Would I be able to say or write anything if I knew it was the end?
I think I would want to see the stars one last time, that’s for sure.
But I’m 99.9% sure this is not the end. That I will get up tomorrow morning, get ready for work, fill my daughters’ water bottles, maybe make lunch (at the time of writing this they are going to eat hot lunch tomorrow). On the way to work my wife will get her Mocha Sea Salt Caramelicious blender. I will teach, eat lunch, teach some more, then head home. Depending on the night we might head to an activity, make dinner, or take one of the kids to a practice. I might wash dishes, or sit down to write with a cup of coffee (which I have next to me as I write). To finish off the day, I will read (reading Fairy Tale by Stephen King right now), brush my teeth, take my blood pressure pill and head off to bed.
Then repeat…
…unless…
…unless, this is the end.
I would like you, reader, to know that it has been a blessing to share my writing with you. To share my joys and heartbreaks.
I would want my family and friends to know I love them and that this life is beautiful underneath all the hate, trouble, and selfishness it seems to wrap itself in.
I would like people to remember my writing and the depth I tried to live my life. This life is the closet thing to heaven I’ve ever found.
But it is not the end… but I’m going to do a little stargazing after posting this blog.
I’m also going to make sure to tell people I love them before I go to bed. You never know.
In 2021 Kevin Garnett wrote a cool book, KG: A to Z: An Uncensored Encyclopedia of Life, Basketball, and Everything in Between. Instead of a traditional narrative structure, KG told his story by creating a personalized encyclopedia. The reader could look up a topic or word to read his insight or his story connected to that word like an encyclopedia. It was a cool book to read.
The past 10 months have been challenging. My perspective has been challenged on many different levels. Certain words or ideas have been the focus of some of those challenges. I thought it would be useful to use the same organization KG did for his book for this blog post. So, here is my Life Encyclopedia.
Art: The expression of the heart. See also, music, poetry, writing.
Blogging: See writing.
Death: The natural end of our time here. Everybody knows that death awaits for us all. Yet, we do not actually live like we know this truth. We waste time on petty issues, or involved with our screens in some mindless activity. We tend to live like tomorrow will always be there, so we feel like we can let today slide. I wonder what life would look like if we actually lived like we knew our time here ends.
Dreams: I debated on whether to use ‘dreams’ or ‘goals’ for this section. I decided on ‘dreams’ for two reasons. First, it sounds more poetic. Second, I feel that a dream can be accomplished, but even then a dream can still pull at your heart. And chasing our dreams should be part of our everyday existence. The pursuit of making our dreams a reality is what fills our spirit. Makes the hard days easier to endure. Our dreams are our purpose for being here. Some dreams change, some become reality, while we chase others our whole life. That is the beauty of having a dream.
Family: This is the most complex life topic I’ve been dealing with over the last year. Family has been a central issue all of my life. From living separately with both biological parents, to walking away from most of my bloodline, that allowed me to start my own family.
There is the crutch of the idea of family. As a dad I have a saying (OK, I have a handful of sayings), “Family gets your best behavior.” The heart of this is to remind everyone that the most important people should not be treated better than strangers. Yes, there are disagreements and challenges to work through, but they are handled with love. Our home is the safest place in this world for everyone.
I never felt safe or truly loved growing up. I knew that, at different times, that alcohol and other people mattered more than me. Even as I’ve learned more about who my biological father was after his passing, I still wonder why I didn’t matter. Why their son was not worth their time or love.
Blood doesn’t define family. I mattered to Wayne and Janine (for new readers, Janine is my mom that passed away last summer). I found a home that was filled with love that showed me what a family could be like. No, it wasn’t perfect. This household isn’t perfect, but the foundation is love and acceptance. That is how a family is built.
