Faces of Death

As I am entering my late 30s, I feel I am an anomaly in how relatively little death has crossed my path. Like most, I've survived the passing of aging grandparents and of acquaintances whom I have not seen nor spoken to in years, but in my first 37 years I am blessed (for lack of a better word) to have never lost someone who has been an integral part of my daily life. Others close to me have certainly experienced death intimately and I have tasted the breadth and depth of its impact upon them, but I have been limited to that vicarious perspective of how the grief of death can touch us all.

However, I have new perspetive on death, mortality and grieving as my family and I have been touched by death three times in the last two months. In as much as each of these deaths have similarities that come with a conclusion of life and the strong emotions that follow, each of these deaths are just as much remarkably different in the conditions of the death, the life story of the deceased, and the impact to those left behind.

The first of the three stories sounds more like the teaser of an episode of Dateline that was literally ripped from the headlines of a small town about 40 miles away. After dropping off her son at school one morning, a 25 year old woman disappeared. Two days later her car was found burned in field with no signs of her inside. By the weekend, her body was found in the home of a family friend after a nearly 24-hour standoff with police and, as expected, with much speculation. The story made news headlines across the state from the get-go, and she and her family were in the public eye in what was undoubtedly the most tragic time of their lives. The victim turned out to be the daughter-in-law of my daughter's 4th grade teacher. Being the small faith-based school that it is, the entire school community rallied around her and held vigil for the lost daughter-in-law. The affect on the students was profound as, through their beloved teacher the darkest faces of mankind, the very things from which we all hope to shelter them.

The second death to touch us was at the nearly opposite end of the spectrum. In her 90's, my wife's great aunt had been battling cancer for the last year of her otherwise healthy and full life. Her body slowly succumbed to the disease and with the support of family was able to place her affairs in order, address the impending end of her life, and discern some peace with her passing.

Then came Steph. Stephanie was a 33 year old mother of two with whom we shared in raising our kids, trained for races and vacationed for the last 4 years. She had been battling a rare form of breast cancer for the last 2 years with a vengeance and with a spirit that forced jaws to drop in awe. Despite being a penetrating energy of strength and hope that was palpable in any room she entered, she succumbed to the cancer knowing that she was leaving her 9 year old and 4 year old behind.

Wow, indeed. Amidst the overwhelming consumption of death and grief, of which I did not have deep experience, I was struck with the imbalanced wave of death we were facing in such a short amount of time. Death sets normal life into such a spin under usual circumstances, and here we were facing it three times within a narrow window. Of course, all three brought floods of emotion that would be considered seemingly usual; sorrow, disbelief, reflection, empathy, pain, peace, to just name a few. However, it was the differences between these three instances of death that caught me by surprise. It wasn't just that there were differences, but how breadth of how these experiences fell so widely across the spectrum that captured me.

The headline death was the least personal but the most shocking. Being 3 degrees removed and not having any personal relationship with the teacher's daughter-in-law, the grief felt was out of pure empathy - the pain, bewilderment and sheer sorrow that her family was suffering was unfathomable. My heart went out to my daughter's teacher and I offered my support, which while sincere was also with the understanding of how my relative distant relationship with family was great enough that it was unlikely I would be called upon. This death rocked our world, but mostly because of the sensationalism of the story, not because of any personal loss. Subsequent to our own pains we experience from a story like this comes the pain of watching the layers of innocence being stripped from your children. I'm not speaking of death itself, as death is an important and key component of all life that we can guide our children through in preparation of the many other losses they will experience throughout their lives. However, this death was wore a mask of some of the darkest faces of mankind that not only bring tragic grief, but challenge them with issues of trust, safety, and faith in humanity. These are struggles from which we hope to shelter our children so they can navigate thier childhood without fear.

Shocking.
Empathy.
Tragic.
Fear.

The emotions of the great aunt's death did not differ in the level of emotion, however the range of those emotions were drastically different. There was sadness surrounding her death, but none of tragedy or unfairness of the first story. She lived a long life - which is an interesting statement in and of itself. We tend to carry an assumption that having lived a long life makes death justified and therefore more bearable. Her death was relatively textbook and uneventful - starting with a diagnosis, moderate amount of treatment and then a resignation into a predictable path of her life concluding. She struggled with her mortality but I believe she was able to navigate it to a point before her passing with the guidance of her hospice nurse and my mother-in-law, who was by her side for the last 3 weeks of her life. The news that she had finally passed was met with a head bow and a nod in acknowledgement that the inevitable had finally come and she was now at peace. With it also came a sense of relief for my mother-in-law who placed her life on hold to sit with her aunt during her final days and provide for her until the end. It was equally painful to watch my mother-in-law endure this as it was to understand her aunt's struggles with facing death.

