• wind to memory •

Was talking’ to a friend,
just yesterday,
about what it might be like,
to be a tree.
Then, thinking myself,
a long residing plant,
with far reaching roots,
and leaves, as individualized as snowflakes
(in fact,
just my opinion,
but, in my opinion,
should be jealous),
and with
bark for skin –
an ancient oak,
or a robust redwood, perhaps,
(a.k.a., a ‘tree’),
I felt
a peace beyond understanding,
and a certain certainty.
And then,
unbidden, it came to me,
as unadorned,
and in as clear a language as can be
(tsk! So like a tree…), the words,
“I prefer the wind…
… to memory.”
~ Tim Burchfield



• begin with me •

I was put off, at first, and a bit hurt, to be honest, when my daughter of nineteen years informed me that I needed to ‘ask permission’, to touch her hair (I had reached out to touch her long auburn ‘tresses’, and was complimenting her on its beauty), but now I see that I really should be rather pleased that she feels entitled to ‘control her space’, and to make the rules, where her values and personal agency are concerned. In fact, having thought it through, I am pleased as punch that she felt okay with establishing new ‘borders’, even with me, her dad, and for me to be okay with it. In fact, darling daughter, begin with me. That’s my job, in a way, isn’t it.
~ Tim Burchfield


• a humdinger •

You might find it ironic
for me to describe Chronic,
a story about death and dying,
as ‘a slice of life’.
In fact, throughout,
the question of ‘why?’,
and ‘why me?’,
seems pervasive,
and unanswerable,
which it is, except, for me,
‘and why not?’,
‘and why not (me)?’,
keeps rolling through my head,
Is it just me, I wonder,
or do others see this life
as an equal opportunity
or journey,
or what have you,
and that moral judgements
as to good or bad outcomes,
or of success or happiness,
and whatnot, cannot
truly be assessed
until after the final curtain falls,
so you’ll never know it yourself,
truth be told, friend,
being dead and all?
So, it’s a question for family,
and society,
and friends,
and ‘former friends’,
and what have you,
to make the call.
And honestly, who cares
what other people think, anywhoo?
So, don’t complain;
choose to be happy,
or fulfilled, or engaged,
or grateful, or enthralled,
or stoic, or philosophical,
or selfless, or starry-eyed,
or evangelical, or ‘evolved’ –
just between we two,
it’s up to you –
whatever floats your boat.
It’s a one way ride,
and frequently fabulous.
Enjoy the view.
Oh, and on a final note,
the movie (with Tim Roth),
is a humdinger, too.
~ Tim Burchfield


• cave diving •

We all get depressed sometimes.
There’s no shame in it:
In point of fact, it may be best
To have plumbed the complexity
And profundity of thought,
To once again stumble into the quagmires,
Of one’s old haunts and fears:
To grapple with the thorny tendrils,
Of loss,
The bloody barbs of negativity,
To be filled with the lack of understanding
and drained by the lack of will,
to sit and sit in stillness –
To hear no sound,
to know no clocks that tick time forward,
to have no sense
Of how things get the way they can do:
To learn to deal with absence
And forced abstinence
due to circumstance.
Of the missing in multiples
Of a loved one or ones and twos,
Or of just the love that once was
With them still just there beside you:
When you can’t be filled
By food
Or wealth,
Or things things things;
Or, in a philosophical bent:
Of the dearth of meaning,
Of feeling useless,
Or undervalued
Even to yourself
To be so imbued with emptiness
Of dearth:
A cave dweller –
Discomfort itself, in skin.
At such times, as this,
Are we not adventurers?
Dicoverers? Explorers?
Delvers? Divers of diverse diversity,
From the University of experience?

Who is better qualified?
Who knows the dark places
Better than we,
Who better, of their usefulness?
Who better, of the knowing of
Where the treasure is hid, therein?
Who, where be, the troves of compassion, hid, than we?
Of the upwellings of humanity,
of kindness, of understanding,
from secret streams of clarity,
of the universal plights
through which we all must,
from time to time,
The cave divers.
We do.

We who emerge, bearing gifts
Formed in the dark,
Under heat, and pressure .
We do.

Cave diving the subterranean
Ventricles of the human heart,
Its eddies and streams,
Its lightless underground rivers,
Its undercurrents,
Its blind turns and fissures,
Its inexplicable fauna,
Its extremes:
Who better
to do the necessary surgeries, on ourselves,
than we?

So often we come out on the other side of such explorations,
Better equipped, to deal
with simple
stable reality:
Girded in unexpectation
Gilded with humility,
Clothed in cool compassion’s giving nature – giving, then,
again and again and again.

To go into the darkness
And come out laughing!
Better prepared in every way
To be a friend to Man.
To be a friend to Man –
Qualified to tell
the Story of Humanity
for the good of humanity:
To be the Storyteller,
with a plan.
That is the justification, and its end,
And it may be true, too.
In any case,
We delve.
~ Tim Burchfield


• your friend has a journey too •

• your friend has a journey too •

Yes, a friend will always be there for you.

“Can I tell you…?”

But it’s not always easy.

“We’ve travelled some miles together…”

To watch your daily struggles.

“Maybe, I don’t know what you are thinking, but I know what you want.”

And not to say a thing.

“I’ve been going through this, too. For a lot longer than you. I will help you, if I can.”

It’s tempting, at times, to push away.

“Hang in there. You’re closer than you think.”

But remember, your friend has a journey, too.

~ Tim Burchfield