Thursday, November 5, 2015

A Day to Explain

a new poem from a young poet...

A Day to Explain

When the day is to exhale
The dead of night will sail
On an airplane one flies
Some might prevail
From comfort to pain
I see heaven and hell
A state of mind it is
But a reality to tell
It feels like an illusion
When fact his reality
Full of wonder it is
So most answer with deity
No judgment to others
But a question that’s unclear
Maybe all this thinking
Is the reason I’m here.

--Samwell Manjur

November, 2015

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

For a society we live in



For a society we live in
Demands for every citizen
For the ones who stand out have the courage to face difference
Two heads are worse than one
One is best to change
We stand here in silence until one does something strange
We wish for the better
And we acknowledge we commit pain
For the pain we cause others is an action in vain
We are a superior race
But we are scared to face the unknown
But if we knew the answer to life
Society would be overthrown.



--Samwell Manjur (2015)

Monday, September 7, 2015

Changing Times

                        
            Change is all around me. I look outside and there is more than a hint of Fall in the air.  Leaves are changing color, my garden is in harvest mode, and the air is cool and damp.
            After a summer of unusual warmth and dryness, we have had some rain, and plants are reviving, coming alive again.
            I turn the calendar to a new month.  Summer vacations are ending, and there is a flurry of activities. Classes, meetings, events are happening. Community life is coming alive again.  There are things to do and opportunities to grow. 
            Driving by my neighborhood school, I see it coming alive after the summer break.  The parking lot is crowded, and families are heading inside to an evening welcoming, celebrating the opening of school.  Excited, nervous little kids break into an enthusiastic skip as they walk into the school, parents smiling with pride. 
Their child is starting school, and opportunity awaits. Anything is possible.  I see that in their faces, in how they walk, and hold their kids’ hands.
            At the store, I navigate through the hordes of tourists and weekenders, and I run into old friends.  We reconnect, realizing we haven’t seen each other all summer.  We pause to catch up, and reconnect, reweaving the fabric of community.  This weekend marks the end of the high season, the wave after wave of visitors who crowd our roads, and walk our beaches and trails.  Soon, it will be quieter here, and we locals will breathe big sighs of relief, and reclaim our peaceful moments in the places we treasure.
            They, too, are caught up in this sense of change and transformation.  It is a new season, a new beginning. 
            Before yesterday’s rain, I planted a new crop of peas, beets, and radishes.  My new lettuce rows are already up.  I harvest more broccoli for our dinner, knowing that my work will bring on yet another feast in another month. 
            A friend is soon off to college, and we pause for coffee, and share his excitement for his new adventure.  He’s ordered his textbooks, and is already packing for his move to a new city, and a new school.  Excitement is in the air and in his eyes.  His future is happening, and he’s ready to grow.
            All this newness and excitement.  I feel alive and invigorated.  Anything is possible.  Anything can happen.  I am part of that, and I am all of that.
            Change.  It is in the air, and I am ready to take a deep breath, and move ahead.

Neal Lemery
9/7/15

            

Friday, July 31, 2015

My new video about my book and mentoring

Enjoy my new video, where I talk about mentoring, and the writing of my book, Mentoring Boys to Men: Climbing Their Own Mountains.

Saturday, June 27, 2015

Taking Up Again, At Our Fortieth Reunion



It was that class we took together, both out of our element. A business class, way outside our academic path, but it was really about what we we both passionate about, human interaction.  The psychology major and the political science major, finding the “juice” of our college experience. 

Our big assignment for the term was to get together every week, for a day, maybe a weekend, and spend time together, interacting, observing each other. And, most importantly, observing ourselves observing others and how we behaved, inwardly, within a group.  We had to write about it all, without any real direction on what the professor wanted, how we were going to be graded.  

It was, we agreed, standing outside in the hot evening after our class reunion dinner, the best experience of our undergraduate years, studying how people related with each other, how that really was the gist of becoming a better person, how we used those skills, those observations, in growing our lives, in making a real difference in the world.  

We took our experiences together, all those late night conversations, the four years of living on campus during the social upheaval of the Vietnam War years, and went our separate ways.  We kept in touch, sharing news of our careers, our marriages, our kids, and how our lives were enriched by what we learned at college, and in navigating our lives in the world. 

The best things in our lives, we realized, weren’t the things we thought we’d do, once we graduated and moved on.  Life happens, and we used our skills and brains to do unexpected things, growing ourselves and learning even more about life, and who we are.  

