Year # 37 (Year of the Grizzly)

As I was driving today, I was struck with the need to write a year in review of my 37^th year.  As far as years go, I would say that it was about as tumultuous as they come.  The lows were much lower than anyone can prepare for, but the moments of self-discovery were equally high.  To recount the last 12 months blow by blow seems to do the overall time period a disservice.  The physical changes are easily recounted.  I lost a wife, a family, a house, friends, and a number of material items that are paltry comparatively.  I gained a new city, a new set of friends, membership into groups that have changed my life, and I have run farther than I ever had before.  The personal changes that I have experienced along the way are much harder to name, but in no way less important.  At this moment the most important of these changes is that I have attained a feeling of freedom and wildness.  Not a lack of responsibility, but a carefreeness that permeates deep.  I compare it to what it must feel like to be a grizzly.  They still have things they must do to survive and ensure that their offspring know how to be grizzlies, but they are allowed the freedom within their world to exist.  They explore at will.  They know no fences or labels or restrictions on who they are.  The most pressing concern is the next scent in the air.  To wander through the world feeling like it all belongs to me, is empowering.  The beauty of everything my gaze touches belongs to me.  The love contained within every creature and object is mine in the moment that we are in the same space at the same time.  The feelings of wildness are what stand out to me the most in the past 12 months. 

As I move forward, it is this that I want to hang on to. I know my 38^th year on this planet will be equally restive.  That is the nature of where I am in my life.  As relationships, responsibilities and goals change with the tide of life, I will remain wild.  I will hang onto the ability to find myself and peace in every thing.  As the Kratt brothers say, I belong “living free and in the wild.”

As a post-script, "wild" doesn't mean the same thing at 38 it did at 28.  I think that is clear, but thought I would lay that out there.  While there is the occasional overlap in meanings, "wild" like most everything at 38 is a much more deep and rich experience.

From suffering to Compassion

A special thanks to The Moth and especially Phil Caputo.  I listen to The Moth almost everyday.  I intend to so for the foreseeable future.  This morning while I was working it was playing in the background.  I got caught up in Phil Caputo's story.  His struggle at the end "Why me? Why must I suffer?  to move from suffering to compassion." moved me.  I went for a run this morning and turned my radio off to contemplate this thing.  How has my suffering aided in the growth of my compassion?  How has it helped me?  How has it helped all sentient beings?
In typical Rover fashion, I wrote this paragraph a little more than a month ago and dropped it. In atypical fashion I have been going back and cleaning up my drafts.  I have always loved this paragraph because it reminds me of that morning.  It was a bright, cool morning in what has become on of my favorite places on earth, my park.  I began with thinking about myself.  The suffering that I had been experiencing was the only way for me to become introspective enough to feel compassion for myself.  I think that some of you call that grace.  I had to learn to forgive myself and to love myself unconditionally.  Once I had begun that I realized that it was imperative for me to push that love outside of myself to those that I come into contact with.  I began helping to care for the homeless, I tried to express a more unconditional and deeper love to my boys, I tried to express compassion to even those that I hated.  As I was running and contemplating all of this I began thinking beyond people.  How has my suffering helped all sentient beings, all of the earth?  I realized that it had.  I had been moving to a more vegetable based diet.  Of course if a thing is not being killed to into my belly that is certainly helping it, but also choosing less impactful foods helps us all.  I drive less personally. I can't help the mile I drive for work at the moment, but personally I only drive a few days a week.  I do the rest on foot or on my bike.
The reflection on all of this is one of those things that helped me move toward closure on this chapter of my life.  I feel as though I am in a new chapter right now.  I think that there will be flashbacks and slip ups, but I am turning the page and I feel good about it.
I wish you all happiness and I truly love you even if I have never met you

I fell in love

This winter I fell in love with a nerdy librarian.  Of course, I am referring to my new city of choice St Louis.  When I came all she wanted to do was discuss the cold world of Pre-revolutionary Russian literature.  For weeks and months the cold bound her tightly in layers snow and rain.  Luckily for me, I like Russian literature.  I didn't get frightened off by the introduction of new characters or unfamiliar story lines.  I stuck with her because she began to accept me.  But lately she has begun to let her hair down and take off her glasses.  The spring growth is mind blowing.  It  reaffirms my new found love for this city.  The occasional cold wind or uncomfortable conversation doesn't cause that love to wain but rather increases my curiosity about this place.  As I explore more and more of the city and get more comfortable with the people I meet, I know that this is the right place for me right now.  In true 80's movie fashion, she is a full on foxx.

