You are currently browsing the category archive for the 'Family' category.
I drove North from Gainesville today. Seems like every song on the radio was about traveling or saying goodbye.
And so i’m off! The only plan, thus far, is to leave the plans open-ended. But I have good ideas. I’m in Atlanta now, staying with my sister Sharon and her husband Adi. Tomorrow, we’ll pile in a car with their friends and head North to Madison, WI where she and Michelle will compete in Ironman.
We’ll return to Atlanta on the 15th, setting me up to pedal back out on or around the 17th. I’ll end that first day in Athens where I may stay for a few days before making my way to Cherokee, NC and the Blue Ridge Parkway. Stops in Asheville and D.C. before making my way down the East coast in time for the Horrible Hundred with my parents in Orlando. All of this is subject to change, of course, at a moment’s notice =)
I left many things behind in Gainesville, but one thing I did not leave is my relationships. I have many loving friends in town and though I feel a strong pull to make this journey, similarly I am drawn to them. To quote myself, “I think we come to know ourselves best through our relationships.” That is to say, each friendship may be a part of myself that is dying to express, or a part that is well expressed, and better with company.
In short, I have learned a great deal from them, about life, the universe, and everything. And I have so much yet to learn! And I love them.
<3
You’ve worked high
and you’ve worked low
for most of your years;
its been quite a show!
By aeroplane and automobile
your been near, and gone far.
On the wide road of work,
you’ve been a fast car!
Despite the long hours,
and with kids at your feet,
you put pen to paper
and made the ends meet.
You may have left work,
but your work is not done–
life is an adventure
and this part is so fun!
Because the measure of a man
isn’t in a gold watch,
or a pat on the back
from an overbearing boss…
And nor is it Who He Was
and What He Did,
but instead is Who He Is
and What He Does
So love the past
for delivering today;
but what happens tomorrow
is yours to say!
Thank you for
all the work you’ve done;
for the opportunities you’ve given
to your looney-bin son.
You can go outside
and relax in the sun.
Or do anything else
that sounds like good fun.
I love you, Dad.
Never do I feel more alone than when my body is sick.
I have better friends than I could ever want.
but they keep their physical distance, self-defensively (and appropriately) when I am unhealthy,
when I need care and company the most
this is not unexpected or unreasonable
i would perhaps engage in similar behaviour in most cases.
after all, who wants to get sick when they can avoid it? who can afford to get sick?
My family loves me endlessly.
but we are geographically separated
as debilitating as a head cold can feel, or as frustrating as a drawn-out fever can be
its senseless for them to drive hours to check in, and then drive back with them
the risk of spreading my ailment to their own families
i would not even consider asking
–
a “girlfriend” or “boyfriend”
a life-partner
a soul-mate
the one who is so intertwined
with your life that by the time your ailment rears its ugly head
they have already committed themselves to your care
exposure be damned…their interest in your health weighs heavier
their love strengthens you
helps you resolve and reconstitute
purge the pain
survive
we do this for each other
it is human nature
Never do I feel more alone than when I need your love the most.
I love my cats, Tabitha and Shwi-Shwi. Both are playful, and ask for little other than food twice a day. And although the smell of ammonia curdles my lung-strings, their sweet, affectionate dispositions easily outweigh the unpleasantness of keeping up with their litter box.
I’ve been thinking about finding new homes for them.
I grew up with pets as a child, but upon entering my “adult years” (i.e. old enough to be drafted but not old enough to buy a drink), I found myself sympathizing with the ideals that keeping animals as pets is an unfair inhibition of their freedoms. Cats are insatiably curious and to keep them indoors, taunted by the squirrels, grasses and insects skipping along the other side of impenetrable glass barriers, is a violation of the basic rights I afford to all creatures.
I realize that Humane Societies and animal shelters across the country are overpopulated with dogs and cats who need good homes–the kind of home I can technically provide. I can provide healthy, adequate food and water, and a clean litterbox. I will not abuse or neglect my animals, rather, they will find a love in my home as close to unconditional as any ego-bound human can provide. That said, my true objection is to the society that allows this situation to develop–to the realization that many animals have been domesticated, and bred to large populations to satisfy a global thirst to enslave animals for entertainment.
How can I stand for the right of all creatures, “sentient” or otherwise, to live free and without restriction, whilst I am participating in the very behaviour I deject? Hypocrisy fits me like sunburn.
