Bittersweet

My eyes were watery, as I looked down past my surgical scars.  The top of your head dropped, as you focused.  You were reluctant to do this for me, but only for an instant.  When I explained that I needed your help, you went straight to work.  You were diligently trying to tug down the seemingly too small of a sock over the slightly swollen foot of your Father’s left leg. It seemed so natural for you.  The sense of service you demonstrated this morning may be your greatest gift you have to offer the World.  It could possibly be the one thing that brings joy and satisfaction to you and the whole world.

Maybe it’s the surgery.  Having my life taken away from me for a few hours as my body is cut, rearranged, sewn back together.  Maybe it’s the pain meds.  I am getting emotional thinking of you lately.  Maybe it’s because it’s your birthday soon.  Maybe it’s because you are so noticeably upset at both my initial injury and my subsequent surgery.  To see you break down  in tears and fear as your Father’s body fails. This morning I am even little fearful.  More concerned, now that I have been reading about the burning linear pain running down the back of my knee.  The probable cause would seem to be a blood clot.  The idea that I may have a condition that may cause a condition that could end my life, is as close I ever have been to death.  Even if I am totally blowing this pain out of proportion, the effect it is having regarding my perspective is sobering.  It doesn’t take much to be reminded of how delicate it all is.  I can see the distress in your eyes when they scan my new six inch scar.  I can see you turn your head to deny something.  I see you, then decide, to overcome your fear and turn me me with tears in your eyes telling me how scared and sad you are to see me this way.  It is a sweet, sweet sadness that you emote and it draws my love to the surface.

I mean, life will go on.  I believe my life will go on after this one.  My love for you will certainly go on, if only in the form of  some words I have written in a blog.  Hopefully the love I planted inside your heart through my actions will endure.  The current form of it all though, of anything you choose to look at, well it is changing as you are looking straight at it. I see that everyday with you.  The expressions you make with your face, the stride you take while walking are different, it seems, every time I look at you.  This doesn’t make me sad.  I am happy for you and your growth.  I don’t wish that you remain unchanged, yet my own life change can be a frightening proposition.  

I get sad when I think of not being around for you.  I desire so strongly to be able to assist you.  I ache at the thought of not being able to tell you how much I love you.  I tear up when I think of you without a father. You are a sweet, compassionate and brave young boy Owen.  You are both curious and repelled by the issues of mortality that present themselves so early in life. You are both an expression and a promoter of Love. You remain a fantastic artist, dancer, lego engineer and singer.  You are simply more than I can express and, so too, my Love for you.  I try to convey my appreciation of your presence in my life.  If I had a million years to write and record it would still not be enough medium to fully convey my gratitude.

Thar' Be Light Matey

The other day, we were walking to your classroom.  You looked up at me, mid-stride, and simply stated that you loved me.  We both kept walking. I asked you, “What did you say?”  This time you looked up at me and said again, “I love you Daddy.” I tried to think of something that I had bought you recently.  Was it the gingerbread house I bought you at Trader Joe’s?  No, you already thanked me for that days ago. What prompted this spontaneous expression of appreciation?  There had to be some sort of cause for this, right?  I asked you why you said that and if everything was 'ok'.  I was acting like I didn’t know.

When you were born, the day you were born, your presence was clear.  Who you were, where you came from and what you were part of was ‘known’. It was obvious. You were absolutely filled with wonder and appreciation.  You were fearless and adventurous. Your presence was “it”.  It was completely motivating for your mother and I. Since you couldn’t do much with your little Jello body, laying there smiling was literally all you could do….and it captivated whole rooms. That energy, that beauty, that force is still you, as you evidenced to me the other day on our walk to your class.  You are still that unconditional beam of light.

This world, in its’ endeavor to show you all the things you are not, will appear to be urging you to become like itself.  With its’ expressions of fear, anger and confusion it will feel as if it is pulling you nearer and nearer to itself.  In the living of my own life I have found myself slipping and sometimes intending those shadows.  I eventually determined, perhaps I should say I eventually remembered, that I was more than all the things I saw around me.  I remembered that I was that beautiful force too.

As I get older, I am 46 now, I am slowly coming around to a basic premise that I used to hold as a self-evident truth; we are light.  We are creatures of light and love.  It is our basic nature, THEY are our base instincts.  As you brought forth this truth with your simple, supple little newborn body in January of 2010, you brought it forth four days ago.  It is still who you are.  It will always be who you are. Happy Birthday Owen! Thank you and I love you too.

