The house is quiet. I have just finished grading essays. I have my headphones on and my ‘Just Some Good Songs’ playlist on random. The Christmas tree is glowing, it is the only light in the house (besides the glow of my computer screen).
And I am at a loss for words but feel the need to write. So, not sure where this post will go but I’m enjoying the way the keys feel as they rebound against my finger tips. I am awake because my mind is running trying to figure out how to express the depth of my emotions lately. How to share the anger and disappointment I feel. How it feels like the world is out to prove that Hate wins, that people don’t really care about anyone but themselves, and that anything I do is kindle for the bonfire of apathy I see in the hallways.
And then there are the Christmas lights. Red, Green, Blue and White points of joy that seem to sing a Christmas carol that I can’t quite recognize, yet soothes my soul.
I make it through each day because my family needs me. But there are moments when I feel like all my joints are held together with masking tape and the next step will cause me to fall apart like a Lego tower. But I take the step anyway, and the tape holds.
And the Christmas lights continue to shine. And I will fall asleep soon with a hint of a Christmas carol playing in the background of my dreams.
But for now, I’m writing. For now I am hoping these words matter to someone besides me…
I needed something to change my mood today. So I decided to write a music based blog post. Two of my favorite things. Plus it has been about six months since my last music based post. It was time to share some music with you.
First song up is “Never be a Right Time” by Tom Grennan. Right now, my second daughter and I jam out to this song in the car. This is one of the wonderful aspects of life, sharing a song with someone. A song that both of you light up to when those first notes start. Right now, this is ours.
Second song is a personal classic. My best friend and I are creating our top 100 songs of all time. We are having a hard time deciding on what format the final list should be presented in because we both have songs that are not available on streaming services. We have the cassettes or CDs copies of the songs, but to burn CDs for the final 100 songs would take some time. Now, YouTube does have some of the songs… but not all of them… but it does have one of the songs I want on my list… from 1987 Saga, “Only Time Will Tell”!
The third track is a song my daughter introduced me to, and it just makes me feel good when I hear it. And that’s what this post is about. Lily Mae Harrington, “TGTBT”.
And the last track for this post is not as ‘happy’ but that is OK. My mom and I would share music with each other over the years. One artist we both love is Teitur. When I visited my dad this summer, he was playing music in the living room. As we got settled he asked if I remembered how mom and I loved Teitur. He then switched the music to his first album (which I had given my mom as a Christmas gift).
I could tell he had been listening to music to help with the pain of losing his wife, his best friend. Music is one way we build connections with people. Music takes us back to moments in our lives. Music helps us in so many ways… Here is “Rough Around the Edges” by Teitur. (Yes, in my top 100 of all time!)
I wrote almost 300 poems in the time between the books. While Death Waits has only 62 of those poems. I have written about 100 blog posts in that time. Produced 7 seasons of my podcast For Love of Lyrics (season 8 in the works). And my son and I have done 40 episodes of The Creative Moment podcast. Been a guest on Dr. Michael Ingram’s Quintessential Listening: Poetry Online Radio podcast twice. I have also been on Josh Grant’s Diabolic Shrimp show, twice!
I also taught poetic lessons for Move Me Poetry for their Teach Me Tuesday event. I have competed in two slam contests. Attended a handful of open mics in town (they have suspended the open mic nights for now).
And nothing has really changed.
Why am I sharing this info with you? Two reasons.
The first is I am honored to have done so many cool things. To meet people like Dr. Michael Ingram and Josh Grant. To build community with the poets at Move Me Poetry.
I have strengthened my poetry by stepping out of my comfort zone by competing in poetry slams and designing lessons.
I have been able to have deep conversations with my son and share my love of lyrics with people through podcasting.
I have written some cool poetry (yes, this is a plug for my book).
But I wouldn’t have done these things if I wasn’t chasing a dream. My life is richer because of my pursuit of being an author, being a poet people recognize.
