Minimalism, a shift in priorities and focus

This guy speaks truth. What do we really “own?” We are temporary, finite creatures on this planet. We have things we USE. He calls it a basic fact. Most people don’t get this. Can you take it with you?

Typically, for most folks, the biggest financial investments we make—homes and cars—are consumable commodities. They can be consumed, as in burnt up in flames, until they are gone. In accounting, we call them depreciating assets. Even homes that gain value over time will one day decay, become dilapidated to the point of falling in on themselves or get torn down. It will become a dump, a trash heap of debris. It’s a consumable commodity, a depreciating asset, that may serve a purpose in your life until the time you die. It won’t last forever, either. Even if you “pass it down,” the average lifespan of a home is three generations. Homes and treasured heirlooms have a limited lifespan. People who suffered through but survived Hurricane Ian understand the limited lifespan and value of THINGS, even precious things, irreplaceable things. Things that are consumable, though, and won’t go into eternity with you.

In moving back to this island among those survivors last year, that weighed heavy on my decision. I’m a minimalist and have lived that way since 2011. The six years leading up to that, I began deconstructing my sense of self, my faith and downsizing. In the year that followed I got divorced, downsizing even further and going deep into myself TO FIND ME! So that when I moved back amongst the living dead, one year and eight months after most of them LOST EVERYTHING, I believed I would be amongst like souls who had learned this valuable life lessons. Things hold no eternal value.

My girlfriend and I just went round-and-round on this very topic. The cremains of our parents do not hold their essence. The ashes of their mortal bodies do not keep them close to us in spirit. They are but a reminder of them, their essence and presence in our lives. Even less valuable things, like keepsakes from childhood, or our kids’ childhood, hold no real eternal value. They are mere pointers, physical reminders, of what we had, what once was. They stir our nostalgia and our fuzzy recollections.

I can remember our old 8mm home movie reels. Dad had a Bell + Howell movie projector and a movie screen that he’d setup in our basement and play for us early childhood memories. There I was on the movie screen at 3 years old playing football with my dad on the living room carpet, at 5 years old being walked down the street towards kindergarten by my 3 year old sister, or at 6 years old playing in the fall leaves at Broad Ripple Park (Northeast Indianapolis). I would watch those movies for years and it brought back wonderfully nostalgic feelings. But I didn’t travel back in time and become that 3 year old in an oversized football helmet. You can never go back. And now that the home movies are gone and I’m aging, those memories from long ago get fuzzier and more distant. Dad even had them digitized before the film totally deteriorated, but then he lost the disc. Unless digital copies exist somewhere in the cloud, those old movies are gone forever, lost to time. They were not eternal, either.

What’s my point? I’d give everything I have to have those digitized films back for antiquity. I’d love to hand them down to my adult daughters. I’d love to hear their laughter over me crying because I didn’t WANT to play football or wear that ridiculous helmet! I’d love to know that they could one day show their own children, should they have any. But they DO HAVE memories of our lives together. THAT will be my enduring legacy, the only thing of eternal value.

What do we really own? Our life on planet Earth is SO SHORT! We take none of the stuff with us, but as George Carlin put it, we spend so much of our lives worrying about our stuff and where we are going to store our stuff. It’s comical because it’s true. But it’s also sad. It shows us the ridiculous value we place in things and the ridiculous amount of time we spend working for and worrying about things. They are insignificant refuse meant for the garbage heap of time. Even our bodies are consumable. Mine will be burnt up in a crematory one day.

That’s not fatalism, but realism.

So where do you place value in your life? What are you working so hard for? Things that are eternal and priceless or consumable commodities, like creature comforts? Do you need them, like air and water, to survive? Then what are they really worth? What are you investing in of any significant value? Where are your priorities? What is the payoff?

 

What's happening RIGHT NOW?

I have situational depression. It doesn’t make me suicidal. It just takes me to a bad headspace and holds me captive for a time. It doesn’t last, however, the depression usually fades just as quick as it rushes in. My best defense is to stay in the present. Like Eckhart Tolle preaches and even wrote in his book “The Power of NOW“ your problems that you perceive to exist in the present don’t really exist in the present moment. When you stop and look around, where are they? Simply put, in your mind. And I'm either looking back at something that has happened moments ago, weeks ago or years ago or I’m looking ahead to what I perceive will happen in the next moments, weeks, months or years. And the mystics and sages tell us that "to live in the past is depression, to live in the future is anxiety." That’s why Tolle preaches to stay in the now.

And I haven’t read his book. I have watched tons of his lectures online and I know this principal. It bears out. It is true. #TRUTH

My problems, whatever they are, do not exist in the present moment. At the present, I am breathing, I am alive, I am present and aware of my breath, my internal environment and my surroundings. Just taking that momentary inventory is enough to tell me, nothing is threatening me at this very moment. There is no black bear hovering over me ready to devour me. So why do I act as if there is??? That black bear, as fictional in this moment as my perceived problems, does not exist. I am not in imminent danger. Nothing is wrong right this second. It's only in my mind.

Where does worry and anxiety exist? Only in our minds. Where does my depression exist? Only in my mind. Well, don't we have control over our minds??? If not, who does? Who controls our present if not us?

That's the place where you discover that YOU ARE THE PROBLEM! It's not your circumstance, your situation or anyone else in your life. It's YOU! You got yourself into the predicament you are in, whether you caused it or not, you reacted to it. Who controls your reaction? Who regulates your emotions? YOU DO!

So if you come to that point of discovering, I AM THE PROBLEM! Then what are you going to do about it? Fix it or ignore it, hoping it passes?

Nothing in you will change unless you change it.

If you find yourself spiralling with worry, doubt, anxiety or depression. Stop and take stock of everything around you. Are you still breathing? Is the bear hovering and ready to devour? Then where is the perceived threat? Somewhere in your past? Somewhere in your future? Has your crystal ball EVER been that accurate? Or do things typically work themselves out?

I live on a barrier island that was wiped out just 25 months ago by Hurricane Ian. The survivors here remember the fear of death like it happened to them yesterday. They suffer PTSD, which is totally understandable. But Ian didn't happen to them yesterday. It's not going to happen tomorrow. Chances are, in their lifetime, they'll never face another devastating, life-altering storm like that.

So what "Ians" are we facing? Am I facing...right now or in the future? Probably none. Again, it was a once-in-a-lifetime storm that, fortunately, I did not go through. Can I sympathize with my neighbors here. YOU BETCHA! Is their PTSD real and rooted in a past traumatic event. ABSOLUTELY! But do they have to live in fear for the rest of their lifes. NO! That trauma lies in their past and only truly exists in their memories of that day 25 months ago.

Look, nothing that happened 25 months ago, 45 years ago or even an hour ago has to effect you right now, in the present! You can let it if you want to, but you have complete control. That's not to discount the lingering effects of trauma, PTSD or past experiences. But the reality is, they are no more a threat to you right now, in this moment, than the make believe black bear in my living room. It doesn't threaten you right now. The 18-feet of storm surge isn't taking your foundation out from under you RIGHT NOW! So why act as though it is?