Friends: Yes, a friend can be seen as family, but I think real friendship is its own unique relationship that allows it to be a separate component of life. I don’t have a lot of real friends. Oh, I have many friends and acquaintances, but honestly, I have one best friend. We have been friends since junior high. Yes, we have had some rough spots, and yes, it was over a girl, but what makes our friendship strong is knowing that we have each other’s back. We share our dreams and hardships. Even though we are miles apart, we do fun things, like right now we are sharing our top 100 songs of all time, but doing it one day at a time. We have been there for the big moments; we both were each other’s best man for our weddings. A friend is part of your foundation that brings a different kind of joy and support.
Learn: The act of becoming who you are through different means; such as reading, living, questioning and other experiences.
Life: This moment right now, which is a mix of the past, dreams for the future, and the current emotion to create a unique experience for all of us.
Love: The center of life.
Music: One of the many artistic elements that build bridges between people. For me it is a sanctuary. I always had the radio to accompany me when I changed houses, changed parents, changed my life. There is nothing like sharing a song with someone, finding common ground in lyrics and music.
Poetry: The way I understand this life. The artist way I can make sense of my emotions while processing the questions I have about how life unfolds. By writing poetry I understand myself more. By studying the art form I become better at writing, but also thinking, which allows me to come to terms with both the joys and sorrows of this life. Poetry also allows me to build connections with other people, other artists, other poets. I do not trust many people, but I trust poetry.
Real: My word for this year. This might be the hardest word for me because I do not show the real me to too many people besides in my poetry and other writings. The reason for this blog post is me trying to live by my word. At the moment I am skeptical that I can live up to it in this world that is quick to destroy anyone that tries to be real.
Writing: Poetry is my first love, but I wrote my first short story in fifth grade. I have been blogging for decades now. Writing, in all forms, gives me a sense of being. In a way it allows me to be the real me. Writing is like praying for me, even at this moment I have my “Writing” playlist going, I am pondering questions of the past, considering a few future opportunities I have and feeling some strong emotions that encompass a broad range – I am living.
If you are a faithful reader of my blog you know I write a lot about being a father, but this blog post will be written as a son. And I have no idea where it will go. All I know is that I need to write something to help deal with finding out today that my biological father has passed away.
There are so many emotional elements that I am processing right now.
The first is dealing with the third death in less than a year. The harsh reality that our time here is limited and unknown. But I’m going to leave this topic for another day.
This post is about me as a son. Of spending most of my life dealing with the question of why I was never important enough for either of my parents to love me, to raise me, to guide me in this life. And now I won’t have the chance to ask my father… or as any son deeply desires, to know if he was proud of me.
A blog post is not enough space to tell my whole story. To bring forth the pain his absence created in my life and does still to this day. And I am scared of the feelings I will have tomorrow.
He never saw me play football in high school or in college. He has never seen his six grandchildren. I never had my father to ask advice from. He lived his life as if I wasn’t here.
And yes, I know that some of you are asking why I didn’t reach out to repair the relationship. First, a single blog post can not cover the craziness of my younger years. The alcohol and drug use my parents partook in, living with them with their new wife or husbands, moving from city to city. As I grew older, I understood how I was seen as a burden at times or other times simply forgotten by both of my parents.
And as I started a family, worked at being a good dad, I became even more angry at both of my parents because I did a good job of being a dad. Yes, it was hard at times, I have sacrificed for them, but I am proud of my kids. And that deep rooted question grew even more in my heart.
Why couldn’t my parents love me? Why wasn’t I worth their time?
There was a moment when my father and I reconnected for a brief second. We saw each other in person (a crazy story) and a few letters were sent back and forth but in the end it was clear that nothing had changed. I wasn’t a son he wanted to be a father to (he had another family). So I went on living my life, never having the question answered.
But I am his son. And it hurts to even think about what could have been, maybe what should have been.
I believe all children, but especially sons, just want to know that their father is proud of them. Sadly, now, I will never know. I am left believing he didn’t care… and that hurts the most.
It was 26 degrees outside when I went on a walk this evening. There was no wind, so it was actually a nice evening. My face got cold, and I had to stop wearing my glasses because they fogged up pretty quickly.
