Manomi

I told my friend Naomi that my next post would have a picture, and without bothering to explain it in any detail (because I also promised her it would be short and not deep at all), Desmond Hume is a perfect picture of our friendship as it is right now, with her leaving to go to New Zealand and Australia.

See you in another life.

daddy . . .

I'm tired . . .

I'm tired of the way sitcoms portray fathers.

I'm tired of the way father's day is the butt end of jokes, and mother's day is about respecting the one who brought you into this world . . .

Don't get me wrong - I'm not advocating a denigration of women. Far from it. If anything, this is a call out to men to grow a set and change the way we're perceived. There is a reason the bumbling idiot father resonates - it's because we've HAD bumbling idiot fathers. Maybe not all of us, but they HAVE been there. And while I would be the last person to devalue the role a mother plays in her child's life, can I call out the absentee fathers out there?

Where are you? What was so important that you missed her first words, his first steps, their first day of school, her first date, the first time he asked someone out on a date, all those times your kids needed you?

I sound angry, but I'm too tired to be angry. I feel a bit like in those dreams where you run and you run, but you move slower the harder you try. I think that by constantly showing fathers and fatherhood in a negative light, we send messages to dads that, ultimately, it doesn't matter. You're a non factor whose input isn't needed, because as long as mom does a good job, the kids'll be fine.

Now, I'm the man I am today largely because of my mom. And I get Jennifer Aniston's take on single motherhood, and I just want to say that I'm not speaking about the absence of fathers as being always negative . . . but fathers who are physically present but may as well be absent? That kills a kid.

Because I know I can't change the world on my own, I figure for now, I'ma learn how to be a good dad, so when the time comes, I won't have to fake it. But any little one who comes to call me "daddy" will know they are loved, will know that I think they are the best at anything they do, and will know that I'll always be there for them.

saturday mornings . . . . .

Mooch is curled up on my lap right now, as I listen to some Explosions in the sky ( Snow and lights be the track currently) and contemplate the day ahead . . . .

I'm house sitting for friends o mine right now, and am thoroughly enjoying the relative peacefulness of a place to myself . . . mooch seems to like to pounce on things that are trying to sleep, however.

Today feels like its gonna be one of those days that you just wake up feeling like life is such a gift, and you wanna run out and find someone else who you think will delight in this present as much as you . . . and it doesn't matter WHAT you do, just that you do SOMETHING to honour the fact that today, you are alive and full of love.

I think I will have an omelette for breakfast, and then maybe try ot convince mooch to not sit in front of the screen batting at the words that magically appear. I'm not sure how much of it is just what life has in store for us on a particular day, and how much of it is our response to the accumulation of days that constitutes our life so far, but for my part, I choose to have a splendiforous day today.

phoenix . . .

I've always kinda liked mythology, ever since I first learned how to read. There is something so awe-inspiring and timeless about the themes present in most mythology, and there are characters and creatures we encounter that serve as these great metaphors for life . . .

One of my favorites is the phoenix. It's the bird that sets itself on fire every 500 years and dies, only to resurrect from the ashes and live again . . .

There are other pictures of this life and death interplay, some a bit more subtle but no less profound. The cycle of summer - fall - winter - spring is a beautiful example of how life can spring from death. You know what? I feel like it goes beyond that - like, somehow, without death, there cannot be new life . . .

At any right, I'm currently experiencing a death of sorts, but am amazed at the new life I see springing up all around . . . . beauty is everywhere . . . .

beauty is everywhere

I'll have pictures up soon, but someone (God bless 'em) decided to spray paint this on at least two Canada Post mail receptacles here in Calgary. It is absolutely the best part of my pre work morning ritual, passing by this and getting that little reminder that, yes, life is kinda shitty at times . . .

but


you usually see what it is you are looking for, and for those able to see it, there is beauty everywhere.

free

This may seem a bit cryptic at first, but I just want to say it anyway, and I want to say it in universal enough terms that everyone who reads it may find it applicable, because I think we will all hit a point in our lives where this is true of us. Hopefully it won't, but you never know . . .

Finding out that you are the one who has been holding yourself back from something good is humbling, and maybe a but unnerving. To discover that the prison you find yourself in is one of your own making, and you hold the key, is uncomfortable at first, and I think our tendency is to resist that implication. In my particular case, it was hanging onto something that didn't work out (and for very good reasons), and I let my own guilt about the whys and hows of its seeming failure plague me for most of the past three years, with intermittent times when it seemed like I might be able to salvage it.

Death is a natural part of life, though, and shouldn't instill fear. Sometimes things need to die so that new life can spring forth. And though we don't always know the nature of that new life, as surely as spring follows winter, we can trust that there can and will be life out of death.

And when spring comes, it does no good to stay inside like it was winter, pining for the warmth of the previous summer . . . there is new life all around. Time to free yourself of what once was and embrace what now is . . .

dream

All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.
T. E. Lawrence

I find I daydream a lot - never when I have something pressing to do - I'm not lazy or slothful. Nor are my dreams a means of escape - life is grand, and real. It's got that going for it. But I can't help but find myself daydreaming of the kind of things I would hope to see happen in my life, the lives of the people I know, the world around me.

I know it doesn't seem practical to be a dreamer, and at times it may look a little ungrounded. Why can't those crazy dreamers just exist in the here and now? The answer is quite simple really - the here and now will never suffice. We're made for more than what we have right now, and though this smacks of deep-seated discontent, it is really the longings of a heart that feels out of place where it is.

And so I dream. I dream of a place and a time when "slavery" is an archaic term. I dream of a time and a place where you can't buy kids for sex, where no one cares how much a particular stock is worth, when we stop texting and start actually talking, when all life everywhere is deemed precious, regardless of where it is from or even whether or not it is human . . . I dream of childhoods unmarred by war or abuse, of random acts of kindness becoming everyday life, and of an entire populace captivated by the beauty they see everywhere everyday.

Sure, it's a dangerous dream. If you have any investment in a company that makes millions on the backs of others, this dream is your nightmare. If you grow genetically modified animals, caring little for that which God cares much for, you take comfort that this is just a dream. And if your income depends on how many customers your stable of pre-pubescent kids can service in one night, then your wish is that I and others like me stop daring to not only dream that this world is possible, but make it happen . . .