Take time, my friend, and listen
to the whispers and the screams
which cry out from those around us -
from men impoverished and of means.

As they suffer life’s cruel lessons:
aching losses; pain, deceit.
All, mere victims of a callous world?
Or did some fall beneath our feet?

For all too often, “Wealth” – it shields us.
“Fame” and “Power” build a screen,
through which little real is filtered;
our toll on others’ lives, unseen.

For to see the part we play in pain
wil pain upon us wreak.
And will make of it a “conscious” choice,
so that our demons must meet.

But it is that choice that test our mortar.
It is the choice that sets us free.
Still too many beg Will’s question -
Ah “to be?” or “not to be?”

Some just let the darkness blind them,
until the light so stings their eyes,
they are “content” to live in folly
and dance ‘round those shattered lives.

Others sit inside their castles
ever conscious of the roar,
as beyond their walls, life rages -
leaving victims by the score.

Unaswered pleas leave some “unsettled,”
‘til ‘neath their cool appearance lies
such a dread and dark foreboding,
that mere “money” can’t disguise.

When left unchecked, these souls – they wither.
Hiding, angry at the truth.
Until their “peace”; it kills the fire,
which burned so hotly in their youth.

Oh, those who choose the sheltered path,
“Yes”, they do avoid some pain.
But also joy and laughter,
“Life” also offered up, in vain.

For whether “love” or “joy” or “sorrow”,
to feel emotions set men free,
to carve out the chords of honor,
used to shape their destiny.

So take time, my friend, and listen
to the ragings and the moans
For as you “reach”, the soul you save,
could truly be your own.

Listen -
V.W.Davenport 12/25/97

I know that we all feel a great need to be listened to; to have our thoughts and feelings considered and understood is often more important than any eventual action or decision that can take place. I also know that until that feeling is internalized, until we feel the respect and validation that comes with knowing we have been heard, we continue to state our position, over and over, often louder and louder, hearing nothing but our own voice. (An even worse consequence occurs when we simply give up and, therefore, shut up. When our thoughts, ideas and, most importantly, our vitality and commitment, are lost, simply because we feel that our opinions will forever be viewed as unimportant. We become resigned to the (misguided) “fact” that it has become our lot in life to suffer in silence; to know the answer but never be called upon or even allowed to respond to the question.)

Our reaction to the situation can convince us that, in spite of our intelligence, competence and genuine level of concern, our opinions have no value; that our position is doomed never to be truly understood, considered, much less possibly adopted or accepted as valid. When this happens, we cannot help but suffer a loss of personal commitment and damaged self esteem. Even worse, we nurture a resentment constantly fed by what we perceive to be the other person’s disrespect and their devaluing of our own sense of competence and self worth.

I once heard this style of “communication” (and I use that term factitiously because no real communication takes place) referred to as “the dialogue of the deaf.” It occurs when the targeted “listener” stands by, waiting only for his turn to speak (all the while preparing his upcoming remarks in his/her head), thus never engaging his heart and mind toward the task of understanding the comments and concerns being voiced by the person trying to engage him/her in a “conversation”. In return, the first speaker, sensing (correctly) that he has not been heard or even listened to, eventually, albeit reluctantly, surrenders the floor, only to then proceed to do exactly the same thing. Yes, he/she goes into his head, with mind only peripheral engaged, while he, himself, waits for his next turn to speak). In the end, each is frustrated, helpless and often learns little or no new information which could aid them in their effort to reach an amicable solution to their present problem. It is, more often than not, a never ending cycle.
Sometime close to the time I originally wrote this letter, I also wrote a poem called “Listen.” I am posting it here as well. Hope you like it.

Watching the news footage and seeing pictures of the vehicle, all over the news during the following week after the accident, felt totally surreal. My first thought was, “trees aren’t suppose to be in the middle of cars like that.”  Then, the tree was so small: how could it do so much damage and kill two people, especially John.  Followed by ”that is just a short hunk of twisted metal, it can’t really be his SUV at all.”  Now, months later, I still can’t really accept it; the tree was so small and John  was. as so many people know, “larger than life.” How could this be true? But it was true. John was here and then, in the turn of a wheel and the skid of tires and one lonely, rather small tree, he and my Johnny were and remain gone.

I must admit, at some level, I suspected that something like this might happen one day. Everyone who knew John well enough to have ever driven with him, knew he was a terrible driver. He just never could get anywhere fast enough.  I think a large part of that was that he always tried to cram 48 hours of living out of the 24 hours the rest of us were given every day. In doing so, John pushed himself –and along with that, he also pushed everyone who worked with him–even my other friend, his friend and driver, Johnny, far beyond what most normal people –and employers–would ever expect. But it was embedded in John; a part of his inherent nature,  to do everything he could to meet the demands life placed at his doorstep. You see, John was not only brilliant, but also uniquely and incredibly talented as a lawyer.  He held people accountable. Even the rich and powerful. In fact, for those he held them to a higher burden. He expected them to keep those they employed safe and make certain that those who bought their products, who made them their millions (or billions)  in profits, bought products which not only served their represented purpose, but that the products they sold were also safe and did not cause the public harm.  When products hurt people, John got angry. This anger, in my observation, was the primary fuel for his incredible drive which kept him working, day and night, to fight and win so many calls for his help. What part of the fuel that many people did not see was  John’s connection (and through it, his natural empathy) for the pain of ordinary people who suffered tragedy and loss at the hands of these corporate giants who had played so recklessly with their lives. It wasn’t the money, but the cries for help from ordinary people, which kept John from taking any real time off–or from quitting altogether. His talents coupled with his gift of empathy together, as few understood, for John, was both a blessing and a curse. John could not turn his back on the weak and wrongfully injured.  Despite his wealth, John could not walk away from corruption and injustice.  Throughout John’s almost forty years of practice, and, in all honesty, even throughout his sixty eight years of life, John saw far too much of all of it. And the more John saw, the more angry (and the more demanding) he became.   

