Good Enough?

There are lots of things wrong with me.
I have a infinite amount of flaws.
How can I ever be good enough?

My childhood was broken and shattered
I still carry those scars
How will I ever be good enough?

I'm totally invested in this sham of being me
Its far too late to back out now
Doesn't that make me not good enough?

My fears halt me in my tracks
They suck the air from my chest
How will I stand to be good enough?

I've spent so much time on my inside
I never focused on my outside
Do I have what it takes to be good enough?

I'm weird and strange with pain that shows on my face
I'm lame and annoying with missing pieces that show on my heart
Doesn't that eliminate me from ever being good enough?

How can I do this job?
Its way bigger than anything I've ever done
How will I ever do this job?
I'll have to shed all my baggage
Will I ever be good enough to do the job right?

Someone is going to trust me
Someone is going to look to me for guidance
Someone is going to expect me to fight for them
Someone is going to demand love from me
Someone is going to take the focus off me and make it all about them
Am I ready to be good enough?

The Leap Part 2

Cade's Cove is really quite gorgeous. Its a big loop road with old log cabins that were built in the mid 1800's. There are a couple of churches with graveyards on the loop that add a somber tone. Gravestones dated with death dates during the Civil War. There is a very old mill that still grinds corn and flour to this day. The majority of the loop circles around a big meadow. On the edges are the legs of the mountains. We went during the second week of November. Fall was in full swing. Everything was a breathtaking mix of green, orange, red, brown, and yellows. The air was crisp. I stared out of the window with the lyrics to Guaranteed ringing in my head.

There are songs, melodies, and lyrics that can move me to tears. I find myself wrapped up in the journey the artist intended to take us on. I don't sob but my voice will crack as I try to sing along or a tear or two will escape the corner of my eye. With all the internal and external pressures that had been building up leading us to the taking of this trip and then onto this road with all of Mother Nature's Fall Glory in full swing, I was more than just a little emotional. I wanted O.U.T.= OUT!

I wanted out of the rat race. Out of the path of unending ambition. I wanted out of chasing a dream that maybe wasn't the right dream. Out of responsibility. I just wanted OUT!

"Don't come closer or I'll have to go."

I have never considered myself a "people" person. Too many interactions with people leave me feeling drained and spent. I also don't let a whole lot of people get too close. I've said before that I tend to make it a bit of a chore to get to know me. I am not easy and I don't make it easy to get to know me.

I think most of that comes down to expectations. I don't want to expect something and then it not happen. I also don't want people to have expectations of me. I don't want to let people down as much as I don't want to be let down.

I have a bit of a lonely outlook on life, death, and all that's between. I believe that life is a solitary experience.You are born alone, you die alone. There is no one in my head but me.(reminds me of the Pink Floyd song Brain Damage line: "There's someone in my head but its not me") I'm left alone with all the thoughts swirling through my brain as I lay down to sleep every night. There is only me in those moments. I believe this is the same for everyone.

"Holding me like gravity are places that pull."

I was very lucky to have awesome grandparents. When I was a small boy they took me with them when they motored around the country, twice. I've been to 46 of the 50 states. I've been to most of the major National Parks. Yellowstone, Yosemite, Sequoia, Grand Canyon, Crater Lake, Joshua Tree, Saguaro, Rocky Mountain, Badlands, Mount Rushmore, Bryce, Zion, Arches, and many others. They were VERY "Get out and see the world!" kind of people. I've flipped through their globe-trotting photo albums many, many, many times. They helped instill a wanderlust in me since a young age.

Since my Peak Experience in September 2005 my heart aches to be where the wild places are. To be where time stands still and "I" disappear. Not me, just "I". 

That's what hit me full force while riding in the car. I broke down and sobbed. I had made bad choices. Bad decisions. I spent a SHIT-LOAD of money on a failure-bound ice cream shop. And there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop it circling the drain. All of my strength. All of my will. All of my knowledge. All of my skills. And there wasn't a fucking thing I could do about it... except watch and wait. I MADE A MISTAKE!!! And it was going to cost me... ALL of my material possessions, I decided in that instant, I was willing to give up. I wanted none of it. Whoever could come and take whatever they wanted. They could take everything but they couldn't take me or my wife. They can have it. I was beginning to choose a different path for my life. 

CLARIFICATION: When I say stuff like "my life" you should read/hear "our life". All of the things that I discuss here... I was the second person to come to these realizations. My lovely, wonderful, and BRILLIANTLY intelligent wife had already come to these conclusions. MONTHS BEFORE. Which is why we had such horrible arguments. She was trying to steer me clear of the icebergs before I hit one head on. I refused to listen to warnings and went full steam ahead into the biggest ice field I could find. I'm just sort of dumb that way. I was the insolent child throwing temper tantrums because I couldn't see what she saw. I was late to the party.

"If ever there were someone to keep me at home, it would be you."

She is my Sunshine. I worship the ground she walks on. I would follow her into Hell knowing she would never take me there. We choose to share our paths through life. I can't wait to see where this path leads...

"Everyone I come across in cages they bought."

What we own eventually owns us. I was a slave to an icecream shop. I wasn't getting paid. I only took one $500 check in the three years we owned the shop. I never cashed it because I couldn't afford to. Three years of operation x 50 hours per week divided into $500 = $0.06 per hour... that I never cashed. What a bargain.

I was a slave to a 2600 square foot house with a bonus room filled with a custom built pool table, a full coin-operated style airhockey table, full coin-operated-style dartboard, autographed football memorabilia, and tons of other valuable worthless crap. The house was on 1.57 acres with a pool too. It was a very pretty and comfy cage. Palmetto scrub outside each of the windows. We once had a wild sow and her piglets come through the yard. The dogs went apeshit.

That's not including the house we owned and we were renting to friends. That also doesn't include 6 pieces of vacant land we owned that all had mortgage payments. The cherry on top was a car payment.