Trying to find beauty

I enjoy finding the beauty in everything I do.  I don't remember if this is something that I have always done.  I know that since my AT solo hike it has been a big part of my life.  I have no idea why I try search out beauty.  But no matter where I am, I am constantly on the prowl for the killer view.  I try to stop and enjoy them even if it's just for a minute or even a few seconds.  If I can just let off the gas for a few seconds I can soak in the scene.

 I cannot reproduce these scenes in any meaningful way.  I cannot really find a way to share them with anyone other than myself.  I have tried painting, that didn't work out well trust me.  I take pictures, but that doesn't do the scene justice.  I tried poetry.  That got good reviews at my poetry reading, but it still pales in comparison to the grandness of the world.

Wandering through the city has given me a whole new setting to try to soak beauty from.  It doesn't matter to me whether I am in the city, the middle of nowhere or in a hospital.  I see the wonderful combination of light and shape as a living work of art.

The Burial Vault

As the sun begins to beat

Through the canopy of the forest

The warm, moist earth begins

To release the fragrance of decay.

The leaves and trees and insects and animals

All feed upon on another.

All rot into the ground, all are joined as one.

Are we not part of that "one?"

Why have we decided

To place ourselves in a concrete box?

Because we have removed ourselves from nature.

We no longer see ourselves as products of this world

But producers of things from this world

We have allowed ourselves to be separated

From the cycle of life and decay. Why?

It reminds us that we will rot,

we will become food.

Don't place me in that concrete box!

Let my body nourish all those

Forests that have nourished me

Let my rot bring new life

Let the smell of my decay have a purpose

Let me join myself to nature

One last and lasting time!

The fun house mirror

One of the things that all of the upheaval in my life has done is make me wonder who I am.  I have always thought of myself in one way.  When I look in the mirror I still see the 26 yr old Seth.  I see a young, attractive, outgoing, gregarious, friendly person that can make friends any where and feel comfortable in any setting.  When I moved into an entirely new set of surroundings I took this view of myself with me.  I am realizing that I am an older, less outgoing, even shy introvert that is having a hard time fitting in in my new locale.  I had started being able to talk to random people in relatively quiet settings.  Some had even started calling me by name, but I found that I could only strike up a conversation after a couple of beers to loosen me up.
I guess this whole "questioning myself" was brought forth on Wed.  Wed was May Day, or International Worker's Day.  I heard on the radio about a picnic in my park on Wed afternoon.  I walked down there after work.  When I got there, the cops were there with video cameras and still-frame cameras taking pictures of the people that were there.  It was mostly a bunch of hippies that were laying in the grass or talking at picnic tables.  When I showed up the tension was already pretty high.  I started talking to one guy that didn't really want anything to do with me.  I knew that I didn't really look like anyone there, and I had made a mistake in wearing a MO Beef Council race t-shirt (don't advertise beef in a group of vegans).  The leader eventually came over and began asking where I was from, where I had heard about it and stuff like that.  That is when I realized they thought I was a cop.  So now, not only are the cops taking my picture, but the group I tried to go hang out with was too.  I was there for a while, but felt really out of place.  Eventually, I had enough.  I went and shook the hand of the guy that came over and talked to me and told him that I didn't really fit in just left.  As I was walking back to my apartment I really began to struggle with who I thought I was.  The only friends that I have are out in the burbs.  They don't think like me.  They don't act like me.  They don't eat like me, but they don't care.  I love city life, but I'm pretty sure most of the people on my block think I'm a cop, too.
Maybe, I have been part of a family for so long that, when that is gone, it can really mess with one's own identity.  For 15 yrs I have identified myself by who I was with.  For 8 yrs I have identified myself as a dad and husband.  I am still a dad, but for 5 days a week I am just me.  Being me at times can be scary.  Not because I am manic or depressive, but because it is a struggle trying to figure that guy out.  In all of my new pursuits this week, I just kept feeling more outside.  I struggled to try to connect.  I kept seeing flaws and things I didn't like in everyone around me.  Am I going to be the crazy guy rocking in his chair while he scribbles poetry down?  Am I the crazy lady that gesticulates wildly while reading a work that is a random selection of words crammed onto an index card?  Am I going to be the crazy religious people loudly proseltyzing any non-believers or "sinful" people?  Am I going to want more and more crap and space even though I have no need for it?  Am I going to let myself fall back into a consumerists mindset? (that is if I ever even got out) But I figure that if I keep thinking that everyone around me is crazy, maybe it's not everyone around me.  Maybe it's me.  I just want to find peace and happiness again.  I want to feel comfortable and relaxed and joyful.
I guess I have no choice but to keep doing what I am doing.  Trying new things and not giving up when I feel discouraged.  Other than the socialist picnics, I am going to poetry on Wed, Help the Homeless on Thurs and going to free shows.  I feel like I have lost sight of my inner self temporarily.  But if I just keep trying, it will emerge eventually.  I am 37.  I am divorced.  I am a father to 2 wonderful kids.  I am living in neighborhood that I love.  I am a RUS.  I am figuring out the rest.  Anything worth having comes with effort. That includes me.  One bad day or week isn't the end.  It will pass.  Everything passes.