I have not been at a 100 percent for some time now. I have good days, but some dark moments. Times where I want to dissolve into the air, to let my molecules fall apart hoping that will release the sadness from my soul. But somehow I hold it all together.
Here’s how I do it.
Walking. Like tonight, I took my short route because it was cold. I took the photo I used in the title banner on the walk. When I got home I had my daughter take the photo to the right. But the coolest thing happened on my walk. I saw the best shooting star I have ever seen in my life. The meteorite even flared out like a small firework. No, I didn’t take a photo. I stopped right in the middle of the street and watched it shoot across the sky. It was beautiful.
Taking time to walk, to think, to feel the emotions of the day allows us to remember we are here. That we are human. That we have our feet squarely on this earth, and that means a lot.
Writing. Even if it is just a note of something good that happened today. The act of writing builds a connection between our life and our emotions. Poetry is my way of making sense of the world. This blog is a bridge between you, reader, and me. Writing is creating a connection between the abstract of our spirit into a reality. So, is any art from. Writing is just my main art form.
Believing. I believe in Love. Without getting into any kind of spiritual debate or discussion, Love is proof that there is more to us than all the hate and other negative things we express in this world. Even though the world keeps trying to prove me wrong, Love changes the world. I believe this and try to live my life each day according to my belief.
I have wanted to simply fall apart almost everyday since last April. There have been some really tough days. But I’m keeping it together by living through the things that matter the most to me. I may still fall apart (we all do to a degree) but I know I’ll write about it because I believe one of the most powerful ways to show love is to be true to what makes us who we are.
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.
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.
Yesterday’s post shared an anecdote that showed how important small talk is, how talking about the weather can build a connection… I also shared how I am not good at small talk because I would rather talk about deeper aspects of life… I’m sharing a song below as part of this introduction, “Here I Go Again” by Casting Crowns
This song was written by Mark Hall after he loss a friend to suicide. Mark knew he was struggling, yet, they never really talked about it. Mark shared the story at a concert almost 20 years ago. (It was the first concert I took my oldest son to; he is the fan of Casting Crowns.)
“Here I Go Again” shares the real struggle we have in talking about deep and important issues in our lives. Like in the song, “But that old familiar fear is tearing at my words / What am I so afraid of?” I wonder keeps us from really diving into issues that really make a difference in our lives. Why don’t we tell people we love them more? Like everyday! Why don’t we discuss the hardships we face chasing our dreams? What are we hiding from? What are we afraid of?
There is no clear and easy answer to this because each person has their own fears, their own histories. And we do have deep conversations with friends, but not very often. We do tell people we love them, just not enough. I understand the role trust plays in conversations, and I don’t trust many people at all, but I’m not afraid to talk about deep or interesting things.
I don’t know how to conquer your fear, or anyone’s. But I believe we need to move beyond the weather in our conversations. Build strong bonds instead of quick social connections. Tell people we love them more, hug them more. Our lives are complex and deep experiences, we should share that. You never know who you’ll connect with or what you will learn.
I’m laughing as I write this because I had a memory from decades ago when I asked my brother-in-law, who is a farmer, if he ever thought about where his crops go in this world, who might eat his corn.
He looked at me and said, “Cows eat my corn, this is a feed crop. Not a human crop.”
We had s’mores last night. Set off a few fireworks. Tried to catch lighting bugs. Watched our neighborhood firework show. Then went to bed. This morning we had cinnamon rolls. While we were eating, my youngest daughter said that last night was fun. Everyone agreed.
One of the things I am proud of is the sense of home we have. My wife and I work hard at creating a home that is warm and safe for our children. When I became a dad, I wanted my children to know that they had a loving place in this world. I wanted a home filled with laughter. Filled with love. A place that my children could find reprieve from this world.
I grew up in houses that I felt alone in. Scared in. There were houses where I found ways not to spend time in… luckily the library was across the street from that house.
Our home is part of the fabric of our family. We have movie nights, dance parties, blueberry muffins and simply some good days.