Eventually all of this stuff had to get paid for but we had no money. Soooooo...yeah.

"They think of me and my wandering but I'm never what they thought"

This line speaks greatly about the main character from the movie. The movie is based on real life events of a young man named Christopher McCandless aka Alexander Supertramp. A strong-minded and bull-headed young man that decided to throw off the shackles of society and head off on a Thoreauvian adventure. After many years of traveling it ended badly for him in Alaska. Good movie, good book.

"I've got my indignation but I'm pure in all my thoughts. I'm alive."

Indignation = righteous anger. Yep. Got way more than my fair share of "righteous anger". I'd say I've been angry for most my life. Life dealt me some whoppers and I think it left me with a shitty taste in my mouth. I've had to work or fight for everything I've gotten. Again, I'm not the easiest to get along with. I've made more than a few people miserable just from coming into close proximity. But here's the real kicker: I don't think I've done anything wrong. That's not to say I haven't made mistakes...OH! I've made some HUUUUGE mistakes. I've apologized for unwittingly hurting someone. I'll always be the first to apologize for a screwup I've made. My wife thinks I go a little heavy in to apologies. I don't have any issues with falling on a sword. I think its honorable. 

Its the stuff I've done on purpose that gets me a front row seat in Hell. If I don't like someone or I feel disrespected in anyway, you better clear the room. Working in restaurants my whole life has put me in touch with the dregs and elites of our culture. I've interviewed, hired, trained, (and later regretted doing those things) some of the absolute stupidest fuckers that were ever shat out of a womb and some of the smartest most brilliant people I will ever meet or share time with. 

I've made people cry. I've made them shake with rage. I've sent them into shame spirals and given them anxiety/panic attacks. And when they ask me if I think I'm God, my only response... "YES! I am God and Master of everything and everybody that is inside the four walls of my restaurant! I am the Alpha and Omega in this building!" When I answer the question like that one of two things happens. Either they shut up and do the job I hired them to do or they quit. Either way I win. Either way my customers win. I'm not sure I see a problem with that. My employees will either LOVE and ADORE me or they LOATHE me. Either way I win again. The ones that love me will stay and be loyal, trustworthy, knowledgeable, self-sufficient, and self-managing. The ones that hate me don't hang out long. I test people to see which way they'll go. I challenge them in unconventional ways. Some might call it hounding or pestering. I choose to call it testing. Like the guy from that famous book. You either need to be hot or cold. If you're just lukewarm...you're out!

I was feeling pretty indignant on our trip. Indignant and sad. Those two are never very far apart for me. 

I was angry about our circumstances. But driving through the forest with all of its splendor. The crisp fall air rushing through the open window. The remnants of homes and dwellings of people that lived in this beautiful place 150 years ago before "modern age" crept in. I felt alive. I wanted to ride on top of the car so my view would be unobstructed. I wanted to gather a few belongings like shirts, pants, clean underwear, and wander into the forest and mountains in search of an adventure and in search of me and who I wanted to be when I grew up. If I ever grew up...

THE THRILLING CONCLUSION NEXT!

The Leap

On bended knee is no way to be free
Lifting up an empty cup, I ask silently
All my destinations will accept the one that's me
So I can breathe...

Circles they grow and they swallow people whole
Half their lives they say goodnight to wives they'll never know
A mind full of questions, and a teacher in my soul
And so it goes...

Don't come closer or I'll have to go
Holding me like gravity are places that pull
If ever there was someone to keep me at home
It would be you...

Everyone I come across, in cages they bought
They think of me and my wandering, but I'm never what they thought
I've got my indignation, but I'm pure in all my thoughts
I'm alive...

Wind in my hair, I feel part of everywhere
Underneath my being is a road that disappeares
Late at night I hear the trees, they're singing with the dead
Overhead...

Leave it to me as I find a way to be
Consider me a satellite, forever orbiting
I knew all the rules, but the rules did not know me
Guaranteed


Quite literally this song changed my life.


I had heard the song and thought it was beautiful and poetic. I saw the movie "Into the Wild" that this song is a part of the soundtrack. I left the theater thinking "What an IDIOT! This kid deserved everything he got for being such a reckless dumbass!" That was a different me then the me that sits here typing this out.


It was November of 2007. I had just gone through the excruciating experience of laying off a friend. She was a hard worker and passionate about our hippy-dippie icecream shop. My wife an I had several harsh arguments about the status of our shop, its financial health, and its sustainability. All of these arguments ended badly with hurt feelings on every side. The point of the arguments was: we MUST make a change and we MUST do it NOW to have any possible chance of our shop surviving past a few more months. We had to let someone go. It had to be her, our friend of 9 years.


I broke the news to her. She broke down. She told me that I had to tell her husband. A man I worked with at my previous company. I considered him a friend as well. We hung out, went fishing, I went and watched him race cars at the local speedway. I watched their daughter grow up. Telling him that I had to make this call and that this was the way it had to go down SUCKED! The friendships were over.


This was one of the most stressful periods of my life. I was emotionally and mentally drained. I was questioning the point of everything. What was the point of owning a business if you couldn't share in the opportunities? What was the point of going through all of this aggravation to come out of it losing friends? I was walking the walk and talking the talk I had learned 15 years prior. I focused like a laser beam on the THREE MOST IMPORTANT THINGS to running a business: PEOPLE, PRODUCT, SERVICE. According to all customer service indicators we were running on all 8 cylinders but still failing to make a profit. It was at this time I started dreaming of driving off into the sunset and leaving everything else behind.


After her last day the shop seemed different. It felt like it had an expiration date. My wife floated the idea of getting out of town for a few days. So we went to Great Smokey Mountains National Park. We had been several times before but never carrying this kind of load. My wife had made it the agenda of this trip to heal some of our hurt and to put life and our shop into perspective. 