BE PRESENT.

Don't let anxiety about future perceived problems or obstacles get in the way of your life today. Don't let current circumstances overwhelm you. They don't have power over you. Regulate your emotional reactions to whatever it is that's really going on, or just going on in your brain. That's where your control is, over your reaction to it. Why are you overreacting, or wasting any energy or brainpower whatsoever on something that MIGHT occur in the future, whether it's another major hurricane or a shortage of income? Whether it's a near-death car accident or a hangnail? Can you control either, or stop them from happening, with worry? NO! You're just taking precious years off your life. That's all worry does.

That's self-defeating. To continue down the path of worry and slowly killing yourself. Other living things in the animal kingdom don't do that!

What is threatening you right now? If you're not sliding across the median into oncoming traffic as you read this, why are you worrying about that accident that COULD happen but is not happening now? If the bear isn't standing in your living room ready to pounce, why are you acting as if he is, scared to make one false move. JUST BREATHE! Your problems only exist in your brain. Somehow, you'll find a way to pay that bill from your shrinking bank account, even if you have to "rob Peter to pay Paul." I've been there many times. I have the overdraft receipts to prove it. Those times of worry and doubt or doing without DIDN'T KILL ME!

I've even lived homeless for a time. Did it kill me? NO! I'm here writing about it. I actually thrived in that inhospitable, unsafe environment around drug addicts, perverts and the mentally unstable. We are animals built to survive. We don't need all the creature comforts we've come to enjoy, but we believe we need them to survive. We don't. We need air, water and something to eat. That's how animals survive in the wild. And they don't kill themselves early by worrying about it.

Why am I posting all this. I'm not preaching to anyone. This is my present reality. I'm sitting on my couch, in my living room (creature comforts that don't keep me alive) with this laptop on my lap, writing about where I am at. I've been struggling for weeks with situational depression. I put a video by Eckhart Tolle on the television, using the YouTube App on FireTV (more creature comforts that don't keep me breathing) and that's what led to this entire post. It was for me, primarily.

I am a student of this shit. I have gone deep many times to rediscover myself, who I am at my core. But I still struggle up here at the surface ALL THE DAMN TIME! I'm not perfect. But I do know who I AM. I just need to be reminded over and over and over...because I am human. I have tendancies. They don't always serve me well. But tapping back into SOURCE and finding myself in the deep, does help me to survive...sometimes on the daily. Often times, moment to moment, like Bob Wiley "baby steppin." Baby steps back to the present. Baby steps back to who I know that I AM. Seriously, I have to get that rudimentary.

Nothing in my present situation is killing me. There are no current threats to my life or safety in this present moment. Stay tuned.

I don't remember when I created this graphic, but I go back to it all the damn time!

Retrospective 2022

The year after my mom died really sucked. I wasn't ready to experience grief like that. I wrote that December just how awful it was. This is the end of the year after my father's death. The grieving process has been totally different. In 2016, the year actually ended on an up note as I landed a job I liked, a gig with a local band I admired and started a relationship late in the year. I can't say the same for 2022. It pretty much sucked all the way through.

LOSING BOTH PARENTS
I'm 54 years old now. I was 53 when Dad died last year and 47 when Mom died in 2015. You'd think a man that age would deal with the loss with a bit of dignity, grace and maturity. But you're never really ready to become an orphan. I think that still strikes you, or surprises you, no matter your age. I've talked to other adults who've lost their parents recently, and have heard similar sentiments from them. It's like losing your sense of belonging, of family.

In my case, that was exacerbated last year by the bad behavior of some bad actors, namely two of my siblings, their spouses and offspring. I had to cut these toxic family members from my life. So, in effect, I really DID lose my family. And that was a slow process that really started in 2015 after Mom's death. We all began to realize, even Dad, that she was effectively the "glue holding this family together." Many of us said it exactly that way, thus the quotes. In the aftermath of her death, we drifted and the fabric that held us all together began unravelling. 

It's not that we loved our father any less, at least my baby sister and I didn't, but he's still not Mom...the glue.

So when I talk about feelings of orphanhood, that really goes to the heart of it. I lost pretty much all sense of family. I'd already drifted apart from Dad's family and Mom's is slowly dying. We lost her brother, my Uncle Gary Larson, earlier this year. A couple of months later, we lost my Great Aunt Ruth Dunning, who was the last member of my grandmother's generation to go. The additional losses this year did not help.

My hope was to turn the tragedy of last year into some sort of renewal for me. I got sidetracked. Instead of using my meager inheritance to start over and move in a positive direction, I got stuck. I blew through the inheritance and ended up staying for months at my sister's house in Indiana. I wanted to be just about anywhere else (not because of her, read on).

LOSING HOME
I've always been a proud Hoosier, proud of my heritage and proud to call Indiana my home state. That has waned over time. Though I've dug into my pioneer roots for a couple of decades, that sense of pride I once felt about being a bona fide Hoosier, like since the time of when that queer nickname was coined, has faded. This is tied in with losing my sense of belonging and of family.

For more than 200 years, my family has called Indiana home. Mom's ancestors were pioneers of Gibson County, one of Indiana's original counties since 1814. Dad's roots go deep in Vincennes, the once Territorial Capital and home to U.S. President William Henry Harrison. We have ties to George Rogers Clark and distant cousins who served his brother in the Corps of Discovery (i.e. Lewis & Clark Expedition). All these connections to the pioneer past gave me a deep sense of belonging to this Midwest frontier.

But now that my family is splintering and fading away, Indiana no longer has the feel of "home." My soul has been longing for my beach...the one devastated this year by Hurricane Ian (Sept. 28th).

The adage says "home is where the heart is." My heart was broken back in September, but Fort Myers Beach (FMB) is still my heartbeat.

If my adopted family there will have me back, I'm coming in 2023.

But all that loss--the loss of life, of family, of home--has made this possibly the worst year of my life. The feeling of being stuck in a place that no longer serves as home, hasn't helped. It only exacerbated my feeling of isolation, loss and uncertainty.

Some of my choices were not made in the best headspace. I was still grieving my father (and my mother, for that matter). I was grieving the loss of family. I was grieving the loss of "home" when the water swept away most of my second home, FMB.

Tragedy and loss has certainly marked (and marred) 2022, as a whole. There are no words that can express the depth of grief or levels of despair, anguish and personal turmoil. This year has definitely tested my patience, my resolve and my personal growth. My mental health has hung in the balance at many times...and I've wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear.

This is me being raw and vulnerable...maybe in a way I'm not all that much on this blog.

I don't hold a massive amount of hope for 2023, but as they say, "it has to get better." Right?

Suicide is NO JOKE

SUICIDE IS NO JOKE.

