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.

Saint Anthony

I stood on top of the mountain today with my face turned toward the wind and shouted. I looked up at the sky and screamed, "is that all you got?!" and i felt something churn in my heart. It was like the words took on an intensity I didn't intend for them to take. Like something in me wanted to confront the darkness that has haunted me and my family.

It was a type of genuineness I haven't felt in a while. And it shook me. I looked down at the horizon and then over at the guy standing with me and laughed nervously, hoping he didn't notice.