We were driving the Cade's Cove Loop when "Guaranteed" came up on the ipod. This time the lyrics struck like a church bell, LOUD and CLEAR. 


"On bended knee is no way to be free"
This line reminds me of the saying that all of the things you own end up owning you. I was a slave to our shop. I wasn't getting anything more than great experiences and warm fuzzies out of it. It was barely paying its own rent never mind the concept of paying our mortgage or car payments.


I was done. I started drawing lines in the sand and telling myself that if there ever came a time where something or somebody wanted me to cross those lines I was going to have to evaluate my relationship to those things and people. All we have in life is US. If I crossed my lines in the sand too often and for too long I would disappear. "I" would cease to exist and my life would belong to the thing or person. Which flows into the second line...


"Lifting up an empty cup I ask silently of all my destinations will accept the one that's me. So I can breathe."



It's important to not hold judgments or prejudices over people and ourselves. I have always tried to live my life by the rule: "Trust until you're given a reason not to." I think this line also speaks to how we define who we are. We are not what we do for a living. We are not the clothes that we wear or the car we drive. Defining ourselves can be one of the most difficult challenges of our lives. It not something you can sum up in a few brief words. The definition also isn't so much a statement but more of an idea or suggestion. 


We have all had the difficult task of breaking out of someone else's definition for us. I still have people that judge me based off the immature jackass I was 10-15 years ago. Life is tough enough without that. People change. People evolve. And if they don't... so be it. That is their road to hoe not mine. Just accept them. Love them. Let them breathe.


"Circles they grow and swallow people whole. Half their lives they say goodnight to wives they'll never know."
I believe this line speaks to other people's influences over us. I have been in relationships with others that the relationship was more of a one way street rather than a two way reciprocal relationship. This is where the lines in the sand come in. 


There is a limit on how much "Give & Take" there is in every relationship. I have been on both sides. I have been the Taker and literally burned the other person out. I have been the Giver and gave and gave and gave to no avail. You cannot ask of yourself more than what you are healthily capable of doing. You must look inward and ask yourself: "If I continue to give at this rate, when does my life become theirs?" That is for each person to decide what the possible "return on investment" is going to be. Some people will give until their last breath. Some won't lift a finger. 


"A mind full of questions and a teacher in my soul. So it goes"
I learned a philosophy at a very young and impressionable age that I still operate with today. "Mirror vs Window". Its a philosophy about responsibility. I can choose to look through the "window" at all the people on the other side and place the blame on them for my current situation or I can choose to look in the "mirror" and see that the decisions I've made and the choices I chose brought me to where I am. 


I spend a lot of my time practicing deep introspection. I would probably be considered a little obsessive compulsive when it comes to how much I retrace my steps and decisions. How did I get here? What could I have done differently? What were the warning signs so that I can not repeat any mistakes? There are a lot of people that choose to blame everyone on the other side of the "window" for their circumstances. When the responsibility lies with the person they would see in the mirror. Taking responsibility for ourselves and our actions can be tough. It hurts sometimes and occasionally leaves a mark. But taking responsibility creates an atmosphere conducive to change. 


Now we come to the meat and potatoes of this song and how it changed my life. As we were driving through Cade's Cove I could feel the weight of the world crushing me. I was staring out the window of the car my eyes full of tears watching the beautiful fall colors of the Smokey Mountains pass by. I was deep in thought when Heather changed the music to this song. The acoustic guitar started and I could feel the tide come rushing in. Frustrated could barely begin to describe my feelings and thoughts about our little shop after a year was under our belts and having to let go of a friend. 


I wanted FREEDOM! Freedom from responsibility. Freedom from ownership. Freedom from obligations. Freedom from the thoughts, feelings, and emotions coursing through my head. Freedom from everything, everything, EVERYTHING! I wanted to run away. I wanted to hide. I was beat. I always tried to live and work by the rule: "Too stupid to know when to quit but smart enough to know when I'm not beaten."  I was beaten. Badly.


TO BE CONTINUED!

T-Minus

T-Minus 01:00'

Breathing has become very difficult recently. I find I can only make small gasps of air. I have lost some feeling in my extremities. I think about wiggling my toes but I'm too weak to see if they are actually wiggling. My mind is consumed with the past, especially my childhood years. Those were some of the best years of my life. Everything was new. Everything was an adventure. There were no limits to what I could or would accomplish. The world was in the palm of my hands. I remember pristine days of joy and happiness playing kickball at the cul-de-sac at the end of the street. Riding my bike with my best friend to the comicbook store. Man, I rode my bike everywhere! I would have ridden that thing to South America if I thought I had half a chance of getting out of the state. I remember playing in this gigantic construction site mudpit with all the neighborhood kids. Man, those were the days. If I could get up from where I am and hope on a bike I would ride and ride until the muscles in my legs burst through my skin and my lungs caught on fire. I would ride until I got to the beach of Cape Horn.

T-Minus 00:43'

I wish I could catch my breath. I'm starting to see these strange yet beautiful sparkles of light in the air. That or my eyes are starting to play tricks on me. I am definitely not moving my toes. I'll try again shortly but now I'm getting tired and I just want to rest. I keep thinking about my teenage years. High School! Those were and were not that much fun. There were good times and bad times. My first date. Boy, that was just an awkward mess. I ended up crying in the car after I dropped her off. She spent most of the movie looking at her watch. LAME! My first kiss. That was like getting electrocuted! I was never a part of any crowd or cliques but I had friends that understood me and I understood them. Losing my virginity was probably the most fun I had as a teenager. Even if it happened in my "late teens". Talk about something new and exciting! I was lucky to lose it to an "experienced" girl. There were no holds barred.