One of the reunion organizers asked us to ponder whether or not we had changed the world, like we’d all talked about in those late night gatherings, and if we’d made a difference in our lives.  

“Yes, indeed,” we answered, but not in the ways we had thought, back in the days of Watergate, and the week we staged a sit-in in the college president’s office, angry at Nixon bombing Cambodia.  

The conversations that night were about good relationships, connecting with people, making a difference about how people felt about themselves, how we could make their lives better, simply by being who we were. No one showed their bank statements, their stock portfolios, their photos of their real estate or talked about their job titles, or the cars we drove to get here that night. We didn’t wear any fancy clothes. We laughed at the photos of our days on campus, the wild hair, how much beer we could drink back then, and the times when Angela Davis and Anais Nin spoke on campus.  

We talked about the people we had become, how that one class, that one professor made all the difference to us as we went on about our lives, how we became better people, how forty years gives you a perspective on life and the world that we may not have had back during our days as eager, curious college students.  And, who we are today is still about who we were then, curious, looking inward, and figuring out how we can connect with someone, and change their lives.  

—Neal Lemery 6/27/15

Saturday, June 20, 2015

Fathers' Day -- Shifting The Sun

Fathers’ Day raises a wide range of emotions and reflections for me, giving me a rollercoaster ride of thoughts.  This poem helps me sort all of that out, and make some sense out of being a son of a number of men who were dads to me.

Today, I was a dad to a young man in prison.  We were out in the garden, admiring his gazebo he had built.  It is his first experience with wood, hammers, nails, and drills.  He has struggled with its design and construction, but has accepted the help of others, and has applied his own talents, and his own eye for beauty and simplicity.

His gazebo is a work of art, and his very own creation. It looks good, and fits well with the rest of the garden.

I expressed to him my thoughts on its stability, its beauty.  He tried to put himself and his creativity down, but I kept at him, praising him and his talents.  He told me he wanted his dad to be happy with it and tell him he liked it, but he was afraid of letting his dad know what he had built.

I saw that familiar fear of rejection, that sense of “I am not good enough” in his face.

I became his dad for a few precious moments, letting him hear words of praise and adulation fill his ears. I let him know he was a good man, a man of talent and ability.

He smiled, and shook my hand.  And, perhaps, in all of those few minutes, there was a feeling that he was, indeed, a man of worth, a man of value and talent.  And, there was a dad in his life who thought he was worth something after all.

Shifting the Sun
When your father dies, say the Irish,
you lose your umbrella against bad weather.
May his sun be your light, say the Armenians.
When your father dies, say the Welsh,
you sink a foot deeper into the earth.
May you inherit his light, say the Armenians.
When your father dies, say the Canadians,
you run out of excuses.
May you inherit his sun, say the Armenians.
When your father dies, say the French,
you become your own father.
May you stand up in his light, say the Armenians.
When you father dies, say the Indians,
he comes back as the thunder.
May you inherit his light, say the Armenians.
When your father dies, say the Russians,
he takes your childhood with him.
May you inherit his light, say the Armenians.
When your father dies, say the English,
you join his club you vowed you wouldn’t.
May you inherit his sun, say the Armenians.
When your father dies, say the Armenians,
your sun shifts forever.
And you walk in his light.

~ Diana Der-Hovanessian ~

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Fathering Time



Fathering occurs unexpectedly, often in the richest, most productive ways. 

Undefined, unlimited by the clock and the calendar, those moments of rich, intense interaction suddenly come into our lives, without us often being aware until it comes upon us. In the moment, space opens up between us, and the energy, the love, flows. 

Wisdom comes out of our heart and, often unspoken, shared. Emotions pass between us, and the gifts of the moment are exchanged. 
The refrigerator calendar announces that Fathers’ Day is coming, but the fathering moments don’t pay attention to that, nor do these heart to heart conversations need to have a Hallmark card or a boxed up tie to get the juices flowing, to say what is deep inside of us, as we reach out to someone we love, and just be a dad.

This work we do, being the dad, a small moment of reaching out, giving a compliment, a hug, sharing a few words of wisdom, comes at unexpected moments. The phone rings, there is a welcoming silence in the car, or time to put your arm around someone and give a squeeze, and then, the moment is gone. 

Life gets busy, and the daily to do list is calling. But, I try to find those moments to do my real work, the important work, of just being there, listening and speaking with my heart, just being a dad.  


—Neal Lemery 6/16/2015