Back to the particular individuals at the center of my mind’s debate: Tabitha and Shwi-Shwi. They are each a product of the domestication-breeding machine, and neither should suffer a situation they did not create. I feel I cannot let them go. To do so would violate a loving bond I share with each of them. They bring joy to my life. I feel I cannot keep them. To do so would only feed the machine, and it is extremely important to me to live my ideals, to “walk the walk”.
I wish I could invoke a shift into the global consciousness, one in which people stop buying and selling animals like property, stop feeding them inadequate foods that lead to the painful breakdown of their bodies at the end of their lives, and then replacing them as though they broke a coffee cup.
delimna…
conundrum…
…indecision.
What should I do?
With a few simple leans of the bike the Cherohala skyway becomes Tennesee 68 – a scenic road that takes me southbound to the Georgia state line. Georgia 5 becomes I-575 becomes I-75. For all the new terrain I’ve covered, I’m finding that I-75 through Atlanta is the most challenging, scariest, and most nerve-racking.
I have spent the last five days doing no more and no less than exactly what I wanted. This freedom fulfills me, and I’m sad to see it go, but I’m also looking forward to visiting Sharon and Adi, and revisiting society for a few days. In this trip I am effectively wading on both sides of the coin–the first part is spent in solitude and close to nature. The second is immersed in metropolitan complexity.
Sharon, Adi and I bounce around town for a few days, enjoying excellent food, the Piedmont Park Farmer’s Market (where I buy some spicy pepper jelly) and attend a Yoga class at the YMCA. My body is thankful for that yoga class after so many days of “work”. I really must get back into a regular class.
Day 1 – Thursday, the Ides of March
Vacation begins when I press the motorcycle’s starter button.
I stop at an ATM and withdraw money for spending on meals and things. I hope it is enough.
I meet Chrissy at Burrito Brothers for a pleasant see-you lunch and then head for Orlando.
I’m going to my sister Joan’s house. Her family and I will catch a flight to Denver later.
The ride is my first “long trip” with this new motorcycle. I’m learning what the motor sounds like at 70MPH. She and I will be good friends.
I travel by highway–a route shunned by most “bikers”.
They generally conform to the idea that highways are less enjoyable than curvy, country roads.
Maybe they are right.
Maybe all it takes is an alternative attitude.
I arrive at Joan’s house just in time. She is basically ready to go. We transfer my luggage and pack her kids into her car and we’re off to pick up her husband, Scott, from his office.
The flight is uneventful, and its been an otherwise typical day of traveling, with expected delays and crowds and such.
I finish Kerouac’s On the Road on the plane, and doing so carries a sense of irony.
We are driven 2 hours west of Denver to warm beds among a cold, black night.
The transformer-sofa is in its bed form, and I fall asleep quickly.
Day 2 – Friday, March 16, 2007
I wake up before the others, and set myself upon breakfast. I eat a lot, anticipating a need for energies! I find that my teabag doesn’t quite sink into the hot water like it does at sea level.
One of my other sisters, Colleen, and her family are here, having arrived before us.
I finally see evidence of this as my niece Katie stumbles down the stairs.
I’m ready to go get skis, boots and poles and form a new, intimate relationship with the cold snow…
but I see my sisters and their husbands have much to do so I try to be helpful…I get the kids’ breakfast ready.
I am just as happy to do this as I am to get situated and start heading up one of the lifts.
Skiing! I’m invigorated! My skin is cold, but it doesn’t penetrate.
A toasty cap or two on my head keeps me warm inside.
Before long I’ve remembered how to manipulate these odd boards into something that can actually move me around the mountain.
I make 5 runs down the slope and taste ice on three of them, but narrowly avoid just as many more.
My brother-in-laws, in a non-competitive sort of way, give me an excuse to push myself as I try to keep up. They offer good advice, which helps.
Most of my past experience was green runs, but today I finish several “blues” and one “blue/black”.
My thighs burn, and I like it! This morning’s yoga proves to be a brilliant idea.
For lunch, I stop in a deli. There is nothing vegan on the menu. I ask, “I’m a very strict vegetarian, do you guys have any ideas?” The Jamaican’s eyes light up and he says “Yes! I do!” and then makes me a delightful veggie sandwich. Its exactly what I needed–not the food–the attention to my request, and willingness to help. Bonus: The food is great, too!