Reindeer Games

It is a strangely targeted lie.  It is meant to fool you, Owen.  It is a lie that involves an old man, who really has no business lying to children. The man wants you to sit on his lap.  If everything goes as planned, he will watch the you throughout the year and then sneak into your house in the dead of night.  No one can stop this old man. Even parents cannot stop him, even though they know well in advance of his intentions and capabilities.  In fact, parents often are seen enticing the man with food. Just when you have come to trust the man, your parents will explain to you that he is untrustworthy.  They will explain to you that they have been lying to you about this man, and what he does, even though they themselves have been urging you to trust him.

What a great tradition, right?   Not only is every adult lying to you, but they are all accentuating the exact opposite philosophy  of the person the claim to be celebrating. “Judge not, and ye shall not be judge”, said Jesus Christ.  Not this Santa Claus guy, he will judge you “naughty” or “nice” and then reward you accordingly.  The total focus on gifts and worldly goods also adds to the haze.  There is,also, the inconsistency of judgement that this man renders.  I mean, how does one who sees all give a brand new bike to the kid that you saw steal candy earlier this year?  

These lies you have been told surrounding this time create complications. Is it possible that they undermine trust in you and your parents relationship?  Is it possible that they undermine your ability to trust in anything that the adults have to tell you?  Yet everyone is on board, it would seem. I mean, how can everyone else be wrong about this?  There are lots of times when the majority of people were wrong concerning a tradition or belief.  You do not have to look very far into the past to see that.  

When you ask me whether Santa Claus exists or not, my reply is, “That’s what I hear”.  I know that I am not being quite as honest as I would like to.  I don’t really have the guts to explain to you that it is all a lie, and not a very well thought out one.  I fear that you being the only 6 year old that doesn’t believe will be more harmful than beneficial.  I have acquiesced.  

I am not worried, you will figure it out.  Possibly, I have implemented just enough ambiguity to preserve your trust in me.  I want you to have a wonderful Christmas, with all the joy, wonder and magic that is inherent in this fantastic time of year.  We don’t need facades for this.  We don’t need Santa Claus, The Pope, Odin or Krampus  for this, do we?  Last night I heard a famous Native American say, “..we Indians love to be scared (through stories).”   It appears to me that all of our ancestors enjoyed a good, dark, sooty scare.  Perhaps, it is time to return to the light.

I and Thy

Yesterday was the first day back to the workplace for me, young one.  After a summer-long stint of complete freedom, we now prepare for a completely different life routine.  No more waking up slowly with you, lounging around in our ‘pajamas’ until noon.  Less likely are we to make our early morning shopping run to Trader Joe’s.  It is unlikely that we will stop by McDonalds for a couple of breakfast burritos, on our early and merry way to the Aberdeen Star Wars shop, some strange estate sale or Snoqualmie Falls.  It was a good summer, though.  It was a very good summer.  Now life offers us something different.  Kindergarten begins for us, and you, your mom and I all seem pretty excited about that.  I think, though, we may all be excited about it for different reasons.

When I went back to the school I work at yesterday, everyone seemed thrilled to be back.  People were talking energetically with each other, happily chatting about their summers.  At one point, everyone was clapping together in unison to the song “Happy.”  I sat with these people, slightly confused, with the look of an accompanying spouse to a Mary Kay introductory lunch.  I appear, perhaps, as a judgemental outsider.  I am not judging though, just observing the contrasts.

I come off a little more, shall we say, subdued.   Some people have even gone so far as to tell me to smile more, seemingly concerned or depressed by my contrasting energy. For years, some of life’s more extroverts have labeled me ‘heavy’ or stoic.  I used to be proud of this distinction.  Now days it takes a little consciousness, on my part, to be in the midst of large group of people I differ from without judging myself as ‘weird’.  I no longer use the crutch of ‘pride’ to power through such moments.  The diverging energy can feel like it desires to change me, to become like itself.  Sometimes  it presents foux, facade and glitter to convince me to follow it.  Instead of resisting all of that, these days, I let it. Where as I used to push forward with my own ideals, proclaiming some supposed moral high ground, I now look to serve the others somehow.  When I do this, when I choose this perspective, I am at peace.  I am not at peace as much as I would like, but I know what it feels like.  It is a far more pleasurable experience than anything my ego has to offer.

It is likely that some part of you may feel different.  Either from the others in your class, home or even different from the greater mainstream of society.  Try not to judge, condemn or separate yourself from the ‘others’  too much. Life is created, motivated and kept interesting by contrasts. Remember the pizza parable of the sauce and the cheese?  Me either, but the piquancy of a well made tomato sauce paired with the creamy mozzarella is an obvious expression of divine unity, no?

If everybody was the same, well that  would be totally boring.  I need to remember this when your mother loads the dishwasher….um….differently.   When I hold the door for hundreds of people who are different than I, who stare with confusion and distrust at my subdued demeanor,  I would do well to remember this. Even though we appear to be different, those exuberant souls are part of what makes being ‘me’ possible.  Without them, nothing.  Is it not stones and the water together, after all, that make music of the forest stream?  Together but different. Their interaction, however convoluted and seemingly obstructive, actually creates something beautiful.  If you can get a little distance, detach a bit, you may well hear the bubbling melody.