T-Minus 00:34'

I'm getting very sleepy. I'm feeling lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. I keep drifting in and out. I need to clear my throat but I don't really have the energy. I just need to get a little more rest but my mind keeps wandering through my early adulthood. Those were the great years. I was so strong and passionate. There wasn't a door or barrier I couldn't breakdown. I had a great job that kept me busy, out of trouble, and well paid. That also when I met the love of my life. The moment she walked through the door I just KNEW it. She looked then as she does now, like an angel, my angel. She walked straight through that door and my life was never the same. OH MY GOD the courtship was otherworldly. She had such a spirit, still does after all this time. Wisdom way beyond her years. I think she is sitting somewhere near by but this room is kind of dark. I can hear her wonderful voice calling to me. I can hear her saying my name. That's the most cherished and beautiful sound you'll ever hear, the one person you love more than any other saying your name. Or their laugh. MY GOD! I love to make her laugh. Her laugh and smile light up a cloudy day. I know its a precious commodity. I hope she knows how much she has meant to me and how very much I love her. She has always been my sunshine. I know she is talking to me but I can't quite make it out.

T-Minus 00:17'

This whole breathing thing is NOT getting any easier. Man, if anything its starting to get uncomfortable. Good news is it feels like its getting warmer in here. I still need to clear my throat. I'm going to take a little nap. My beautiful sunshine is still here with me so I'll be OK to take a quick catnap. Too bad we can't spoon. Those are the best naps when we spoon.

T-Minus 00:10'

The years I've been married have been the best. The journeys and adventures we went on. The strange and distant lands we've explored. Hell! The strange and not so distant lands we've explored. When we were together on the road, her in the driver's seat singing whatever chick-rock song she was singing, me in the passenger seat trying to keep up with the trees we were passing. I can feel her warm and gentle hand on mine now. I can see her face as she comes near to kiss me. The warmth of her breath. The softness of her lips on my forehead. Her lips tickle the tiny little hairs that grow there. I want to reach out and kiss her back but I don't think I have the strength. She keeps saying my name and talking. I can't really make out anything other than my name but I couldn't care less. Just keep saying my name sweetheart. That's all that matters.

T-Minus 00:06'
I can hear other voices in the room but I can't see any faces. This room is dark and all I can see is stars in my eyes. I can hear other people say my name but it sounds like they're calling me "Mister". I can hear my sunshine. It sounds like she is either singing or crying. I can't  tell. I can still feel her hand on mine. She squeezes my hand every onceinawhile. I want another kiss. I want to touch her skin. Her skin is so warm and soft. I've had plenty of crummy days made better by a kiss and a hug. My breaths have gotten much shallower over the last few moments and I seriously wish I could stop making that strange gurgling sound. HERE COMES MY KISS. She must have heard me but I don't think I said anything. She always know what I'm thinking.

T-Minus 00:03'
I feel very warm and comfortable. I feel as though a weight has been lifted. I feel free and light. Its gotten really quiet in the room. My sunshine still has a pretty decent grip on my hand. I wonder if I've been a good husband. Have I been a good friend? Was I a good listener? Was I a good lover? Did I say the right things at the right times? Did I apologize for anything I didn't get done? I hope I was. I hope I did. Time will tell.

T-Minus 00:02'
You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. You make me happy when sky's are grey. I sang that as my wedding vows. It brought down the house. BOOYAH! My chest feels funny.

T-Minus 00:01'
You are my sunshine. My onlysunshine. Youmake me happy whenskyy's aregrey. Ifeel very... different. IthinkI know what's... happening. My beautiful wife. whatagreatlife we had together.

T-minus 00:00'60"
lotsof peoplle in the room. Ican see somewhatfamiliar faces. dude, seriously. doigotoyourbedand shinealightin youreyes? somesort ofcommotiongoingon.

T-Minus 00:00'30"
youaremysunshinemyonlysunshinemyonlysunshinesunshine...skysaregreeeey.

T-Minus 00:00'10"
The commotion has quieted down. But the room has gotten darker. I wasn't sure that was possible. What happens when I get there? Will my sunshine be there waiting for me? I hope so.

T-Minus 00:00'05"
Someone has turned on the lights... or at least a light.

T-Minus 00:00'03"
There is no pain. You are receeding. A ship's smoke on the horizon.

T-Minus 00:00'02"
I've got to find out what the deal with this light is. I'll be right back my darling. Don't worry. It looks safe. I'll be OK.

T-Minus 00:00'01"
I love you. I'll see you soon.

T-Minus 00:00'00"
Goodbye my love. You are my sunshine.My only sunshine. You've made me happy when my skies were grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I've loved you. Please don't take my sunshine away.

I sat under the stars and moon. Digging my toes into the sand, I contemplated what I wanted out of my existence, my life, my experience, my once around the bend. I listened to the waves and focused on my breathing. I quieted all the voices in my head trying to listen to The One Voice. That voice we all have but we spend too much time denying, ignoring, stuffing it down because maybe it hurts too much to dream big dreams. That voice has no ego, no pride, no hurt feelings, no obligatory needs. I picture that struggle resembles the old WWF Battle Royals I watched as a kid. Bodies flying everywhere. Chaos. Until The One Voice is the last one left in the ring.

Once I got to that place I asked myself a series of questions: What are my non-negotiables? What are the essential things I need from "life"? I meditated on that thought for many minutes when a single word popped into my head. LIVE. The hairs on my arms stood up. LIVE. I was compelled to write it in the sand. It was a full moon so I could see the shadow fall across the sand as I carved my finger through it. LIVE

I've been to "Mecca". I took the picture at the top of this post. That pile of rocks is where Henry David Thoreau's cabin once stood. That sign presents one of his purest thoughts and philosophies. He went to the woods to LIVE. To "suck the marrow out of life". I've read "Walden" several times. I've listened to the book on tape several times so going to Walden Pond was a bit of a religious experience for me. It was my "Mecca".