"death is not happening" - some Tibetan monk

My year of "firsts"

I will be passing many "firsts" this year.  It started on New Years Eve when I celebrated by myself at a bar in St Joe.  It has moved through Valentines Day and Easter and many more to come.  Today is one of those.  It is the first time in 13 years that today became just another day.  I am surprisingly saddened by that.  I have always tried to do a good job celebrating this date.  It seems bizarre that it has just blended into the calendar with all the other 28th's of the month.  But alas, that is the nature of the year.
As my year moves forward, I will get caught by more.  There will be holidays alone, or just me and the boys.  Never again will the old foursome take to disk golf course or bike trail or any other spontaneous event.
This seems to suck me dry today.  I stopped in a park today and scribbled this onto a yellow, post-it-note.

There are days when words no longer ease the pressure,
I open my veins into my fountain pen,
But my soul that so often spills out is dry.
The pressure is so great that the suffocating feeling
Seems to have no beginning or end
No breath, no gesture, no rest,
No run, no bite, no vice can ease the pain.
Just breathe to know that I am still alive.
This is only one day of many.


I clearly started this yesterday.  I have fallen back into an old pattern of withholding myself in incomplete writings.  Sometimes I am afraid that the sullen tone of the writing will give the wrong impression.  My life is not a sad, dreary experience, but those are the times that I need to write the most.  I have started working on some poetry of other things and times and I find that to be cathartic, but they don't flow as easily as the more negative feelings.  That is a good thing.  It turns those works into a more structured art, rather than a passionate rant.  I will post them after I read them out loud.  I don't want to only post the crap and none of the fruit.   
As a side note, feel free to comment on my poetry.  I would like literary criticism to help me make it more readable and flowing.  Often it feels that poetry is just an excuse to write a run on sentence.

Cutting ties

The storm has passed.

I missed the time for cutting ropes with axes

To free the ship from the moorings.

In the calm, the labrynthian  knots of a past life;

Confusion and pain and miscommunication

Are now the only thing holding me to fast

To a port that was once my home.

Can I exist beyond this safe haven?

The destination is unclear,

But the ship has been repaired.

The stores have been laid below decks.

The ship is prepared for the storms and

 Long weeks at sea before sanctuary will be found again.

The crew has passed the new muster.

The sails burned by my own apathy,

Replaced with stronger cloth.

Untie the knots one by one

Freeing myself one step at a time.

With heavy heart hoist the anchor.

Turn my back to this past anchorage

And put my face into the wind.

Watch as the sails are filled with confidence.

Feel pride as I steer my own vessel

Into seas that have been uncharted.

The sea is calling.

