My words begin tied to the paper. Safe -Ordered-
Purposely placed. There, they enjoy time under tension;
surface tension where ink is clasping to treated wood.
Then, are filtered repeatedly by the reader.
Once read, I no longer claim them.
I’m simply an agent; volunteering them to dangle
loosely in the air around us.
Take the words. Rearrange them. Gravity is but one force 
holding them. Shuffle them into your language 
to extend their shelf life. Juggle them between friends.
They originate as one articulated moment.
Perspective to paper -Paper to voice -
Voice to interpretation.
I sacrifice them to a journey with no guarantees except risk.
Their return is unscheduled and unrecognizable.


B.Toner   April 2023

For me, regrets awaken late mornings
When I realize so many clouds have rolled past the horizon 
While I lie between covers 
Resting in the aftermath of slumber
Unprepared for the day’s charges 
I sweep them into corners 
Out of my footpath
Rare my dawns with vigorous intent

Why impose penance for my pace?
After all, birds begin with one single note 
Inviting their lot to harmonize gradually
They pose, they linger before first flight
Plants unfurl imperceptibly, leaning ever so slowly to the light
Their energy is internal, gradual, soundless
Even our sun creeps leisurely 
Infiltrating our shadows without sudden movement
Perhaps my rhythm is innate, necessary 
My body transitioning through natural states
Perhaps guilt need not be my ally for my lack of velocity
For early hours’ unaccomplished assignments
Perhaps I can take solace in nature’s pattern - 
Intent independent from speed
Perhaps I’ll remain longer between covers 
Resting in the aftermath of slumber

B. Toner April 2023

He didn’t say it bothered him. His breathing generously gave it away.
This September man, sensing shadows from October.
Lately, he settled comfortably into contradictions, sleeping through fireworks and frowning at sunshine.
Too fast! Precious moments needed simmering.
Agonizingly slow! No spare hours wasted in waiting.
At this point, he understood the human heart.
Unlike the youth, knocking into each other and
judging by the measure of a heart beat.
Now, he recognized context, loyalty, exceptions.
Now, no tolerance for the ignorant,
For those blind to the pain cracking over the faces of friends.
At last, he could bathe in the ripples of joy, confined to silos.
He was crusty.
Crusty, coated in melted butter.

B.Toner. March 2023

We do so many things to keep the business, the family, the relationship rolling. So many of them go unnoticed. Knowing that our acts contribute to the success can be enough for us to repeat them. So we continue in the role, unseen and unrecognized.

I’m not questioning the significance our small parts play. They are the cornerstone of big potential. “There are no small parts, only small actors” said Stanislavski. I can align my motivation with that philosophy most of the time. Although, I also like to shine, if only for a moment. Sometimes, knowing we donated in a small way feeds contentment. At other times, we need more than that to acknowledge these minor, but crucial pillars: a nod, a knowing wink, a thank you, a smile, a hug.

Most of us will participate without it. How much more enjoyable the experience when it’s identified?

Tent pegs bracing the big top,
Question mark’s round, bottom drop,
Bony knuckles and knobby knees,
Inferred clauses and silent “e”s

The silent rest beat before the song,
The fork’s second and third tongs,
Sturdy curtain rods and caster wheels,
Foamy shaving cream, banana peels,

Car tire treads and air nozzles,
Hardy hair in ears and schnozzles,
Shiny eye teeth and washer rings,
Secondhand marks on antique things,

While un-appreciation takes its toll,
Thankless assignments play big roles,
Invisibles attend to unavoidables,
Smile muscles help finance valuables.

B. Toner March 2023

This month, I’m going to exercise everyday. I’ve made statements like that regularly before today. It’s one of a long list of promises or commitments that I make to myself, only to fall short time and time again. I’ m going to stay away from chocolate cookies. I’m going to finish that novel. I’m going to be organized for tax season.

In fairness, sometimes I do succeed in sticking to goals: flossing, calling loved ones, eating a salad. In the spectrum of non-commitedness, (Is that even a word?) I most likely fall in the lower half.

I do admire those who can set a target and remain on course. They accomplish so much while they make it look easy.
What separates us in these areas of focus and perseverance? Habits? Misdirection? Genetics?
Admittedly, pondering doesn’t help me check things off my never-ending list. I wish there was a support group for “non-committers”. Then again, members would probably not follow-through with setting up regular meetings.

JUST SOUTH OF COMMITMENT 

When random moods melt granite resolve,
When grindstone bumps noses out of joint,
When straight lines are dotted, leading from point “A” to minor ‘a”,
I’m standing just south of commitment.

When goals over jubilate the starting line,
When time moves the end zone and puts a full Nelson on determination,
When talents for avoiding tarnish the golden destiny,
I’m standing just south of commitment.

When double vision causes indeterminate consequences,
When high energy is distracted by fingertip grips,
When the ladder’s first rung is seduced by inertia,
I’m standing just south of commitment.

B. Toner, March 2023

If you’ve read any of my previous posts, you know that I regularly write about my efforts to self-improve. Although expert opinions may vary, I’m not obsessed with it. I have my goals and insecurities, like many of us. Often, these influence the direction of my next project or reading. Among the numerous quests to refine myself is the aspect of striking a healthy balance between my perceived current state and my steps to the better me. How’s that for meta-cognition!
What always strikes me as funny is the difference between what I think I represent in the world and what I actually do. My voice, my physical presence and my philosophical stance are not manifested as I thought. (See previous entry “As the Mirror is my Witness”)

Perhaps other people’s interpretations are more accurate and less bias. Then again, maybe they’re just different interpretations. Do I aim to align myself closer to their vision or closer to the one I want to exhibit? For which one do I strive?
Either way, I’m a work in progress; a journey to authenticity.