Peaceful.
Reflective.
Empathy - for more than just the deceased.
Just.

Stephanie's death was not headline news however, although predictable, it was horrifically tragic. Without intending on contrasting the grief felt among these three deaths, Steph's death broke my heart. The path of her journey that moved from fear of a diagnosis, to hope of treatment, to exhaustive disappointment, to acceptance that death was likely, through death being imminent was a natural course occurring over a two year span. I would have thought that this seemingly gentle progression of the disease and her prognosis would have tempered the degree of the tragedy. There was time to prepare emotionally, say goodbyes, and try to find some peace in the sadness of it all. However, the tragedy was nonetheless tremendous and consuming. The tragedy was not from shock of the news or the circumstances of it, but tragedy was defined simply because of the implication of her death. First and foremost, she was leaving behind her children. Her 9 year old daughter is just at the age where she can start to understand the concepts and finality of death and the fear of not having her mother in her life will consume her. The youngest only knows that he misses her and doesn't understand why she is not there, however his 4 year old brain is only capable of holding on to the memories of his mother for a brief time. Eventually, his mother will be come a collection of mere stories and anecdotes to him rather than memories. Secondly, in as much as the great aunt's death is more tolerable because she was in her 90s, Stephanie's death is that much more intolerable because she was in her 30s. She had a lot of life in her and a lot of living left to give her family, friends, herself and this world. Losing her at the age 33 was a travesty.

Heartbreaking.
Consuming.
Game changing.
Unfair.

Under the single umbrella of death came three very different experiences - so differing that it is at times unrecognizable that we are talking about the same passage of life. It is representative of the unlimited paths a life can follow and stories that can be written. From birth to death, a life can be neither planned nor predicted and even seemingly similar experiences can differ drastically from neighbor to neighbor. Lives on similar paths will have varying details. The details of those lives will bring on varying experiences. And equally, those experiences will bring varying effects upon each individual who is touched by it.

Solemn.
Thoughtful.
Reflective.
Blessed.

What I found while digging through my Facebook

Remember a few years back when Facebook was new and novel? In 2009, there was a call to action for all FB users to post "25 random things about them".  Reading these 3 years later, I find it interesting how much many of these hold true.

Note: this is verbatim original text, except for one comment removed out of respect for my wife.

Enjoy the rerun:

1. Kalyne and I have been together for more than half of our lives.

2. I like to do things for people without them knowing it was me or evening knowing that it was done.

3. My girls amaze me. I am so excited to watch them grow but wouldn't dare wish for it to not happen too quickly. The world is a better place because they are in it.

4. I grew up in a fairly conservative Jewish household; I was bar mitzvah’d, kept kosher (didn’t eat a cheeseburger until I was in high school), can still read Hebrew, and can tell the hell out of the Channukah story to a kindergarten class. 

5. Kalyne’s brother once took me to his high school English class as a “Jew” show and tell. His class was reading Diary of Anne Frank and when the sheltered Idahoans started asking questions about Judaism (not really a very strong Jewish community in Pocatello), Benjy raised his hand and said “I know a Jew.” Best question from one of the students: “Why are Jews so greedy?” Ahhh, silly sheltered closed-minded future Klansmen of South Eastern Idaho - so charming.

6. Most people wouldn’t guess the quantity and size of the tattoos I have.

7. I race a stock car (1989 Honda Prelude) at the local race track with three of my brother-friends. Look for 4 Brother Racing team to break into NASCAR in 2012.

8. I was Pre-Med in college and my first career was an EMT - from which I burned out by age 25.

9. I didn't graduate college until I was almost 30 and neither the completion of my degree nor my age when I finished it has had any impact on my professional career in the slightest thus far. I’ve achieved more by honing in on my bullshitting skills and learning when to shut up and nod - It is how I transitioned from gurney jockey to instructional designer consultant (without any formal ID training) to a senior program manager at a Fortune 50 company.

