The following is inspired by the women I’ve had the privilege of working with and knowing over the years.

She Maintains a Commanding Lead

She maintains a commanding lead.
I wonder if it's the certainty of purpose that drives her
or the confidence from an open mind.
Sure, she experiences set backs, even devastations at times. 
Yet her center remains.
There's an inner strength that anchors her.
Defining her power is beyond my speech.
I can only recognize it in context.
She upholds this constant without much ado,
achieving as natural as breathing.
She maintains a commanding lead.

B. Toner November 2025
 

Like many of us, I strive to improve myself. Whether it be in my diet, in my level of physical activity or even in my responses to life’s stresses. I seem to make progress, brag about how far I’ve come. Maybe a few pats on my back when no one’s looking. Then small epiphanies hit me and I recognize a return to habits that I was sure I rose above. Disappointment sets in as I settle into the comfortable routine and I find myself living in a contradiction. Sure I want to be a better me, but life is good with chocolate in my mouth, binge watching a drama or dwelling on my past successes instead of moving forward. If I was more diligent, I’d reach that goal and break the cycle. Is this cycle simply life, or is that my excuse this time around?

Fallen into Comfortable

I promised myself I wouldn't return.
To be honest, I announced it to all parties.
I should have whispered it.
I should have known better.
I should have realized I'd be coming back.
Is it still a pattern if I land in the same situation, 
But from a different route?
How is it that I'm comfortable with the routine
yet I feel guilty for falling into it?
I accept that horizons widen minimally, if at all,
in the repetition; 
That disruption is an innate reluctance, a risk even.
Contemplating change particularly in recurrence,
Spirals into the circle and so I go around and around.
Here's hoping the round trip gathers wisdom, purpose 
with each revolution.


B. Toner November 2025

When I think about it, we begin to age the moment we’re born. That’s most likely not a revelation for you, however, it gives me pause now and then. When younger, I longed to be older for the privileges it bestowed on me: make my own purchases, stay at home without someone watching over me, drive a car. There was always something to look forward to as I passed another hurtle: voting, attending university, renting my first apartment. I kept waiting to be a grown-up, to be mature. Often ignorant of the collection of valuable experiences, I wished away the journey keeping the destination my constant target.

My discoveries as of late center around the surprises in myself. There is knowledge, understanding and tough battle scars influencing my actions in this stage, the second half. Unfortunately, my body and endurance don’t project this depth of skills. Instead, my age sometimes camouflages my talent. It requires a closer examination from the youth to recognize the offerings hidden in this aging skeleton.

I looked forward to this advantage throughout my life, but now must work harder to demonstrate it. I wish I knew that when I was younger.

Just Another Man in the Rain

I don't recall the moment the rain started.
It was always on the way.
Always thirsty for it, anticipating.
I do remember a mist, memories of tickling drizzles.
Now the moisture is more than a present, a relentless presence.
Dilutes my perspective. Fogs my projection.
I seldom underestimate its role,
But remain naive to the power of this uncontrollable substance.
On the surface, downpours render me less steady, slower.
Yet rain doesn't soak through to soothe my increasingly aching muscles
or my shrinking bones. Rather it washes away the fiber.
Thankfully, neither does it dampen experience, wisdom, courage - gifted by time.
These endure, ever-evolving. 
Maybe less overt between raindrops.
So to you, I'm just another man in the rain.

B. Toner August 2025

I know the saying is “between a rock and a hard place”. Sometimes though, it’s not a just a binary choice, but rather an accumulation of forces that play on my outlook. Not all of these are dangerous or even annoying, but they add to the menu of my days. Commitments, hobbies, duties and desires mingle and can surround a person. At times, they work in unison , in one direction. On other occasions, they work against each other. Both result in a sense of being caught in a avalanche.

I’ve had my foot caught in a pile of large rocks, literally and figuratively on this journey. Stuck, I inevitably watch my options fade away. Will I ever be free? Am I alone? How do I get to where I’m going when my foot can’t move despite my attempts?

As mentioned in my previous posts, there are no solutions here. However, when I focus on one action, one perspective that I can embrace, my blood pressure lowers. I can ignore the overall pressure and budge one, single rock, or even a pebble to lessen the load. My truth, my hope lies in the space between the rocks.

THE SPACE BETWEEN ROCKS

Pre-occupied lately with the space between rocks.
With the potential and actual pressure.
Self-induced? - Partially-
Built a fortress on what I believe I need, I want.
Circumstantial - - Partially -
Surroundings collapsed from physics and timing.
No matter the source, stuck in the space between rocks.

Trapped inside, looking out
Envious of the open air, of the options.
Where shadows can move and even fade,
Unlike the space between rocks.

Panicking only shrinks the choices.
Soothingly, drafts splinter through the cracks.
Mingling hope to sustain me in the space between rocks. 

B. Toner June 2025

Have you been singing?
I only ask because the blue in the sky has never been bigger.
There's a murmur of applause from the leaves.
On this hillside, the boulders are warmed by the sun,
so I snuggle in.