Our history, collectively, with mental illness is not good. We've forever made it the butt of jokes, quickly labeled those struggling as "crazy," and made light of a deeply serious issue plaguing our species.

My own history has not been good. I've learned that mental illness runs in my mother's line. Her Larson grandfather committed suicide by handgun. She and her brothers struggled/struggle, mostly undiagnosed with some form of anxiety and depression. I see it in me and my siblings.

But even in my own life, in my own family, "crazy people" have been the butt of jokes, not the source of introspection and acknowledgement. And that lack of taking it serious, hasn't served us well. ANY of us!

December 10, 2000, is a day of infamy in my personal timeline.

I left work that day so desperate to escape my reality that I drove to the woods and attempted to end my life by asphyxiation/carbon monoxide poisoning. I saw a Ford Ranger XLT the other day, about the same year as the truck I drove into the woods that day. It triggered an immediate flashback.

Tomorrow marks 22 years.

I'm much older and wiser today. I have two gorgeous, intelligent daughters who've now attained adulthood. They've brought unquantifiable joy and meaning to my life. I adopted the oldest a year, almost to the day, after my suicide attempt. How my life drastically changed in that one trip around the sun!!!

That doesn't mean I don't struggle. It's been a slow process of healing, of rebuilding my confidence in who I am and learning to love myself. I'm not done.

There is a new number to dial if you're in crisis.

988

Suicide and depression are no laughing matters. You're not crazy. There are people in this world who understand and truly care.

I'm one of those people.

HELL 2.0

That was the theme of my morning journal entry today, 12 Oct 2022.

Two-point-O, you ask?

Well, let me take you back to my blog post on the very last day of 2016, "Worst Year, EVER!" I'd call 2016 (technically the end of Nov 2015 through Oct 2016) "HELL 1.0!"

I lost my car and my license that year. I lost my job, then after a summer with my grieving father, it took me until the end of September 2016 to regain employment. That's when things finally began leveling off, but then I had to face the first anniversary of Mom's death over Thanksgiving Weekend. Needless to say, Thanksgiving is no longer a holiday for me. I could live without the reminder.

I don't remember 2017 being a whole lot better, then 2018 kinda sucked, until I moved back in with my girls post-Hurricane Michael in mid-October '18. Christmas was ok, though I think the girls spent the full two weeks out of school with their Mom in PCB. As I recall, 2019 was a blur with patches of homelessness, where I slept out on the street. That year ended with several of my friends struggling to kick flu-like symptoms FOR WEEKS (HELLO, COVID-19!!!), which our government tried to cover-up until the following Spring when the outbreak COULDN'T be ignored! So 2020 began with COVID, then George Floyd and racial unrest, but I was quarantined with my girls so the first half of that year sucked LESS than the previous four.

So why HELL 2.0 for the current year?

Well, let's back up to October 2021.

I get a call from my sister the morning of 4 Oct 21 that Dad's COVID-induced pneumonia seems to be letting up, he's breathing better than ever and seems to have turned a corner. He'd been hospitalized a few days with breathing difficulty. BUT by later that day, he nosedived and his condition was worse than before. That night, around 8:30, he was dead. "Turned the corner???"

Through the great kindness of a wonderful, new friend in Boulder, CO, I was able to fly home the following afternoon. Officially, the year of hell had begun.

We memorialized Dad, but not without major drama from some former siblings, one of whom I had to take to court to send a message. I'd rather not elaborate for fear I might throw this laptop out this second-story window!

By the time Christmas 2021 rolled around, I'd had enough. I was preparing my return to either Boulder or the beach. Then, in a state of unwellness, I did the opposite and stayed in Indiana, rekindling what I believed to be an old flame. Turns out, I was just horny.

That misstep led to FIVE MONTHS of misery. THAT's how my year, 2022, started. I was living in the trash heap of Evansville, IN, trying to make the best of it, pouring myself into genealogical research and visiting nearby family--that was the lone bright spot of the Winter/Spring 2022. But in that time, I burnt through most of my meager inheritance from Dad. I, again, had nothing--no car, no home...

I had to escape that frying pan for the fire at my sister's house. ABSOLUTE CHAOS!

I knew this about my sister's living situation, but what was I to do? Go immediately back to Boulder?

My relationship with my girls was already on life support...I don't know why, honestly. That left me no real reason to go back to Boulder...so BEACH it was!

Only my sister needed me...and begged me to come back and make some semblance of order out of her chaotic existence. It was above my paygrade. I failed. That's not a word that's been part of my lexicon much since 2001. I don't like it. I like even less to have to admit failure. But that's what 2022 has been--one after the other!

I was looking to escape to Fort Myers Beach as early as June of this year. I floundered, began struggling again with depression, barely able to grieve my father's death for MONTHS! I was miserable.

It's worth noting here that being ORPHANED, no matter your age, is no easy thing to wrestle or come to grips with. I turned 54 in September. I hate being an orphan!! I lost the parents who not only raised me, but we GREW UP TOGETHER! And to make matters worse, I have no reliable siblings now, either. I'm a man without a family. And since my girls have ghosted me--at 18 and 21--I really feel like a ship without a home and without a rudder.

I'm adrift...

Adding to that helpless feeling, my beach, the one I was to go back to in June, then August, then September? IT WAS DECIMATED BY HURRICANE IAN ON SEPT. 28TH!!! How's that for a kicker???

I was literally looking at transportation costs on the day of my birthday, exactly two weeks earlier, then Ian hit...OF ALL PLACES!!! FMB took the brunt of 12-15 feet of storm surge and brutal 100mph+ winds, sustained. The beach now lies in ruins. I had my best friends down there ride it out in their stilted home. It barely escaped destruction. Their business was not so lucky.

I still plan to go back there, but there is no water, no power and parts of the island are inaccessible due to massive piles of debris, downed trees and power lines. It could be a month before power is restored.

Yeah, this year (Oct 2021 - Present) has sucked JUST AS BAD as 2016!!!
I cannot imagine Hell being much worse.

Signed,
Rudderless in 2022

10 Reasons Why I'm Moving to Belize - #2 English-Speaking

Alright, folks, we've come to the TOP TWO reasons I'm moving to Belize! 

I need to get out of the U.S., but I am unilingual. You'd think after all my years in Florida, I would have learned some Spanish, at least enough to carry on a simple conversation. But, alas, no. I picked up some things here and there, words and phrases, but I never made the effort to learn Florida's second language.

And I didn't have my sights set on Central America. In fact, until recently, I hadn't even considered it as a destination. My sights have been on Fort Myers Beach or The Keys in Florida since living in the former 2011-2014. As I've mentioned previously, and those that know me, know this--THE BEACH IS MY HAPPY PLACE! I've also mentioned other coastal locations, outside the U.S., I had considered, like Cuba or the Bahamas. Those places are outside the contiguous States, but close enough to be a short flight or boat trip away. Heck, people have swum the 90-mile Florida Straits between Cuba and The Keys.

