Things That Didn’t Get Put on My Resume

I too read the tales of Narnia and the Ring Trilogy as well as the Wheel of Time, the tales of the Dark Elf, Drizzt Do’Urden to name a few. I didn’t put them on my resume because there were other things more important.

Like bouncing my children on my knee while plowing a field in preparation for planting; or showing them how to lure crawfish out of their mud houses in the road ditch; or how to bait a hook with a worm or grasshopper. I didn’t put that on my resume either because there were other things more important for the job.

Like knowing how to put a band-aid on a skinned knee, or providing reassurance that monsters were not under the bed and later helping to mend a broken heart. Or taking care of aging parents, organizing medications, and coordinating doctor’s visits, or laying them to rest when their time had come.

But I did not put these things on my resume either because, well, it just seemed that employers didn’t really care about these things; those things that make us human.

Not that it matters now, but there were a lot of things that did not get on the resume. Things that I was good at; things I wouldn’t change for the world.

Maybe these things didn’t get on the resume because I didn’t want them to know who I really am.

—Paul Causey

Inspired by “Things You Didn’t Put on Your Resumé” by Joyce Sutphen

It's Always the Animals

There was a time when I used to know what the animals were thinking; what they felt and knew about our universe. There was a time when I felt a part of all there is, was and ever will be. It must have been in a previous lifetime; or maybe it was simply a dream.

The connection I once had is so tenuous now it seems hardly real. Every now and then, I'll watch a hawk glide over its domain in search of prey and feel like I can see forever. I feel the wind flow over and under my wings lifting me higher until the sticker in my butt brings me rushing back to earth.

Whatever happened to our connection must have been truly traumatic for the animals, for they have been skittish ever since. They must be wondering what they did to upset those humans so much that they have separated themselves from the rest of the universe; to isolate themselves from the source of what "is." I imagine that they are sad, for this world could be so much more with a little help from their lost brothers.

I wonder if the animals remember the ark and the rain and the floods and were afraid. I wonder if they are afraid now whenever it begins to rain. I've got to go now. It's starting to sprinkle.

—Paul Causey

Inspired by “It Was the Animals” by Natalie Diaz

Frogs Estivating

Breathe. In. Out. Become love. 

The frogs once singing loudly their love and adulation of living are silent now. They did not fail
even though I knew their singing would not last. They have gone underground, buried beneath
layer upon layer of Mother Earth's love. Hibernating perhaps, or maybe estivating if it's in their
nature. I like to think they are meditating deeply and have become one with the universe. I wish
that I could meditate so deeply, so peacefully and become one with —who? Myself?

They say that God is love. Do the frogs become one with God and do they know what love is? I
don't think love fails or fades away. I think love is always with us; surrounding us, and we simply
stop breathing. We forget who we are and sometimes, it takes a while to
remember. Sometimes we have to become frogs so that in the spring, we can sing our joy for
living and loving and simply being.

Breathe. In. and Out.

—Paul Causey
Inspired by “Failing and Flying” by Jack Gilbert and by a discussion about frogs

Inside the Grass Hut One Year Later

—Kim Mosley