10. That said, I am seriously contemplating getting my MBA. 

11. I play piano – but I only play for myself. I don’t even like to play when the girls are home.

12. Olives taste like dirt. 

13. Kalyne and I agree on nearly everything… except movies, music and the aforementioned olives. 

14. I have some regrets about my college career choices and wish I had taken more advantage of the opportunities and freedoms available to me at that time, however I have a pretty fantastic life so I don't pine too heavily. 

15. Surfing is my sanctuary – not necessarily my only sanctuary, but a reliable one. It is a shame that I can't get out as much as I used to. It is cathartic, zen and grounding for me… and therefore keeps Kalyne from calling me words that rhyme with “Lucky Grass-bowl”. 

16. Now that we have lived in Santa Cruz for the last 8 years, living away from the ocean is a deal-breaker for me. 

17. I would love to someday build a house with my own hands. 

18. I’ve thought about running for public office but wouldn't dare do that to my family. 

19. Lip smacking/licking sounds are like nails on a chalkboard to me, which doesn't bode well for my girls when they are eating dinner or when my dogs have an itchy asshole. 

20. I believe in karma

21. “Terrible-Twos” is a farce; they aren’t so bad. “Throttle-Me Threes” makes me contemplate becoming a cutter. 

22. Kalyne says I was born to teach…and I can’t say I disagree. I expect I will someday be Professor Jay.

23. I am humbled and thankful for my amazing wife as my partner every single dingle day. 

24. Sometimes I think I am really fucking funny.

25. A perfect day would be:

• Waking up when my body is done sleeping – not when someone/something else decides its time to wake up
• Big meat-filled breakfast with kickass coffee, sitting with the girls in their PJ’s
• Going for a two-hour surf session on a clean, head-high, southwestern swell day (70 degree air temp)
• Take a long shower
• Family head out for a fun beachside lunch or maybe Betty’s (if you haven’t yet, gotta try Betty’s Burgers on Seabright in Santa Cruz)
• Go on an adventure with the fam
• Come home to a Publisher’s Clearinghouse sweepstakes van at my front door
• Delicious dinner for two with Kalyne
• Meet some friends for a few drinks
• Go home for some romance: candles, featherbed and a mountain of cocaine… just checking to see if you are still paying attention.

Its all about me

Upon my deathbed, I will reflect back on the year prior to my first blog post as a pivotal point that changed the manner in which I live and view life going forward.  Not that there wont be more... in fact I welcome more, but 2010-11 is a sure-thin, locked-in chapter in my memoirs despite any of the adventures of the next 50+ years. Understandably, I emerged from that year with fresh eyes of the ways of the world and a deeper understanding my psyche.  Mysteries unraveled and the story of my life thus far made more sense.  I started to better understand not only who I am, but what makes me tick. Exciting and scary at the same time. Blissful ignorance certainly has its benefits too - e.g. it is easier to fall asleep at night if you aren't knocking on every locked psychological door that shows up once the room gets quiet.

With my new found "authenticity goggles", these flashes of undeniable brilliance needed to be shared.  I felt  a moral obligation to bestow these never-before-realized strokes of ingeniousness upon each and every one of my nearly six followers. We all have our callings to this world, and this was to be mine. FOR THE GREATER GOOD OF HUMANKIND!!!

... yeah, I know.  I don't buy it either.

Of course, there was a stroke of self-service in there too. I had always had an itch to write. I just never found the motivation, the platform nor the patience to make it a reality prior to this.  So under the guise of the focus of this blog being "others", I was scratching my own itch. Indeed, it was all about me.  And not that there is anything wrong with that - we should all pursue our passions, but perhaps I was fooling myself of the otherwise.

[Hold tight, I'm about to change lanes here without signaling]
Speaking of "Its all about me", I find it an interesting premise in and of itself.  Most commonly, this phrase has a negative connotation - inferring that someone is only concerned with their own best interests. It depicts narcissism and self-absorption, and ultimately portrays that person as somewhat of an asshole. It is easy to nod to ourselves and say "oh yeah, I know people like that", but truthfully this term has applied to each and every one of us at one time or another. It's ok... no judgement here.

