Tag Archives: love

June 29, 2023 · 10:09 am

Self-Help Post

A little backstory.

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.

Collection 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.

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June 24, 2023 · 9:34 am

Troubled

How are you?

I’m good… troubled, but good.

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.

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June 11, 2023 · 12:21 pm

A Tweet about a Death Goes Viral

My mom passed away at home as dad held her hand on June 9. Just four days from her 69th birthday. She battled cancer for five months, but we didn’t know it was cancer until April. My wife and I made a quick trip home in April. I wrote a tweet to share with my Twitter friends that my mom was sick and that my engagement on Twitter would be erratic.

Over the last few months I gave quick updates for my friends and colleagues of my mom’s journey.

My wife and I again headed home on June 3 because my mom was in the hospital. Again, I sent a quick update for those who know me. I also recorded my poetry lesson for Move Me Poetry on the way home. I was scheduled to provide the lesson for Tuesday. My mom was released on Sunday, things were looking good. So we headed home on Monday.

My dad texted me Friday morning (June 9) that she had passed. I called my brother, called my two sons, and broke down sharing the news with my four daughters that afternoon.  Then I tweeted the news on Twitter.

Why am I sharing this? Because something powerful happened.

As I am writing this blog, that tweet has been seen 15,684 times. It has been retweeted, liked, and commented on thousands of times. What happened? Why did this simple tweet make its way to so many people and why did they care enough to interact with me? I have some thoughts…

First, and the most important thing, is that some aspects of life connect us on an important level. Grief, heartbreak, but also joy and love are emotions and moments we all share. The stories are different, but at some point we have to deal with the loss of someone important to us. We all grieve, yes in our own way because of the uniqueness of our stories, but we feel that loss.

Some of the interactions with my tweet were of the stories of people losing their mothers, some just as recent as mine and others were years ago but they still missed their mom.

I tried (and I think I did) to respond in some way to everyone that left a comment or an emoticon for me. There were some small but powerful conversations because of sharing the pain of the moment. 

For a few days, I have connected with strangers because we shared a common moment, understood a powerful emotion. For others, they simply wanted me (a stranger to them) to know that they understood and cared.

That’s a powerful thing. I wonder what this world would be like if we could do this in the real world, on an everyday basis.

The second aspect isn’t about the tweet, but the stories, including mine and my family’s.

I mentioned that people did share their stories, as best they could in the space Twitter gives us. And life is not that simple, and neither is death.

As a dad I broke the news to my children. The three oldest took it the hardest because they have had their grandparents involved in their lives for over 19 years. Summer vacation, Thanksgiving trips, graduations and other big moments.

My youngest three have had their grandparents in their lives too, but that relationship has been different and less interactions. (We now spend Thanksgiving at our own home instead of traveling.) I realized that they all had their own story with their grandma.

My dad lost his wife. He held her hand as she passed, married over 40 years. 

She was one person, who played so many parts in different life stories… her death is just as complex. As is our lives.

My wife has said a number of times that life never lets you handle just one thing. It doesn’t. As my mom’s health declined, my oldest daughter was graduating and we had college orientations. My youngest had art camp the week of my mom’s death. We moved our oldest son to his new town as he starts his first year teaching, then moved my wife’s parents into assisted living and then headed home to see my mom the first week of June.

Life will not allow us to handle just one thing at a time, it is a complex mix of joys and heartaches. Stress and good music. Eating on the road and tweeting to friends. But it is also, just sitting, holding the hand of your mother, trying to give her all the love you were going to share with her in the future.

At the end of the tweet, which is now at 15,753 views, I wrote that we should say “I Love You” more, laugh more, and that life is a gift.

I hope that message goes viral for everyone today, and each day they are given to experience this life. 

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March 19, 2023 · 12:56 pm

Blueberry Muffins and a Question Mark

This post is a cliche´.

You have heard songs about it, read other articles or blog posts about it, heck, you might have an inspirational poster about it. About not taking today for granted.

But sometimes life gives each of us dots to reinforce ideas. And life has been giving me a ton of dots to connect lately, even as I sit down to write this post, the first song to play on my “Writing” playlist was “Numbered Days” by Eels, not kidding. (The song will be at the end of this post for you to enjoy.)

Earlier this week my mom had a sudden medical emergency. She is doing well, back home. We are still waiting to understand the reason for the situation, but things are good now. but a moment like that sets your mind racing with so many “what if” questions. Some are based in the moment, while other questions center on the future. Every minute becomes a question mark.

Honestly, tomorrow is a question mark. Really, the next minute of my life is a question mark. Life can change in a second. Life can turn 90 degrees with a decision and be off in a new direction.

