Let’s Make an Immediate and Direct Impact

As you all may know, writing, music, and the arts have been proven to be absolute excellent therapy in the treatment regarding the symptoms of PTSD.
 
There are currently several organizations such as, Song Writing with Soldiers, that pair musicians with veterans. The veterans often times tell their stories or share songs they have written. The artists collaborates with the veteran and together, they create a song based on that story. These organizations are invaluable.
 
In an attempt to get one of these excellent organizations to come locally, I have discovered that this process is so popular and effective that the organizations are booked out nearly two years.
 
The group I work with at the VA is committed to educating the public regarding PTSD for not only veterans, but all first responders. I don’t like to re-invent the wheel, but now have a goal.
 
What better way to educate the public than to include them in the process. There is so much talent locally and nationally that I believe starting an organization that accomplishes this goal does two things. First, it provides the same opportunity as the larger organization. Second, it directly involves our local and national talent, educating the public via participation.
 
I bear first hand witness to the therapeutic benefits of the arts regarding managing the symptoms of PTSD. I am happy, able, and willing to set up the organization and begin collaboration as soon as possible. The goal is to have a song or two by November 2020 that would be performed live at an event sponsored by the Fargo, ND VA at a local venue.
 
If you are a musician, song writer, or have a absolute desire to make a direct impact, regardless of where you live, please message me. There really are no rules. A great deal of this can be done over email, however I feel it is imperative that the artist meet the veteran at some point. I promise you the end result will make a positive difference in a veteran, first responder, and your life.
 
Thank you all for being the kind of Americans worth fighting for!
 
Dan

Listen to My Radio Interview

Hi Everyone!

In case you missed it, feel free to click the link below to listen to my radio interview on the Heroes of the Heartland Radio program from this morning!  Thank you all so much for the continued support for this project! I used to say it meant the world to me, and it does, but now I am starting to see that there is a bigger picture.  Thank you for all the phone calls, texts, and emails. Keep them coming!

Heroes of the Heartland: Dan Hudson | INFORUM

Poetry “To Myself a Lesson”

                                                               To Myself a Lesson

Closing my eyes, I left my body, only for a little while,

 an escape from reality, allowing for temporary denial.

As I walked a path, images of my life were left and right,

hearing every word ever spoken, every picture in my sight.

Like a theater with movies playing at the same time,

 watching each tear, each laugh, each mountain I had to climb.

Over here I am a child outside playing ball,

staying until dark, coming home to my mother’s call.

I looked to the left and watched a small moment of my life,

 it was my wedding day, so happy, and such a beautiful wife.

Ahead was my family on Thanksgiving Day,

heads bowed down, as they all began to pray.

Their prayer was for peace and health, thanking God that we are free,

  before the last amen, they said a prayer for me.

My family was together, but I wasn’t there,

 consuming sadness set in , it didn’t seem fair.

On the right there was a man lying face down in the snow,

I stood above him, his life gone, who he was, I did not know.

Behind me I saw myself yelling at those I cared,

They all looked confused, hurt, and even scared.

I tried to close my eyes, to watch this tore me apart,

 but I had no eyes, my words caused pain and broke more than one heart.

Turning my head, I saw a man standing threatening to do harm with a knife,

and me with my gun, prepared to end his life.

Next to this was a man on some tracks waiting to die,

wanting a train to kill him as it quickly rumbled by.

Above was a young girl pinned in a car, not moving or speaking,

broken glass and metal scattered over the road made of tar.

To the side was a young soldier standing guard at his post,

calling for help, that scared me the most.

“I am coming to get you, it will be alright”,

my vision blurred with tears as the image faded from my sight.

I tried but couldn’t move, so I looked down,

I had no legs or body, and there was no ground.

What am I, where am I, get me out of the place,

that is when I turned one more time and saw my own face.

It was me I was looking at, standing there with a smile,

a look of peace and calmness, something I had not seen in a while.

I almost didn’t recognize myself, appearing as I once was,

the chaos of each image muted, becoming quiet as an insects buzz.

The other me made a motion to turn around,

this time I was able to move, below me solid ground.

We walked together for some time, not saying a word,

stopping by a door, then my own voice I heard.

“Hey there buddy, I am really you but you haven’t seen me in a while”,

 I stared directly at me, my face in denial.

“You look at me like a stranger, but I have always been here,

 the hardest times you faced, I was standing near.”

“Your anger tried to push me away, that is no way to live,

but it was me whispering in your ear, move on and forgive.”

“Life has created who you are now, but you were first me,

today you choose your path and the person you deserve to be.”

I stood amazed, and didn’t say a thing,

wishing I was me again, able to accept what life can bring.

Finally, able to speak I asked, “ Hey, am I dead?”

The other me laughed, “No, this is a dream, but not like your others, you are safe in bed.”

“How am I supposed to forgive these things that matter?” hoping he knew,

My other me said, “Forgiveness isn’t for them, it’s really just for you.”