However, there is another face of "its all about me" that isn't condemning, but rather a perspective about how we view interactions with others that can be clarifying and settling, yet empowering.  The tricky part of this outlook is that it requires tearing down your protective walls, perhaps walls you haven't even realized you have constructed, and requires a self-effacing honesty with yourself. Yikes.

You see, it IS all about me. Those usually negative things that I attribute to others usually have nothing to do with them at all. Picture a dear loved one - spouse, significant other, close family member, friend... generally anyone that you love wholeheartedly and then of course has the potential to push a button in you with little more than a pinky twitch. Imagine a casual conversation ensues about any poignant yet non-confrontational topic of your choice.  Then comes the "pinky twitch".  Perhaps it was a comment that you perceive as criticism.  Maybe it is tone of voice that sends you reeling or an action that makes you feel like the other person is uninterested.  Or even a non-action where you expected a response that you didn't receive.  Or maybe it was as benign as an eyebrow raised that made you say "what the hell is THAT supposed to mean?"

I know you can relate.  I have yet to meet anyone who is impervious to being triggered by a loved one.  And of course it is by a loved one, because if it were a casual acquaintance, you probably wouldn't care enough or have enough invested in their opinions to be affected.

Here is the deal... those actions (or non-actions, as they may be) have nothing to do with the other person. Consider that your loved one may have that exact same response to another friend without recourse. However, you have this festering hotspot deep within you that flares up when that loved clips one of those triggers.  It is all about YOU and your hotspots. That head tilt and doubting eyebrow raise that your spouse unknowingly injects into a conversation may be perceived as charming and interested by a third party... maybe even considered flirty and "kind of cute the way she tilts her head." However, when you receive the same gesture, you seethe. If you even recognize what it was that just shifted in you at that moment (sometimes it is a vibe you pick up that you don't even put words to), your internal narrator walks out on stage under a single spotlight and says "I HATE it when she does that. She KNOWS that irks me and yet she did it anyway."

But this is where it is the "You-ness" that is the object.  It has nothing to do with her eyebrow raise or he cutting you off mid-sentence.  It is you with the trigger just sitting there like a stubbed toe waiting to be grazed. As much as you would like to believe, your loved one is not trigger hunting with a bow and arrow (hopefully).  Now your response when your trigger is hit may spark something else in your loved one that subconsciously feeds some quest for power that they struggle with, but my psychology degree expired last week so I'll just leave this with my own observations.

I've spent some time watching my triggers and paying attention to what they say about me.  And what they say about me is volumes more than what they say about the trigger poker.  Being aware of them does not necessarily mean that I am impervious to them, but it is insightful into who I am at the core and is really a much more peaceful process in resolving any angst that comes from them.  This approach inherently removes blame from the equation because unless your  responses to your triggers self loathing, you will mostly likely come to your own defense and resolve the anger much faster than if you throw screams of disdain telepathically towards the "offender".

Give it a try the next time your buttons are pushed.  Take the offender out of the equation and ask "why does that piss me off so quickly?" or even "how come I have this stubbed toe that wont seem to heal?" Since it IS all about you... run with that concept and make it even more about YOU.

Is this my PATH or my PATHOLOGY?

Over the past few months, I have been consciously striving towards living authentically.  Per my last blog post, I’ve been striving to break free from the “shoulds” that are the norms of society either imposed by society itself, or just me in my own mind.  I’ve been taking steps like listening to what I really feel and acting upon that rather than how I think I am supposed to act, opening up to friends and family with whatever bucket of crap is swirling within me (don’t get me wrong,  sometimes the swirling crap is a real good thing), and feeling comfortable with who and what I am - especially as my mind and body age (hoo wee, ain’t that a big o’ piece of humble pie).  Living is a social paradigm shift toward and I am definitely reaping the benefits of it.  My relationships with those close to me are richer because the interactions have greater substance than ever before; not just small talk and the typical “bro-versation trifecta” of 1) sports 2) career and 3) kids.  I can feel these relationships grow just by opening myself up and sharing what I think and feel without self-censorship.You know damn well you do it too.  I consciously welcome intimacy with both male and female friends . 

This has been my new mantra.  I am proud of it.  I am happier for it.  However, this is the question that came to me:

Is this drive to discover authentic living my path or my pathology? 

That is, is this journey my yellow-brick road or am I creating an itch I can’t scratch by searching for a utopia that cannot be fully attained in the “real world”?

