that the vortex is exactly as they sell it, but that was not our experience. Sitting separately and attempting to let the energy flow through me I felt the very familiar sensation of my morning, prayer and meditation routine. Which on its own is an effective exercise in connectivity to my Higher Power; of course it was made all the more peaceful by the spectacular surroundings of a sunrise in the middle of the desert. I cannot deny the power of the desert in general but to say that anything special occurred in “the vortex” would be a stretch.

I hope others experience whatever they need to or are looking for in order to connect, but I made an even more powerful connection after we left the vortex and I attended a step 11 meeting in the town proper. I walked through a prayer-meditation garden to reach the meeting and felt a presence much like the desert provides. 

It was peace and all love. 

Full of purpose.

I was home yet again.

As for the vortex; if you can connect there better than other places, that is awesome! Go there and connect. If not, do not be discouraged as God is everywhere…

That which you are seeking is the very matter which causes you to seek. 

I would love to take credit for these words, but my friend and brother, Dominic said them many years ago to me. I cannot remember for the life of me where he heard it. I want to say it was his martial arts instructor at some point, but I could be wrong. I had a tendency to drink a fair bit back in those days. I am amazed, quite frankly, that I can remember the words at all.

The next part of our journey took us to a volcano just north of Flagstaff, Arizona and the Navajo reservation which surrounded it. For as far as I could see lava rock and ash covered and lathered the landscape. 

There are trees which occasionally beat the odds, growing through the wreckage. They remain after 900 years since the eruption and subsequent destruction. It is incredible to think that after so long a time the destructive power of mother-nature is still present and overwhelming. 

It made me shiver to think of different places around the world which have been, in the not so distant past, touched by the more destructive nature of our planet. The vibrations of which will be felt for years to come and in some cases, hundreds of years.

Our drive continued through Navajo and Hopi lands. 

Lands which definitely felt lived in by memories and ghosts of those who came before. We visited Pueblos along the hostile landscape and realized how difficult things must have been. The landscape was beautiful as are the Pueblos and of course the history. The landscape is not particularly robust with wildlife, floral or fauna. In fact it is the absence of these obvious attractions which colored it all so intensely beautiful to my inner eye. 

The absence, devoid of presence, fully silent and waiting which draws me deeper and deeper into the desert’s bosom each and every time I find myself wandering through her offerings. 

Our tour brought us full circle; back to our jumping off, cliff edge…if you will.

That which you are seeking is causing you to seek.

The next leg of the road trip brought us to The Grand Canyon, which on its own did not let us down. The scenery is magical when you move beyond the fact that it is an attraction not unlike Disneyland. We got lucky to hit our first couple of destinations along the south rim before the crowds gathered, making it nearly impossible to find the peaceful majesty of a landscape completely unique in my memory.

The feeling I got looking out into that vast, deep canyon was similar to staring into the mouth of the Rocky Mountains. I am small. My issues are small. The world is magnificent. I am a small part of this magnificent world. It is an incredible sensation to look inward while also looking outward and seeing the definite connection to the vast external and the vast internal. 

Despite our personal issues with the crowds along the south rim, I would have to recommend to anyone that they witness the Grand Canyon in some capacity. If you are able to get there around sunrise, I believe you will not be disappointed. I imagine in fact, that you will witness something extraordinary. You will also miss the throng of people lurching around as though they were in a theme park. Which of course, in a way we were wandering around the greatest theme park of all.

As a side note, if you are in the area of The Grand Canyon and you happen to be heading towards Williams, Arizona you should drop in and wander around Bedrock City. It is slightly creepy to go inside the houses and the different buildings within the park, as you get the sense that someone or something lives in each one.

It really is a must see however. It served to wash the taste of the massive crowds from our mouths. It served also, as a wonderful stopping point on our way to route 66 and the nostalgic images and ideas that stretch of Arizona highway brings to mind.

The remainder of our trip was on the road back to Phoenix. The trip was incredible and covered quite a lot of ground for five days and a desert that seemed to change landscape quite regularly as we drove. It was something to see the incredible beauty of a country often wrapped up in one form of difficulty or another. To witness the people being human regardless of their individual and national struggles is something to behold. There is a purpose and an undeniable strength within them. I tip my hat to each and every one of the Americans we had the pleasure of meeting.