A new life beckons. 

A broken heart

I have been struggling with whether or not to share about my broken heart.  To me it is the most personal aspect of my divorce.  It is the point at which I can feel myself liquefy. It is the pain that I feel the most.  I have a really hard time putting what I feel into words.  In the past poetry would help.  Three years ago I wrote this:
I have wandered too far into the ocean
Oblivious to the danger, I have gone too far
The waves begin to crash down on me
Each wave brings new depths of sadness
Each tug at my feet pulls me deeper into the abyss
Soon I am in over my head
Breath is precious to me now
Is there no chance to return to shore?
Is my love gone forever?
Can she not see me bobbing for life?
Is there no help?
Is it over, Is it over?

I wish I had disappeared that day
Shown up on the shores of Cuba
A lifeless corpse to feel no more
To never have known this pain
To never have known this loneliness
To never have known the feelings of loss
That I now feel


The dire feelings of death are no longer with me, but the sorrow and pain and loss linger.  This is the one thing that "work" does nothing for.  I can work on me to try to be the man I know I can be, but the broken heart can't be worked on just felt.
Today, I was trying to put this into words while I worked.  I tried to keep a running journal through the day to see if that could help.  This is what I wrote today unedited:

Dealing with codependency can be a welcome relief from the hearbreak involved in a divorce.  It can act as a distraction, something else to focus on besides the gaping hole in your chest.  It can be the thing to which I cling to give myself a way forward.  There are days that I am like a zombie.  There are no words to describe the hollow, empty feeling that can up at any moment.  The mention of a city, a song, a text, a stray thought can open the valve in the bottom of your feet and drain you in a heartbeat.  Your pain takes the shape of tears on your cheeks and the motion of a quivering lip.  The beauty that I see around me every day melts into the darkness of a cave where light can never reach.  The pit can swallow you whole.  There is no way out, there is no way to stop it.  You just have to ride it out. 

Today my broken heart is like a lead vest.  It weighs me down in everything I try to do.  It saps my energy.  It wants to drag me to the floor.    

I am lucky that she and I had never done anything in this city.  The things I am doing and experiencing are my own and can be used to buoy my spirits.  Even though I am on the greatest adventure in my life, I am doing it alone.  

The bag of apples

This place and this time are probably the hardest for me to handle.  This house that I used to call mine has been filled with pain and confusion and miscommunication for so long that it is painful to sit here alone after the boys go to sleep.  The memories that creep over me are of good and bad times.  I feel the loneliest here. I have felt lonely here before, but never quite alone.  If I could curl up with my boys to ease the pain, I would.  But that doesn't help them adjust or me move on.
This place also still  give me such great moments of joy.  As I was tucking the boys in to sleep, I stood by Jacob's bed.  We had been talking about the separation while we cuddled before bed, and he wanted to try to understand more.  We talked about all the different aspects of what was happening and what we could do to help ourselves feel better while we were going through it.  He and I have talked about my journal before, and  before I left I gave him his own.  We started talking about why it was important for us to journal.  He, like myself, can easily get caught up in his own head.  I explained to him that if we didn't find a way to get the bad stuff out that it could hurt us.  I described it as a bag of apples.  I told him that if we bought a bag of apples and in the middle, where no one could see, was a bad one it could spread it's fungus to the rest of the apples in no time at all.  I explained that maybe the person who bagged the apples put it in the middle because if we saw that bad apple we wouldn't want the whole bag.  Maybe they thought that we would think they were stupid for putting that bad apple in there to begin with.  I explained that why or how the apple got there wasn't important.  We just needed to get the apple out of the bag so there would be room for more good apples.  After about 15 min he said, "Daddy, I have a bad apple that I haven't gotten out yet."  He went on to explain that when I first moved it would hurt him too much to even think about writing that down. We talked about his bag of apples for quite a while.  It was so joyous to know that by the end of it, he had a way to explain to me or his mother that he needed our help dealing with some of these apples.  And he had a real understanding that I believe it is my job to help him get rid of the apples that are too big and ugly for him to handle alone.
Every week I look forward to my time with my boys, and moments like these make me understand that if I couldn't talk about my bag of apples with him, he would never be able to talk about his bag of apples with me.  This is where the pain yields some fruit (no pun intended) in the form of strength and openess.
I wish for them to experience all happiness and the root of all happiness.