We all know this, we all have experienced these moments that for a while challenge us to be more grateful for our family and friends. To make that decision to go after a dream we put away for tomorrow. I do it, too. Then life falls into a routine.

This morning we had blueberry muffins for breakfast. There was scrambled eggs and sausage. We talked about the college basketball upsets. If you are a regular reader you know this is what we do on most Sundays. This is a routine, and I share this because there are great moments in the routine of our lives. These types of moments give us joy and love, even if my girls hate my energy in the morning; they know I love them when I call them “Sunshine Bears” when I see them in morning.

But there is a depth to our lives we let go of when we live as a routine. When we waste time just going through the motions, or sit and just watch other people live life on social media. Yes, today is a gift. I was getting into the car after track practice on Friday. The sky was a mess, a small rain storm was approaching from the north, but the south sky was blue and filled with little white fluffy clouds that were shifting their shapes with the wind. I was hit with a deep thought…

I have never seen the same cloud shape ever in my life, and I never will. Think about that for a moment.

Yes, I will see the same kind of skies, but each cloud is a unique aspect of the moment. The wind changes the edges of the clouds, like it does for us if we pay attention to how life is giving us this moment to breathe, to love, to feel the edges of ourselves, stark and sharp, against time.

Life may be hard right now for you. You may be experiencing the greatest moment ever right now. I don’t know because we all have our own time in this life. It is a gift, to be opened and to be lived. Tomorrow is a question mark, but right now should be an exclamation mark!

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February 21, 2023 · 7:50 am

An Open Letter to My Daughter

A few days ago we were talking about karma, about why it seemed that people who do bad things always seem to win. To be popular. Last night you opened up about the friendship situation. I connected the dots.

Junior high is a minefield. It is hard to judge what the next step will bring. Add the state of our society, social media, and the challenge of just being a teenager, and it feels like the world is in chaos.

There is nothing I can do or say that will change the outside world. I hope that maybe this open letter can help you navigate the next couple of years and help you discover the beautiful soul that you are.

First, friendship is one of the foundations of who we are. But it is also fickle and can actually be destructive. Our friendships make or break us. Even after all these years, and our own rough spots, my best friend is an important part of my life. But many of the other friends I’ve had over the years are not a part of my everyday life. Right now, it feels like you should have a huge group of friends. I understand the need to feel “liked” by everyone. To be honest, even adults have that desire, but real friendship is a serious relationship. And it is hard sifting through the fake and real relationships in junior high, let alone the rest of your life.

Real friendship is earned. If you find yourself asking for friendship, that person is not a friend. Let them go. Know that honest friendship builds you up, supports you. You should never have to ask to be loved. This is a hard truth, but it’s true.

Second, guard your heart, but never close it. This is hard to write as a father because I want this world to be a beautiful place for you. But there is so much pain and hurt in this world caused by people who want to do bad things. Oh how I wish this wasn’t so because there is such beauty and joy to experience in this life. We have experienced it! But our hearts are the most important aspect of who we are. Our hearts are strong, yet can be damaged with a single word or action… and that damage is hard to heal. I know, even now I deal with the pain everyday from the wounds people inflicted on me.

Guard your heart, just don’t close it.

Third, mom and I are always here. Home is our sanctuary. If you simply need a hug, find me. I love you.

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October 17, 2022 · 9:34 am

Miles to Muffins

For the first time in a while, everyone was around the table for breakfast on Sunday morning. There was only one blueberry muffin left, the eggs and bacon were all gone. And the morning was filled with conversation.

These moments are becoming rare, and I know that next year that having everyone home will be even less frequent. This is what bittersweet feels like. It is a mix of joy, reconnecting, laughter, pride, and knowledge of time running out, that scares me, to be honest.

Even though my word was Miles for this year (and I have traveled some miles this year), I sat thinking about how many miles my children have traveled this year. Especially my three older ones. 

One of the things I am most proud of in this life is building a home. It has not been easy at times. But home is the center of our life as a family. Like a wheel, the house is the hub. My children are spokes. Their lives will take them away from the house, but the love we share keeps us connected; the rim that allows us to travel through this life. 

As we started to put dishes away, I joked that the kitchen was going to be quiet once everyone was out of the house. My oldest son said, “You still got a long way to go,” as he looked at his youngest sister (age 9). I smiled at him because I knew deep down that I would be a dad for all of them, no matter how many miles they travel to come back home for blueberry muffins.

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July 29, 2022 · 8:18 pm

Miles to Home

As many of you know, my word for this year is MILES, and I have fulfilled that word. Roughly, I have traveled 5,000 miles so far this year. I have traveled for sports, college visits, and a small family vacation. What is interesting about all my travels is how I’ve learned more about the idea of HOME.