My travel companion made it all possible and above and beyond that she made it worth the while. Her depth of knowledge, awareness and insight created an environment worthy of an educational tour. I am not only speaking of the landscape and attractions we visited, but of the human spirit and the human being. I not only value her friendship but her presence on the planet. Knowing she is out there today, doing her thing and enhancing her universe one person at a time makes me feel content. The world is better with you in it K.

Of that I have no doubt.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I will remember parts of our journey for as long as I remain able to cognitively recognize memory. 

I have generally chosen to travel alone through the years, but this trip solidified something I felt last year while travelling Mexico with another friend. The experience is exponentially better when you can share it with someone who appreciates similar things to you even if you do not agree with one another all of the time. Being able to see and sense similar undercurrents is an incredible blessing and I will do well to remember this fact as well. 

Share whatever experiences you can with those who hold meaning to you. I had never known anything like the sensation of carrying a shared experience. 

I am blessed indeed.

By the grace of God I go.

David Lewry 

I’ll See You Sunday…

The very real truth is that sometimes we won’t.

I cannot count how many times I uttered those words to my friend, “I’ll see you Sunday, dude…” after speaking or meeting during the week. I think the universe uses such events to remind us that although we are given a certain amount of time on this earth, it is an unknown amount and we should act accordingly…whatever that means for each of us.

The reminder works, however briefly, as there is something operating in my brain which does not allow me to remember this simple secret to life for very long. It was literally 72 hours later when I heard myself whisper to a friend, “Maybe I’ll see you this weekend…”

By God if I don’t for whatever reason, know that I love you!

The family members I see and don’t see regularly; I love you. The friends I see regularly; I love you. The friends I don’t get to see as often as I once did, I love you. The friends I have not seen in forever, I love you. To all of those people I may not be in contact with any longer, who have had an impact on my life for what they call a reason, season or a lifetime; I love you.

And to the people I come in contact with each and every day, which are a part of my journey, whether I like it or not; I love you.

I am grateful for each of you; past, present and future. No matter how we left things or leave them; you helped shape and form me and in that I am grateful.

Thank you…

Brady was a good man. 

He was my friend and he taught me something every moment I was able to spend with him. The lesson was not always something I could continue to use and it was not for lack of merit, but suitability of character instead. Some of the beauty he possessed was not necessarily possible for the rest of us; it was granted to those special creatures capable of living in such a way. If somehow I can put forth the smallest fraction of what he taught me, I will feel as though I did the best I could.

He was capable of such sensitivity, love and tolerance; his way was and will remain an ideal to strive towards. I will continue to use his life and teachings as guidelines when working with others because of the depth of his love for his fellows. It is not to say that Brady was perfect; nothing would feel as cheap as to label him thusly in fact. That would be to ignore his human difficulties and the strategies he employed to work through them.

We would forget that he was a man, who despite his struggles and strains against the flow of life he maintained a seemingly innate ability to love and show that love to his fellows. He worked with others constantly and that was the proof I needed.

Although his words often spoke volumes, his deeds wrote tomes. 

I believe that makes a person; the actual sum of our parts, which makes us whole. Were we loosely hanging theory and feebly held together words, or was our body of work etched in the stone of the actual living, breathing human beings we crossed paths with, cried over and often bled for?

Brady was the latter. 

He was a man no doubt; flawed and imperfect in many ways. 

He was beautifully capable of using his imperfections and flaws to bring the beauty out in others. He was capable and willing to lift you from the depths of despair with what seemed like never ending kindness and compassion…

My man, Brady: 

I will try and live more nobly dude.

It seems you taught me how.

I will try and let the tears flow freely to match the love I try and share with my fellows. 

It appears you left this mark on me.

I will hold dear those people and principles worth living by and for. 

It is with great joy that you gave me permission to love and deeply connect despite the pain of loss.

I will value those things which make me God’s creation.

Such beautiful creatures we are in our frailty.

And I will endeavor to pray and meditate more often today than yesterday, dude.

It is not without action that our faith will grow.

I love you and miss you dearly…

I am going to leave it here. I am going to leave it as the wide, loving smile on his face and the pooling tears in his glowing eyes. The kind words he said to you or I before he fell into God’s warm embrace. The sound of his laughter…

I am going to leave it where I think he would have wanted.

May you rest in peace, Brady…