Sitting on the beach when the though LIVE flashed through my mind, that cabin and the words of the man that LIVED in that cabin filled me up. I want to be able to say that when I get to my eventual end that I LIVED. The bitterness and sadness that fills our hearts as we get older and those dreams we held so dear as children, teenagers, young adults turn to "quiet resignations." I'm at a point in life where I can slough off this house of crap I've toted across the country twice to dream of living in a cabin in the mountains and it be a possibility. The bankruptcy took all the things besides myself and my dear, sweet, adorable, loving wife I was responsible for. I got no house. I got no business. I got no kids. I GOT ME! I GOT HER! Fuck EVERYTHING ELSE! Pack my shit and hit the road, Jack.

When its quiet in the house I hear a quiet distant voice calling me. The voice says: "Why have you denied me your presence? Don't you understand you belong to me? You belong here with me. You belong here at the base of this mountain. You belong to the edge of this cliff. Your presence is required at the base of this tree. You are needed at the shore of this stream, on the sands of this beach. You don't belong there. Your place is here. Come now. Don't wait a single moment longer. You belong here now." Then I drift off to sleep dreaming of beautiful places I have yet to set my eyes upon.

For me that's what LIVING is. Living is not about my job or any job. Living is not about my bills or my toys. LIVING is the experience. My absolute BEST day at work or my icecream shop pales in comparison to my worst day tromping through the woods looking for new birds to spot. Similar to the wisdom from a bumper sticker about bad days fishing.

To LIVE I need to measure myself against the mountains and the woods. Against the infiniteness of the ocean. To marvel and bask in the beauty and glory that is nature. To fill each day with awe. To collapse exhausted each night from the journey.

These thoughts and ideas flushed my mind and I cried. Deep pangs tore through my heart. I want that Peak Experience again and I know where it is and it sure as hell ain't where I've been for 70 hours per week.

I settled down and focused again on the sound of the waves and my intake of salty sea air. The gentle clap of small Gulf waves set the tempo. I knew what was most important: LIVE. Now what's next? What else is vital to my becoming a fully functioning, fully engaged human BEING? What do I need? Not want. NEED! I focused on the thought as the second image came into being: CONTRIBUTE.

One of my favorite things about our hippie-dippie icecream shop was how much the community came to depend on us and how we supported them. Can you believe that because of my shop I was actually volunteering my time at an elementary school... READING TO CHILDREN!?! Yep. Big ol' scary me. I read Encyclopedia Brown mysteries to fourth graders for 30 minutes every week. Those kids were diggin' it, man!!! I was hosting kids parties. ME! I'll repeat that for those of you seating in the cheap seats way in the back. I WAS HOSTING BIRTHDAY PARTIES FOR KIDS! My favorites were the 6-8 year olds. They were the easiest to get involved. They weren't scared of adults and they didn't know they looked like idiots screaming "MOOOOOOOOO!!!" at the top of their little lungs. I had a role and I played it well.

I think a large part of our issues as a society and culture is that we have lost our role in the tribe. Outside of our families most people wouldn't consider the community they live in as a part of their "tribe". Most people have no idea what their strengths and talents are so they have no idea what their role in the "tribe" should be.

Human culture has been around for a long time. Several tens of thousands of years. We have done more to advance society and culture in the past two hundred years since the Industrial Revolution than any similar sized chunk of time going back to when we were either blinked into existence or evolved out of the pond(whichever school of thought you follow). We are still at our core and in our hearts part of a large nomadic tribe of indigenous people. 200+ years ago we were still after many thousands of years an agricultural based society that relied heavily on those closest to us for support. You ate what you could grow and traded for what your neighbor grew. The spiritual leader of the community was also highly likely the "doctor". Everyone had a role. Everyone knew their role. Everyone was an important member of the tribe.

As technology speeds us along we get more distant from the things that kept the tribe together. We feel disconnected from the world, from our neighbors, from our families, and from nature. "Jobs" keep us busy and distracted. Politics, religion, and TV do a pretty damn good job of distracting us to.

To CONTRIBUTE means to be A PART. Not apart... A PART. A piece. A member. A cog. A part of something bigger than yourself. I don't have a crystal vision of what that means for me but any organization I associate myself with is going to need to have to CONTRIBUTE to their community. In an active "searching it out" kind of way not in a passive "only if they ask" kind of way.

I need to find and fill my role in the tribe. I've said before that I have this feeling of responsibility to the world around me to be a productive member of society. I NEED to fulfill that. If I deny that then I am denying ME. I believe that I have a specific role to play and when I get there, I'll be there.

Eternity in a Moment

I once had a Peak Experience.

Abraham Maslow describes Peak Experiences as especially joyous and exciting moments in life, involving sudden feelings of intense happiness and well-being, wonder and awe, and possibly also involving an awareness of transcendental unity or knowledge of higher truth (as though perceiving the world from an altered, and often vastly profound and awe-inspiring perspective). They usually come on suddenly and are often inspired by deep meditation, intense feelings of love, exposure to great art or music, or the overwhelming beauty of nature. Yeah, that. I had one of those.

I mark my life as two separate stages: Pre-Badlands and Post-Badlands. The Badlands in South Dakota is where I came face to face with eternity and for an instant I was one with the Universe. (does that read as cheesy as it felt typing it?)

My incredible wife(who I don't spend nearly enough time talking about) and I decided we were going to take a big trip. The plan was to fly into Rapid City, SD stay in Historic Deadwood for a few days and then roadtrip it over to Yellowstone and stay in Jackson, WY for a week. Leading up to this trip I did quite a bit of research, mapping out routes, scheduling our hotels, planning stops, etc... I was REALLY excited.

When I was a boy my Grandparents took me on two roadtrips across the country. I had seen more of America as an elementary school age boy than most people twice my current age. I was excited to rejoin that path I had been taken on as a child.