Home is a house. A building that I start and finish my day at. A building that protects me and the family from storms. A place where we gather to eat dinner and to play Mario Kart. A place where we rest our heads and our feet. This house becomes a home because of the stories we share at the table, the protection we get from the emotional storms in our lives, and the laughter we share as dad comes in last again.

But home is not just this house. Home is our history. I went home this summer to visit my parents. It was just me, a few days to be their son and to walk down memory lane. One night we walked to the letter hill and found that my name, football number, and hand prints were still set in the concrete D on the hill by the high school. 

My name and number.

For a few days I was simply their son. We talked about life, family, and recalled funny and emotional stories. The house was basically the same and so was the sense of home, especially the routine of gathering in the kitchen to talk. It was always the place we would gather before we went off on adventures (maybe someday I’ll share how we had to heat up the oil pan in the car with a waffle iron one winter).

Home is a routine. My wife and I make blueberry muffins every Sunday. Growing up we had bacon and eggs almost every Sunday. Home is the traditions we create. When I traveled with my daughter to Atlanta, it was funny how we still followed some of our normal routines, like eating at a certain time.

But what I’ve really come to realize is that home is actually the people we love and have a strong relationship with. One of the best things about the trip home was how easy it felt to talk and be with people that I hadn’t seen in years. It was like being home with them. I sat with my high school guidance counselor on her back step and just talked. Yes, we caught up on life, but there was no awkwardness to bridge because of the years. That is home.

If for some reason we had to move from this house, we would still have our home. You would find us eating dinner (at 6 p.m.) sharing stories at the dinner table. We would be home no matter where we were in this world.

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March 12, 2022 · 2:28 pm

I Build Bridges

For a minute, or two, consider how captivating bridges are in our lives, both physically and metaphorically. 

In physical form bridges represent our ingenuity of getting over obstacles. Whether it is a river or two mountain tops, we design bridges to help us on our journey. And then to return home. The wonder of them expands when you consider the style, the personality of the bridges we build. From the simple log laid down by a child to get over a stream, to the The Danyang-Kunshan Grand Bridge in China that covers over a hundred miles, each bridge is unique. Not only in the material used or the architectural design, but also the environment it was built in; the obstacle it was built to overcome.

As I’ve traveled over the years I’ve come to appreciate the bridges I’ve seen and used. I don’t think I am alone in this joy because the idea of a bridge is ingrained in our lives. We understand the importance of reaching the other side of an obstacle, even when it is in our relationships, our opportunities in life. 

We are always told not to “burn any bridges”.

The advice is good. All of our relationships are metaphorically connected by the bridges we build, by the obstacles we overcome in the relationships, and each connection has its own style influenced by the moments we share together. Burning a bridge is a devastating step in any relationship. (I will acknowledge and confess that there are bridges that do need to be burned down, but that is for another time.)

Then, there are the bridges we build that we never get to see in use. I know because I build bridges. I am a writer. 

Like all artists I create a bridge when I write a blog post, a book, or a poem. I construct a way for readers to find their way to my side of the moment. We connect through the words I use to build a bridge between our shared lives, our shared moments, or to allow the reader to explore a new view from my mountain top. 

All artists do this. How do I know, because I am a reader. I listen to music. I visit museums. I have walked on bridges created by all kinds of artists. I go back in time when I read Wordsworth’s poem “The World Is Too Much With Us,” and feel the same angst about society today. I could spend all day at any type of museum. As part of our honeymoon my wife and I went to the Art Institute in Chicago. (Yes, we went to a Cub’s game, too.) 

I always get choked up when I hear this line from the song “Humble and Kind”: 

Consider for a minute, or two, how powerful bridges are to the fullness of our lives. Whether we are driving on a family vacation, listening to a new song by our favorite artist, or even reading a blog post by someone new; each bridge is built with care and a unique style. I know because I build bridges, I am a writer.

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January 7, 2022 · 10:47 pm

Silent Radio Day

I spent most of my day with a dead radio. Not because it was stolen like in the song, but I’ll get to why I couldn’t use the radio in a minute.  Driving in silence allowed me time to think about the crazy day I was involved in, and also some of the more abstract aspects of this life (just like the song). Warning, this blog post will be all over the place and take some time… just like life.

First, let’s begin with how the day ended. Besides me writing about it, the girls stayed up a little later than normal so they could play Super Soccer with their oldest brother because he was heading back to college tomorrow.

The living room was filled with laughter, and outbursts of “Kick it!, Kick it, NOW!” Both games went to a shootout, and big brother lost both games. His sisters were excited.

I sat with my youngest daughter in the kitchen as they played.  We had snack and played Would You Rather. I was asked if I would rather die by drowning or be killed by a giraffe. It was a rough game, but we added to the laughter.

I soaked up the moment and felt grateful for our home.  The day did not start so smoothly.

