The Caring Catalyst

Who Cares - What Matters

JUST A MOMENT: YOUR FLAVOR

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At the CENTER we are all the same.           .          .

It’s a really simple and tasty lesson. We learn no matter what flavor of a tootsie roll pop we choose,  the bottom line and the good news is AT THE CENTER.          .          .

We are all the same, now for some, it may take us a little bit longer to get to that center and for others (like me) we chop down quick to get past the crunchy crust before we even enjoy it.

Just like any piece of paper, no matter what the color is, the typed out message on it is still the same, and yet here we are spending literally millenniums trying to, well, trying to prove that that’s not the case while all the time it is.

What flavor are you? Are you bringing your flavorist flavor to each person that you meet and every situation you would encounter and every circumstance you happen to be a part of?

The Worst Job Ever

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Well.      .      .

what is it?

What’s   the

W      O      R      S      T               J      O      B  

 you’ve   ever   had?

Most of us have had more than

J U S T   O N E

J o b   in   our   lives.

I began working well before my 14th birthday.

I had to get

 “WORKING   PAPERS”

signed by my parents

so that I could work a part-time job behind our house.

Charlie was a pallet builder for shipping companies

and he needed a Laborer to haul wood,

shovel and sweep up sawdust

and burn piles of wood chips/scraps.

It was a hot job

and I hated being literally,

steps aways from my backyard

where my brothers and friends were doing what I wanted to be doing:

P          L          A          Y          I          N          G .     .     .

There were Golf Course jobs,

being a Roofer,

a waiter in a Pizza diner,

a Steelworker,

working as a clerk/stocker for grocery store,

A Cigar/Tobacco/Pipe Shop Keeper

a Gas Station Attendant,

Student Minister,

Minister,

Associate Minister,

Sr Minister,

Hospice Chaplain,

Part-time Minister,

Self Published Writer,

Professional Speaker,

Wedding

Baptism

and Funearl Officiant.        .        .       .

But do any of those jobs.        .        .

any of the jobs you ever had compare

to being the

Light    Bulb    Changer    in    a    Cobra    Cage ?

Ophiophagus hanna  is the largest/longest venomous snake in the world,

and it has enough venom to kill elephants,

buffaloes,

and oh yeah,

easily any  h u m a n.          .          .

S e r i o u s l y,

how much an hour,

how much a month,

would you need

to make
to do
t         h         i         s

as part of your routine duties?

Me?

Not all of the money in Thailand

and it’s four neighboring Countries.

There are some great jobs,

and there are some absolutely horrible jobs,–

All a matter of perspective,  huh?

There are some jobs we do for money,

lots of it,

and some we do for not any money at all.

It’s one of those little
UNKOWN      FACTS,

but statistically,

Labor Day is the second
to New Year’s
as the time when most people take time

to actually sit down

and try to GPS

out a fairly clear and even more compelling plan for their future.

The Ga-Zillion dollar question is:

W   I   L   L       Y  O  U     B  E     O  N  E      O  F      T  H  E  M ?

About  time  for  an  old  cliche:

IF   YOU   DON’T   KNOW   WHERE   YOU   ARE   GOING,   ANY   ROAD   WILL   TAKE   YOU   THERE!

What’s the Worst Job you have ever had?

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.             .             .

Maybe the Worst job Ever

is   you   doing

W          H          A          T          E          V          E          R

your’e   doing   and   ultimately.       .       .

N  O  T       S  U  P  P  O  S  E       T  O       B  E       D  O  I  N  G !

OUR    WORK
ISN’T    WHAT    WE    DO
BUT    WHO    WE    ARE

Y     O     U
are the Job.       .       .

Y   O   U
are the Work

that needs to get

F  I  N  I  S  H  E  D !

Psssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst:

There’s no money in the world

—-all of it—-

that anyone could ever get
or give to do

T   H   A   T        J   O   B !

H  A  P  P  Y

(U N – )L A B O R     D A Y

DESTINATION OR DESIGNATION?

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The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
‘Mend my life!’
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognised as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save

Mary Oliver

Journeys are always important; they prove that we are more than mere push-pins on a map showing where we’ve been, where we are and maybe, where we’ve yet to be but are well on our ways.          .         .

Mary Oliver’s poem inspired this Caring Catalyst to do some noodling about what’s most important on my journey, the DESTINATION or the DESIGNATION especially on this Friday before Labor Day weekend, when we ponder our work and ourselves.             .               .        HENCE:

DESIGNATIONS

I haven’t always gotten all aboard
                                                       a train
                                                       a ship
                                                       a trolley car
                                                       a taxi
                                                       a plane
a merry-go-round-roller-coaster-ferris wheel
but I have journeyed
from so many destinations
to even more designations
the best being the ones not planned
and whether it feels like
I’ve traveled aimlessly
or at times not much at all
I’ve always arrived or been
exactly where I needed to be
especially without baggage or
any hefty leave-it-all-behind carry on’s

Always more than a a push pin on a map
of Somewhere’s
Destinations to Designations
define more than a place I’m at
     but more of who I am

 

JUST A MOMENT: THE DEAL THAT WASN’T

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THE DEAL THAT WASN’T.            .            .