The Caretaker

I have always thought of myself as being the caretaker of any relationship I was in.  I always thought that I was the one that made sure that things were good.  Whether it was my marriage, a friendship, a familial relationship I thought of myself as doing the work to keep everyone happy.  If that sounds odd to you, the reader, I am no longer shocked.  As I look at myself honestly I can see that being taken care of has been a theme for me. I felt the most ""loved and appreciated" if someone else was doing what I should have been doing for myself.  I have always laughed it off as, "I just don't pay attention to detail" or "I am looking at the big picture, being creative."  In retrospect this is a recipe for disaster.  Why would someone want to take care of their own business and mine because I my head was in the clouds?  As I now struggle to do just that, I can more fully understand the strain that I put on my relationships by being incapable of behaving as an adult.  That is certainly an area of focus for me now.  Accepting help when needed and being taken care of is still a fuzzy area for me and yet such a contradiction.  I have always prided myself on not needing any help.  I built a corral by myself, I bred my cows or loaded pigs or chased other guy's cows around stanchion barns because I didn't need any help.  While at the same time being seemingly unable to have any idea where I was spending money or how to make anything other than frozen pizza or know when to go to the dr or how to even groom myself until specifically directed to do it.  I have changed some of these things and am working very hard to change the others.  Becoming an independent, functional adult seems like a ridiculous goal at the age of 37, but it is certainly one of mine.
I don't feel like there is any resolution in this post.  It doesn't end neatly or with words of wisdom gained from some sage.  Because it is so much of my struggle, I think that I won't have any resolution on this point for some time.  Without the situation I now find myself in, I would never have even tried.  There is no point in "if onlys," so I will move forward into my struggle with a little bit more resolve.  With a more determination that I won't make more discoveries too late.

Gratitude

It has come to my attention recently how good the people around me are for me.  I have seen that it is necessary to put healthy people around me to help me act in an appropriate way.  The support that I have received from both friends and family has been surprisingly impressive.  The gifts of time, support, love and material goods has made me feel loved and appreciated.  It has helped me untangle from the negative aspects of my life and focus on the good parts of all of it.  I would say that I have had an optimistic view throughout this long process, but occasionally I find myself amazed at the emotional progress that is possible when you are in a healthy environment.  It makes me want to redouble my efforts to get the rest of my family to STL.  By extricating myself from an unhealthy job I have begun to see the areas of my work life that have suffered from my codependent spiral of the last few years.  By no longer being surrounded by all of the various unhealthy relationships I am able to begin to see the ways in which I was responsible for my current situation and how to ensure that I will never again return there.  On my first night in an empty, dark apartment, with no furniture, no internet, very little light and six pack of Natty light I sat in a lawn chair in the middle of my living room.  I told myself to focus on the pain and loneliness.  I never want to forget that feeling.  I never want to get lazy enough, sick enough or dumb enough to put myself in this position again.  It is still lonely.  It is still painful, but I know that this is the worst.  I will regain my strength.  I will regain my ability to give and receive a healthy and true love.  I am rediscovering my juicy nougat, the good stuff that is me.  The best parts of me.  I am rediscovering that I can be a responsible, mature adult without being old.  I am relearning what is required of me to function on a daily basis.  I am learning to ask for what I need and to give what is required.  It gives me great hope for not only me, but for everyone involved.  This is by far the most painful adventure I have ever undertaken.  But it is by far going to be the most rewarding.  With the many pitfalls and trials that lay ahead, I can focus on these times of hope and reflect on those times of pain with fondness. I will take advantage of the opportunities that I have been given and the rediscovery of good people in my life.

