Ebb to Light

Ebb and flow. Sometimes it’s might favorite idiom, and sometimes it’s my least favorite combination of words in the English language. So one could say that my feelings about ebb and flow have a tendency to ebb and flow.

Teaching my oldest son how to bogey board - definitely a "flow"moment. 

I’m stuck on that thought, but not because I’m trying to be clever for a moment, or because I want someone to read this and think something specific about me. It’s stuck in my head as an escape from the feelings that are pulsating through me.

Life is unfair.

Why do we need money anyway?

If I work my ass of for my wife and kids, what sort of appreciation do I have to show for it?

Why do I volunteer to help so many unappreciative people?

And that list goes on and on. In fact I haven’t slept a full night’s sleep in recent memory. Oh sure sometimes I hit a brick wall and my eyes end up closed for what appears to be a full night. But I’m really just barely beneath the veil of sleep. I hear the breathing of my wife or the sounds of my boys through the room monitor. The sounds of the house settling or the squirrels, raccoons and skunks just outside the window, keep my mind alert just enough to prevent me from slipping into that deep sleep that I have vague memories of enjoying so much.

Life takes its tolls on us daily. On our energy and health; on our ability to keep that façade that we want the outer world to see. Most days start and end the same for me, longing and searching for some form of affection or recognition from the world for all efforts I put into it. And each attempt for searching for that affection or recognition is squashed by something else; a bill, a thought, a statement, or my obsessions.

So I ebb and flow through life. In the early mornings, as most people are still tucked into their sheets and oblivious to the happenings around them, I lay wide-awake, staring at the imperfections on my vaulted bedroom ceiling. Thoughts in those moments ebb, pulling me to darker places where I don’t want to stay long. There is no way I can really control how long I’m stuck there, I relinquished control of my feelings to others a long time ago.

And then the vice grip of darkness recedes and I can flow through my day. It feels like a flow too. I surf the waves of problems with little care, identifying where they’ll break and implementing a solution before I wipe out. I feel in control for those moments, until that twilight comes and I ebb to darkness.

But even in the darkness I am fine; and even when I am in control, I’m struggling.

Hopefully tomorrow will reveal itself as something different than the past.

Perfect Time

There is this magical time of the day. I feel like when it comes, that a warm breeze blows past me, wafting sweet smells of apple pie as it dances with the vanilla bean of the ice cream that is slowly melting into the lattice top of the pie. I wake up with anticipation everyday, looking forward to that magical span of seconds.

Sure, I have to wait until the sun slips off her swimsuit and slowly slides her naked burning flesh into the red, orange and yellow hues that dance across the Pacific at dusk. But knowing that the time will come makes all of the other stuff completely bearable.

All the moments that fill the day before that magical time the phone rings non-stop from creditors; the e-mails flow constantly from co-workers and supervisors needing my expertise on a specific task; the repetitive instructions that I have to give to the employee who has no clue, and never will; and the mountain of bills that seem to be the foundation of the Great Wall of Southern California. All of these forces seem to conspire to try and break my spirit before that special time.

But inevitably that magical time will come. The phone will ring just a few more times, but I pay it no attention. The bills are stacked on the table near the door, but I refuse to let my eyes make contact with them, as if they’re the girlfriend of my best friend. And the work will be there, on my computer, but I’ll refuse to pay it any mind at this magical time.

Ahhh, it’s here. Basking in the giggles of my kids as they share the stories of the varied adventures that comprised their days. Tales of which parent flipped out for no reason at the school from my wife. Smiles as the kids shovel their dinner into their tummy. And the warmth of the love that fills our house.

Problems dissolve like a bad transition in a B movie. I live in that moment for as long as I can make it last. Really not caring about anything else, I soak up the good stuff that’s there to be had. Sure, it’s an “out of sight out of mind” approach, and the problems don’t go away. But if you don’t take a vacation from the problems at least once a day, you’d absolutely lose your mind eventually.

So if you walk into my office during my busy season and you see my eyes glazed over like an addict’s and a goofy smile on my face like Lenny from Of Mice and Men, rest assured that I haven’t lost it completely. I’m just daydreaming of that time that will come eventually; that moment when my life is perfect, without problems.

The Extremes

Insanity seems to be the normal around us now. Talking heads on TV bombard us with hideously insane comments; coworkers and friends inundate us with insane ideas; and family members burry us with insane requests for our time. There is so much irrational and insane thought circulating the globe that I’ve come to realize that we are no longer a carbon-based life form, but rather an illogical mythical creature within someone else’s demented imagination that is completely dependent on bullshit and insanity.

Why do we do it? And by “we” I really mean me; it just hurts less to apply mistakes to a global “we” as if my failings are representative of all men, or spouses, or all mammals.

Why do I make such spectacular mistakes? I’m talking about the type of mistakes that when you make them, entire ecosystems are destroyed. If only it were possible for my net worth to be calculated based on my errors, I’d be lunching with the likes of Warren Buffet.

Turns out the “why” is quite easy. It is just part of who I am and how I am. I can choose to look at only my failings, but if I look at my successes as well, those too are spectacular. When I succeed it is like warm apple pie with vanilla bean ice cream. So it is a postulate: I live in the extremes. Whether is it a success or a failure, everyone will respond with some form of “shit, that was unreal!”

