When I was young, we did not have central air or electric heaters. So in the fall, we would gather wood for the winter. My brother and I would collect twigs for kindling, cut down trees with either a handsaw or a bow saw and split logs.

My father never said how much wood we had to bring in. We felled and gathered and chopped and cured what we thought was sufficient.

There was only one contingency. If we ran out of wood, we had to go out in the snow and gather more. Our winter clothes were minimal and most of my jeans were pretty torn up, to varying but significant degrees. Needless to say, we learned quickly to gather more wood in the fall.

When I would complain that it was painful, my father would tell me that pain meant that I was getting stronger.

In this case, “stronger,” was a euphemism for, “arthritis.”

But it significantly influenced my values in a lasting way. I learned the value of contribution, tenacity, hard work and a unbreakable will. Epictetus once wrote, “You may shackle my leg, but my will, not even Zeus could overpower.”

And at the end of the day, that is all that you have.

The difference between fortitude and fragility lies not in physical strength, but strength of mind and strength of character.

There two credos that I live by.

The first is that it is never truly possible to take out of anything more than you put in.

The second is that a person must first do what is necessary-- Then do what’s possible.

I once had a long layover in Russia, on the way to Cyprus.

The airline was Aeroflot.

The plane was an '88 Camry of the sky.

A regular trashcan on wings.

None of the flight crew spoke English and neither did their newspapers, but given the increasing agitation of my flight attendant, when I didn't comprehend the sounds emenating from behind her scowl; I felt compelled to find a common language.

Clearly, there is an expectation that those who fly out of New York's JFK, into Cyprus, speak Russian.

I read Greek and Cyrillic reasonably well and decided to peruse the paper. As I browsed it, line by line, I realized that I knew a lot more words than I had thought. I felt the information returning. As my competence was affirmed, so was my confidence.

When the flight attendant returned, in a state of preemptive exasperation, I asked her in Russian for coffee and a glass of ice water. Her eyes brightened and I thanked her, in Russian.

I did not have a responsibility to sharpen and recall my language skills at that moment, when I had a big book of cryptograms I could have dealt with instead, but I realized that the knowledge would in no way harm me and would even be to my benefit.

I also realized that the problem here was not exclusive to here.

Fundamentally, the greatest failure in human interactions is catalyzed by a failure in communication. Her frustration was irrational, in that it is never rational to be upset about what is out of your control. But it was also human.

One of the most frustrating things wont to affect the human condition is an inability to communicate. To feel voiceless or unheard or uninformed because there is something so unfathomably intangible and abstract beyond your grasp.

It's been 5 years since I took that trip and I've learned a lot since then. But what I learned then is of lasting importance.

Sometimes, it serves one more to be kind and thoughtful, than it does to be right.

Laughter rings like a bell

Resounding loudly in the night

The solemn evening, cold as hell

Illuminated by moonlight

In the distance

Hark the ringing

Abject persistence

Ecstatic singing

Of all the gurus, saints and shamans

Of all the yogis, swamis and brahmans

None can match the soulful might

Of the joker and his sweet delight

It seems as if it took moments

For blue skies to turn grey

Summer's sweet, sacred sun

Fell into shadow

Leaving only saturated autumnal silence

Winter's breath sends its bracing sigh into the days

Ephemeral, but omenous

Radiant leaves of bright orange, yellow and flame

Turn to brown

As I shiver and rattle

And turn pale

Without the sun's loving, warm embrace

The embers of the sky smolder into ash

The brumal days march closer

I close my eyes

Open my heart

And repose in slumber

Waiting for Spring

To rise like a phoenix

That we all might take wing

And soar

Beckoned by the loving gaze

Of blue skies once again

Don't think I don't trust your words, babe

I just trust your actions better

Don't think our love's run dry, babe

Though you know it sure ain't wetter

Don't think my heart is bare

It isn't anymore

Don't think you have to care

Like you never did before

Don't think I've been set reeling

Full of hatred, grief or spite

Don't think about how I'm feeling

Just melt into the night

I stopped screaming long enough to look around

And asked myself, "What if you're all alone?"

"I am." I replied.

The rage within me turned into twisted, tormented grief that tore and tortured and transformed me

I felt myself begin to mutate into a contemptible, pernicious creature

Destined to always be alone

Destined to never have love

Destined to destroy anything good

Doomed to attract all things bad

My hands, raised to the sky

Ran over my face

As a tear ran from my eye

I found that there was no escape

Nowhere to go

Nothing to become

And I sobbed and pounded the floor with my fists

Fated to live forever as I am

Until I die forever the same

I believe in courtly love

In wishing on the skies above

In chaste affection from afar

In chasing down a falling star

I believe in solitude

In a fortress called, "my mood,"

In isolation from the pain

In scars washed over by the rain

I see myself within a room

Within a world within a tomb

Encrypted, hidden, safe from time

Soaked in whiskey, water and lime

I know that I can shut it out

Fear of failure, shame and doubt

If I never try I'll never fail

In the quiet ether of my tale

I believe in second sight

Which wanders wanton in the night

I believe in love restrained

Which lies there cuffed, prostrate and chained

I believe that I will disappear

If I don't keep people near

So I send them far away

And ignore the wretched day

Hoping one day in my sight

I'll be gone by blessed night

People always said that heartbreak gets easier as you get older. They said that you get callouses and learn to move forward.

Maybe I can understand that defense mechanism a little better, now that I’m older. You get numb. Love is a little less rich and vivid. Like a painting, clear as day, of a sunrise over a magnificent open sea, in time and with age, warped into a pale, abysmal distorted image.

A sort of calm chaos that looms and whispers in your ear, “Don‘t love, don’t trust, don’t feel.” Everything‘s nice and easy and pointless. Stasis.

When you transgress and find only failure in love, the little fucker is always there to lean in and gently hiss, “I told you so.”

What they don’t tell you, is that you’ll always be vulnerable. Even the most invulnerable person and especially the rest of us. It will never cease to hurt, your past will never cease to make you question yourself. All that you’ve seen, experienced, done, will hang above your head like a piano hanging on a wire.

Your past becomes a harbinger. A reminder. An omen.

A lens that dims tomorrow. A cloud that darkens today.

There‘s nothing you can do about it. But to build the light.