Have you been singing?
I only ask because from here, the distant river
is snaking through the base notes.
Patchworks of green are quilting to the horizon.
I can almost sense the Earth carrying me like a loving parent.

Have you been singing?
I only ask because I can hear joy buzzing and chirping around me.
Hidden animals are foraging through the trunks and bramble.
I'm growing more conscious of the natural intricacies,
knowing they have purpose beyond my grasp.

Have you been singing?

By design, Earth spins at her own pace 
Unencumbered by swarming populations
Dawns and sunsets, her resolute sentries
She never concerns herself with measuring their participation
But I do
Her grass grows, her rivers meander at the mercy of her secret
schedule for temperature and rain.
But I note their impact

My intent rarely pairs with hers
Sometimes too slow
Restlessly sleeping at the wheel, prioritizing errors
Wasting energy on material, grinding against her innate rhythm

Sometimes too fast
Unable to plant my feet
Dragging behind me, bumping and tangled in consequences
I grip tightly to compensate
Her centrifugal force tugs
I lose the gravity of my stance

She is constant
But citizens throw curves
I bare scratch marks from her guard rails as proof

Success is matching her mysterious agenda
Uncounted hours, peaceful journeys, fewer bruises,
My contentment's possible aligned with her tempo

B. Toner February 2025

I move dirt around trying to cover my mistakes. There's never enough. 
Yet I dig! 
Persistent! My feet planted deeper and deeper 
until my sole surrounding: soil. 
Slowly eroding, exposing my errors once again. 
I can't rise above them unless I stack them; stepping stones of blunder. 
This, my only path for escape, displaying deviations 
and scars from my detours. 
Climbing though, my focus can alter from what I leave 
below me to the threads of hope that greet me in the open air. 
This unfurls only after acknowledgement. 
Only after anger is abandoned. 
Only after regret rest in the residue of the treads I leave behind me. 
Not hidden, but absorbed into the dirt.


B. Toner September 2024

Sometimes I feel I need to take more risks. Living a life of privilege; however, muddies my interpretation of peril. Dipping my toe into the pool most likely won’t bring on the frostbite that I imagine. Life and limb stakes rarely come into play when I venture to the wild side. On the contrary, my luxuries nurture minor inconveniences into overgrown monsters that no longer fit under my queen-size bed.

Perhaps daring myself in a measured way may be all I can muster. It’s a tough life, but I’ll bravely chance it.

Running with Scissors

I'm going to do it! Throw caution lightly aside. 
Run with scissors! Let the rules slightly slide.
Going to live life on the softened edge.
Use only light sunscreen, delay any pledge.
Undaunted, I'll swim after a vegan feast.
Rip all tags from my mattress, leave not one in the least.
Won't say excuse me when my burb is unsquashed.
Throw light in with the dark,
No separate loads when I wash.
Keep all my library books way past the due date.
Ignore the fine print. Leave it all up to fate.
Dare the barista to leave out the cream.
No umbrella, no flossing, just the dangerous dream!
Park front-first and take up double the space.
Drink straight from the hose, with a filter in place.
Face some challenges and seize half the day.
Sacrifice a little for a pilgrimage in my way.

B. Toner September 2024

I once worked with a boss who wasn’t afraid to take chances. Whenever we were exploring new programs, I would attempt to anticipate every obstacle that we needed to overcome before implementation; overplanning as it were. She was braver. She saw the value in taking action. She showed me that progress isn’t perfect. Rather, it involves set backs.

Her lessons on the importance of moving ahead remain with me. Although, as I write this, I still struggle with the inertia of planning. I can’t possibly predict variables for every scenario. So I require reminders to risk, even to enjoy action, to learn to fix as I go.

I learned that sometimes, inertia can be a bitch.

Breaking Inertia

The square root of gray areas remain inconclusive.
Answers continue to elude me while sitting on the fence.
Planning for perfect risks leads to unreasonable doubts.
I may suffer bruises from blunt messages, but they can
break inertia.

So I'll jump or I'll get pushed. 
Sometimes flat on my face is the only way forward.

I can practice, plan and anticipate. I can rehearse for
tomorrow through sunset. However, my biology and my spirit evolve.
A partly-lit torch is all I can offer my future. 
I need to be counted today.

My deathbed can't be the proving ground.
There is no verifying six feet below. 
My inner light will not reflect over my gravestone.

Baby steps - before I'm paralyzed into place, circling.
Break inertia.

B. Toner June 2024

Prepare for those who complain of the moon and blame 
the clouds for their soiled feet.
They stomp on eggshells with twinkling eyes, shatter
ice but drink their whiskey neat.

Don’t panic. Don’t slam the brakes. The speed of sound
inflates speech; for talk ain’t cheap.
Be honoured they chose you to test their mettle,
you as prey from the herd of sheep.

Don’t yell in gusts of their baritone winds. 
It’s can be a rudderless force.
Reserve your energy for prying open thoughts,
connecting to your source.

In truthful arrogance or in error, they throw down the
gauntlet. Thriving on bouts.
Listen. Attune your tone to gentle conviction.
Thank them for wrestling with your doubts.


B. Toner           May 2024