God is Love

Okay, pick your jaw up off the floor.  It will become more clear later, but first a back story.
Several years ago I read an article that was suggested to me about one of the bus riders through Georgia in the sixties.  I cannot for the life of me remember his name or I would put a link to the story.  In the article he talked about the pacifism of Martin Luther King and the movement in the sixties.  He talked about how when they would get off the bus, they knew what was waiting for them.  He knew that there were men with fists and clubs and guns that were going to harm him.  He knew that the only way to not get angry or to hate the men doing it was to love them.  The only way to not strike back was to love who they were, not what they were doing, but who they were.  I read that article years ago and the love he felt for his abusers astounded me.  It was after reading that story that I determined that I too was going to become a pacifist.  I too would love.  I felt the power that a true love can wield.  I believed in that kind of love.  The part that I found the most confusing to me was, how could someone who so believed in what love can accomplish know so little about what it was?  How could I, a person who can honestly say that I love everyone, let his marriage crumble around him?  I have struggled many nights and deleted many blogs on this topic.  Then, in a talk I listened to by Pembra Chodron she explained that a truly loving person must start within himself.  The first person in list of people that you would wish to find happiness and the root of happiness was yourself. She explained that if I could make even a pinprick into the reservoir, over time the true nature of love would wear a larger and larger hole.  This is described in many books as frozen emotions or many different thing by many different people.
Today, as I was driving back to S-ville I was thinking about a time that the boys and I were in the car listening to "The Once and Future Carpenter" by The Avett Brothers.  Jeffrey asked me what he meant when he sang, "If I live the life I'm given, I won't be scared to die."  I explained it to him as, if you do your best in everything that you try you will be happy knowing that you could have done nothing more.  As I followed this thought through, I remembered previous times of emotional tumult in my life.  I remember saying to myself and others around me, "I know that they were doing the best they could at the time."  I began thinking about my marriage.  If I could offer that kind of love and forgiveness to others then why not myself?  I know that I did the very best that I was able to at the time.  I know that my wife had done the very best that she could at the time.  And that we both still are.  As I pondered this, my eyes began to tear up.  But the difference this time was that they were tears of joy.  I could feel the love for myself, for my wife, for my family for all others beginning to well up inside of me again.  I felt as though my small pinpricks of effort had released a small but steady stream of true love within me again.  I began to feel as though I am truly accepting who I am.  I am truly accepting of it all.
This is where the god part comes in.  I believe that love is my god.  I don't worship it in a traditional sense.  I don't give it sacrifices in a traditional sense.  I don't hold books about it up as sacred or not from human hands.  But it is my god none the less.  I believe that this is the love that christians call God, that muslims call Allah, that the chinese call Chi, that the buddhists call the Buddha Nature, that every race of man has had a word for.  I believe that love is the reason we are here.  It is love that makes an existence on this planet possible.  You may call it anything that you like, but to me it is love.  It is true, undemanding, heartfelt love.  It is the love that allows forgiveness and brings peace.  Both I am in great need of.

Lean into the point

I am feeling a bit scared and sad this afternoon.  I have realized that the books I have read about codependency were right.  It is not something that recognition alone can alleviate the suffering.  The recovery is where it feels the real work begins.  Understanding why I have behaved the way I have for basically my whole life does not change that behavior.  It is up to me to do that.  I am set to sign on an apartment later this week. That returning realization that nothing can ever be the same brings with it the sadness and fear.  I am determined not to dull the point this time.  I am determined to feel the fear and sadness with an understanding that it comes and goes.  I am determined not to let guilt take over my feeling of excitement.  I am determined not to continue to be a human wrecking ball.  I am determined not to use inappropriate crutches just to alleviate the hurt that comes with this kind of change.  I will get back to looking these things straight in the eye and dealing with them honestly.  Honest with myself and everyone around me.  I have been trying to allow those that love me and care for me do just that.  Knowing full well that I cannot at this time repay anything close to what is being given to me.  I have no idea what I am doing, but I know that I have to figure this out for myself.  I know that I will slip up again and I know that I will forgive myself, ask for forgiveness and begin again.  Lean into the point.  I tell myself that 40 times a day.  Lean into the point.

