Fibonacci poem

 

one

curl
of hair
in the sink
initially irks
but look at that perfect spiral

she
left
it there
in the sink
without noticing
minor miracle of nature

fantasty juke box entry #2

dropping balls...

well...
balance
commitment...
there it goes...
you gotta let some balls drop i guess
juggling
is not balance
so this week...
i had a toddler who will not sleep
at least not easily
and so...
the blog fell bay the wayside

for a few nights i had to choose.
it was a chain
or
a chain reaction
angry toddler does not sleep
shrieking and screaming instead
equals stress
equals tension
equals crabbiness and sore body
equals exercise is a priority...

there are a lot of blogs to write
a lot of words in my head
and i will get them on here
not tonight
but maybe another night...
soon.

we started this though...
and made a ton of updates to this

so... thats that for now...

Fantasy Juke Box entry # 1

part of what i will be using thsi blog for is as a place to compile my fantasy juke box tracks...

here are the first two entries...

Resolve

its a new year...
i have a lot of goals...
most of them have nothing to do with the new year...
they are long standing goals.
carrying over from...
well, from time immemorial
it seems like.

i am not a resolutions person...
that is to say, i am not a new years resolutions person.

i am constantly resolving
to improve
it is ongoing for me
a project
a habit
i used to think of it as a fault
that it was the opposite of self acceptance...

i have come to terms with the compulsion
to list out ways i can improve
and think of it less as a flaw
and more as a habit...

i try to steer myself in the direction of being intentional about it
less critical and up in arms, more thoughtful and inspired - it works about half the time.

the last few years my only confirmed, confessed, spoken new years resolution has been to make more pies...

this year i have such a list...
-blog more
-play more music, on my own and with people
-continue on the path of making a habit of being fit and eating healthy
-yell at my kids less
-listen more
-strive for balance
-be more accepting, of myself and others and all our glorious imperfections...

i want to blog everyday
i want to play music every week
i want to run 5 days a week and exercise 6 days a week, count my calories...
i want to save my yells for real emergencies...
i want to listen to my kids, my wife, my friends, my clients and coworkers and take time to absorb what i hear...
i want to be intentional about my time and how i use it...
i want to accept my flaws and my frustrations with others and move past them...

i tend to see the new year as an arbitrary marker.
i tend to see time - or the linear marking time - as an arbitrary act all together.
so that, combined with my habit of perpetually resolving,
sort of makes new years resolutions seem...
superfluous...

however,
i do find myself invigorated by the feeling of
renewal
that comes with the end of the year

by the opportunity to
devise or realize
a fresh start

and more pies.

In my last blog I explored the tired expression, “it takes a village to raise a child…” This month a different platitude has permeated my consciousness. “Home is where the heart is” - especially potent because we are moving… again…

As I spent last Sunday morning sweeping scrubbing and clearing out a porch, I was pondering, what is it that makes a home? While my mother-in-law and wife scrubbed and painted inside, I swept sixteen layers of dust off the porch and the reality of once again uprooting and replanting ourselves began to hit.

All. the. stuff.

Moving is hard, sure, but this time, compared to last year, should be a breeze, in so many ways; we are only moving across town, not 1200 miles, we have about a month to spend doing it, we know where we are going…

But it’s never easy is it?

I fantasize about being the kind of person who can carry everything they need or want on their back, or of having a clean, clutter-free house, ergonomically outfitted and streamlined. Not like a motel room, obviously. It would be cozy and comfortable, but there would not be a size six pair of underwear on every flat surface, I would not trip over a pair of shoes around every corner (admittedly, usually my own). The stacks of paperwork would not grow exponentially in corners of basement closets.

But that’s not who I am, that’s not my family. And it’s really okay, it’s more than okay, it’s home.

I am worried about the new house, it’s old, it’s shaped weird. There are parts of it that will never be clean… I don’t know how we are going to fit ourselves into the awkward spaces, and make it feel right.

But something amazing has happened in this process, this time. While expressing my worries to friends and family I have gotten, repeatedly, an astounding compliment, “Oh, you guys always make you place feel like home, it doesn’t matter where you are, you guys always create such a comfortable atmosphere.” (that’s paraphrasing a few people). Well, I couldn’t be prouder.

Now if I could just master the nose twitch like Samantha and zap everything over to the new house in an instant, we could skip all the hard labor and life would be perfect.

mujo

I have been thinking about

Transience,

Impermanence

“letting go”

And what that means

to me as a father and as a person

As a husband

And a human

And I guess

Where I have come to

So far

Is this

We Must Let Go

We Must Love

And Loving

Is Letting Go

Think of all the things you must let go of to love yourself

To love God (or whatever you name the things you believe)

Faith is an act of letting go - not just spiritual faith – but any faith…

Letting go of doubt & recognizing it

Acknowledging it, embracing it and then…

letting it go.

In a partnership

Or in a team

In a family

We let go of some parts ourselves

Becoming part of a thing means

Every new day we let go of our former selves a bit….

while maintaining a bit of space for ourselves.

There is an idea that this concept of letting go

Of Transience

Of impermanence

Is one of the cornerstones of existence…

We are always letting go…

Everything is changing or falling away..

Entropy.

I like that idea.

I think we should embrace that idea.

It is Beautiful – it is what gives things, moments, feelings, any meaning, any substance.

They end.

The experience of this, for me, has never been more painful or wonderful than as a parent.

It is the reason baby pictures of my children make me cry,

And pictures of them yesterday make me cry.

And thinking about them hitting puberty or going away to college, or The Peace Corp, or war

Makes me cry.

Pure. Powerful. Promise.

They are tears of joy.

And yet…

They will never be babies again.