But that is also the second reason I am writing this blog post. Nothing has really changed. I am still basically an unknown poet, unknown writer. Chasing dreams is hard. It challenges your convictions. Calls forth doubt like a sudden winter storm that draws out tears like slivers from your heart. The weight of fear and frustration wears me down, so I write about it…
which spurs me forward in chasing my dream of making a difference in this world with my words and leads to opportunities that I would never have if I didn’t chase this dream.
I’m excited to see what will be next… of course, I’ll write about it, so stay tuned.
I am not going to talk about all the dots life has been sharing with me about this idea. There have been many, some very deep and challenging. Instead I’m going to jump right to the point of this post, and that means we are jumping into deep waters right away.
Our lives are our homes.
A house is just one of the facets of building a home. It is a central spot where we build our homes. But it is just one of the elements to a strong home, a strong life.
Our routines are central to the quality of our homes. This doesn’t mean our lives are just a series of repeated actions, far from it. Routines that build a sense of safety and love allow us to do wonderful things.
A major routine I have is to wake every child with Care Bear or unicorn energy. Even if they have the morning blues, I make sure they know a new day has begun, and I am happy to wake them. (My boys still talk about how much they hated my energy in the morning… but with smiles now.)
Another routine we have, as many of you readers know, is Sunday morning blueberry muffins. We also try to have dinner together every night, even with practices, musical concerts, and games.
Even the simplest routines influence the sense of home during the day. For example, I fill everyone’s water bottle in the morning and make lunches when they don’t like the option at school. Every day.
I could go on, but these routines would happen anywhere, any house, under any circumstance, and they have. They happened when I was jobless. When we lived with the in-laws for six months. We were home.
Another aspect of home is the people we let in the front door. The people we let into our lives. Now, this is a tough element to delve into. If someone came into your home and started breaking your dishes, throwing them on the floor, and ransacking the cupboards…Would you just sit there and let them? Or if they started screaming at your children or taking a hammer to the walls? Would you just sit and smile while you watched them? I don’t think so.
Yet… yet, we allow people to emotionally do this to us. To walk into our lives and destroy us in the name of family or friendship. Our home becomes filled with fear, angst, doubt and negativity. We would defend our dishes, but not our hearts? Our home is influenced by the people we ask into our lives.
I understand the complexity of relationships, especially when the family is used to justify accepting someone’s actions. But I will protect my home, protect my heart from being thrown on the floor to break.
The final aspect of a home is the decorations, the pictures, the figurines, and the books on the end tables. The stories and memories we create are hung on the walls of our lives. A beautiful home is created by living fully with the people we cherish.
Yes, big moments, like family vacations. But also the small moments of breakfast at McDs or taking snack walks. The walls of our lives should be filled with stories. Our lives are our homes… and a home is where we should feel free to live.
I have had a small phrase tumbling in my head for a few weeks. I’ve wanted to write about it the day I heard it, but life has been pretty busy, and I think it wanted me to experience some dots connected to the phrase before I wrote about it.
This post will center more on the phrase and the thoughts I have about it in our lives. The moments I experienced (the dots) may be mentioned, but sometimes the lessons are for me, not the blog.
At church, a couple of weeks ago, during the sermon, Father said a simple sentence that just woke me up. It was one of those moments when a truth hits hard because you hear it in a new way or from someone different. If you are a constant reader of my blog you might be surprised why this phrase hit me so hard because you’ve read posts that align with what Father said…
He said, “We are free to love.”
I’m not even sure what the homily was about, my mind and heart just took off with understanding and agreement. Then questions on why we don’t live this…
Let that sit for a moment. Feel the liberating sense of joy bubbling deep inside your chest. Knowing that you can smile, tell someone to have a good day. You can dance to your favorite song. Hug your kids. Hug your parents. Write a poem (or a blog post). Walk under the stars and let the knowledge that you are standing under a million stars. That you were given this moment to love… to love life, to love others, to love yourself.
Why don’t we live this way?
In answering this question let me share just a little bit about one of the dots life gave me, my mother’s memorial. It was a graveside ceremony that my dad presided over. I read two poems at different times during the ceremony. When my dad brought up the moment I became part of the family, I broke down a little. See, my parents did not have to include me. My siblings did not have to include me. It’s a long story, but they chose to love me as a son, as a brother, as family.