My wife had an early, 6:15 a.m., appointment for a few medical procedures. I took the day off because she would be put under anesthesia for the procedures. We were ready to head to the surgery center at 5:45. My son was going to handle dropping off everyone at school, then he would go to work. I would be able to pick up my four daughters from school at the end of the day.

I go to start the van to warm it up… van is dead. No lights on the dashboard when I turn the key… nothing. 

I grab the keys to my son’s car and take my wife to the surgery center. I drop her off to head back to the house. I have enough time to try to jump the van before the girls need to get to school. 

Did I mention it was only like 4 degrees outside this morning?

I get the jumper cables attached, start my son’s car and let it charge for 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes… nothing. The van is still dead. I unhook the cables, it’s time to get the girls to school. I take them. There isn’t room for my son, so he stays home. I’ll be back to get him to work on time.

By this time, I am consciously making sure I keep my frustration under control. It’s not that I can’t feel frustrated, but I can’t let the frustration take over to cause the morning routine to be filled with negativity from me. The girls are already worried about mom, their schedule has changed, and they understand that dad is improvising because the van is dead.

I finally got back to the hospital. My wife was in the surgery room. The receptionist explains to me how the TV board will keep me updated. I watch as my wife’s patient number changes color (each color is a different step in the procedure). After a while, I was escorted back to the recovery room. Everything went well and we headed home.

I decided to try jumping the van one more time. It’s not as cold, I am not hurried, and there is more light. I make sure I get a good connection on both batteries (which isn’t easy to do with new cars, there are so many things connected to the terminals). Success, the van starts after 5 minutes.

Here is where I spend time with no radio. We have an XM radio. When the battery dies or is changed, you have to enter a code to use any part of the radio, even to play a CD. (Which we do have, the van is about 8 years old). We have the code written down, which I would find later. One of my daughters would get the honor of activating the radio! But that is later in the day after I pick them up from school.

As I run errands, I am alone with my thoughts. And my thoughts got deep when I learn about the death of someone.

We have been in the market for a new car, but it is hard to find a car that matches our needs and our price range. We had been working with a sales person Dewayne for a few months. He helped us when we replaced a car that hit a deer. I had last spoken to him in person in August about our car situation and what inventory the dealership was expecting. As you do with people, we talked about personal things. He let me know he would be taking some time off because he was having heart surgery to clear a blockage in an artery, but I should contact him in December. 

Well, I didn’t call in December. I called today. The receptionist was taken aback when I asked for Dewayne. She informed me that Dewayne had passed away the first day he was home from the surgery.

The first day home.

Dewayne was not a close friend, yet our lives intersected. And was supposed to continue to intersect. He was helping me find a vehicle. We had shared stories and talked about how the pandemic was causing havoc in all different aspects of life. Dewayne had a wife and kids. He had a big laugh. 

It’s a cliche, not to take life for granted. But honestly, maybe it should become our code to live our life by. What would we change if we treated today like the only day we have? No matter if it starts out with a dead battery, or your coffee order getting mixed up (yeah, that happened too). How would we treat people? How would we treat the people we love if today was the last day we would see them?

When you read this, it will be today. And today is the only day that matters, so decide how you will live it.

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December 9, 2021 · 9:55 pm

Coffee and Christmas Lights

I’m not sure where this blog post will end up, but it will cover coffee and Christmas lights. The idea for this post comes from the book Coffee: Philosophy for Everyone: Grounds for Debate, which I recently finished. I loved the book! It got me thinking about lots of things, but mostly coffee.

I proposed to my wife at the local coffee shop, The Blue Moon. We even had wedding photos taken there. I helped create their signature drink, The Silken Moon. 

It is past 9 o’clock in the evening and I have a cup of coffee next to me and the Christmas lights on. I’m drinking a holiday flavored coffee. The cinnamon mixed with the warmth of the coffee fills my soul. The Christmas lights make me smile.

The house is quiet. The coffee cup has a tangible weight to it, like the serenity of the darkness at the edge of the colored lights. I know I am here. I know the world is moving outside the house. There are moments happening right now that are breaking people’s spirits. I hate knowing that. It is sad to feel helpless to change it.

But I am here.

I take a strong sip, the coffee flows down my throat in a warm wave. A blue Christmas light is flickering, but staying lit. And I am doing what I love to do, writing. Creating a moment through words to share with loved ones and strangers. I may never change the world, but I can create a moment that helps build up someone instead of tearing them down.

I can share a symbolic cup of coffee with you. Share a moment of peace that shines like a Christmas tree. This post will be a connection between us, even if it is for just a few minutes. I hope it warms your heart.

My cup is empty, the hour is late, here is to a new day and a chance to feel loved.

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