Into the sun

All the tears you cry
Will one day be dry
And like birds we'll fly
Up into the sky
Our love will survive

And when the day is done
I will follow you into the sun
And after all my love
I will follow you into the sun

All these days gone by
Just like waves roll by
I can't wait to hold
You inside my arms
Our love will survive

And when the day is done
I will follow you into the sun
And after all my love
I will follow you into the sun

--Sean Lennon

Morning gratitude

This sprawling city has many ugly parts, but so many beautiful parts too. Like all of us.

Beach love

Today was much better than yesterday. No tempers flared. The sun and sand soothed us all.

Thankful

We are just back from Thanksgiving with Josh's sister Mookie and family in San Francisco. I am thankful for so much, but high on the list is to be back in the circle of Mookie's arms and love. Not that we didn't keep in touch through the separation; we did. But being there with all the family ... being part of the family ... it was priceless.

She is a poet. She gave me this poem.

The Measure of Love

do we love equally
you and I
as time and tide
passes between us
have we achieved parity

and how do we quantify
this symmetry
what yardstick
what scale
will measure

like children
shall we place
glasses on the counter
both watchful
as life pours in
both judging
who gets more
or less

or should we
savor our cups
drink fully
knowing half full
is the greatest amount.

-- Martha Meltzer

The storm erupted.

I sat in the back yard and thought about nothing until the yelling stopped, then stayed for ten minutes more.

Lauren came looking for me. "It's OK now," she said. "We sorted it out."

I hugged her tight. "It's hard being a teen," I whispered in her ear.
"And it's hard being the dad of a teen.
Be kind to each other."

It's so interesting, and delicate, to come back as an observer of a tenuous parent-teen relationship, in which I used to play a key part. Every time they butt heads, I wonder if my presence has affected things. Lauren says no. Josh says he doesn't know. Lauren says it's always been like this. Josh says that they haven't argued this way for a long time.

My urge is to hug them both, individually and together. To breathe with them, to encircle them with my love. To say let's calm. the. fuck. down.

Sure, she bugs me when she interrupts constantly, but not enough to throw me way off kilter. I probably interrupt more than I notice, too.

None of us are perfect. We are all human. So let's just lighten up, right? Have some fun, laugh, fart, and not take it all so seriously.

I would like that.

Indiana

Little babies touch a particular place in my heart that nothing and no-one else comes near. I guess that's why our species hasn't died out yet. They're just so adorable and perfect ... when they're asleep.

I'm actually enjoying leaving for work two hours earlier than before. The drive through the foggy canyon was so pretty this morning.

Home again

What a crazy, yet oh-so-right, couple of weeks. It started with an out-of-the-blue text from Josh asking my permission to put our divorce on hold until we talked some things through. He invited me to brunch that weekend, and I went with some trepidation but an open heart. We talked, and walked, for hours.

The upshot is that our little family is together once more.

I have learned a lot through this time; about myself, about Josh, about letting go, about acceptance, and about meeting joy where I find it.

We both have new eyes, new appreciation, and deeper commitment. It's good. Very good. We are happy.

If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was.

Future tense

This is not about going back. It's about going forward, together, into something better.

It's OK

It's OK to be confused, but still happy.
It's OK to go with your gut, and when your gut feels peaceful, that means that things are right.
It's OK to be awake half the night but not stressed about it.
It's OK to know that many of the people who love you deeply won't understand, but that doesn't mean you're doing the wrong thing.
It's OK to follow love when it calls your name.
It's OK to want to start again.
It's OK to listen to how you were half to blame, and take it to heart, and want to do better.
It's OK to not be a victim, but a joyful participant in a new possibility.
It's OK to feel compassion for the others who were hurt.
It's OK to laugh twenty times a day, instead of two, or none.
It's OK to re-unite.
In fact, it's more than OK.

This is what I do at the supermarket

What? Don't you?


If you can't see the above embedded video, click here.

Now You're Home

Clare Bowditch's new single Now You're Home featuring Lanie Lane. I like it! If you prefer, view it here on YouTube.

Sketching fun

Man Up

I like the contrast between the large brush strokes of the background, and the small ones of the subject.

Table 7

For those (like Elizabeth) who can't view the movie, here's a link to it on YouTube.

On not being here, now

I spent much of the day with good friends, having good times. But I still kept checking for that text or email that never came.

Tonight I saw Mary Oliver

THE SUN

Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful

than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon

and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone--
and how it slides again

out of the blackness,
every morning,
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower

streaming upward on its heavenly oils,
say, on a morning in early summer,
at its perfect imperial distance--
and have you ever felt for anything

such wild love--
do you think there is anywhere, in any language,
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure

that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,
as it warms you

as you stand there,
empty-handed--
or have you too
turned from this world--

or have you too
gone crazy
for power,
for things?

~ Mary Oliver ~

Life is good

I am pretty much speechless after I paint. All I can think is "I am so lucky" and "life is so good." I know that means I'm in my Right Space. Nuff said.

We are the xx%

I've been wondering what Occupy Wall Street was all about. Then I found this:

It was pretty sobering to read thirty or so of these entries. A common factor is crushing student loan debt -- I am so glad that I (and my children) do not have this burden.

Not to be pedantic, or to diminish anyone's suffering, but 99% is not an accurate number. I don't know what percentage of Americans lives hand to mouth, without medical insurance, but I (and my friends/relations here in the US) are neither desperately poor nor in the top 1% of wealth. So I don't fit into either camp. Nor, I suspect, do the majority of Americans.

I believe the official poverty statistics (however they are measured) stand at around 15%. But "We are the 15%" doesn't pack nearly the punch of "We are the 99%".

A funny (synchronous) connection: I just came across this passage in the novel I'm currently reading: "The conflict between corporations and activists is that of narcolepsy versus remembrance. The corporations have money, power, and influence. Our sole weapon is public outrage. Outrage blocked the Yuccan Dam, ousted Nixon, and in part, terminated the monstrosities in Vietnam. But outrage is unwieldy to manufacture and handle. First, you need scrutiny; second, widespread awareness; only when this reaches a critical mass does public outrage explode into being."
 
I'm interested to see where this goes, and what, if any, change it triggers.