Me, Myself or I

Moment to moment, I’m not who I thought I would be.
Only in hindsight do I recognize myself as who I was.
The inaccuracies: chuckle-worthy.
A canyon stretches between who I envision, who I enact.
Why am I not me?
Shadows of me unescorted by precision,
Vivid imaginings,
Lack of facts,
All merge delaying self-realization.

You, you can see me then and now.
You know context before I filter.
Your eyes on me, for me, mark reality,
Aligning me to myself.
The should be I,
The me I am.

B.Toner  February 2023

Show me the needle in the haystack
and the millisecond when turns the tide,
the world behind your words,
how to save face without pride.

Explain how to spare time without sacrifice
or to make first impressions twice.
Teach me to ignore gravity, age and taxes,
how to build castles when sand collapses.

Defend the weeds with highly developed resistance
or the sun that guards at the perfect distance.
Why are loved ones so much bigger in memory 
and why is bad luck better than not having any.

Identify for me chemicals that create loyalty, dedication,
and ideas that divide my world into nations.
What causes some thoughts to escape the subconscious 
and makes love so big, so rewarding and dangerous.

Do tell how to find Eureka!

B. Toner February 2023

In my ever-increasing age, I find myself repeating themes. (Then again, reflecting on past conversations with friends, I acknowledge a pattern of repetition no matter my age.) Nevertheless, similar to previous posts, I continue to spend time considering how overwhelming emotions can affect us.

I studied some authors who developed sound strategies for reducing harmful effects of these personal situations. The incidents in which you lose control; in which you think in error or don’t think at all; in which you say or do something destructive. Some suggested tools work for me, although I require more practice to avoid regrets.

We all experience storms in our life. I believe I have a responsibility to reduce any harm that may occur as a a result of these unchecked emotions. Conversely, I also see some of these storms as necessary to our growth.

I appreciate that climate change has increased the destructive nature of storms. Similarly, societal/worldly changes seem to have increased the severity of human reactions.

However, storms have always played a role in Mother Nature and her cycle; so too in our personal journey. A safe summer, thunder storm cleanses the air, cleanses the neighbourhood. A safe winter storm slows down the rush and insulates the underground activity.

At some point, the storm will come. My heart will block logical thought, reducing my control. I need to remember it will pass. It’s natural so there is no need to hold onto shame. Most importantly, I must try to reduce any fallout to others.
I think I’m searching for a balance; the perfect storm.

Rain clouds pushed me just inside the empty house,
A shell without shelter,
The door still wide open, I joined the storm’s fury,
Synchronizing our chaos,
Wind gusts splattered drops over my face,
Diluting my tears,
At its peak, the downpour thundered off my inside walls,
Drowning my rationale,
Nature’s power commandeered everything, all stimuli,
A wild heart in charge,
Forces blocked out time, blind to any meter,
Hours, seconds, even years

A subtle softening in the rain, in the wind,
Grateful to no longer taste my heartbeat,
The torrent gradually phased into rhythm, walls halted their quiver,
Silently moving outside my body,
Drizzle lingered past courtesy, a wet weight to everything,
Accompanying my exhales,
Fog still enveloped my perspective, my surroundings,
But thoughts were now possible,
Latching the door, the aftermath flavoured my beliefs,
A calm chaperone for my hopes,
Hopes to weather the next storm

B.Toner January 2023

I am not the first
Thankfully
Legions have tasted truths and soldiered on
Their whispers soften my thoughts
Putting my heart in my mouth
So you hear music even in my candour 

I am not the original
Gratefully
Pioneers disciplined their passion into art
Their dedication cast my creativity
Fore-bearers connected to re-interpret originals
So you behold beauty even from my conventionalities 

I am not the model
Miraculously
Ancestors confronted loss and leaned into generosity
Their repercussions model my ideals
Prompting intentions into actions
So you witness humanity even through adversity

B. Toner December 2022

In other pieces, I know I’ve written about giving each season their merit instead of always waiting for the benefits of the next one. This can be a challenge for me. After all, it’s less work to thrive under the summer sun than to shovel in the winter wind. Similar to stages in life; we experience joys and disappointments as a consequence of our longevity. Eventually, we cast our hopes to the next phase or the one following the next phase; recognizing how each season of the journey carries drawbacks and benefits.

I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to drive a car and yet the ownership of a vehicle later in life was daunting. I sought a permanent employment contract to better plan for my future, and yet the moments of job uncertainty provided freedom for adventures. I wanted to lighten my work life, but missed the daily energy that comes with solving problems.

I find myself still trying to figure out what experiences are worth accumulating during each cycle and what each stage requires of me. What wisdom can I gather and what will the next steps be?

I think I need to learn to let the next phase just slide willingly into my life while focusing on what I’m facing in the present. Predict; if I can. Plan; sure. Be mindful of the present; absolutely! Putting this goal into practice is a constant work in progress: a life in all seasons.

What does Autumn ask?

What does Autumn ask of us?
To collect and store our comfort
To wipe away our summer sweat
To let blossoms fall and cozy to the soil
To colour joy into Mother Nature's shift

What does Winter ask of us?
To muffle the sharpness under a blanket of white
To respect the wind blowing
To search for internal sources of warmth
To thrive boldly in the harshest beauty

What does Spring ask of us?
To share her schedule for hope
To recall the noises of the natural
To work losses into nourishing the future
To rally sleepers into celebrating possibilities

What does Summer ask of us?
To bathe in sand, surf and sunflowers
To permit blue skies and golden rays to soothe
To recognize the moving, spotted shade
To commit to the companionship of the panorama

What does Autumn ask of us?
To ............

B. Toner    October 2022