We got in, got settled, and hit the road. the hour and half drive to Badlands from Deadwood was pretty nice. Big wide open prairies and grasslands for as far as the eye could see. Off in the distance were the Black Hills. A very special and sacred mountain range that is the home of Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse Monuments. Grey craggy mountains with tall majestic pines dotting the bald rocks. Breath takingly gorgeous. The Black Hills were very special and sacred to the Lakota tribe of which Crazy Horse is one of their most famous members. The Black Hills are also one of the oldest mountain ranges in the world.

We pull into Badlands National Park and follow the road to the first look out point. This is where everything changed.

First, your standing on top of a bluff that is several thousand feet high that looks out over the big, wide, sweeping prairie down below and all around you are the eroded half-mountains of soft rock and multi-colored soil. It probably looks almost exactly the same as it did several million years ago.

There are no guard rails so you could take a fast ride down to the bottom real quick if you weren't paying attention. No guard rails also meant you could get all the way out onto the edge, which is exactly what I did.

As I sat on the tall precipice and surveyed all that was before me I could feel a calm come over me. I felt like I was watching a movie that was moving in slow motion and reverse at the same time. I felt like time stood still and in those few moments I could sense eternity.Spread out before me was the entire timeline of the Universe. I could see history and the future unfolding. I felt like nothing else mattered except the ebb and flow of time. Time was flowing backwards and forwards but nothing was changing. I felt very small but yet extremely interconnected. Buddhists say that our conscientiousnesses are the Universes way of experiencing itself. That we exist solely so that Universe can see itself through our perceptions. At that moment I was an instrument of the Universe. I was the eyes and mirror of the Universe looking at itself. Time stopped.I sat there for many minutes soaking it all in. It was a powerful experience that literally changed my life. What I saw before me was so large and vast, not only the landscape but also time itself yet I felt as if I was an irreplaceable piece of the puzzle. I was supposed to be there. Everything I had done in life had lead me exactly to that moment, on that clifftop. I was sitting where countless Lakota Chiefs had stood. Looking out onto the prairie that gave them life. I was sitting where explorers and pioneers had stood in total and complete awe of the surroundings. I was sitting where Homesteaders had tried to carve out a home and living for their families and because of the rugged nature of the land had failed. I sat there with the spirits of all those men, women, and children that came before me and all the ones that would come in the future and sit there like me knowing my presence was there with them. All of Eternity felt in just a moments time.

I had that experience before I knew who Abraham Maslow was. He is the father of modern psychology and the creator of the Hierarchy of Needs. He says that once a person has a Peak Experience they will begin to chase that feeling. He wasn't kidding. I'd give up all my worldly possessions to feel that way again. I've tried meditation but it lacks the visual. My Peak Experience was a total sensory experience. Total immersion. I could see the very distant Black Hills about 60 miles away as well as the White River that carved the scenery in front of me. The sweet smell of the grass. It was like incense but you had to work to get the smell right and once you did it left a sweet taste in the mouth. My ears were full of the sounds of being on top of a bluff, that whistle when the wind has free range to go where ever it pleases. The sound of a wide open space, vast and wholly unknowable. The sweet grass rustled with the breeze. The murmur of people walking around talking about how beautiful it was.

It's been nearly five years since that moment on top of the bluff. Several times since then I have tried to reclaim that feeling. Its a bit like crack. I was lost. And not the kind of lost where I don't have a map. I mean "I" was lost, "me"=gone. "I" was no longer relevant. I was there but "I" wasn't. My ego was gone. My painful memories of childhood evaporated. The failed experiment of High School vanished without of a trace. Gone with the bad was all the good stuff too. It was NOTHING. The most beautiful, mind-shaking nothing I've ever experienced. I WANT IT BACK. I've stood on top of mountains and the edges of cliffs. I've been to a place so quiet and serene that a whisper could be heard from 100 yards away. None of those places produced that same feeling. That feeling of being A PART. A part of something so big and vast that you can never quite wrap your head all the way around it. I have reflected on that moment everyday since. EVERYDAY.

I would imagine that holy men/women of the world's religions go through a similar search. For lack of a better way to describe it, I'd say it was a MAJOR spiritual experience. I was looking into the face of God. God had annointed me and said "My child, this moment belongs to you and nobody else." I WANT IT BACK! I want to sit there with God, Gaia, Mother Nature, with the Lakota's Old Man and just sit. Sit and watch eternity unfold and take me along for the ride.

I long for the day that I can slough off responsibilities, pack the car with the necessities, grab my partner, my lover, my best friend, my wife, and get back to that place. That place of quiet, of beauty, of here-and-now-edness. I came away from that moment and that trip a different person. There was no second guessing what my joys in life were. There were no doubts on what I held sacred. I wish to be like Thoreau and "Live my life deliberately". There have been too many days from that moment to this that I feel weren't mine. How many more days to I have left? How many more do I have to spend doing something that isn't what I'd choose to do? Granted, I did make the choice. I can't and won't blame anybody other than me for where I am. But how much longer do I continue down this road? I want to put down the crown and scepter of responsibility. Hand them to someone else that deserves them, wants them. How much longer until I can sit on the edge of a cliff and feel the weightlessness of Nothing again?

Toad Appreciation and Other Fatherly Instructions for Life

I started this blog to help me unload some of these really heavy bags I've been carrying for most of my adult life. I figure if I get these thoughts out of my head they won't keep bouncing around in there.

My heaviest baggage are the ones I carry for my father.

I am an only child. I was raised by my single mother with some tremendous assistance from my grandparents, aunts, one step-father(more baggage to drop on him later), and various other adults in accompanied roles.