Effort: Less Son

As a boy I cannot remember ever thinking about the concept of effort.  Everything I did from kickball to arithmetic seemed primed with enthusiasm and a desire to simply do my best.  I think we are all born with that natural instinct.  Then at some point, I lost that natural balance of wanting to do something and being completely content about what I was doing in the moment. At some point my pure desire to experience the truths of life, was replaced with the fear of the future.  I fearfully tried to prepare against it.  I worked hard, long days for hardly any money.  In fact, after working 60 plus hours for years,my restaurant closed and I owed money.  No closer was I, to being fearless (said in Yoda's voice).

I remember being read stories of Brer Rabbit as a young boy, growing up in Durham.  I remember the Tar-Baby and how, through his rage motivated efforts, he managed to get himself completely stuck.

Lots of kids, perhaps, came away with a clear message concerning race relations in the south.  I remember thinking ol’ rabbit was working too hard.  If he would just focus on the Bear necessities….oh wait, that’s a different story. Anyway the lessons  and messages were all around me, “Don’t worry, and don’t work too hard.”  Yet, the exact opposite message was also drumming louder and louder, every school year it seemed, “Work harder and be MORE concerned with the future and what others think you ought to be doing.”  As most of the people espousing the latter philosophy were adults, I dived headfirst into the world of expectations, effort and pride. They were adults after all, they must understand how this life thing is done, right?  Wrong.  Like ‘ol Brer Rabbit I got stuck.  Covered in other people’s ideals, beliefs and goals. The fact is the less you find yourself having to “work” at something, the more likely you are to have a desirable outcome.  Especially if your desired outcome is happiness.

I suppose I need to clarify.

Work is good.  In this life there are certain things that need to  be accomplished if you want to live. You need to hunt buffalo, build your home and collect the firewood (There is a good chance these particular chores will be less relevant by the time you read this). There is some amount of effort needed on your part for simply surviving.  We humans though, we have really upended our garden of ‘Eden’.  I have done it.  Working 40 plus hours a week at  a job we barely  tolerate, pursuing people who barely tolerate us. We’re assured this is how things are accomplished. “Keep at it.” we are told, over and over again.

I remember breaking up with my first ‘real’ girlfriend.  Not the first time I had sex, but the first time I had lived with someone and shared the intimacies of daily life.  I’d say the first woman I ever loved, but I think she was right in the end, I did not love her.  The break up was heart (ego) wrenching and dramatic, at least for me, but we agreed the break-up needed to happen.  She moved far away but for some reason I felt like I needed to pursue her. I guess I had determined that the relationship had only failed because of my lack of effort.  I was sure that I wanted her back, though not completely sure why.  I remember talking to my mom and her saying, “Drew, if you love her, you’ve got to follow her. Go tell her how you feel!”, or something like that.  So, with my mother’s feminine endorsement and financial backing I called the ex to tell her, in my most failing, wobbly and self-possessed demeanor, “I am coming to see you!”  Expecting the afore experienced acquiescence she replied curtly, “Drew, don’t”.  Our relationship did not end as storybooks do.  All the life coaches, who called for effort filled with effort were unceremoniously knocked from their displays. I no longer believed  in the power of effort.  

My Dad used to say, “Son, there is the easy way and then there is the hard way.”  I am not sure he knew what that would come to mean to me.  I don’t put a lot of effort into anything, really, these days. Is that what he meant?  I just do things…...slowly usually. The ancient Celts used to speak of the importance of the Bradan not ‘pushing the river.’  In other words, don’t peddle downhill.  Know when to rest, and when to let things pass by.  Know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em.  Or, as another linguistically challenged poet once wrote, “Que sera, sera.”  Whatever will be will be.  You know what?....... that’s all true, kind of.  I would urge you to ‘do’.  Intend, create and work.  It is satisfying to the soul, if done correctly, and in the right spirit. There are times, though, when all the effort in the world will not change anything. There is a balance to be found in there, somewhere for you. It’s your personal rhytym.  Always do your best and find that rhythm, dear one.  Dance that crazy little dance.  Not the Tar-Baby dance, that one is really boring, unsatisfying and requires a tremendous amount  of clean-up. Try that robot-surfer one you do, that one seems pretty cool.

Bargain Summer

A summer to remember is what this summer has been.  Not because we went to Disneyland, Wild Waves, Hawaii or anywhere that cost any money.  It was not awesome because we went on a 10-day hike, pet a Grizzly bear went river rafting.  It will be remembered, at least by me, as a great summer because we spent it together, and it was the summer before you officially started school.