losing focus

I have spent the last couple of years in a fog created by codependency issues, alcohol, and fear.  I started working my way out of that fog in November.  I was shaken to the core when Angie and I decided that we needed a divorce.  I had spent so long trying to control and manipulate and force her to love me that I had forgotten how to be a husband.  I had lost my focus on the only thing that should have mattered.  I had driven a wedge between us and never realized what I was doing until it was too late.  Well, I started to get my shit together in November.  I had finally been hurt enough to force me to look at myself and determine what I was doing.  I began working daily on becoming a better man and father.  I had made pretty good strides thanks to counselling, daily journaling and friends and family.  Then I moved to STL.  I started out strong and focused.  I was doing well on maintaining my progress.  Then I started to lose focus again.  For the last 3 weeks I have been struggling.  I have made poor decisions, bad judgments and treated others poorly.  I feel like I have had another moment or two of clarity.  I have tried to begin to get back on track.  To stay focused on recovery and rebuilding.  I am forgiving myself completely and moving forward.  I am trying to correct a few of those mistakes and apologize to those people.
This is hard.  Harder than I thought it would be.  But I will make it through and I will become a less frustrated, petty and angry man.  I will become a more loving, honest and compassionate father.  I am heading up a hill on a cold and windy day.  I have never been beaten by a run and I will not give up now.

nothing to do with the buddha

It turns out, that the blog is a helluva a good idea.  It is necessary.  It is informative to those who are interested.  It is a wonderful outlet.  That is until you are with people who want to hear what you have to say.  Blogging becomes redundant when there are enough people who are interested in what you have to say.  It is an interesting phenomenon.  I find it hard to blog because the words I would use, the things I would say are already out there in the atmosphere.  It is not the permanence of the words that I seek through blogging, but getting them out of my head.  This is not an indictment of blogging or me, but a recognition of human interaction that I desire.  I am not done blogging or even taking an extended hiatus.  I am merely recognizing that when I can spill things out, the blog suffers.  I love words.  I always have.  It turns out that I may have a limited number of them.  I have always thought of myself as a quiet individual.  Perhaps, that is because when I said what I have to say, I am done.  That being said, there is nothing more relieving than letting people know who you are.  I think that is called being vulnerable.  I am enjoying a revival of that in my life.  I hope that you all, and myself, benefit from that.  I truly believe that without being open and honest with myself and everyone I encounter, it is I who will suffer.
I wish for you all to find happiness and the root of happiness.

My first night solo

There are no words to describe my day today.  I know that I am loved and missed.  I know that I love and miss.  As I was thinking about today, I realized that I cannot talk about it.  It is too raw and emotional for me.  But I can talk about a time earlier in my life that had a similar feeling, but without the permanence.  When Angie was pregnant with Jacob we flew out east.  She had a week long conference and I was going to hike the Appalachian Trail solo.  I was very excited and was as prepared as one can be.  I had packed all of the necessary equipment, physically prepared myself for the struggle and thought I knew what I was getting into.  When we arrived in Maryland we took the rental car up into Pennsylvania.  I had a rough idea of where of the AT crossed a certain road.  I would take the trail south through Maryland down to Harper's Ferry.  By the time we had reached PA it was dark and beginning to rain.  We were on a small 2 lane black top road in the middle of nowhere.  I saw the sign for the AT.  Angie pulled the car off onto the side of the road.  My heart was racing as I put on my rain jacket, shouldered my pack and told Angie I would see her in a week.  It was blind faith in my own resolve and preparation that led me into the woods.  As I stepped off the road and Angie pulled away, I was truly alone.  I was homesick, heartsick and scared instantly.  I trudged in for several minutes before finding a place to set up camp.  I knew what to do because Angie and I had done these things together several times, but this was the first time on my own.  I was fine.  I ate a cold supper, had a restless sleep and the next morning I began the journey of a lifetime.  It was a seminal experience in my life.  I look back fondly at every minute I spent on that trail, even that first night.

I have just stepped off the pavement again.  I know I will have a restless sleep.  And I know that I am on a life changing journey.  In this case I don't know what Harper's Ferry looks like, but I know that I have a path to follow.  I got lost at least once on my hike and anticipate that I will feel lost at least once in the coming months.  I believe I have given myself the necessary tools to get through, I am prepared physically and believe I have the map to find Harper's Ferry.