But a big consideration was that I find an English-speaking country. I didn't want to be fish-out-of-water in a Latin American country where I didn't know exactly what was being said. I didn't want the language barrier to cause me confusion or trouble. So I began a search for coastal destinations where English is the primary language.

Two countries that I never even considered came up in the Top 10--Panama and Belize. Nothing about Panama, other than it's proximity to the equator, appealed to me. Belize, being a little closer and a lot less political/military, became my top choice. The fact that it's economy, like Florida, was run on tourism (and the exchange rate is great/easy) was another minor factor.

It actually surprised me that language would be such a big consideration. But I was looking for ease of assimilation and this fact draws a lot of expats from northern countries, like me. I initially looked into Corozal on the northern coast. But a little more digging soon revealed that Placencia is more my speed, though much further south.

These people, diverse as they are, can understand me! I won't struggle so much to fit into this melting pot of cultures, people and dialects. That is a HUGE plus, especially considering a move outside of the comforts of home.

In my last blog post, I recapped the other eight reasons that led me to choose Belize. I won't repeat myself here...but it did surprise me that FOOD did not make the top five. Coffee, sort of an afterthought at #10, would normally rate higher, as well. But ease of assimilation by knowing the "native" language--and Belize was a British colony in my lifetime--is more important than I would have expected. The Bahamas and Cuba, due to their proximity and the former also being ruled by the UK, were other places where assimilation would be easy...but they aren't BELIZE! Also, the corruption in Cuba was a major concern.

And while I've read all the fears about crime in Belize. It is localized and central to southern Belize City where gang activity is high. My sister also worries about traveling through Mexico and the proximity to drug cartels, but as I've told her, I'll simply steer clear. I've done my homework and Belizeans are warm, friendly and welcoming. Even the gangs don't usually target tourists or expats...it's more brown-on-brown crime...and in the city.

I'm sure I'll eventually travel into the city, the main airport is there, and the port for cruise ships, but I will stick to the well-known, well-lit streets...and would probably go with a local who knows the area. But English-speaking Belize IT IS!!!

10 Reasons Why I'm Moving to Belize - #3 COST OF LIVING

 Here's a short video on the cost of living in Belize.

As you can see, one can live comfortably in Belize on about half as much as you'd need in America. Housing, food and other necessities are much less in the Central American country. There are more pricey coastal areas, but upon researching several such videos, most agreed that Placencia offers beach life at a lower price. That sealed the deal for me!

CURRENCY EXCHANGE RATE: Currently 2-to-1 Belizean dollars to USD! 

I won't need a boatload of cash to move to Belize and live on the coast. I can find affordable housing, and if I eat locally, which I explained in #6 - FOOD, I can eat on the cheap, as well. Oh yeah, and in my food blog I FORGOT TO MENTION CHOCOLATE! Nothing compares to Central American cacao! That's why it was so central in Mayan culture. And I like it extra dark!

Since 2006, and even more earnestly in 2012, I began downsizing my accumulation of things. I learned how much less I could live on and began looking at minimalism, minimalistic living and tiny houses. I went extreme in 2018-2021 and realized even how much less I needed to SURVIVE! It was an eye-opening experience. So part of moving to a third-world country is my search for a simpler life. I just want to make enough money to support a minimalistic way of life. Even if I never build the tiny house boat I've dreamed about, I could invest in land cheaply there! Belize is looking more and more like a long-term solution to me.

Here's another video from a group who planned a 5-day trip and ended up staying more than a MONTH! Now, they were living LARGE, but you don't need the most expensive beach home on the coast or that many paid-for activities to make a life there. Still, this video couldn't have been better produced by the Belize Tourism Board.

SO A BIG DRAW TO BELIZE IS IT'S AFFORDABILITY! Stay tuned for the TOP TWO...

The Dance and Where I'm Going

Watch this video (listen really):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pV-D2_G9w5c

I've listened to several Alan Watts' clips, but never this one until yesterday, after finding it on my new favorite vlogger's YouTube Channel.

When I blogged the other day about Reality TV/Vlogs, I didn't mean I was swearing them off. They are still my escape and guilty pleasure. And the last few days I've been following Alyssa Bean, aka RegretLyss (her YT and IG handle), who lives with her dog in a converted short bus. This off-grid, non-traditional "van life," or "bus life," has been her thing most of her adult life. A graduate of Purdue and social media guru, she travels the country and has a video diary where she delves into her psyche while sharing her solo wandering from mountain to shoreline.

Check out RegretLyss on YouTube

As a non-traditionalist, wanderer/explorer, I dig her vibe. But I've been too sedentary of late. When I was living in the foothills of the Rockies, I was exploring all the time. I was very active, hiking to peaks in the 8,000-foot range, lounging at waterfalls, exploring abandoned mines...AND MYSELF! But here in the last 10 months, I've been nearly stationary, motionless and growing more and more restless. I need to wander. That's why you've caught me dreaming of Belize.

Part of that is discontent and wanting to leave this country for good. The other part is simply my wanderlust and need to find my center at the beach, in the tropics! 

But what about "the dance," as Watts puts it?

What about my day-to-day existence...my presence on Planet Earth? I haven't been dancing; I've been surviving. How much longer can I exist in survival mode? Even being sedentary as I have been, it's exhausting! It's taken a toll on my psyche. And I need to get back to dancing.

Thanks to Alyssa for the reminder yesterday. (I'll get back to "the countdown" momentarily, thanks for reading).

INTENTIONALITY

I am intentional with my words. I am trying to be more intentional with my thoughts, too, but they are sometimes harder to reign in. I am intentional with my actions.

Why do I say this? With intention, of course.

A couple of posts to social media the last couple of days have had me in tears. Sweet, intentional comments or posts that hit me right in my soft core. This morning, I took the time to comment on them. In the most recent one, I heaped praise on a married couple whose presence in my life, though brief in the span of time (I turn 53 in 3 months), has been impactful. I was intentional with my words and chose them carefully. I wanted them to feel honored, cherished, loved, appreciated and special. They are just those kind of people who give and give and probably do not hear enough what they mean to their friends, to the world.

I have the same intentionality with my daughters, my sister and those I highly cherish and admire.

Last night, I was intentional in my actions, passing up one opportunity for camaraderie, dancing and festive music to attend another musical event. I went to support a new friend, a great guy and musician, who was having his first gig in months. It was a more lowkey affair, but his obvious appreciation in his countenance and in his words meant a lot. It was an investment in our fledgling friendship and it was intentional. It was a worthwhile investment.

Say what you mean to say. Do what your heart is telling you to do. It will pay big dividends, some immediate and some down the road. But in life, and it is short, BE INTENTIONAL! Your words are so important, but even moreso are your actions! Let people know how important they are to you.