Let’s just be really honest: W E  don’t make deals unless they somehow profit us; unless we benefit.  We rarely even make a deal where it’s even well, EVEN:

I’ll give you this you give me that, and we both win and valued to both of us.

EVEN if monetarily it doesn’t equal out, a few of us, if not any of us, would actually make a deal where we don’t benefit, in fact, where we actually lose and just don’t come out on the short end of the stick,  we don’t even get the stick or the twig, and forget about even the shadow of a tree that it came from.

Do you make that deal? Wonder if it really would change the world?  Wonder if it would really change a person? Maybe once, maybe once in a while but not ongoing? Here’s the real kicker:  When we don’t make that deal, we really do come out on the short end of that jagged stick;

SO WHAT SAY YOU?

Are you feeling lucky?  

Do you want to make a deal or

just not the one I’m offering?
or.                .               .
WE DON’T

THE YEAR OF NO GRUDGES

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I love this slap you in the face, gut punch, knee to the crotch, raw poem. I couldn’t find the written words to this poem so that you could read it, but it makes you listen a little bit more intently as the words of this poem appear as they are read and more importantly defined in you; seen through your lenses.

So what’s your favorite line? Which one resembles you the most?  Do you need to listen to it again, feel it in another way, with the lights on or off, or with or without sound canceling headphones?  How do you finish this poem that is now begun in you?  These are not questions I’m asking you so that you can gain some kind of special insight. I am asking these questions because you’ve asked yourself so many times before and the answers are there and here’s the best part about those answers: They change with time; they take on different meanings under different circumstances with different people.   So how do you answer them now or 20 years ago or next year or 20 years in the future, or now in this moment.  How do you answer them?

“THE YEAR OF NO GRUDGES” was written as a love letter to a friend Andrea was furious at. Several months ago, in the thick of anger, she reluctantly began writing down what she most appreciated about her friend. By the time she stopped typing she was so overwhelmed by gratitude she had no room in my heart for a single grudge against him. So this past week, again, quite by accident when I wasn’t even searching this came in my INBOX from another poet/writer, Phyllis Cole-Dai who was moved enough to move it my way, i.e. ONE BEGGAR SHOWING ANOTHER BEGGAR WHERE THEY GOT THE FOOD.  So Miss Andrea is sharing this poem now as a writing/feeling prompt for all of us, and for herself, in hopes that we move through our days vigilantly awake to the fact that none of us are ever promised a tomorrow. Whatever needs healing, today is the perfect day. (Music by Chris Pureka)

 

A POEMEE FOR THE GOOD LISTENING PROJECT

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I have just recently finished completing and getting certified from The Good Listening Project, which actually just doesn’t practice but puts into action Deep Listening, which is like Active Listening or Hold Space on steroids.  It’s a great practicum that had it roots when it’s founder Frankie Abralind literally set up a little “FREE CUSTOM POETRY table on the National Mall in Washington, D.C. that invited others to ‘tell their stories’ whereby he’d apply the principles of Deep Listening/Holding Space of open unconditional, non-judgmental listening and then in return write a short synopsis  ‘origin story’ of their conversation followed by writing a personalized, reflective poem based on the “Poemee’s” preference, of which they get final editing powers and say as to how it is ‘finished.’  This has proven helpful in cultivating wellness and resiliency for folks who are taking advantage of the program and what it offers.  POEMEES are describing the experience as therapeutic, uplifting and yes, life-changing.

It’s an excellent program heavily based in the healthcare setting but certainly not exclusive of it; all which is why I’m not just explaining but offering the opportunity  and my humble honor to WRITE YOU POEM.  So without further regards, here is an official invitation to any/all who might be interested.  Hey, if nothing else, it’ll give you a great story to tell and maybe, if you’d like, a free cup of coffee or your favorite beverage, the cost of becoming a POEMEE (one for whom a personal poem is written).

Dear YOU

May I write you a poem? I’ve just completed taking a course on how to become a Listener Poet through The Good Listening Project, and as our final project we’re each writing custom poems for people we talk with. Your commitment would be a ~20 minute conversation with me over Zoom, phone or in person. You can talk about whatever you’d like. Afterwards, I’ll compose a custom, reflective poem based on the conversation and email it back to you.

Let me know if this sounds interesting and we can figure out a time to chat. Thanks for being open to helping me as I learn this process.

With gratitude and appreciation,

Chuck Behrens
chuckbehrens123@gmail.com


Here’s an example of an origin story and a poem that I had the honor of recently writing and presenting:

He chose the anointed name of Father Damien from Saint Father Damien of Molokai who was recognized for his work to people with leprosy who were in the Kingdom of Hawaii 1873-1889.  Although, he never worked with lepers, he’s been a priest in a small village of Africa for nearly 50 years, helping children, mostly abandoned and sick.  His message is simple, yet significant: “To go and not come back; I am one of you.”

