At Best, Each Of Us Is But A Breath

Bob Bixler
March 19,1921 - December 28, 2010
He loved his God, his family, dogs, horses, and life.

It Came Upon A Midnight Clear

The Man With The Corpse On His Back

Dad 8.26.26-12.16.71

(Mixed Media art by Tara Shannon)

When you die to the old life
you must bury it well
or you'll stumble on
with the corpse of your old self
strapped to your back.

Bury it well and do your grieving.
Set right what can be set right
with those you hurt
and those who hurt you.
Give up the souls you've stolen.
Reclaim what was stolen from you.
Then walk on and don't look back.

Others will dig up your corpse.
Not only enemies and abandoned lovers
but your very best friends.
They'll exhume your bag of bones
and lash it to your shoulders
to prove you haven't changed.
You'll be dragged, down and back.
You'll need a second wake,
a second burial.

The grave-robbers will come for you
again and again
to chain you to your dead self
until you are changed so utterly
you can only be seen
by those who have changed their eyes.
You'll vanish into the sunlit spaces
where those who cling
to the ghost of what you were
can't find you anymore.

Robert Moss, The Man with a Corpse on His Back

Red Light, Green Light

There are two kinds of people in the world- the ones who drive as if the traffic light ahead is always going to turn red before they get there and the ones who drive as if the light ahead is always going to be green. The green lighters know that sometimes the light will turn red but they do not let those occasional red lights affect how they drive the rest of the time. This phenomenon is also a metaphor for life. So, how do you drive through life? As if the traffic light ahead is going to stay green or expecting it to turn red?


(I know I am suppose to be on a break but some questions just cannot wait to be asked.)

Please Stand By

Be back sometime after the holidays.

Happy holidays, happy holidays
While the merry bells keep ringing
May your ev'ry wish come true

Happy holidays, happy holidays
May the calendar keep bringing
Happy holidays to you
-From Holiday Inn (1942), lyrics and music by Irving Berlin