What struck me most this morning was that most of us would be more loving, more expressive with that love and more intentional if we knew we were dying. Well, guess what? None of us are guaranteed another hour, day or year. We are all headed toward the grave. Why not be intentional now?

I know things are coming clearer into focus now that I’m over half a century old. I get that my mortality is more real to me now than at any other point in my life. Still, it feels good to spread love, light and positivity. If I could only give my younger self one piece of advice...

Don’t hold back in this area. Be the reason someone smiles today.

Gratitude. Presence. Spirituality.

Haven't posted in awhile. Life happens. 2020 is different, though. We've faced a once-in-a-lifetime pandemic. America has lost almost 180k lives to it. Our president has failed us. He's about to be voted out in a few months. There's been racial unrest with rioting, protesting and over-policing, which just fuels more of it. We're about to see history unfold as two potential hurricanes form in the Gulf at the same time. California is largely on fire and I'm facing the move of a lifetime. Life happens was kind of a muted understatement :)

But here we are nearing the peak of hurricane season. I'm no longer living on the Gulf coast so I'm well out of harm's way. I find myself at my Dad's house in Indiana, starting week three. This is supposed to be my transition to Colorado. I feel as if I'm in a holding pattern.

Even with all the unrest and upheaval this year has thrown at me, particularly the last 5-6 months, I'm relatively peaceful and calm. Facing the negativity and ritualism of my father, I'm relatively positive and making progress.

How is this possible?

Gratitude. Presence. Spirituality.

I've found a path to more mindfulness, more peace, by looking inward and diving below "the unconscious mind," as Eckhart Tolle likes to say. He's my spiritual guru. I've digested more of his videos in the last month than I can count. He preaches presence and getting past the clutter of "the thinking mind." It has helped me a lot. I'm finding a spiritual discipline that didn't exist in my past life as a seeker of Truth.

I mentioned my father's ritualism. He's part of the tribal cult of religion. He believes the Bible to be the inerrant word of God. For him, it paints a picture of God's design and dominion over humankind, the earth and it's history. He trusts that the spiritual, dare I say mythical, guide book was transcribed by men who were mere conduits for the voice of the divine. It's as if God couldn't write it all down for us, as he did for Moses on the mountain, so he began with the Old Testament scribes, and they captured it precisely and perfectly as God intended. No errors, no omissions or translations. Purely the essence of God's wisdom captured in a man-made book.

That's the biggest myth of fundamental Christianity. But Dad's faith is built on that, so I have to allow him his beliefs. He doesn't want to hear otherwise. There's no room for debate.

Take Creation v. Evolution, for instance. He doesn't believe there is room to believe that God set into motion the evolutionary process that took millions of years and still continues to this day. No, the myth says that there was a literal creation that took place thousands (not millions) of years ago and it happened in a literal week. You know, because God is bound by time and space and put "himself" on a tight deadline. The book says it, so it is so. No wiggle room.

Where I diverge from his ritualism is that I see the Bible as a book of myths and stories pointing to a larger Truth. The same Universal Truths we find in other spiritual guidebooks and paths--from Eastern to Western cultures and religions. I don't believe in God's will superimposed over history, or that "he" spoke the Bible into existence and men merely transcribed what they heard, as if on dictaphone. On the contrary, I believe the oral tradition passed down for generations to Abraham, Moses and Jesus, were largely based on myths, like the story of creation. It helped to make sense of the world to nomadic, tribal people in times before the written word. The Bible, then, is man's writing of history to explain the why questions. Once the oral traditions and ancient myths were captured in writing, it's like they were set in stone...by God. But it's humankind's way of explaining the unexplainable God, not the other way around. The myths point to larger Truths, like guideposts. That's why I see spiritual writings as guides and not rulebooks.

Religion, tribalism and ritualism seem rooted in ancient times. Truth is transcendent. That's why you find kernels of it in all religions. There are enough similarities in the major religions to see a pattern and to be able to discern the essence of the divine.

I guess it comes down to having a more humanist view of God than a deist one. I began years ago, and it's documented in this blog, seeing the divine in other human beings. I look for it there. Even Jesus said we'd find him when we helped others--fed them, clothed them, gave them a drink of water. I think that is God finding God. We have the divine spark within us. That's not blasphemy or heresy. That's in Jesus' own teaching. It's evident in a lot of spiritual writings. It's what Tolle calls our "essence," part of "the Universal Consciousness." I don't care what you call it, that resonates with me.

Getting in touch with who I really am at my core--my essence--is where I find the most transcendent peace, or what Jesus called "peace that passes understanding." To get there, I have to escape the clutter of my non-stop thinking mind. I don't have to make sense of the totality of life or how we got here. The why questions are becoming less and less important. I'm finding a new ability to let what is just be. It is what it is. I'm not playing some karmic game with fate or God. I'm finding peace in presence. I'm also finding more gratitude for what is, for abundance, for blessing in my life--deserved or undeserved, I no longer place a value on it. Let's face it, the blessings in my life are invaluable. That's why I recognize it as abundance. And the same goes for trials and challenges--they don't come as retribution for past sins or where I may have misstepped, taking that zig when I should've zagged. That's more judgment and attributing the minutia of life to God-level consciousness. God's not up there playing a game of chess with me. No, as I said at the start of this post, "life happens." It's how we deal with the unexpected complexities of life that matters most.

So far, I've survived 2020. I haven't gotten infected with the COVID-19 virus, to my knowledge. The one test I had done came back negative four weeks ago. I haven't succumbed to the panic over the viral pandemic that went global back in Dec/Jan timeframe, but only really grabbed our full attention in late March. I didn't die from homelessness. I survived much of this year with my girls--my lifeline. I found some new meditation practices that have become part of my daily spiritual discipline. I've actually used this year of upheaval to grow and adapt.

This blog post really focused on spirituality and religion, but that's only because I've been smacked in the face with my ritualistic past because I'm living with "old me" in the form of my Dad. I love him dearly. I'm just glad I evolved past his tribalism and stranglehold on the Truth. We've largely avoided discussions on this topic, to my great surprise (and with great effort on my part). I don't discuss politics for the same exact reason. My sanity is largely in-tact, but not just because we've avoided these hot-button issues, but because I continue to practice gratitude.