We’re a society comprised of double standards and unrealistic expectations. Everyone should have certain items unconditionally, but we lash out if they don’t work to earn those things. We claim to want everyone to be better at things like life, finances, parenting, health and so forth. But we build whole businesses that are based on people continuing to fail at these things.

Is that fair? Is that the insanity that we’ve plateaued at?

That I’ve come to accept this now, at this point in my life – halfway between here and there – I’m aware that I have a thorny choice to make. I can either take the path that acknowledges this insanity, or I can choose to ignore it and reset my concept of “normal” within the current societal condition.

Or are those my only choices?

Well, for now I’ve chosen to wrap this insanity around me. It’s quite becoming I think. I can wear it as a scarf or headband; it’s really quite versatile.

Some people attempt to explain what this life is all about; what the hell we are all supposed to do with our time here. The truth is that there probably isn’t really any reason or point to our existence outside of whatever we want to get out of it. Some of us want to leave a lasting mark; kids to continue our family name. Some just want to fuck, get high and have a good party. Others just fumble around doing stuff of not much substance.

I’ll stick with my extremes. There are times when I get those blues, wondering why things are the way they are; why there is no money in my wallet, or hand in my hand at that moment. There will always be those times when I need that hug or kiss, and I just don’t get it… and that is the extreme for only a moment.

Life balances.

A moment later I’ve got my beautiful wife and giggling boys showering me with more love and laughter than any one person deserves… I can survive the downs for those awesome ups.

Real Freedom

So today we celebrate our independence. It’s comical (if by comical I mean terribly tragic) that most of the people in the United States don’t have any idea what today is about. It really is not about the rights in the Constitution… not that most would even associate it with that. The Constitution was adopted on September 17, 1787 and went into effect on March 4, 1789.

See, none of that has to do with the 4^th of July.

Independence day, July 4, 1776, was the day when we declared to dissolve “our political bands” with England. For all of the flowery, elegant and prophetic language throughout the Declaration of Independence, I’ve always been most fond of that simple phrase…

“…to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another…”

Whenever I go to vote I feel like I am exercising my own declaration of independence, dissolving the political bands I had if I wasn’t pleased with my representatives.

Real freedom. It’s bound to mean something different to everyone. From marriage equality to the right to bear arms (again, something that is not part of the Declaration of Independence), many of us perceive our deserved freedoms differently.

Transcendentalists in the first third of the 19^th century (e.g., Thoreau, Emerson, etc.), rejected organized religion and political parties as infringements on their freedoms. They felt that people were basically good, and that community was truly formed when people represented themselves; when people stood for what they believed.

I did a report on Henry David Thoreau when I was in middle school… and it all made sense to me.

People ask me what my political affiliation is and I respond quickly with “yes.” I don’t like political parties much. If asked to elaborate, I vote based on one issue… social justice, which makes me align with the Democratic Party now. But even writing that sentence makes me flinch a little. Because I hate being put into a box; because I don’t fit into a box.

Real freedom is being able to agree with part of a platform and disagreeing with another part.

Real freedom is Nelson Mandela fighting for an entire people to be heard.

Real freedom is focusing on the type of life that I want to live instead of telling other people how to live.

Real freedom, above all else, is fighting so that everyone has the right to live the life that they want to live. To have those “certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Love who you want. Marry whom you want. Live how you want. Be who you want.

And exercise your Declaration of Independence often; sever the political bands that exist, where those bands no longer serve you. Exercise them from your polling places, from your soap boxes, from your television remotes, and from wherever else you can.

Happy 4^th of July

The Space Between

Yes, that’s the name of a song by Dave Matthews Band. It’s stuck in my head, so naturally it became my morning prompt. However, it is the title that my mind locked onto instead of the meaning of the lyrics of this particular song.

When I scroll through my newsfeed on Facebook, or stop to reflect on the things that hold my network of friends together (both in cyberspace and in real life), I am amazed at how we maintain our friendships. The space between where I am and where many of my friends are is littered with an astonishing number of obstacles and differences.

Someone could build a road to the moon and back (at least) if it were constructed of these differences. Political views, religious beliefs, life priorities, the list is extensive. But what is clear is that there are these huge voids; these areas where there is no possibility that we will ever see eye-to-eye on these specific issues.

And right there I could end the relationship with any of these friends and say “we have little in common, so farewell.” The more you look for the differences, the more there appear to be… they multiply and divide and expand and… well, they are overwhelming.

The space between… we could try and build our relationships on the space between, but then we’d probably end up with very few friends. Or we’d end up with a bunch of friends that we’d be pretty bored with. And a lot of the world is doing that right now, building relationships only with people who hold the same views on a specific topic. I see it in political circles and religious circles; the divisive stance that much of society has adopted, which has lead to the current state of depressing obstructionism by both the left and right, the religious and non-religious, the educated and uneducated, the poor and the rich, and so on.

But I’ve chosen to live above that space between. I live in that area where I spend more time building on the things I can find in common… we can always have a conversation (respectful) about those things in the space between, but you can’t live there and be happy. Fortunately I have a diverse group of friends who have also seemed to adopt the idea of finding common threads.

Sure, I have some breaking points… there will always be issues that I can’t look past. There are people that I no longer talk to or connect with because they spew hate and refuse to be respectful of opposing views.

So I’ll venture into the space between from time to time to see if we can’t build a bridge on something else, but those trips will be less frequent than living in the space above.