“Let go of the anger and hate that keeps you awake every night,

your war is over and now it’s about us, and no longer our fight.”

With a laugh he said, “let’s go” and knocked on the door,

it opened and inside was my new life, everything that mattered and more.

“Are you coming with, or are you going to stay where you’re at?”

 In front of me was a table, my family, and my chair where I always sat.

Before I could answer, my old self was nowhere to be found,

 I searched all over, my eyes darting around.

My old me was not gone, realizing I was always him,

 the light was bright ahead of me, behind the images became dim.

From the air my own voice called, “There is something you must know,

once you walk through that door, these memories will stay and never go.”

“They will be with you for as long as you live,

but I promise you will get out of your new life, exactly what you give.”

I smiled for the first time in what seemed like in years,

My family greeting me with hugs and cheers.

My voice called and said, “Hey, there is one last thing”,

forever in my ears, these words like a soft song will sing.

“It will better from here, but sometimes your mind will still roam,

your peace and happiness are found, now that you have finally made it home.”

__________________________________________________________________________________________

I don’t really know what to say about this, so I won’t. I will let it speak for itself. You may draw your own conclusions. 

If you think you know someone, or do know someone that can benefit from it, share it.  That is why all of these are here.  I feel I can reach more people on a platform like this before it is too late.

I recently had the honor to read some of my work at a Healing Warriors program that emphasized how healing, through art, whatever the form may, is so helpful.  I am still speechless at the stories, writings, and artwork created by these amazing veterans. Thank you all so much for your service that allows people like me to write what I do. 

I write today because I enjoy it.  Is it any good?   I have no idea, that is not why I write.  I write because these words, much like a painting from an artists brush, come from my mind and end up as typed characters on my computer screen. 

Thank you all for reading this very long poem.  I still have a tough time reading it out loud.

                                                                              DTH 

 

Poetry “Every Cloud”

                             Every Cloud

 

From a high above cloud God looked down,

At a farm below, and the white snow on the ground.

 

He saw his children who live in this place,

Had committed themselves to his word and grace.

 

Through good times and bad, God saw and knew,

This family tested, proving that they are honest and true.

 

When storms didn’t seem to end, and life was filled with doubt,

God didn’t leave, he was with them throughout.

 

The clouds can get heavy and cover the sun’s light,

Take comfort in knowing the clouds are his, and do not block his sight.

 

With a smile on his face, God listens, hearing each prayer,

Every moment seen, every cloud, God’s chair.

 

                                                                                D.T. Hudson 2018

Farming is a tough business.  Where I come from, we rely on honesty, hard work, and faith.  You have little control over things such as the weather, market prices, disease, or other factors.  You just have to do your best and hope that it is enough. 

Even when those around us tend to take the path of lying, cheating, and stealing, it is important to remember that the path chosen is the one you own.  You are not accountable to me.  A wise person once said, “What cometh around, goeseth around”, or something like that.  

It is easy to give up, cave in, or just quit when things seem like they are impossible.  Whether it be a financial hardship, loss of a loved one, health issue, or just simply being wronged by another, it really is not your fight. Let the arrogance of another be their downfall as the path they chose leads nowhere but to darkness. 

Whether you believe in God, Karma, or another higher power is not for me to judge.  I think we can all agree that most things happen for a reason. We may not always like the situation, but typically we learn from it, and it works out for the best.  Let your higher power take care of these things.  Rock on people, rock on!

P.S.  How cool are drone photos? Thank goodness no one decided to be close to nature and take an outdoor bathroom break!

Poetry “The Wind”

The Wind

There is a place that sits high on top of a hill, in the summer it is green, in the winter the snow will fill.

The lake with blue water is now frozen over, a white blanket  has covered this  field of clover.

The winter winds run through it like a riot, but today this land provides much needed peace and quiet.

Abundant tracks of wildlife made while they roam, nestled in the trees, a place they call home.

It could be now or one hundred years prior, the view catches my eye and I stand to admire.

A soft breeze touches my face, making its way to my ear, whistling by, there is a voice I can hear.

The wind calls my name as before, but this time I listen, while snowflakes in the sky flash and glisten.

This voice is familiar, often I chose to ignore, words of true peace and happiness, please tell me more.

Forgive those around you, and you will live much longer, forgive yourself, and you will be much stronger.

Know that there is bad, but good will prevail, let go of your anger, let it set sail.

Accept who you are, not what you will be, do all these things, then you will free.

I tell the voice that in this life, nothing is free, there are prices to be paid, the cost is on me.

The voice let out a small sigh, and said you must move forward, instead of asking why. 

What is around you has been here for years, it has seen the world’s happiness and its tears.

You are part of this place as much as it is part of you, full of life and love, every day brand new.

Take this gift for which you did not ask, be true to yourself, take off your mask.

