Used To Bes

There was a time when I wanted nothing more than to have a bunch of kids bouncing around a good home filled with good love to share life with. Well, I got my wish, only a funny thing happened along the way: The kids didn't want to share their lives with me. Or at least that's how it has seemed in recent days, weeks, months, etc.

It was bound to happen, and it's not like I'm terribly perplexed by the chain of events. Nonetheless, I'm saddened at how things have transpired, and if I could, I'd change the state of those relationships in a second.

My oldest child will venture out on his own in the coming weeks, and I can't help but feel a sense of fear, excitement, regret, and guilt. So much he doesn't know, and so much I could have taught him. So much I wanted to share, and so much I wasn't able to. So much he needed to hear but didn't want to. So much I needed to say but wasn't prepared to. It's never too late I know, but in a sense, there's little I can do now except hope for the best and put my faith elsewhere that everything will work out for the best.

That leaves three children still in the home. Coincidentally, they're all girls, which leaves me obviously vastly unqualified to come to their aid in many areas. However, being of the opposite sex does qualify me to offer them a bounty of advice they hopefully can use to ward off the knuckleheads sure to come knocking in the foreseeable future. Hell, the knuckleheads are already beating at the door.

Two of my daughters are teen-aged. Admittedly, I'm at a loss to know the right or wrong thing to say in seemingly every situation these days. Stumble, apologize, pick myself up, and proceed to move forward without clue one until the next pitiful encounter occurs. That's my standard MO currently, I'm afraid. I wish I could offer up more, because they deserve it.

Maybe it's the dawning of 2010 that has me lamenting lost time and future moments, but I'm feeling desperately out of sorts where my children are concerned, lately. Desperately unproductive. Desperately lacking wisdom and maybe even motivation to change the situation. Complacency is a formidable foe and it's always been my worst enemy. The fact that I've allowed it to creep into my responsibilities as a father, guider, protector, etc., haunts me. Look, I'm no flake, and I've never shucked my duties to provide for my family in the most strictest definition, but there's no doubt that I haven't fulfilled the expectations that I placed on myself many, many years ago. There's no doubt that the hopes I conjured up years ago concerning the prospect of having children failed to materialize, and much of the blame falls on me.

In the end, I think what I truly wasn't prepared for when I became a father was the changes that would take place not only in my children but in myself. I never counted on becoming more conservative, more guarded, more paranoid, more fearful as I grew older. I never counted on my children constantly moving forward while I stood idle, unsure in which direction I should take my next step, or even why I should bother. I'm no fat cat, but I'm not exactly hungry any longer, either. And as someone who's scrapped for pretty much everything that's come my way, that truly bothers me. I've not only failed my children in many regards, I've failed myself. That's disheartening.

A new year always seems to spark new hope and new possibilities, as it should. Still, hope and possibilities will never morph into anything substantial without actual action. Am I up to the task? Am I even capable of mustering up the fight? Have I accepted my lot and deemed my current plight as good as it's going to get? I honestly don't know. I do know it seems as much. For the sake of my children, and my own, I hope I'm wrong.

Unaware

"Unaware." Think about that world for a minute. Consider all the mystery that the world contains. Think about every encounter, every bit of knowledge, every experience, every person, every everything that you've ever come across and are aware about and it still pales to the amount of everything you're unaware about and will always be. We're privy to so much but in the dark to far more. I've been thinking lately about the sheer amount of information, wisdom, and knowledge concerning my own self that I'm completely and utterly unaware of. Think about your best friend or spouse or parent and then consider just how many details about yourself they don't have a clue about. It's frightening and empowering in the same instant how much that people I've known literally my entire existence don't have clue one about me and probably never will. There are details about me that I'll never share. Some good, many bad. Details I'd never want made privy. Others that would probably be favorable to myself and my well-being. I'm all about the details, yet they're so hard to obtain sometimes. Like water through the fingers; there one instant and gone the next. I wish I better understood this darkness we all seemingly live in. Very few of us really "know" ourselves. Really know and trust ourselves intimately. Very few of us are entirely sure how we'll act in even a handful of generic, day-to-day circumstances. We know how we'd like to think we'd react, but when the moment arrives, few of us are really so in tune with our mind and spirit that we simply react vs. hesitate, ponder, weigh the good vs. bad, and then take a step, usually letting the moment pass right by. I'm tired of moments passing by. Tired of lost opportunities. Tired and deflated of possibilities slipping going down the drain like all that water. Tired of experiences taking place as daydreams vs. as reality. Tired of being unaware of who I am, was, and will be.

The Willie Way

Dirty minds, keep moving on. I'm not talking about that "willie." I'm talking about the important Willie, as in Nelson, as in the Red Headed Stranger, as in The Night Life Ain't No Good Life, But It's My Life. I've been reading "The Tao Of Willie" lately, and I have to say, I've been pleasantly surprised and pleased. No, I haven't really gained any new insight into the way of the Tao from Texas' favorite son, and I'm not even sure I favor the Tao of Willie to the Tao of Steve, but I have gained insight in how living a meaningful existence has benefited Willie. And that's worth the price of turning the pages alone. I used to just think Willie was charmed. Smoke pot every day. Play 36 holes. Play some music. Get on a slick-ass bus and travel the countryside. Be revered by the entire world. But I'm starting to realize Willie wasn't touched by God (well, maybe he was; how would I know?); he's just got his damn act together. Get your act together, live right, treat people right, and good things will happen to you. But you have to open your eyes first. You have to put ego aside. You have to realize you're not the most important person in the room, and the only way you can learn, experience, and gain real wisdom and enlightenment is to shut the hell up and just be. Just flippin' be. Sounds so easy, but it's oh so damn hard. But the motivation, oh . . . it's all there waiting. Need proof of reincarnation? Just stare a while at Willie, friends. The proof is wrapped in a bandanna.