My mom left my dad when I was still an infant. She left him because he was physically and verbally abusive, adulterous, and an all around schitzo Vietnam Vet straight from the war. She fell in love with him because he seemed like a "wounded baby bird". She felt bad for him and wanted to nurse him back to health. The only issue was... he was fucked up before Vietnam EVER got a hold of him.

My abusive father was the son of an abusive father. I've been told stories that when my dad was just boy his father would beat him mercilessly while shouting that my dad wasn't his son, that he was a worthless piece of trash, and that he was the bastard child of the "mail-man". whoa...

Most of who we become as adults is informed by our parents. My dad was FUCKED from the get go.

My dad went to Vietnam to escape. He went to war to escape from home. He had pictures of John Wayne in his head. He wanted to come home the hero. That didn't happen. Instead Vietnam pushed him further into his own personal little Hell that he carried with him until he died. He told me stories of the fights and scuffles he got into while he was there but the weird thing is none of the fights or scuffles ever happened with the enemy. They were always with his fellow soldiers.

I never "KNEW" my Dad. Total amount of time spent with or around my father from my birth to his death= less than a calendar year. I stayed with him for a few weeks as a small boy, several months in fourth grade, and a couple of months when I was 18. Yeah, much less than a calendar year.

The time I spent with him when I was very young, I'm guessing I was four-ish. I was with him when I first learned of the concept of death. My mom and I had a cat that got run over when I was visiting him and my mom called to let me know about it. I started crying and my dad told me to stop crying, don't be a pussy! That was probably the first of MANY references my father would make about how my mom was raising a "Faggot" or a "Pussy". HEY ASSHOLE! I'M A FUCKING LITTLE KID! MY CAT DIED! I'M ALLOWED TO FUCKING CRY ABOUT IT! FUCK OFF!!! That particular event had major ramifications as I got older. I can remember as I child crying myself to sleep repeating over and over "I dont want to die. I don't want to die." I started having panic attacks in my late 20's about my eventual demise. I still have them occasionally.

My mom would always try to use my father to manage my behavior. My dad was the evil specter I should NEVER want to become like. If I was being lippy: "You're acting just like your Father!" What the fuck does that mean? She built this image in my head of all the horror stories of when they were together and these commandments not to "be like him" that the fear and wonder of him was really all I knew of him until later in life. My mom had taught me to be scared of him before I ever even knew him. The story she told me the most often was the one where she made the decision to leave him. She has told me this specific story very early in my childhood and repeated it many more times throughout my life. Its pretty pivotal to her story and to mine.

My mom had caught my dad red-handed with other women several times. This fateful evening while my dad was driving they passed the house of one of his "girlfriends" and my mom, sitting in the passenger seat holding my infant body in her arms, made a snide comment about his "bitches". My father unleashed hell and started back-handing my mom, punching her in the face. She used her arms and shoulders to protect me and it left her face exposed and he beat her until her nose broke and her eyes were blackened. She decided then and there that that was not an environment suitable for the up-bringing of a child.

I think she still uses it as "Do you see what I went through for you?" leverage. I know that sounds way muffed up but you'd have to know my mom to get the full appreciation. My mom "keeps score."

During fourth grade my mom had met a fella. She really liked this guy. She was also in the process of opening a business. I was 7 or 8 and wholly in the way of both the fella and the bidness. I was sent to spend some time with The Evil Specter! She wanted some alone time to get her shit together and she felt it was time for me to get to know my father.

Most of my memories of this time are still pretty vivid. We lived in a trailer in the woods by a lake. We had a dog and a cat. My household responsibilities were to put trash in the compost pile where we picked worms for fishing and to feed the cat by fishing using the worms from the compost pile. My dad was industriously lazy and cheap.We would go squirrel hunting a couple times per month for dinner. We went fishing in the lake not only for the cat but for ourselves. There were some neighbor kids but most were either several years older or younger than me so for the most part I was alone. Alone in the trailer, in the woods, by the lake, with my dad and his girlfriend.

My dad had pornography EVERYWHERE! It was on the bookshelves, in the bedroom, in the bathroom, in piles and stacks, posters on the backs of doors, EVERYWHERE! I had free range to look to and peruse at my leisure. I saw and knew more about the female anatomy than most 4 graders. Yep! Boobs and vajayjays everwhere! Most of the hardcore stuff he kept in his bathroom.

We didn't have TV so we would play Rummy, Crazy 8's, Go Fish!, or Poker to pass the time after dinner. During gameplay if I had an especially good hand laid down my dad would respond by saying: "You little cocksucker!" Again, I'm in FOURTH GRADE! I don't have the slightest idea what a "cock" is or what a "cocksucker" could even be. I just thought it was something my dad said in fun. I learned quickly that it was not something to say in mixed company when over at a neighbor's party I was chasing one of the other kids around calling them a "cocksucker" at the top of my lungs. Monkey see, monkey do, Dad!

Those are what I would consider the pleasant memories. These are the not so pleasant...

I had to go fishing every other day to feed the cat. Feeding a cat a live fish is definitely something everyone and every cat should get to experience once in their lives. ITS FUNNY AS HELL! At first the cat has NO IDEA what the hell they are supposed to do with the wet, flopping animal that has been presented to them. They figure it out eventually. Especially when there is no other food source.

On one of my fishing expeditions some of the older neighbor kids told me that if I used toads that I would catch bigger fish. This made sense because I had seen the rubber frogs sold at bait & tackle stores. They instructed me that I had to hook the toad in through the belly and out through the chest so that the toad would look like its "swimming" across the water. After collecting a bucket of toads (I lived in a trailer, in the woods, by a lake, with no television. I had already accomplished this activity out of boredom several times before) I set to fishing. I didn't catch a goddamned thing! NUTHIN'! SQUAT! ZILCH! ZERO! I tried more than one toad to see if there was a problem with the toads. I used small ones and big ones. The big kids swore to me that this worked. I saw the rubber frogs in the store. The story had a grain of truth. NONE OF THE TOADS CAUGHT ANY FISH! I wasted and entire afternoon using these toads, that would quickly die once pierced in this manner, trying to catch fish to feed the fucking cat! I came home empty handed and the cat went hungry.