I left the hill, the words a carousel in my head, and vowed to try to do everything the wind had said.

When I returned that summer, the wind blew but did not call, never again heard, winter, spring, summer, or fall.

                                                                                                      D.T. Hudson 2018

      There is this place by where we used to live. We referred it as the POD land; long story.  The view to me was amazing.  Overlooking a beautiful Minnesota lake, I often dreamed of putting a home on the property.  The problem was, I didn’t have the resources to even come close to achieving that dream.  So instead of building a home, I would just sit an admire the beauty mother nature had given this place.

     Throughout my poems, you can probably tell that my mind works on dark and light levels.  For instance, when I am working a project, specifically art, my thoughts are almost verbal conversations that I have with myself.  I would be lying if told you I didn’t sometimes also answer myself, but that is a different story all together.

     This picture of the land in the winter is near and dear to me.  I am fairly certain someone purchased the land and put up very large and lavish home.  That is the beauty of photographs and poetry.  I can remember it just the way it was, or maybe still is.

     Thank you for taking a look at “The Wind”.  I appreciate all of you reads and comments.

Poetry “This Moment”

Living in the country we truly get some of the best looks at the sky.  What some may struggle to find in a photograph, we are fortunate to have almost daily.  This old swing has been with us almost as long as we have been together. It is a matter of time before it gets to the point where it is no longer safe to use.  Until that time, we will sit in it, talk, and watch the sunrises and sunsets.

These moments are embedded into my memories.  The simple pleasures of a loved one and great conversation.  Sometimes supplemented with a hot cup of coffee or a cold Captain Morgan.  For those of you that know me, I do like my Captain Morgan.

Either way, thank you for taking a look at “This Moment”, because it is a huge part of my life.

This Moment.jpg

Poetry “A Distance Hug from a Mother”

 

A Distant Hug from a Mother

With great thought and care it was carefully made,

A gift for me to be used, but also to be displayed.

Holding stars and stripes in each perfect square,

Also with old planes that long ago, flew in the air.

Each stitch a memory, each pattern a short story,

Red, white, and blue colors, that resemble Old Glory.

It is here not just for me, built of love and to share,

You can find it on the sofa, sometimes on the back of a chair.

Cloth and thread mended together, beautiful yet more than just decor,

It tells tell part of my story, good, bad,  and so much more.

Tough days they can come, full of anger and guilt,

Like a distant hug from mother, I surround myself with her homemade quilt.


I wish I had the talent and patience to make a quilt.  A quilt, to me, encompasses so many things.  The time, creativity, patience, and effort that goes into its construction is truly overwhelming.  I was fortunate to receive this quilt.  It is more of a fight around our house of who gets to wrap themselves up in the detailed work of art.

Like a tapestry or priceless painting, I look at this quilt everyday.  I am grateful for my life, family, and those around me.

Thank you for taking a look at a short poem that means a lot to me.

I have the dictated words below as they are hard to read on the photograph.  Thank you for reading “A Distance Hug from a Mother”.

Poetry “God’s Farmer”

I am not what would be defined as a religious type person, however faced with adversity and the curve balls in life, I find it amazing that we call out to God. Whether it be in a moment of terror or ecstasy, we tend to start our sentences with “Oh God”.

Growing up on a small farm in the middle of really nowhere, I found myself searching for somewhere.  I saw and felt the tribulations and trials of trying to make a living on a small farm.  The weather, commodity prices, and other factors threatened our very existence.

This poem is about just that.  Calling to God when you are at the end of path, not realizing there is a door open, waiting for you to walk through it.

Thank you for taking a look at God and His Farmer.

God's Farmer

Poetry “Fires in Life”

Fires in Life

Fires in life will rage, destroying much in their path,

Scorched souls and destruction in the aftermath.

Attacking you from the front with no remorse,

The intentions are known  and with blatant discourse.

It seems too much, too fast, too real,

Picking up what is left of which one must deal.

What was once beauty was erased in a scorching flash,

Consumed by this fire, it is left to ash.

Life has left this place, nothing left to repair,

The spirit is seeming vacant, the ground cold and bare.

But this fire could not consume the soul or resolve,

Life concurs tragedy and begins to evolve.

Fires burn hot, consuming all prey and in time go out,

Erasing what it created, hopelessness and doubt.

Spring rains and warm summer, the seasons they jump,

The spirit of life finds a way to start over, out of a burnt stump.


So many people, no matter where you are from, have struggles that they have to face head on.  These struggles are a lot like a fire.  They sweep in quickly, destroy things in their path, the burn out.  I have had this happen, and I certain it will happen again.  The thing to remember is that a fire is temporary.  Whether we like it or not, the spirit of life will always prevail. That is why I wrote this poem, Fires in Life.

As I stared at this photo, the words just seemed to come to me. I remember snapping it a couple of years ago.

Take care of yourself, and let your spirit guide you. Thank you for taking a look!

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