Then comes all of the sub-bullets:

·         Does this new approach to life have a limit where it interferes with life itself?  Where it challenges social relationships rather than builds them? 

·         Do I need to scale back my new found idealistic point of view to be able to live peacefully in what most of us call “real world”?

·         Can I find satisfaction that I am living authentically and continue to live on “Wisteria Lane”, work in high-tech corporate America, and send my kids to school in plaid uniforms everyday? 

·         What is the breaking point where this covenant with myself goes too far? 

·         Will I be able to find that balance between idealism and realism? 

Most definitely, there is a line where it goes too far.  There is balance to maintain between living true and living in suburban America.  Even something as valuable and as enriching as living authentically has a point of going too far.  Buddha found his highest level of consciousness  by taking authenticity to unfathomable levels, but Buddha was  a social recluse and certainly didn’t have to pick up the kids at 2:30 or have a Monday morning 8:00 AM deliverable.   He found his utopia, but it was at the cost of all other relationships, passions and joys.  Booley for him that he found his enlightenment, however it carries a price tag that I am not willing to cover.

As with all components of life, there is a need to find harmony and balance.  Nearly all things deemed “bad” can be tolerated in moderation while nearly all things deemed “good” can be detrimental if overdone.  In as much value as I find in my epiphanies and the changes I am making pervasively to my approach to living, I hold equal value to honing in on that sweet spot where these changes bring maximum enrichment without sacrificing other blessings and values.

This path is a journey and I am still hacking blindly through it with a machete, so I recognize that I am not yet near the critical point where I have tipped the authenticity scale to injury.  Therefore I feel comfortable continuing to hack away at this path until the field becomes clearer and I determine where that tipping point is.   But knowing that the tipping point most likely exists will make me aware of the need to seek balance… and as my friend in the military says “knowing is half the battle”.

Aw man, I just got “shoulded” on

The word “should”… it has become a nemesis of mine.  Few words that are so seemingly benign have the ability to make suck away your power and instantly squash your flow of authenticity (there is that word again) as does the drop of the word “should”.  Sure, there are other more ostentatious and blatantly harmful words that “should” doesn’t hold a candle to (e.g. racial slurs, profanity as adjectives, yo’ momma jokes, and words like “stupid”) but “should” is a sneaky mo’ flicker that puts you in your place without you even realizing its effect. “Should” implies there is a right way that differs from what is right now;  that what I am doing now is insufficient, not the best path, not right.  The word “should” is not only limiting by setting parameters of what is the best way but is almost chastising and even demeaning.  The inclusion of the a “should” in a statement changes the tone and transforms the message from one  that presents alternative options to “your instinct is defunct so let me make the decisions for you”. I know, this seems like a lot of power and responsibility to hang on a single word, but I feel the word kind of deserves it.   It’s a “should”-talker.

We owe it to ourselves to trust in our own instinct and decision making skills by listening to what lies within us.  This is not to say that we instinctually hold all of the information within us and  that we can skate through life without valuable input from those who have greater knowledge or experience, but it is up to each of us to take all of that information into consideration and make the best decisions for ourselves.  Because no one knows what is best for you other than you (even if it does get  “need-to-change-my-shorts” scary)  if you are honest with yourself with good intentions and you truly listen.  It is all in there within you.  And who better than you have your own best interests in mind?

This diatribe sounds like it is instructing you to stand up against other who try to tell you what to you, but I believe the biggest culprits of “shouldload” dropping upon us is in fact ourselves.  Sure, friends, family, experts, bosses, even baristas-come-family therapists impart their opinions in terms of “should”, but we do the most of the “shouldding” in our lives.  How often do we change make up our minds because of an expectation we have of ourselves or, even worse, that we assume others have of us?  Not that they actually do, but we make a choice based upon what we think will impress others most.  

“I should visit my aunt”

“I should get to work early since my boss will be there early”

“I should not wear my favorite dress because the ‘she’ once said that I don’t look good in yellow”

“I should turn down my music in my car because I don’t want everyone to know that I like Justin Bieber”.