I’m in love with my body again, but this is not vanity.
This activity is a whole-body challenge–a wakingly vivid reminder of what it means to have a body–to be a human being, in form.
I’m enjoying its smell, which is neither offensive nor pleasant…its just natural. It just is.
I’m working with the mountain, the snow, with skis, poles, and my body to change my perception from moment to moment.
I am thoughtless, and trusting my body to move when it should move, bounce when it should bounce.
The dryness of the air affects my behaviour.
Under no other circumstances has it occurred to me to step out of a hot tub into 50 degree air.
But I did it, without hesitation, and it felt good!
This place has more amenities than I care for.
I started reading Love in Action by Thich Nhat Hahn
There is not much air at 11,000 feet.
Day 3 – Saturday, March 17, 2007
My face and neck have succumbed to the solar pressure of countless ultra-violet rays.
Every strain and ache of muscle is valued–more fresh reminders of what its like to be in a human body.
A small victory is had when the employees of the burrito place mistake Scott and I for locals.
I think I would not like to be seen as a tourist
To me that equates with being inexperienced and inconveniencing others
hmm…perhaps another judgemental perception I need to examine.
Raccoon-google burn is commonplace–nobody even sees it on each other anymore.
It turns out that more than I ever need in life fits into a single duffel bag.
More skiing. Mostly blue trails on Peak 7.
Day 4 – Sunday, March 18, 2007
I leave the room earlier than the previous two days–I am on a lift by 8:40a
By now I have established several dozen 8-minute frienships.
An Irish Londoner named Dennis tells me I look smart. I think he’s referring to my clothing. My sisters are convinced he’s hitting on me. I don’t think so. He says he’s never seen so much interest in St. Patrick’s day, even at home…in Ireland.
Maya is on her way to work at the restaurant on Peak 9. She never lifts up her goggles and so I can’t see her eyes, but we pursue a pleasant conversation about snowboarding versus snowskiing.
Mike has brought his son John from Vermont and he gives me tips which sends my confidence soaring when I try them and find they really help me improve my control. (“Constant shin pressure!” and “Put your hands in front of you like you’re driving a car!”) Priceless. He offers me a capri-sun. How nice!
I don’t remember his name, but I met the architect who designed UF’s Cancer Institute.
Most of these ski-lift conversations go like this:
How [are|is] [you [all|guys]] doing?
Great! You?
Good. Where are you from?
Florida! You?
Florida! (smiles and cheers and identification because we’re from the same state)
Its cold here!
Yeah, but different.
Yeah, different–there’s no humidity!
So, which way are you gettting off the lift?
[Right|Left]
It was a pleasure chatting with you. Enjoy the rest of your stay!
You too!
These 8-minute frienships, as superficial as they are, serve a purpose.
Their shortness doesn’t diminish their value.
Actually, its amazing what people will tell a “total stranger”.
This is my last day of skiing, and I have psyched myself up to trying something harder. On Mike’s advice (I ran into him again) I attempt a black diamond run called Little Johnny’s. Its exhilarating! And it seems to match the threshold of my ability. So I do it three more times.
The sun is starting to drop and I redo a few of the blue runs. On one of them a ridge gives way to a dropoff containing moguls that weren’t there this morning. I land but before I can get control I’m pointed at a girl who is stopped, and in avoiding her I crash spectacularly–head over heels as I feel & hear my neck crunch under my weight. I think I’m okay.
I shoot some video of a few of my downhill attempts, camera in left hand, poles in right. Fair warning–this video is really bad, and will likely make you seasick:
Monte Cristo, a blue trail
Northstar, a steeper blue trail
Little Johnny’s, a black diamond
4:30 arrives, the lifts are closed. I have been on the slopes for 7 hours and 30 minutes. I’m exhausted, but still springy and I return my equipment then head to the room to say bye to Colleen and her family, who are leaving today.
We have dinner at a pizza place called Eric’s. Scott keeps laughing at me because every time I sit down I make noises like I haven’t seen a chair in a year.
Day 5 – Monday, March 19, 2007
Our ride arrives early, just before 8:00 and we’re heading East again.
Doug points out all the neat landmark-y things we couldn’t see on the way in.
We make a second trip through the Eisenhower Tunnel, which carries us under the continental divide.
I see several mountain towns that all sprung up during the gold and silver rushes.