You know what I'm tired of?

 Slacker

Richard Linklater's "Slacker" is one of my favorite movies ever. As much as it always amuses me for all the right reasons, I'm finding with age that the slacker mentality is annoying me more and more often these days. I've found that I'm really tired of certain people expecting a pat on the back for pulling off something they should have been doing all along anyway. I'm really tired of people expecting congratulations for doing the ordinary. For barely pulling off the ordinary. For barely attempting the ordinary. I've found I've really become annoyed with lack of foresight. Lack of vision. Lack of even taking a glance at what's ahead. I've found that possessing an honest, solid work ethic is very appealing in a person. Seeing someone work without an immense amount of hand-holding is becoming the equivalent of laying eyes on the Holy Grail itself. I'm beginning to think that exhibiting initiative is a lost art. That taking the logical next step is a gift of god only to be doled out to the very special. The rest of the unfortunate have evidently been left without the ability to think two steps ahead, let alone three. And forget about eyes in the back of their heads. They're too busy laying on their asses to need them. Why so bitter? I guess because I'm tired of excuses. Excuses are tiresome. Tired. Decayed. Graying. Worn out. Exhausted.

I Love This Cat

There's no better life than being a cat. They're born mature. They don't flake around with the stupid stuff. They just get on with flippin' life like they've been living it forever. They don't sweat the big stuff because they don't care. They sleep during the day and live it up at night--the way it should be. They rest when they need to. They let people know when they don't want to be screwed around with. Cats are sincere. They don't fake their emotions. When they're pissed, they'll let everyone know. When they're bored, they yawn. When they're interested, they play. When they're hungry they eat. When they need relief, they head to the litter box. They don't shower. They don't read. They sometimes watch TV. They don't curse. They don't yell. They don't cry. They sometimes like companionship. When they want to be alone, they find a dark corner. They're brilliant in ever regard. They're low maintenance. They're high on appearances. They don't need groceries. They don't need shoes. They like to watch birds. They dream when it's necessary. Brilliant. They don't make comparisons. They don't set expectations. They don't filter their disappointments. Brilliant. They don't pull punches. They don't insinuate. They don't teeter or totter or flip or flop. They're rock-solid steady. Brilliant. They warm a lap. They chill a fear. They jump when they need to get high. There's no downside to owning a cat. There's no hidden secrets. They are what they are. Wish I could say the same for myself or anyone else I know.

You Better Best Rearrange

Weeks into the Season of Lent and I feel I've contemplated nothing at all concerning Jesus' journey, or my own journey, for that matter. I feel I've abandoned that duty to myself, to my family, friends, community, and to Jesus. Especially in recent years, I feel like I've made good on putting my thoughts to good use. Toward matching them to the moment of time at hand. I feel like I've used the moments of reflection to make wiser choices. To take better-prepared steps forward. To break free of regrets and mistakes. To strengthen myself from the inside and out. But this year I feel lost. I feel I've strayed way off the path. Almost to the point I can't see it any longer, and I'm not sure in which direction I should be looking for it. Still, I know I have to find it again if I want to continue to open my eyes. To continue to see. To continue to believe in something more than day to day or detail to detail. If I don't find it, I'm just going to stray and float and float and stray until there really is no purpose to serve other than satisfying my ego, and I'm not interested in that.

When I look around these days, the view doesn't seem nearly as dark or forebodding as it has in the past. It seems stranger now than ever before, but strange is good. Strange is learning. The view also seems familiar, as if I've been here before, if only for briefly. I have this sense that although I don't fully recoginize everything that's surrounding me these days, I like what is there. And I like the notion that I can explore it deeper to find further meaning. I know exploration is what the path represents. Learning is the path. Knowledge is the path. Belief is the path. I know there are many destinations to which the path could take me, and I know that any of the destinations would probably be the right one for me. But what about everyone else I'm connected to? Does the path hold something for them, as well? I have to figure out how to get to where I'm going and keep what I can while shedding what I must. That's the difficult question: What must stay and what must go?

A Walk In The Park

 

If not for the park located a few blocks from my house, I'm not so sure I'd even like living in my neighborhood much any longer. I don't have anything against my neighbors or even the current physical state of my house; I just no longer want to live in a city. I'm fairly convinced I was made for the country. I'm more sure each day as proof of city life presses in tighter and tighter. I can hear the city louder. I can see more of it every day. More streets, more cars, more houses, more apartments, more people, more sidewalks, more tidy front lawns, more track suit-wearing moms bebopping from one block to the next. More fences, more happy landscapes. More strip malls. More Wal-Marts and Best Buys and cell phones and headphones. I don't want to see them anymore. They're tired. I'm tired. We need a break from one another. But I'm stuck. Fixed. Situated. Immobile for now. A housing market that currently doesn't exist will define you that way. Except for the park down the street. Except for the walking path carved out about a half-mile round in the park down the street. Except for the walking path carved into the federally protected wetlands in the park down the street. Toward the east runs the Salt Creek where ducks and geese swim, beavers build dams, deer slide down the banks to drink, and farmers have built concrete runoffs. Nice. Toward the north and south run nothing but long grass, soggy bottoms, deer tracks, hints of rabbit paths, and geese and black birds too many to count. Well, the long grass runs free up until the Interstate reigns it back in toward the north and a car lot and civilization do the same toward the south. Toward the north lies said neighborhood. My walks around the park are always too short but always renewing. It's not difficult imagining Native Americans or pioneers crossing the land hundreds of years ago. Although minuscule, this area has been relatively untouched since then. The natural barriers, plant life, trees, wildlife . . . everything is orginal. Currently, this park is one of the few places I feel the same.