We have done some pretty cool things though, albeit they we mostly free and local.  Remember that bike ride we took down the Western Chehalis, where we saw that owl and ate lunch by that pond

which had all those lily pads?  Remember when we were riding over I-5 with all those ‘hills’ screaming “I am getting freezing!!!” and how you got caught up in the moment and forgot to break, blowing through roundabout? How about that hamburger we ate after we spent the day out on the beach?  Or how about our hike down to the sound where you crossed your first ‘log bridge’ by yourself.

We are lucky enough to have a neighborhood pool, and this was the ‘summer of swim’.  We went almost every day.  It the first year that you swam in the deep end and could touch the bottom.  Just last night you swam to the bottom of the pool and grabbed a toy from the floor of the deep end.  There is such joy in your eyes when we swim together.  The swimming goggles I bought myself were well worth their exorbitant price of 18 dollars, just to look into your goggles and see them filled with bliss and just a little water.  Thumbs up, whale cries and underwater death stares were all part of the fun this year.  Momma probably wouldn’t love the lifeless and limp pose I taught you, as you silently float to the floor of the pool but it feels kind of peaceful doesn’t it?  A nice palate cleanser, if you will, for the times when I launch you into the air.

It’s been a cheap and fantastic Summer with you Owen.  Making my current lack of money well worth it.  In fact, all the driving together on the weekend, as I try and get my yard sale hustle on was pretty awesome too.  All the people we met, all the homes we have driven past countless times wondering, “what type of folk live there?”  I have lived in a lot of places, just in this town, and it was cool to share those places and kind of reconnect with this town with you.  

We will be going on large hikes, epic water slides, fantastical theme parks and beautiful islands.  Some of these things we will be doing rather soon.  It is good to know that we can be so satiated with the simple things, isn’t it?  Isn’t it reassuring that life can be blissful, even with the simplest of activities or sometimes with no activity at all?

I hope you have enjoyed our bargain rate Summer, this last one before you start school. I know I have enjoyed it, beyond measure.  I am going to try and figure out some sort of employment scheme that will allow me to continue this shared experience, because I can’t imagine not spending Summers with you.

Mattress Over Mind

“Alert!  Alert!”

You said this as you got ready for bed last night and looked in the mirror (It’s interesting to  see what our emotions look like, right?). You seemed to be practicing the look of ‘apprehension’, like you practice your air kisses and winks.  As if you were practicing an essential social skill.   From  your stolen glances over my shoulder at my Facebook feed to the forgotten, cranked-up car stereo blaring out the news, “...children murdered….” as I turn the ignition, it surely must appear that the whole world is on the brink of destruction.

We don’t watch T.V. at our house.  We watch Netflix only.  This means that we control what you see at home, to a large extent.  That has been  your Mother and I’s intention.  We want the home to feel secure to you, a safe and cuddly place.  I hope it does, though I am not sure the video cameras and alarm system add or subtract fear in the ‘comfort equation’.  This sphere of control is very limited, I have found out.  The center of the sphere is in the closet, where the Wi-Fi router is.  Outside of that, as soon as we pull out of the driveway….well... it appears as if almost anything goes in this wacky, wacky world.

I remember when you were four, and your protective and thoughtful Fother took you for our first fother/son haircut at a real barber.  You know, the one without the ‘car chairs’ and with all the ‘dark skinned guys.’  Everything was going well, your haircut complete.  You sat on the chair and watched me get my haircut.  Then you saw the television.  Then I saw the television.  I figured with so little hair to cut, I would be done in minute or so.  I neglected to predict the inordinate amount of ‘over buzzing’ and body hair removal  my barber would feel it necessary to augment my slightly unnecessary haircut with.  You then saw one of the most horrifying scenes television has ever given us: The Charlie Hebdo shooting in Paris.  Certainly one of the most confusing thing a four year old could see.  I literally laughed out loud at the futility of  your parent’s efforts, as the gunmen walked down the road killing people. The screen displayed it’s wide spectrum of rage and you openly soaked it up. I laughed with disbelief as the barber stared, with you, in solemnity.

This world has so many scary things in it.  So many opportunities for you to give up on it, on us and on the whole thing.  When this happens, I have only one piece of advice: take a nap.  Perhaps a wiser person would urge you to meditate and touch your Godliness within.  “What is so great about a nap?” you may ask. It stops you from thinking.  Regardless of what adults may tell you, thinking will not bring you peace or joy.  It will not alleviate the fear.

“Stop thinking, and end your problems.” -Lao Tzu, 550 BCE

“Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?”  -Jesus

“Take a nap.  I always feel better after a  nap”  -Dad

Turn off the “Alarm, Alarm!” clock and check out for a bit. After you are well rested, maybe then you can work on creating some more sweetness in this world of ours.

I hope this helps.