Somehow my dad caught wind of this experiment. He was NOT happy about my afternoon of toad torture, maiming, and killing. I had spent many hours "collecting" hundreds of toads before this failed fishing adventure. I could go out into the woods and collect several dozen toads at any given moment of the night or day. I guess I'm trying to say that I didn't really fully appreciate or value the "Life" of a toad. My dad was here to put me on the straight and narrow path of Toad Appreciation.

He picked me up from school. Now this in and of itself is a truly heroic feat. I'm not sure if I've fully drawn the picture of exactly how remote this Kaczynski-esque "cabin in the woods" really was. We were part of what could be considered a neighborhood in the fact that we DID have neighbors. But each trailer was on several acre lots many hundreds of yards away from each other. One of the main roads into the the neighborhood was a dirt road that I've driven as an adult that took at least 20 minutes to drive down. All the internal roads were dirt and I had to walk at least 30+ minutes to get to the school-bus stop. The bus ride to school was an hour. This place was R.E.M.O.T.E!

Soooo...Like I said, he picked me up from school, EARLY! The ride back to the trailer was a quiet one. But once we got inside... I don't remember much if any of what he said but I remember very vividly what he did. He grabbed me by the back of the head, shouting something about "How does this feel!?!" and shoved his hand into my stomach and curled his fingers under my ribcage to simulate what I had been doing to the frogs. I was in fourth grade. Maybe 8 years old at the time. It knocked the wind out of me and hurt like hell.

I once asked my wife if she had ever been spanked. She had to think about it. Nope! You've never been spanked! If you have to think about whether or not you've been spanked... you never got spanked. You remember every lick. You remember like it was five minutes ago. The burn of your skin. The salt of tears as you sob uncontrollably for mercy and apologize for things that you had nothing to do with. The first lick was never the worst lick. That one would be buried under the sear of the ones put on top of it. And God save you, if ever their aim was off and they caught a piece of your thigh. Those cut to the bone.

I don't remember what I did but the worst beatings I took from him was when he beat me with the sticks that come with novelty flags. The little knobby tip of that fucking flag left the BIGGEST welts. I fucking hated that flagstick. I would conspire at night on how to get and destroy that flagstick. But I knew deep down inside that he would just replace that stick with something that had a deeper bite.

We had a big live oak tree in the front yard that had big sprawling arms of branches. I tried climbing them on several occasions but the angle of incline and height would unnerve me. My dad, who was 6'4" with long arms and legs had no issue climbing this tree. He once chastised me in front of the neighbor kids for being to much of "faggot, pussy" in not trying to conquer this tree. He sat on top of the arch shouting down at me: "JUST CLIMBING THE FUCKING TREE, YOU PUSSY! IS YOUR MOM RAISING A QUEER!?! CLIMB THE MOTHERFUCKING TREE! GET YOUR LAZY FAGGOT ASS ON THE BRANCH, PUT ONE FOOT IN FRONT OF THE OTHER, AND CLIMB THE FUCKING TREE!WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU!?! ARE YOU FAGGOT COWARD THAT'S AFRAID OF CLIMBING A FUCKING TREE!?!" This went on for what seemed like an eternity in front of his girlfriend and the neighbor kids. I of course being overwhelmed with embarrassment and humiliation left crying just like the pussy my momma raised me to be. That was the last time I attempted to climb that tree.

One eventful night I got to witness a fight of epic proportions when my dad and his girlfriend got into a huge skirmish. He chased her around the trailer(it was a double wide) while she threatened to mace him. "I'VE HAD A BAZOOKA SHOT AT ME! YOUR FUCKING MACE ISN'T GOING TO SLOW ME DOWN!" They chased each other around in this manner for a good long while. Scary shit.

He always talked shit about my mom. He would call her a "miserable cunt" and talk about how he could feel it in the air when ever she was close. Cunt was just one of several colorful terms my father would use in reference to women. He would also employ: "Gash", "Slit", "Whore", "Bitch", "Slut", "Cum-Bucket". Most of these were made in reference towards my mom but, she didn't have the patent on them. Any woman was a target for these terms.

I watched my dad beat the hell out of some dude that was defending his girl's honor when my dad had tried making moves on her. It was like watching a rabid gorilla just wail on a dead rival. The guy he beat the shit out of was just as big as he was and went down like someone just turned his switch off.

My dad would fly into a rage at anytime. His face would scrunch up, his eyes would darken, his shoulders rose and came forward, his elbows would rise up and out like a swing would be taken. He was like one of those lizards that puffs up to defend itself. Except, imagine that lizard as a 6'4", PTSD, alcoholic, with rage issues. Egg shells don't even explain the half of it. You never knew if something you said, an expression you made, a response to a question, an error in judgement, or just the stars and clouds in the sky were going to push him off the plane of sanity and send him into a rage black-out. Those black-outs were bad. He would scream. He would profess how he could destroy buildings with a single touch. He would name-call. He would chastise relentlessly until you either made right or whimpered away. He was the kind of guy that would scream at you for asking questions or directions on how to do something. Then when you learned the lesson not to ask questions on stuff you had no ideas on and would then jump head first into it and try figure it out and when the inevitable fuck-up occurred he would scream at you for not asking questions. DAMNED IF YA DO, DAMNED IF YA DON'T!

Not long after the Mega-Fight between my dad and his girlfriend my mom came and got me. My dad's girlfriend had called to warn my mom the the atmosphere had soured and that it was a good time to get me out. My mom and her fella came and got me. That fella eventually became my step-father and adopted me. I have his last name.

TO BE CONTINUED... My Father and My Teen Years