Life seems simple in these towns, and curiosity starts pinging.
Airport stuff, security, etc. and we’re back in Orlando after one of the most softly-executed landings I’ve ever experienced.
I finish Love in Action on the plane, and feel a welcome peace in my heart.
I finally catch my breath again.
I take to the bike, leaving Joan’s house with just enough money for the return tolls.
As I exit Orlando, a marigold sun smothers the cityscape from behind pink and blue clouds.
Merging onto the turnpike–I find a nice stretch with good visibility and wind the bike up to 115MPH before finally twisting off the throttle.
I leave the Okahumpka service plaza, now pushing photons into a cold Florida night.
I spend most of the rest of the trip behind this truck or that. Drafting 30 feet off their rear bumper makes 80MPH feel like 25. Of course, there’s always the possibility that there’s something in the road you won’t have time to avoid…
I arrive back in Gainesville’s wide, open arms feeling hungry, tired, cold, and penniless.
I turn off the bike’s motor and head inside, happy.
brother of neighbor
and friend of friend
converge under the light
of a thousand glowing balls
and a million stars
pot and kettle
get together
and call each other
not a single name
we turn water to wine…no
rather, wine flows like water
until john makes an ass
of himself and I help
the embers burn
hot and late
while countless kernels
succumb to its fiery influence
we knew the moon,
while hidden from view,
was shrouded in the veil
of our own shadow
and like the moon
for at least one night
our problems dissolve
or at least hide from view
Chrissy & Jay took in this pregnant 8-month-old stray and gave her a loving home within to have her babies. When they decided to keep two of the kittens, they let Shwi Shwi come live with me and Tabitha. She is the sweetest!
[myginpage=newwoman]
Some of my friends and family are hurting, each in their own way.
I want to save them! I want to scoop them up, wrap my arms around them, tell them “its ok; you’re safe” and help them to feel and believe this is true. Do I have this power–does anyone? Solitude, lonliness and helplessness welled up from within me Sunday afternoon–the parent emotion to these thoughts. Do I have the strength right now? I should!
I need to be more self-sufficient; self-supportive. I need to make mine a cold, binary heart. Where did I put that emotional toolbox? I want to smash my head with the hammer of truth and get back to center.
I’m remembering that underneath this three-dimensional illusion, we are one. It is our common medium; I want to use it to share some energy. Energy, which despite my inordinate stress level and relationship throes, I’m still dutifully creating.
I went to Maude’s last night, sipped some green tea and ordered a tempeh sandwich. While I waited, I read several chapters from Tao Te Ching. I found peace in the following, chapter 42 (no suprise, of course–forty-two being the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything). Sharing seems right:
The Tao gives birth to One.
One gives birth to Two.
Two gives birth to Three.
Three gives birth to all things.
All things have their backs to the female
and stand facing the male.
When male and female combine,
all things achieve harmony.
Ordinary men hate solitude.
But the Master makes use of it,
embracing his aloneness, realizing
he is one with the whole universe.
I’m trying to let go, to allow things to come and go as they will. I’m trying to do things by not-doing them (that is to say, doing without effort).
I’m not there, but the center may be in sight.
Don’t be sad,
little hermit crab.
A lifetime of toothbrushes,
sit hopefully in their blister-packs,
dying to be the one,
that makes you dance.
Don’t feel unneeded,
little hermit crab.
Thousands of children,
are waiting for you.
Teach them to count from A to Z,
and to recite their numberbet.
Don’t feel unloved,
little hermit crab.
A million puppy dogs,
and several billion kittens,
are waiting patiently,
to sucker you into taking them home.
Don’t feel lost,
little hermit crab.
The earth is blanketed with pastures,
each one teeming with ponies,
itching to be cantered,
and being secretly ornery.
Don’t be afraid,
little hermit crab.
You’ve conquered the river,
in your trusty orange kayak.
Paddling upstream is hard,
but then you turn around.
Don’t feel alone,
little hermit crab.
You feel like you’re falling,
but waiting to catch you,
are your loving friends,
who want you to land softly.
Don’t feel hopeless,
little hermit crab.
Look in yourself,
and find the universe.
You create your world;
make one that smells like honeysuckle.
Don’t feel forgotten,
little hermit crab.
All of our memories,
belong to both.
Remember the good ones,
let the bad ones rest.