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step - Lao-tzu

Here we go!

I have had really hard time writing this one.  I am on the edge of the precipice and there is no turning back.  I am glad that there is no way to reverse my course.  It would merely lead to the status quo.  I am ready to leap.  The changes that are coming are mind numbing.  The number, the severity and the overall scope.  This coming monday will resemble the previous monday in name only.  The job will be different, the town, the dwelling, the surroundings, the emotions, everything.  It is scary.  It is invigorating.  It is unstoppable.  There will be no turning back.  I have been doing my new job for 1 day.  So far, I love it.  The level of stress does not hold a candle to the previous job.  The job is steady and constant.  It is exactly what I need during this time of upheaval.  I am at a loss for words.  And that is something that doesn't happen often.
So, I will just go and experience it.   It may not always be what we thought it was going to be, but until we start to take control of ourselves we will never have a say in it.  I choose to turn this adventure into a positive, seminal moment.

Closure on a county

I have 2 weeks left in Dekalb County, MO.  FYI, the L is silent.  One of the things about moving on is you have to leave somewhere.  I have always liked Dekalb County.  I have lived here for a little over 7 years and been visiting for 15.  When we first moved here I really enjoyed the way that the community worked.  I enjoyed the fact that dozens vacationed together to the same spot every year, and we were included.  I enjoyed going to neighbor's house to butcher beef and hogs with family and friends.  We celebrated holidays with friends as much as family.  I felt like I had moved back into the county that my mother grew up in.  I felt it gave me the roots I had always wanted.  A place where the land had a history and my boys and I were going to write our story on that same land.  I will never have a piece of my families history and I wanted my boys to have a piece of their own.  Luckily, their stories have not been written yet.  They will still have the opportunity to insert themselves into the history of the land if they so chose.  That will not be the case for me.  The farm that I bought has been sold to a huge corporation that apparently has no intention of using the land.  And my dream of making my living off of the sweat of my brow alone is gone.  Alas, that is the nature of dreams.  They are vivid, lifelike and undecipherable mysteries.  They lead us places that we could not have imagined ourselves going.  But the dead, withered dream becomes the fertilizer for the next.  I have embarked on many different paths over my 37 years.  Each one led by a new dream.  Some of those dreams never made it past a seedling and others grew, matured and died at an appropriate time.  But each was a worthwhile venture.   This one was no different.  Each path we chose writes it's history on us as much as we write on it.  I will be moving out of Dekalb County a very different man than I was when I got here.  I am appreciative of that.

The Barefoot Rover

I have not posted a blog in quite some time.  With the ease and continuous stream of twitter I never felt it necessary.  I have once again been awakened deep inside with that need to share myself in a more meaningful way with anyone willing to look.  Vulnerability is a hard word to spell and a hard way to live.  It seems that perhaps one can't fully know who they are without being willing to tear away the flesh and peer deep inside with no fear of letting those who share your life, even for a brief moment, to discover you at the same time.  I have discarded the Anarchist in Boots for the new Barefoot Rover.  I no longer wear boots and I no longer feel like an anarchist.  It is a label that does not come close to describing me.  I spend far more time barefoot than I ever have before.  I am about to begin a wonderful, scary, tumultuous journey.  There are times in one's life that you truly feel the part of sojourner, rambler, traveler.  Where the road is obscured by fog and you have no idea what lies behind that next bend, but unafraid you place one foot in front of the other and move forward.  This is one of those times.  These times require an inordinate amount of strength, patience and courage.  One thing that I learned over the last year is that without pain you will not get stronger.  This is not a pain that you feel because of something that someone else does, but a pain that you have brought on yourself by hard work.  While training for the Tough Mudder, I would push myself to the point of pain nearly every day.  Watching someone else work out isn't going to make me stronger.  Even just knowing how to get stronger is not enough to get it done.  I have to move into a place where I am willing to push myself to the point of pain because I know that without work there is no pain.  Without pain there is no growth.  Without growth there is only stagnation then death.  I view this as critical in every aspect of my life.  Emotionally, physically and metaphysically if I don't work I atrophy.

Peace and Love are my new goals for both myself and for you