Here's what that looks like in the mornings--
I'm often up before sunrise, as I am today (typing this at 4:36 a.m.). I'll take my freshly brewed Cuban coffee outside (weather permitting) and greet the sunrise with gratitude. I might thank the Universe for the sun's energy, it's life-giving and sustaining force, it's warmth, it's light. It's really that simple. I don't take everyday things, like the sun coming up over the eastern horizon, for granted. I say thank you...to God, to Life, to the Universe, the planet...I am grateful. I might, then, turn my attention to the things that thrive on photosynthesis like the grass under my feet (I try to ground myself, barefoot, to the Earth) or the plants and trees around me. There's an abundance of life all around me, so that even if I didn't have a penny or a roof over my head, I could still be grateful for abundance. There is abundant life on this planet that we just happened to be fortunate enough to be born onto. I'm grateful for that...for life on Planet Earth. Then I bore down into more personal areas, like my health, my daughters, my family, etc. It's really not that difficult. I try to start everyday with gratitude. I absorb the positive energy of the sun (which I can do even when it's not visible, on cloudy, rainy days) and try to radiate that positivity outward, in the form of considering and praying for others. If the focus is merely inward, it's not really gratitude, it's narcissism. I want to be a blessing on the Earth and vibrate on a higher frequency than I ever have before. I am noticing a difference in just a few weeks of practice.

Ok, I've rambled on long enough. Peace, my friends. Be blessed.

Who I Am

I've been talking to my bus driver, Connie, who runs the SouthWood Route. She's also a full-time minister who, in addition to shuttling folks from SouthWood to downtown and points in-between, gives solicited and sometimes unsolicited bits of knowledge. Her most recent "sermon" has been on Who We Are as people of God. It's been an interesting conversation which I've engaged her in on a number of recent bus trips.

As I was walking over 4 miles yesterday, I had time to clear my head and do some meditating on Who I Am, as a person. And here's what I came up with. I didn't know who I was for a very long time. I didn't really care for myself all that much until I moved back to Florida in 2011 and had a bit of a catharsis on the beach. Self discovery that started at the end of 2011 and led me to some radical changes that brought me to where I am today--back in a town that I swore off in December 2006 when I sold my house and moved back to Indiana.

In my time of reflection and meditation, as I strolled along a barren stretch of Capital Circle SE, I realized what a pivotal year 2006 was for me. It was the beginning of what I now call my decade of crisis. I was 38, then, and I still didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up. I found what I thought was real love for the first time. It led me away from my wife and ultimately down the path to divorce in 2012. It was an up-and-down rollercoaster ride from 2006 until 2016, which I blogged recently was one of the worst years of my life.

But things began to turn around near the holidays. And as 2017, emerged, I realized that I wasn't the same person that I was during that crisis and certainly not the 38 years before. This year, I've decided to take hold of the rudder of my life again and be the captain of this aging vessel. Whereas before I was willing to let the winds of change shift my direction here and there. I tried to be a,flexible reed letting the winds bend me to and fro, calling it "life's adventure" and taking things as they came to me. Really, I was being lazy and just settling for whatever came my way. I had stopped trying all that hard. I was still living, I was enjoying life, but I didn't feel like I was making choices that would get me to a desired destination.

That definitely began to change in 2012, when I decided to end my marriage. That was a definitive choice. It was a step in the process of finding out who I am and what I am made of. It was a very difficult hill to climb, but I did reach the pinnacle and come down on the other side. I survived. But I still didn't know exactly who I was. Today, I know.

I AM A GOOD FATHER

My daughters mean everything to me. And while they've always been a priority, I never had to sacrifice as much for them as I did in 2014 when I moved back to Tallahassee to be fully engaged in their lives again. It was a bittersweet move for me that I shed many tears over, but a great one nonetheless. I needed to be close to them to be able to continue sowing good seed into their young lives. That first year back in Tallahassee led me to a lot of soul searching. I took lots of cleansing walks, to talk to myself, search my heart and soul and to breathe again. Those girls are my reason for being--well the biggest part of it anyway.

I AM A SPIRITUAL PERSON

I am still a seeker of truth and justice. I try to be a giver, a pursuer of right causes, an advocate for others, an encourager and a more positive person. My journey has led me to broaden my faith to accept Truth where I find it, regardless of the label we place on it. That said, my faith is rooted in Christianity, but I find Truth is not bound by that label or any doctrine thereof. My spirituality embraces tenets of Eastern religions--Buddhism, Hinduism, Taoism--and the beliefs of Western Protestant Christianity. Where the Eastern mystics promote living in the present and being fully aware and fully human, I find peace and comfort in that. When they say to sow good into the world and that it'll be returned to you (i.e. Karma), I find the same teachings in the Gospels, regarding sowing and reaping. Even in the Old Testament, Nehemiah prophesies to the builders of the walls of Jerusalem, "only the builders will be paid for their labor." These Truths aren't proprietary to one sect of religion and spiritual people find great comfort in that.

I AM MUSICAL TO MY CORE

I find rhythm in nearly everything. Even my daily routines have a rhythm to them. There's a rhythm in my quick stride to the bus stop in the mornings. It's no wonder that I am a drummer. I find comfort in the steady tempo of life, in the pulse of my heartbeat (which is the backbeat and backbone of modern music, by the way) and in the rhythm of all kinds of music--from black gospel to heavy metal. Music speaks to my soul and has from a very early age. Another great decision I made in 2012 was to join a rock-n-roll cover band. Today, I find myself in one of the best bands I have ever played for. It's because I am a musical being and I need that outlet so that my soul can shine. One day, I'll even write and record my own original music, but for now I just have to play!

I LOVE WHO I AM

It took me the longest time to get over myself and all my perceived failures. I was a constant critic and my internal voice nagged the hell out of me from my childhood, through my adolescence and into adulthood. I just couldn't seem to shake the negativity I always felt towards myself. It felt as if I'd never measure up to my own unrealistic expectations. That, too, began to change in 2012 when I found a book by Dr. Christopher Germer, "The Mindful Path To Self Compassion." I devoured that book on the beach that summer, skipping over the long chapters on meditation practices. My soul needed to hear what he had to say about self-love and affirmation. You see, Words of Affirmation, as Dr. Gary Smalley, taught me through his book, "The Five Love Languages," is my PRIMARY love language, followed by physical touch (secondary). I've found that this is pretty common for men--well, for all people, really, but especially for men. The thing is that I was seeking that love from other people when I didn't even feel it for myself. I wasn't loving myself because I didn't like myself. I didn't know who I was. I began the discovery in my first year of crisis, 2006, and found myself again in 2012, but there were still parts of me I didn't understand, so I didn't know to love them. Today, I feel like I've fully discovered myself. And while I haven't tapped into all my raw potential, I know what lies within and I really love myself completely. No more tearing myself down. If I'm going to be an encourager and a lover of people, I must start with myself. It'd be foolish and disingenuous to be any other way.

I realized yesterday that my midlife crisis lasted a decade, from 2006-2016. It spanned my life from 38 to 48 years old. That's a long time to go through a metamorphosis where I nearly hit rock bottom twice, but it's my journey and I'm telling you that's how it happened. I'm not the same guy that I was in 2006, not the same guy I was at the start of last year, even. But today, I fully love the man that is a good, no GREAT, father, a spiritualist, a musician and a man that is fully human, in touch with the full range of his emotions and excited to be alive.

There...that felt good!

#40Notes40Days

It's Lent and the exercise is pretty self-explanatory.