“Sometimes the only medicine is the the greatest: Love.”  He is a born-again personification of Saint Francis of Assisi.  Unconditionally accepting and loving to all—even at the expense of his own physical decline.  He comes back to the States, like now, only to receive the medical attention he requires as he already looks to a horizon far past our sights when he can “go and not come back.”

 

          Here’s hoping you’ll accept my invitation
to not just become a POEMEE,
but to have your story heard and your poem, written.

JUST A MOMENT: P L A C E S

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Do we ever really have a sense of
PLACE.          .          .
Usually it comes to us in moments when we’re at a
PLACE
or we’re sitting there reminiscing about all the
PLACES
and all the things we’ve done in those
PLACES
or better still
PLACES
to go.            .           .
All of this
PLACE TRAVEL
taking
PLACE
in JUST A MOMENT
Be more than a BLIP on an overview.      .       .
MAKE YOUR SPACE
SOMEONE ELSE’S
P L A C E

PRAYER–A UNIVERSAL ONE

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This past Friday, Erin and I took in the aware winning play, COME FROM AWAY, based on a true story following the tragic events surrounding 9/11.  This was one of my favorite songs/scenes because it was a prayer, that became a universal prayer in the middle of the scene, one that is powerfully understood and yes, P R A Y E D.    .    .

As it entered its final weeks in the West End, Come From Away had released a special performance of “Prayer”, a hit number from the multi-award-winning musical. The multi-award-winning musical, had playing at the Phoenix Theatre in London, is based on the events after 9/11 in Gander, Newfoundland where a small community welcomed thousands of stranded plane passengers. It first opened in the West End in early 2019, going on to win the Best New Musical Award at the WhatsOnStage Awards the following year with additional Olivier and Critic’s Circle Awards. The final performance was on  7 January 2023. The touring production is set to open in Leicester in February 2024, with additional tour stops currently under wraps. The creative team features Irene Sankoff and David Hein (book, music and lyrics), Christopher Ashley (director), Kelly Devine (musical staging), Ian Eisendrath (music supervision and arrangements), Beowulf Boritt (scenic design), Toni-Leslie James (costume design), Howell Binkley (lighting design), Gareth Owen (sound design), David Brian Brown (hair design), August Eriksmoen (orchestrations), Pippa Ailion CDG and Natalie Gallacher CDG (casting), Joel Goldes (dialect coach), Michael Rubinoff (creative consultant), Bob Hallett (Newfoundland music consultant), Shirley Fishman (dramaturg), Tara Overfield Wilkinson (associate UK director and choreographer) and Kirsty Malpass (assistant director and choreographer).

Plays come and go and is part of the allure of living in the greater Cleveland area; we get the best.  But award winning or not, a great play does more than just entertain; it inspires and a superior one challenges us to be better than when before seeing it.  This scene of the PRAYER just doesn’t show our commonalities, but dares us to see the PRAYER that we are, not just to be prayed or to unite, but to be shared; to be LIFE CHANGING.       .     .THAT we may be such an Instrument, a Channel, a Person, a PRAYER.            .            .

COMMUNION CRUMBS

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He ate his muffin
like a sacred communion
Sweet and meltable on the tongue
His sips were
an ice expresso latte
Dark, like aged blood
that has long ago been pumped
but waiting for the next wound to seep
as it is enlightened with a
a cream of dull lightness

It was sacred
this sweet, energized communioning
as he broke, partook, sipped
away from old memories of past sins
and new promises of, “I’ll do better’s”

With head bowed
eyes tightly closed
lingering tastes
and a renewed grateful spirit

These sacred sips
blessed bits
hold unclaimed promises
hopes of futures
that come to us in the same way
In sips and bits
and not ever usually
in “all at once’s”
Reserved for all
but only granted to the Patient
Communion crumbs
hold what most leave
or annoying just brush away
even while they promise
the tastiest blessings of redemption

JUST A MOMENT: DRESSING IN THE DARK

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The World is sometimes so dark
sometimes so without Power
of any sorts
And even in the specks of  Lightness
dressing in the dark is a labor
that offers no salary
Unmatched socks
Color of shirts and their disorientated designs
Hues of teetered textured ties
Somber suit pants
Gloomy blazers
with tweeds and threads
of senselessnesses  and quizzicalities

Dressing in the Dark
forces what comes so natural in Light
but seemingly stubborn in the
never-quite-adjusted-fuzzy-focus
as if your eyes grew hands;
fingertips of faith that try
but can never quite
grope or furniture walk their ways to
an unseen but known harborage
A dizzy labyrinth that has no idea
of its own way

Dressing in the Dark–
it may be easier just to stay as
nakedly helpless as you feel Undressed
knowing that other eyes
can’t see like yours
or worse–don’t notice
or worse–don’t care to recognize

Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst:
Make sure that the worst kind of
DRESSING IN THE DARK
doesn’t take place
with your eyes wide open
but un-noticing.            .            .

 

Professional Speaker, Author, Assurance Man