Ok, Here goes.
I’m not good at this self promotion thing, never really have been. However, I’m going to try anyway. If you enjoy reading my musings, poetry, and stories here, please consider subscribing to my Patreon.
I’m new to Patreon and I’m doing my best to build a subscriber list. It only costs $1/Month to subscribe to my short stories. They are completed stories that I only post there. I’ve posted excerpts of them here on my blog.
So, if you’re interested in reading full length stories, my Patreon is the place. I post at least one per month.
Thank you for your constant support. It means a lot.
I sit beneath my grand sycamore tree
Her majestic arms encircling me
She holds me close yet sets me free
While I sit upon her root shaped chair
We share lovely stories and sing happy tunes
The fragrance of spring swirls ‘neath her strong bows
A breath of tulips, buttercups and lilies
I lay on the blankets of soft meadow grasses
A warm summer breeze brushes my skin
My sycamore she sings to me
Melodies of love and serenity
She sees me for just what I am
For what I could be, not what I once was
She accepts me in spite of my many follies
My lady, she wonders why waste my time?
What beauty I see in my sycamore tree?
Ax in her hand, she asks me to move
So she can cut down and remove it from view
A fist to the air, she makes such a scene
She curses the tree for noticing me
For treating me kindly and holding me close
I wish she would see the value in me
To see and to hold me, to want all of me
That’s all I ask, to join me a while
And hold me beneath the branches of my tree
Together to share in warm summer breezes
While laughing with my dear sweet sycamore tree
Instead of worrying about others noticing me
Perhaps someday soon, one afternoon delight
My value to others will reach certainty
If not I will sit in loving embrace
While I dream peacefully of shimmering lakes
A story of love, perhaps this might be
But really it’s just a story of a tree
The tale of my beautiful sycamore tree
© Alan Zaugg 2021
Of late I can attest
When caught inside my mind
I’ve found a moment filled with truth
An origin of light
A day so long ago
Yet clear as yesterday
That moment when I walked with Him
He held me while I prayed
That overwhelming feeling
The closest to heav’n I’ve been
He sat with me, He talked with me
I felt such warmth within
We sat there side by side
We talked as if face to face
The brightness of celestial glory
Emanated from that place
Sweet moment I embrace
These thoughts have calmed my soul
Those memories of long ago
Make me feel quite whole
His temple is my home
Full of eternal grace
The closest to his kingdom on earth
I truly love that place
And so when I am lost
When trapped inside my head
I keep the memory close to me
To chase away the dread
© Alan Zaugg 2020
I wrote this a couple of months ago. The context involved some cherished recent moments where I recalled an event 26 years ago, March. The rhyme is simple and basic, nothing exciting. It’s the meaning that I hold close. I’m religious, spiritual to my core. I’ve had incredible experiences in my life that have bolstered that spirituality. When times are difficult for me to navigate, I’ve found solace in some of these experiences and the very personal real relationship I have with Him (God).
I still find myself falling back into dark moments, some that set me on a downward spiral toward my demise. Every once in a while, I’m reminded of the simple truths that I can hold on to.
I’m not mentally whole. Of this I can attest. I’m a wreck and acknowledge the illness I struggle with. I just grasp hold of any positive influences I can call upon to see me through my darkest days and nights.
That seems to be a common response when things don’t seem to go our way. It’s one I use regularly. Or “it happens,” whatever “it” may be.
This is where I’m at now when it comes to writing and other extracurricular things.
I’ve had a hard time finding consistency in writing since the beginning of the year. Especially when spring rolled around. First, of course, there was and is the pandemic that’s upended everyone’s routines. Mine was affected with confounding success. It didn’t help, that my mind was already in a pretty bad state. The worst I’ve dealt with in 40 years.
Then there’s the projects at home – finishing the backyard landscape of our new home and now beginning the process of finishing the basement. More updates to come on that one (note: I have no idea what I’m doing so this should be and adventure).
Work has also disrupted the routine I’ve had. A promotion that brought with it new responsibilities and challenges – application lead duties and the challenges of training people. That in and of itself has exhausted my mental faculties in a way I have not experienced before. With that promotion came a move from swing shift to day shift. I’ve welcomed the schedule change, wanted it for some time now. However, the toll? I no longer have that dedicated time to write.
I’m not complaining. No. I’m merely pointing to something important – some things have greater significance than others and we all have to learn to adjust to life’s new adventures. That means finding a “new normal.” Something I’ve near refused to accept, especially with regards to the pandemic.
I will write consistently again. It’s in my blood. It’s what I do. In the meantime, I have other things that require my attention. That’s life, right?
Indeed, “life happens.”