I wrote myself the first note on Ash Wednesday (yesterday) after finding this challenge, created by "The Fat Pastor" a couple years ago. My church had posted it to their Facebook page and I was inspired to get creative myself, updating the graphic (above), and starting my note-writing campaign.

Yesterday, I took time to identify the other 38 people I would write. Well, to be honest, I ID'd 36 with a couple of lingering question marks, most notably today's recipient. It'll come to me, I'm sure.

I was inspired to write this blog post after reading this about Day One of #40Notes40Days. And I'm also glad to see it gaining traction again this year on Twitter:

I know I was late to the game on this one, but even if I inspire a couple of people to write some thoughtful, encouraging notes on HALF the days, I'll be happy with my effort. So cheers to the Fat Pastor and to Lent!

HEL-LO 2015!!!

When I posted twice on Christmas Day about my day of volunteer service, I wasn't attempting to blow my own horn. It was just a very meaningful day for me and one of the best Christmases I've had since 2011, so I just wanted to express my joy on that day.

After blogging about the bittersweet taste of 2014, I determined to make 2015 mean something beautiful and powerful. On a sleepless night a few weeks before Christmas, an idea came to me that might just make that happen. I got a vision for a public awareness campaign that marries my love and passion for music with the fight against breast cancer. I'm going to call it Kick Cancer's Ass (sm). I plan to launch a cause and begin promoting it on social media very soon.

It's nothing earth-shatteringly new, but it is a way for me to honor my mother, who is dying of cancer, and the loved ones I've lost to the disease--my maternal grandmother, an aunt and a cousin who was a couple of years my junior and the mother of three children.

I began putting my new focus into practice on Christmas Day helping a homeless woman I met at breakfast and continuing it from that day forward. Again, I'm not drawing attention to my acts of service, but to my new energy and focus. I want to leave a mark on my community, wherever I am, and create a legacy for my daughters to be proud of and footsteps in which, hopefully, they will follow. My girls have ALWAYS been an inspiration to me, never allowing me to pass a homeless person in any of the places we've lived--Tallahassee, Indianapolis and Fort Myers Beach--without giving them something, even the change out of the ashtray in the car.

What do I hope to gain by launching a non-profit? It's not a get-rich scheme or anything like that (some people do get rich running non-profits). I just want to have a purpose greater than myself. I want to devote myself to something that will enrich my life. Yes, I have my daughters and being their Daddy is the most satisfying and life-enriching challenge I've ever faced. It gives me all the meaning I need for my life, but I also want to be about DOING something. I've always known there's more than 8-to-5 punching a timeclock everyday. There has to be! And while I will continue to be gainfully employed somewhere, I will be busy doing good, as well.

So for 2015, I've vowed to be more purposeful, more positive and more proactive. I just came up with that...three P's. That mission will guide my decisions and my actions for the coming years. It sparked with an idea in mid-December, turned into forward motion on Christmas Day and will continue as long as I have breath in my lungs.

Yes, 2014 was a challenge like none other I've faced. I am certain 2015 will bring even more difficult challenges, but my attitude is what will make the biggest difference. I am launching headlong into this year with a positive, self-affirming, more purposeful attitude. Thank you 2014 for reminding me about what's truly important. And HEL-LO 2015! Let's go and do good!

(Editor's note: As I began writing this, a stranger approached me at the McDonald's in Tallahassee where I find myself writing today, and asked me to move my car so she could have someone give her vehicle a jump. I gladly told her I'd help, as I have a long, heavy-duty set of cables in my trunk. I do believe in Karma.)

Mind-cleansing walks in Springtime bring about control

I've been saying the Serenity Prayer a lot, lately. Not the verbatim prayer (at left) that you'll hear at most A.A. meetings or self-help groups. No, I've just uttered some version of that prayer nearly everyday. It has helped.

STAYING POSITIVE

I've been taking walks around the lake in our neighborhood, enjoying the Spring weather here in Tallahassee. The mild temps, sunshine and fresh air are good for my soul. The walks are good for my body. The Serenity Prayer and the reaffirming self-speak have done wonders for my mind and emotions. The last few days, I've been referring to these walks--2.5 to 4 miles--as mind-cleansing walks. And they have been. It's been my chance to center myself in the middle of the day.

The last year has been a grueling one. I'd even argue that it's been one of my worst, possibly second all-time. I've survived a divorce, a failed relationship, an extended separation from my children and other minor set-backs along the way. I've always heard what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, but that hasn't necessarily been the case except for in my darkest times.

I did come out of a severe depression in 2000 much stronger, but still battled many of my demons. I even survived a suicide attempt at the end of that year. A few months later, I was restarting my life in a new house and about to adopt my first baby. I learned a lot about myself in that year of about-face orientation. I still had a lot to learn and I'm not always the easiest student. I can be quite stubborn and hard-headed.

A look at Springtime Azaleas in bloom all around my
Tallahassee neighborhood

After some serious setbacks in 2006 and 2008, I was still determined to maintain my course even if I wasn't headed in the right direction. Fast forward to 2013 and circumstances tried to kick me down again. Out of that tumultuous year, I do believe that I have emerged even stronger still. So maybe it has taken several years and a couple of really bad ones to get my attention, but I have learned and grown.

It's been on these mind-cleansing walks that I've seen the most evidence. Take today, for instance, I put into practice the learned art of self-compassion. I walked 2 miles around that lake, speaking affirming words to myself that entire time. Thankfully, I didn't encounter too many others on the walking path. After a rough and emotional morning, it was the perfect therapy for me.

I read a book about self-compassion in December 2012 and it was quite eye-opening for me, but I won't repost here what you can read in my blog entry here. Suffice to say, that this was quite an accomplishment for me, and putting it into practice today made me realize just how far I've come since 2000. There was still so much critical energy, so much pessimism and self-doubt in me even after I recovered from my depressive episode. It took years to finally overcome that, and I still struggle with it.

LEARNING CONTROL

“You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.” ~Maya Angelou

It was just a few days ago on one of my mind-cleansing walks that I accepted an important truth and slayed an age-old myth. That myth is the one that convinces us we are in control. As I was contemplating this blog post, I ran across another good one by a dog trainer in Texas. He talks about The Control Myth and how it skews our thinking (Note: this is more than a blog about dogs, so take a minute to read it, it's really good).

The important truth that I realized on my walk is that I can only control three things--my actions, my attitude and all that goes on between my ears. I like to draw a small circle just in front of me when I'm walking and talking to myself (I know I must look crazy, but I don't care what people think of me). I make that circular motion with my hand and remind myself, "This is the extent of my sphere of control."

I can't control anything beyond that sphere, that in reality, encompasses only my body and nothing outside of it. I can't control people, the weather, circumstances, other's perceptions of reality, etc. I can only control me, and more importantly, what's going on inside of me.