The first part of why we don’t live with the ‘freedom to love’ is choice. Now I’ve written about this in a number of past posts. But there is something different about the mindset to the idea of ‘the freedom to love.’ The choice to love is more of a gift of ourselves than a responsibility we check off of our to do list. And I love giving gifts!
But giving a gift has its risks, which is also why we don’t live such joyful lives. REJECTION and all the complicated emotions and pain that come from someone rejecting our gift, in this case our love.
Not going to sugar coat this. It hurts. It can break us when we love someone with every space available in our hearts, and they walk away.
I don’t have a magical potion that will take that pain away. I’ve been there, I still deal with the effects of some devastating moments. What I know is that giving my love to people that accept my gift is one way to heal. I also know love may be the only thing that grows the more you give it away. we are free to love as much as we want.
We are free.
We are free to love.
To love others, to love life, to love ourselves.
I hope you accept this blog as my gift to you, with love.
This morning I spent a few minutes cleaning out my wallet. Below is a concert ticket from 1997.
It was the only time I saw Prince in concert. Of course he was The Artist at that time. You can’t see that on the ticket… I can’t see that any more. I have been carrying that ticket in my wallet for almost 30 years.
I have pictures of my kids in my wallet, plus almost 10 fortunes I’ve liked so I’ve kept them. I have 6 dollars. A number of punch cards and a few credit cards.
But what got me was a goal I wrote down, folded up, and placed in between some pictures. I wanted to be a keynote speaker by 2017.
At that time in my life I was presenting at educational conferences. Working with schools on different projects, like becoming a 1-to-1 computer or iPad school. I was trained to be a Quality Matters Peer Reviewer to help build robust online learning classes.
I wanted to be a positive force in education. I made some great connections at the conferences. At each conference there was a keynote speaker. I wanted to do that, to be a motivational voice for fellow educators.
I didn’t accomplish that.
Through life and career choices, the keynote dream faded away. Until I found it written on a folded up piece of paper in my wallet.
Sadly, there are so many big dreams I had that now are no longer a real possibility. I will never be a head football coach. I may never even be a head track coach again. I’m not going to be a keynote speaker. And it seems that I’m not going to be a best selling author. I have not accomplished any of my big goals…
I’ve written about this topic before, about how chasing a dream leads to new opportunities. And that is true.
But today, finding a tattered folded dream in my wallet just reminded me of all the goals I have not accomplished.
Which song should I play as an intro? “Live Like You Were Dying” by Tim McGraw? How about Kris Allen’s “Live Like We’re Dying”? I’ve got some more songs that didn’t make the radio but have the same message.
And I agree with the message. But death is not a pop song. A life isn’t 3 minutes and 20 seconds long. The death of my mom this summer and the death of my wife’s mom yesterday morning has taught me some hard lessons that you won’t find in any lyrics because there are some tough things to process.
The hardest lesson is the reality that death brings the end of a life. That’s it. One moment they are in this world, there is a chance, a hope, possibility to talk, to eat breakfast. After the last breath, that is all gone. As I stated in an earlier post, there is not even a today for that person, for us. Their story has ended.
Even as a poet I can’t describe the empty space in life that death makes when someone has passed. When I went home to visit my dad this summer I felt it in the house. Yesterday, we visited my father-in-law and I felt that same emptiness in the house. They are just gone.
I know there are memories, pictures, and the effects of the relationship built with someone. But the physical reality of them not here challenges my heart. There are no hugs, no laughter, no opportunity to share moments with them. There is a silent emptiness that reminds me that they were here.
Both my mom’s and my mother-in-law’s death destroyed them physically. Which in turn took away a part of who they were as people. My mom couldn’t read her mystery books or take walks. My wife’s mother hardly moved, she was in and out of consciousness. The fear in my mom’s eyes haunts me. My mother-in-law’s painful mumbles echo in my head.
Part of who we are is connected to the condition of our bodies. When the body starts to deteriorate, so does our ability to be who we are. I had never held my mom’s hands so much as I did the months leading up to her death. At times that was the only way to say I was there. To say I love you.