Of course we have had our troubles, rough times. But the heart of our home is love. And I have to give credit to Oprah Winfrey for some advice early in my days of being a dad.
Does your face light up when your children enter the room?
As Oprah says, it was a light bulb moment for me. I remind myself of this everyday.
Now, I might have taken the idea to the extreme. Especially in the mornings. My kids hate my energy in the morning, but part of the reason for that is that I want them to know I am excited to start the day with them. To let them know they are loved. The teen years are the toughest in the mornings… they do not want to talk when they first get up. But it is all good! It is funny to listen to my sons, who are both out of the house, about how I used to wake them up. But they remember it!
I do my best to let my children know I love them each time they enter the room. I am not perfect. No one is, but I am proud of how I’ve created a home I never had. I look forward to all the good days ahead.
My in-laws recently moved into an assisted living community. For the last couple of weeks we have been getting their house ready to sell, cleaning and organizing things. Of course I was excited to go through the books. I found one box filled with a range of self-help books.
If you look closely at the book, How To Stop Worrying and Start Living, there is this information, “Revised for the 1980’s!” So, I had to check the copyright date… 1944!
According to a report from SkyQuest (a growth consulting firm) in 2021 the global personal development market made 41.7 billion dollars.
A Google search for self-help books produced 3,940,000,000 results.
I have read some of these books.
Some of my blog posts would fit under this umbrella term Self-Help.
What’s going on with us?
First, there is nothing wrong with gaining information from others to help you reach your goals, or to become a better version of who you are. Honestly, one of the reasons I blog is to help others. And I don’t make any money from my blog.
So, discovering insight from others or even just getting inspiration to help us in life is great. For any part of our lives. I attend conferences for writing, teaching, and coaching to gain ideas, to be inspired, to learn.
But it seems we are spending a lot of money searching for something.
The first self-help book was published in 1859 by Samuel Smiles, Self-Help; with Illustrations of Character and Conduct. (Yes, I see the unintended irony of his name for this topic.)
What is interesting is that Samuel Smiles’s book was based on the idea that a person should actively learn and help themselves, which is one of the ideas of the Age of Enlightenment.
I don’t think our modern self-help philosophy is based on this idea.
Now, you might be thinking this is where I go off on a rant about the change in our society… Nope… Because in 1859 Samuel Smiles wrote a book trying to help people become happier, to become better versions of themselves.
In 1807 William Wordsworth wrote the poem, “The World is Too Much with Us”. I teach this poem in class, and we discuss how the poem reflects our modern day.
So, we have always looked to the stars for something. Walked to the horizon, but never reached it. Love has broken our hearts. Yet, we get lost in the eyes of another. Hugs heal us. We take time for granted, over and over again.
We are human.
There is no easy answer to our lives.
What I do know for sure is that LOVE is real. That we need each other. That happiness is found in small moments, like a board game, or in big events like moving your son to his new town.
I’m not selling an answer to your quest for a better life, I’m just here with you, and that is a start.
Troubled by the loss of someone who didn’t have to take me in, to help me get through college, help buy my first home, be a grandma to my six children. Who demonstrated what family is. After confirmation of cancer is gone in less than six months. How do you deal with the empty space in life after their death?
Troubled with doubt, as are many creative people, I know. But each person has their own dreams. Each person has a definition of success that drives them. I seem so far away from mine.
Troubled by the state of the world.
Troubled, in a good way, by books and movies and other media. Yesterday I finished a book that left me silent for a few minutes. Last night I watched a movie that hit on so many emotions that I cried (so did my wife). Isn’t that the beauty and the importance of creative expressions? To move our spirit. To give voice and connection to our own emotions.
Troubled by the past and the future. Learning to handle the way both forces create hurdles in the present. Yes, I know about being present in the moment and not worrying about those things… doesn’t mean you automatically spend each day free from those factors. They have their own ways of creating trouble today.
Troubled by love.
Troubled by the muse. Who always seems to want more from me, wants my very soul on the page… and so I give it, but all it seems to do is make me feel troubled.
It is all Connected 