In fact, the whole notion of guilty pleasures is one giant “should” that we take on ourselves even though we project it on to others.  It is a shame need to hide those things that we truly enjoy but are secretly embarrassed to admit because of our worry of what others will think of us.  Reality TV junkie?  Angry Birds addict? Eat sticks of butter over the sink? Belt out Captain and Tennille every morning on your commute to your high-tech VP job?  Foot fetish?  Those things are neither wrong nor detrimental to anyone (especially you), yet we hide them because of the “shoulds” that we assume others place on us, even when we have no evidence that those opinions exist.   We project the image we want to portray onto the expectations of others.  So not only are we “shoulding” on ourselves, but we are making an unfounded assumption that friends, family and society are “shoulding” on us as well… without them even knowing it.  If only we could shed the “should” and live authentically – make decisions that are feel “right” to our core that represent what we truly are and truly feel, rather than based upon obligations we feel from others, limitations we place upon ourselves or, even worse, limitations that we  invent others place upon us.

Authenticity is my biggest keyword and removing the “should” is a major step in that direction.  I would love for all of us to take a stick and scrape the piles of “should” from the bottoms of our “should”-kickers that we pick up as we walk our path each day.  This is merely food for thought, not a mandate.  I lay this before you as an option for how we conduct our lives, not as an expectation… because who am I to “should” on you?

Stay tuned for part two of my diatribes on expectations about the feeling of things we HAVE to do… entitled  “Must-urbation”.   (insert rim-shot here)  …just for “shoulds and giggles” of course.  (yow, I’m on fire).

Little Boxes

Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.

Malvina Reynolds wrote this as satirical commentary in the 60's to call out the atrocities of the "development of suburbia and associated conformist middle-class attitudes" [Wikipedia] ...and then luckily Weeds launched it into post-millennium pop culture so now the rest of us know about it too. On the surface, Malvina's point mirrors opinions of many of us; the mass produced cookie cutter homes and and equally cookie cutter lives of its inhabitants in our society is a shame and sucks the individuality and uniqueness that makes us all so damn interesting. We satirize it all of the time. Simpsons. Edward Scissorhands. American Beauty. It is equally mainstream to live in them as it is to find flaw in them.

Now, it would be very easy at this point for me to climb up on soapbox and claim that my conclusive point is to tout the "value of diversity" or dive into a sermon on "the richness of being unique and the perspective that brings to the world", but although those platforms are worthy, those conclusions are a bit trite and too easy.... plus that is not at all where I was going with this. 

"Now that you bring it up, where ARE you going with this, Jay?" (That was me doing you). Well, I in fact am going to refute Malvina's point a bit as I have learned that there is much value in the little boxes.  I think it is necessary to build little boxes around us that are often just the same in order to move toward the uniqueness and exploration of the callings within us that make us who we are. Whether by the iron fist of a parent, hard rules of an educational institution or job, or simply bysocietal norms, we need these imposed boundaries to give us the opportunity to check ourselves, test our own theories and discover opportunities to find our own paths. We can't elevate ourselves to the next level of growth, maturity and, dare I say "enlightenment" without a little body check against the boxes structured around us. 

Let's get a little less abstract and put this theory to test.  At the risk of offending some, let's go with "religion".  If this does happen to offend you, remember that I welcome your responses - even if they are equally offensive.

I believe there graduated stages of a person's journey of religious growth.  The most elementary phase is in our earliest childhood.  Most likely, if we have a religious foundation from childhood, it was created by the leadership of our parents who volun-told us to go to religious services (e.g. church, synagogue, temple, ashram, etc.) and explained to us what it is that "we" believe. E.g. "In our family, we believe that Jesus is the son of God."  Or, "In our family we believe that Jesus was NOT the messiah".  Or, "In our family we believe that if you touch your genitals for any reason other than cleaning them or peeing, then you will go blind". This is not a criticism of our parents, rather it is a necessity to give kids a foundation from which to grow. Each of these are boxes designed to give us a foundation, provide structure, and to some degree, contain us. They give us limitations and context from which we will build, in this case, our spiritual lives.  Only when we stay in these boxes indefinitely with neither questioning nor redefining beliefs of our own do these boxes become detrimental.  We then become trapped in defining our religion based upon what we have always been told... and therefore it isn't really a belief at all.  It is a mandate.

