(this one's angry)

"she just doesn't use her brain to think for herself," he said as he repeated the words he heard his father say over and over again.

every four years this political scene erupts on the face of this country like deep cystic acne. and each time it is worse than before.

hell, i don't know. maybe harmony only exists in tension. maybe in order for there to be balance, we need to be opposed in viewpoints. but i do know one thing:

everyone is small-minded. no one thinks for themselves.

maybe we should all just shut our loud, fucking mouths for one goddamn second and look in the mirror long enough to ask ourselves why #hatetrumpslove in our own minds. why it's so easy for us to look right past the plank in our own eye and point out the damage the other person is going to cause driving with that piece of wood stuck in their eye.

jesus people! get over yourselves. you're no better than that asshole you're criticizing.

your shit stinks too. i guarantee it.

comfort (loneliness: the most comfortable companion)

i listen to radiohead sing

"everything, everything, everything,
in its right place. in its right place."

and i put all my pieces in their appropriate places. and it feels like cliche, but also rings true in my ears. i wonder why everything feels like it's in its right place only when i lay my head down at night and nothing, no one, is there because i've put everything, everyone, away. i wonder why, so often, the only feeling that feels real is loneliness. why the loneliest space is the most comfortable one.

it feels like a cruel joke. to have bound the two together inside a soul. inside a person, both the longing for a thing and a strong aversion to it in adjacent heartbeats.

rafiki

"look harder..."
"you see, he lives in you"

at once i felt a comfort and an ache.

i was on the elliptical in the gym minding my own thoughts, when something made me smile - a genuine smile. the kind you feel on your face and in your guts.

just then i caught my own glance in the mirror across the room and my heart stuttered a little bit. because for a split second, i saw my dad. smiling back at me. through the bearded mouth and the smile that kind of turns down. through the eyes that were bright and deep.

an idea(l)

i've come to... an idea.
and that is that love is truly the most important gift we're given in life. it is the highest form of human experience - the most important thing in life. maybe it's even the much debated "point."

but love is kind of like perfection.
we can experience moments. glimpses. and we're driven to pursue it, but as long as we're alive and human, it's an impossible goal.
this is so because

love is the absence of selfishness.

and as long as we are human, we are, in our deepest layers, selfish. it's in our nature to be self-centered. in this way, it's much like trying to be perfect, and sometimes feels like climbing a greased pole. maybe this is why love feels so elusive - why many of us become jaded and turn our backs on the pursuit. when we try and "fail" and are tempted to believe that our failure indicates something about love itself rather than about our own humanness. perhaps this is the reason it seems so fleeting. indeed, impossible.

but it's far from futile. maybe if love itself is the highest form of human experience, then the pursuit of love is the most noble of all human endeavors.

"love is for the fighter,
born to lose but never quit.
swinging for the moon in the water." - dawes

rain / breathe

when you live down here,
you learn something about tenacity.
day after day you press through the searing
when your eyes burn and blur
and your lungs feel like poison.

when frustration moves your soul
feels just out of reach when you need closeness
feels like no room to be, when space is what you need

but you keep living.
you keep straining to see the mountains

because one day it rains.
and just for a moment, you can breath
you can fill up your lungs
and it doesn't burn.

just the way you are

"I was neurotic for years. I was anxious and depressed and selfish. Everyone kept telling me to change. I resented them, and I agreed with them, and I wanted to change, but simply couldn't, no matter how hard I tried.
 What hurt the most was that, like the others, my best friend kept insisting that I change. So I felt powerless and trapped. Then, one day, another friend said to me, 'don't change. I love you just as you are.' 
 Those words were music to my ears: 'Don't change. Don't change. Don't change... I love you just as you are.' I relaxed. I came alive. And suddenly, I changed!"

- a story

dad

he was the weathered sea captain who knew. he knew the quickest way to tie down a sail when a storm came up out of nowhere. he instinctively knew the best angle to guide the ship versus the waves. he knew the way the deck smelled after a rain - the way the sunlight breaking through the clouds near the horizon made your soul rest at ease. he knew because he'd done it. he'd sailed these very seas. he knew that the storm would pass because he had ridden it out himself.

and he knew the only way a person could know those things was by
taking a deep breath,
watching it come, and
fighting through, then
watching it pass.

"and in times of trouble
i could turn to my [father]
and i knew that would understand,
so at age 18 i cried to my [father]
and he told me young man,
there are moments when you fall to the ground,
but you are stronger than you feel you are now,
you don't always have to speak so loud,
just be as you are.
life is not always a comfortable ride,
everybody has scars that they hide,
everybody plays the fool sometimes,
just be as you are."       -(adapted from) be as you are - mike posner

 i miss you so

Human

"For to be human is to be incomplete, yet yearn for completion; it is to be uncertain yet long for certainty; to be imperfect yet long for perfection; to be broken yet crave wholeness."

"The metal of these wrenches is so cold it hurts the hands. But it's a good hurt. It's real, not imaginary, and it's here, absolutely, in my hand,"
-Robert Pirsig 'zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance'

My Dad 1951-2015

He was, perhaps first of all, an individual. Both in thought and expression, he blazed his own trail and made his own rules. And with his insatiable sense of curiosity and adventure he continually searched for his own truth. He was unburdened by social convention and he had a knack for sharing this uncommon sense of freedom with people he met. He was truly unique, like a yellow tulip in a sea of red roses.

Grabe had tremendous heart. And it showed in the way he lovingly cared for his "flowfies", took in stray animals, and even made personal sacrifices to stand up against injustice when he encountered it. For 28 years he consistently showed me unconditional support and encouragement. When the world around you grew dark and nothing seemed clear, he was the type of person who could make you feel hope again. And he did that, time and time again. 

perhaps most of all he was the most genuine human being I've ever met. He never pretended to be something he wasn't, and never hid who he really was from anyone. He was intimately acquainted with the human condition, and yet he had a powerful skill in seeking and unashamedly finding joy in life. He was full of it. He was known to become visibly excited at the prospect of eating broccoli. His eyes would often sparkle when he had a good idea and he knew the pleasure in simple things like bright colors and pretty flowers. In many ways he was pure heart. 

he was full of light. But he also wrestled with a sort of inner darkness. unswervingly introspective, he fearlessly carried his light into the darker places. It was as if his soul was forged far out on the sea at the very point where the awesome light of the dying of day meets with the enshrouding darkness of night - melding together to create a most beautiful display and the most perfect picture of life itself. 

and that's just part of who he was. More than all of that, he was my dad. My father, my bloodline. The same blood that pulsed through his veins also pushes it's way through mine. He taught me how to navigate these waters. Taught me to look for beauty and wonder, and reassured me that you can always find it if you really look. It's right there in the way a leaf on a tree flips back and forth in the breeze. Or there under the rock where the bugs crawl. It's there in the moonlight that bounces off the river's surface at night. 

white knuckles

there's something in my genes that wants to be able to stand up under my own load. muscle up. drink some coffee, put some tupac in my headphones, and just do it. i really want to believe that i have the strength in me to pull it off. if i just hold on tight, i wont lose my grip.

it occurred to me today that i might get this spirit from my dad. perhaps his were the whitest knuckles of them all. he fought hard. with every sunrise another battle. i know because i read some of his last journal entries. they betrayed a man, full of bravery, fighting - tooth and nail - determined not to lose his grip.

the problem with white knuckling is what happens when you at last lose your strength. and there's no one there to catch you when you collapse.

we need each other in this journey. we have to learn how to lean on each other and how to be present to be leaned on. i don't think my grip is strong enough.