Death is not a final scene with soft music playing in the background. It is a harsh reality that challenges everyone.
Then there is life, which continues, even as I mourn the loss of two mothers, two wives, two grandmas. Two stories that have ended. Yet, the sun rises each morning. Orion appears in the night sky. Other stories are being told all around me.
I don’t want to live like I’m dying. I want to live so that when the time comes for my story to end, my loved ones can close the book and say, “that was a good story.”
There were only a few days that I didn’t have a clear idea to write about, but I got rolling once my playlist started and my pen or fingers started writing.
These monthly challenges have forced me to pay attention to my everyday routine. Sometimes my routine was thrown for a loop at the beginning of the month as I figured out when to complete that month’s challenge. But by doing that, I had to take inventory of how I spend my time. On a deeper level, was I spending time doing things that correlated to what I say is important to me?
For example, you may notice most of my posts are done in the evening. After dinner, after spending the day with family. Yes, I have my coffee next to me as I write. What you don’t know is that I took my walk earlier. Today we spent the afternoon buying school supplies. I had a doctor appointment this morning. Recorded the next episode of The Creative Moment with my son.
I spent my day as a dad and husband. That’s important to me.
As life often does, this idea of living life as close to one’s central beliefs has been a part of different conversations with different people over the last couple of days. My best friend’s new job allows him to travel but mostly work from home. My dad is dealing with the tough decision of what to do next in life. My daughter can’t wait for college to start, to finally start focusing her time chasing her dream of being a film director.
I don’t know if I will keep my streak alive of blogging everyday, but if you check the Archive menu, you will see I have been blogging for a long time. So, that won’t stop anytime soon. But I have some other aspects of life I have been wrestling with. How can I live out in my daily routine the things that are important to me? That’s a topic for another blog post.
What I do know, from doing these challenges, is that living is an active endeavor. You have to have an open heart, be cognitive of your actions, and step into your day – even if it is a routine part of the day. We all are given a life, we are responsible for how we live it.
It is Sunday and faithful readers, you know we had blueberry muffins for breakfast. But this morning I got to travel forward in time, at least a little bit. At breakfast there were only my three youngest daughters with my wife and I. This will be our normal Sunday morning crew in a few weeks.
Today we held an open house for my in-laws’ home. Below are two pictures of the tree in their front yard. The winter picture is from 2011. The other picture was taken today.
The connection? Time.
More specifically, how time changes everything. There are good changes. There are regrets and heartbreak with some of the changes.
We all know the cost of time. I don’t think we live our lives with that knowledge, though. If we did, our daily life would be drastically different. We would love without fear. We would dance more. We would eat cereal at midnight and our desserts first at restaurants.
But time is a tricky one to catch, because what happens is that we look up one day and a dozen blueberry muffins will be too much for just my wife and I. Time changes everything, even if we don’t see it.
So, yeah. It took to the 28th day of the challenge to get to a blog post about nothing.
Now, it was a normal day for me. A day filled with running errands. Car was serviced; why does the cabin filter always need changed?
Got some groceries, which I love to do. I don’t understand how people just order online and then sit in their car waiting. How do you find an impulse buy? How do you know there is a new Pop-tart flavor? Or better, a new flavor of chips!
We made our famous Pizza Bake. Really easy dinner. Ground some hamburger, add pizza sauce. Use a crescent sheet on the bottom of a 9×13 casserole pan. Now here you can add any pizza stuff you want. We usually use pepperoni on half. Then place the hamburger over the whole bottom. Sprinkle grated cheese over the top, then cover with another crescent sheet. Bake until top is golden brown (about 14 minutes at 400).
We have almost 10 pizza recipes… and we still order out for pizza.
I did not get my walk in today. That is the only negative.
So, I could say nothing happened. But really, life happened.
My youngest daughter and I sang the song Whoomp! (There it is) in the car this evening.
I talked with both my boys by text this afternoon.
My second daughter and I ran to the library.
My third daughter still has my computer. She is working on a personal art project.
And it reached 102 degrees today.
This blog post is about nothing, nothing but life.
It is all Connected 