The value of the boxes is not the confinement of them, but rather the opportunity to bounce off of the walls, test their strength and then bounce harder against them until they eventually break.  That is when the true beauty of the boxes come into play.  Only when the box is broken do you have the fortunate opportunity to build a new one from the broken pieces.  You get to take what you knew as truth before with the discoveries of how the box broke and then you get to rebuild the box.  A bigger box.  A better box.  A more perfect box for you.  Maybe box of a different shape altogether. But those changes in the box are welcomed because they fit you better than ever before.  In this example, you can stretch your definition of religion, maybe even change it to a different religion that offers a community that more closely aligns with your new discoveries. This new box might feel a bit foreign and may even carry some pangs of guilt (especially if the old box was a Catholic box or a Jew box), but ultimately it feels good.  It feels right. It has room for you to stretch where you need it but it offers safety and definition that brings comfort and unity with like-minded peers, [whisper] even if those peers aren't your immediate family anymore.  The thing is, it is YOUR box to create as you see fit.  You really can't lose if you are open and true to what is inside of you. 

These boxes that we criticize in 60's folk music may seem like a shame if you consider those boxes to be the fullest extent of the development. However, if you consider these boxes we place ourselves in - and I'm not just talking religion, but career boxes, societal boxes, relationship boxes, behavioral boxes, social responsibility boxes - if you consider all of these boxes as a starting point and a foundation, and you realize these boxes are a path to growth and discovery of our authentic selves (authenticity is my new buzz word - be ready to hear it often), the boxes are no longer a shame, rather they are a blessing.  They provide a mechanism for bouncing and breaking and therefore rebuilding, which will lead to what is our own individual truths which is a fundamental key to living authentically.

And with that, all of the little boxes DON'T all look just the same anymore. 

Murphy Was an Asshole

Murphy's Law:  Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.

Well, eat my shorts, Mr. Murphy.  I beg to differ.  I currently find myself in the most challenging time of my life, hands down; curve balls, hurdles and roadside bombs have been lobbed in front of/on top of me over these past few months and I still challenge Murphy.  I have enough significant issues I am sorting through that my therapist says "are you sure your ok?"  However, amongst the things that "have gone wrong", I am constantly aware that there is much MUCH more still at stake.  Even with these crises and tribulations, I have an exorbitant number of blessings that are not "going wrong".

Murphy's laments are a disservice to the riches that surround us, the blessings that we may or may not take for granted every day.  Last week, my daughter who was in a fit of frustration following a scuffle with her sister, a disappointing response from me, and an earlier argument with her best friend bellowed "Argh!" (she literally said "Argh!"),  "Argh!" she said, "How could my life be any worse?"  I was inspired with a fatherly duty.  There is a lesson to be learned, my dear, and daddy's got his lesson plan.

I pulled her aside and challenged her to think about that cry of despair and try to answer that question.  Go ahead and feel the frustration you have (after all, the frustration is real), but also consider the blessings you have in your life (e.g. love, family, friends, food, opportunity, school, etc.) and then ask that question again. She promised me should and a few hours later showed me a list of about 50 blessings she considered in her life and said that there were many ways her life could be worse.  (woot - notify the academy).

Only in losing sight of those blessings does Murphy have a soapbox.  I challenge everyone to seek those blessings and revel in them.  I'm not saying that you have to not feel the pain associated with things that do go wrong - call them trials, perhaps failures - but in the following breath remember your blessings are still abound. Not honoring them transfers the power of these riches into the pockets of the bummers.

A wise armchair theologian named David said to me "No matter how bad things seem, I wake up in the morning and recognize all of the things that could have gone wrong yesterday and didn't".

Who, me?

Many times I have reached for the proverbial pen to begin writing and sharing my thoughts... regardless of whether or not I have an audience willing to listen.  However, for one reason or another I never quite had enough motivation to see it through.  That is, until now.  Hell hath no fury like a 30-something guy with an itch to type who is nipple deep in to a "rebuilding year".

I am not going to overly prescribe the flavor of this blog, because I honestly don't know what will pop up a various times and how it will strike me... and I am pretty comfortable about that.  My new mantra is to live in the present and take it one step at a time. I would be doing a disservice, to both you and to me, if I were to have this planned out too carefully.  Let it flow and welcome the exchange.  Whether it be blather or brilliance, it will be honest and soulful with (hopefully) a dash of wit and an oaky finish with undertones of profundity.  That is my promise... well, at least my intent.

Happy reading and please chime in when so inspired.