You see, from all I can tell, John O’Quinn grew up pretty much the classic egg-head nerd. Tall, skinny, black, horn-rimmed glassed, the whole nine yards. He was raised by his dad, a hard driving s.o.b. who owned the garage where John worked after school. John’s father was demanding, uncompramising and relentless: things were “his way or the highway”. I recall John telling me about a time he rebuilt a motor and changed one thing because he thought it would work much better the way he had made the adaption: rather than be proud of his son’s innovative idea, John’s father ordered John to tear the entire engine down and rebuild it from scratch, exactly like he had been told.  Had the same thing happened with one of the mechanics who worked in the garage, no doubt the elder O’Quinn would have just issued his often harsh retort “Rack ‘em and leave!” a command which was equivalent to Donald Trumph’s now classic harsh and also quite clear: “You’re Fired!” Quite early John learned the tyranny of upper management. He also had a heart felt and never ending desire to get things right.

John’s father died in an apartment fire when John was a young man. He’d lost his mother when he was five or six, after John’s father took him away from Louisiana to Houston. (She died, before John got back with her when John was 12.) Although married twice, John never chose to have children. All he had was the law: and thousands of clients (and other people who never knew him) who all lived better lives because he cared.

So, John was, at 68, rushing again to cram 48 hours into a 24 hour day when a rain soaked, winding roadway, and a six inch diameter tree reached out and suddenly proved to everyone, including John, that he was not invincible. I am sure John never saw it coming. The rest of us did; kind of. Anyone who had ever ridden with John had to have known it was possible, even Johnny. We just didn’t think it would come so soon.

So, God bless you John Maurice O’Quinn. The world is better because you lived. I, as one of many, will miss you everyday. Your maker (your father and your mother) and others you love and who love you have all greeted you will open arms. Your soul is free. 

Rest happy and at peace.

Love,

Nadine

(And God Bless You too, Johnny Cutliff)

If we look hard enough, and for some of us, not too hard at all, we will find that we each have incredible God given talents. Talents which give each of us the opportunity to be truly and uniquely ”great” at something in our lifetime. Perhaps it is not something which will make us millions, maybe it will. Perhaps it will save a life, or maybe it will win a soul. Perhaps it will find a cure for some deadly disease or be that never ending ray of sunshine that always seems to come through and brighten the lives of those around us when they are at their wits end or maybe when they wish it was their final breath. It may be as an NFL or NBA super star, but more likely is may be the ability to teach a child to learn (if only that it is valuable and worth our time and love) or it may be to encourage an adult that he or she is not too old to learn to read, even at 60, or 70 or even at anytime before death. Yes, to be great is a choice. 

Unfortunately, all too often, we instead choose not to try. We sense our gifts, but we try harder to cease the clamor of their call than we make the small effort it takes to answer it. For the degree of effort between mediocrity and “greatness” is often very little indeed. It can be as easy as keeping your mind active and your body moving. It can take only getting up and off the couch: turning off the tv, at least for a few hours a day, if only for even a few days a week. It can be as easy as asking questions and then actually listening to the answers. Did you hear me? I said: In honestly listening to the answers; in caring by paying attention and truly listening to what other people think, care about and are trying to tell you and to have you understand.

It can be as easy as continuing to learn more about and practice your instinctive, natural, God-given talent; like an ability to play the piano, sing, paint, teach, run, swim, or even preach or practice law. All of this takes practice. Greatness can come as instinctively as showing patience, kindness, respect and empathy. It can be as effortless as a smile. 

So, today choose Greatness! Start with a smile, then practice, even if it is to smile often. And commit to making the effort to be the best “you” who God made you to be!!!

Start Now!! Choose Greatness!

My initial thought was that I had experienced something of an epiphany. As of late, I have been realizing how many mean spirited people say angry and cutting things to just hear themselves talk. Just take a look at Wikopedia. Condemnation repeated but at its source, a perjurer. Still it thrives as an outlet for a created reality where abject, unfettered arrogance is memorialized as truth, when it is (in true reality) merely an outlet for condemnation and contempt. So, after having been on this blog for a few weeks, well, I must ask….how do we truly “know” anything as truth. It is just the truth now, without further evidence that may prove it a half truth or even a lie. All is theory (and viewed skeptically or even as false) until proven to be fact. Then we start reaching for the next (as yet unrevealed) rung on the ladder. It may be there, just hidden, but in all likelihood, never will we know everything..Certainly not enough or solidly enough to condemn with such contempt. So,”Is ignorance (*truly) bliss?” “Or is it folly for the wise?” Is an unexamined life truly not worth living?.Or is it just a safe haven to escape the real jerks of the world? I humbly confess my own ignorance. I am fallible and in many ways ignorant. However, I do not profess to be the holder of the truth at every turn. Let me note here, that this is not a spiritual question. The certain things I do know is the love of God through Christ. My questions come as to the “created reality, born and thriving not on truth, but on hate, personal motivation and dogmatic repetition. The web is a powerful tool. In the wrong hands it can be devastating to the efforts of righteousness over evil and love over hate. How do we manage?How do we effectively fight back?God needs an anchor and a shield. Maybe God is our shield.