This afternoon, I also ran across this cool little series on WikiHow about gaining control of your emotions. That one, for me, is huge, also. I was on my walk yesterday, a four-mile round trip to Publix, when I really had to do some digging to realize what was wrong with me. The day had started off rather pleasantly, then I let myself get upset about things outside my control. I went on my walk thinking I just needed to be more positive. Well, I realized after some digging why I was upset and allowed myself to just be upset for awhile longer. My feelings had been hurt, so it was okay...not to be okay. After realizing the root of the issue, I dealt with those negative feelings and then got past them, giving myself permission to go there and then walk out of it. That's an example of controlling your emotions. It doesn't mean allow only the positive ones. It allows space for all emotions to grow and subside.

For me, the control comes in when I deal in a healthy way with all my emotions. I don't bottle any of them up or try to stifle the painful ones. I just let them breathe. I go outside and try to focus on the beauty of nature. I try to live in the here and now, focusing only on my present surroundings. I breathe deeply and listen to my heartbeat. I try to keep my wandering mind in check. The last couple of days this has worked well for me.

As I continue this crazy, out of control journey called Life, I hope to gain more control over the things I actually have the power to do so. I will continue to let go of the things and people that I cannot, thereby denying the myth. I will continue to love and affirm myself in order to maintain a positive attitude. I will not be reduced, as Maya Angelou said in the above quote, by all the events that happen to me. I will stay rooted in reality.

Drawing a small circle around me, I can only control this area right here. :)

Moving forward

It's crazy, sometimes, the path life's journey takes you down. It's never what you expect. It's always ripe with surprise twists and turns. It takes you to some uncharted territories, not just physical proximity, but in your psyche, as well.

These last two and three-quarter years have been quite an interesting part of mine. I've successfully navigated two moves--one almost 1,150 miles--a separation, a divorce, another failed relationship, several changes in employment, the ups-and-downs of life and the melodramatic changes in my attitude about all of it. I can't say that it's been boring. I lived on a barrier island near the boundary to the tropics, played in a rock band, dated a beautiful woman, made trips to the Florida Keys and to Tallahassee to see my girls...there were several adventures along the way, most recently an unexpected visit to Mile Marker 59 on Alligator Alley due to a blown headgasket.

I'm thankful for the experience of living on the beach...a lifelong dream finally realized, if only for a brief moment in time. I fully expect to get back there one day, maybe not to Fort Myers Beach, but definitely to a barrier island somewhere on the Gulf of Mexico. That's what the image above reminds me of--a public beach access to a white, sandy beach somewhere in that vicinity. I will have my toes in the sand and a cold beer in my hand, that's for certain.

For now, life has me landlocked in Tallahassee, where I spent more than 20 years of my life. It's a place near and dear to my heart for three reasons--FSU, where I earned my degree and fell in love with college football, and two daughters who stole my heart, both of whom I adopted there. I'm committed to remaining here as long as they are both living here in the moss-draped armpit of Florida. Besides those three draws to this city, I picked a great time to move back. Springtime in Tallahassee, while incredibly shortlived, is quite beautiful--warm temperatures, low humidity and plenty of fragrant, blooming trees and bushes. It could be a lot worse. I could be enduring yet another feet-of-snow-producing storm in central Indiana. I'll count my blessings in that regard.

I've spent the most time journalling throughout this segment of my journey than I ever have before. Beginning in earnest July of 2012, I have made entries on a near daily basis, filling up a dozen spiral-bound, college-ruled notebooks. While therapeutic for me, it has also allowed me the practice of writing and getting in touch with my feelings. It began, largely, out of my loneliness and needing someone to talk to and has become a much needed and relied upon outlet. I just wish I had started earlier in my life, capturing my thoughts and feelings on things I have experienced the last 25+ years.

I know that I have grown and changed a lot. Still unsure of what I want to do with my life, professionally, I know much better now who I am. I've grown to love that person exponentially. And at the risk of sounding quite vain and conceited, I really love the man I've become. If you knew how completely self-conscious and truly self-deprecating I can be, you'd understand and you'd be congratulating me. Learning to love myself as compassionately as I love others was a huge milestone for me in the last two years.

More than anything, I've put more value on my time with my children, two incredibly gifted girls that were meant to be mine, no question about it. They are daddy's girls through and through. With one of them about to become a teenager, there was no better time for me to re-engage on a daily basis than now. Neither of them are getting any younger, and my time away from them, missing them like a central organ in my body, taught me just how critical they are to my existence here on planet Earth. I need them just as badly as they need me and I'm not ashamed to admit it. The two weeks I've spent with them in Tallahassee, so far, has been very heart-warming and healing for us all.

This journey has surprised me in life-altering ways. I've learned things about myself even in the last month that have amazed me beyond belief. And as cynical and jaded as I tend to be, I am very hopeful for what the next leg of this journey holds. I'm still growing...still learning, at age 45. I'm much happier with myself and much easier on myself than I've been in the past. I still have my days. I can be a very gloom-and-doomsday, self-fulfilling prophet, but I bounce back much more readily than before. My realism certainly helps to balance the dreamer in me and I'm learning to love that counterbalance! Still a hopeless romantic, I'm very guarded these days about my heart...slow to trust, but eager to do so.

Well, before I get any gushier or ultra-transparent, let me end this blog entry here. I could go on, but that is mostly what I wanted to say. This is me moving forward.

Blog Birthday in April

Hard to believe, but in April this blog will be seven years old.

I know I haven't been a consistent blogger. As you'll notice in the timeline on the lower right, there are missing months where I did not blog at all. No apologies. Life just gets in the way of writing sometimes.

But this has always been a great place for me to vent, to get creative, to share personal feelings, failures and accomplishments. All told, I'm pretty proud that I've stuck with it this long, since the average shelf life of most blogs is less than six months.

Over the next few months, leading up to that anniversary, I plan to do some looking back and share some of my favorite blog posts. This space serves as sort of a road map of my spiritual journey the last seven years. The road I began travelling back in 2004-05, down the path of rediscovery and emerging spirituality, led me far away from my Catholic and Pentacostal roots. Well, maybe not THAT far away, but certainly in a new direction.

For anyone who has followed my ramblings, thanks. I appreciate your interest and longevity. For anyone who has just stumbled upon this blog, welcome. Pull up a chair and click through some of the posts from 2005-2011. You might chuckle, maybe you'll even stop to ponder, but whatever you do, leave a comment. Blogs are not for stalkers. They're for conversation. You don't have to be a blogger yourself to leave a comment. Anyone can do so, even anonymously.

Thanks, again, for taking a minute to read. Ciao!

If Jesus IS Alive...

...how would you know it?

This is a question I've been pondering since all of Christendom just celebrated the high holy day of Easter. As you look at the Church, do you find evidence of life? Is the radiant life of a risen Christ emanating from within?

It is often hard to answer that question in the affirmative. And when you look back at the history of Christianity with all the atrocities committed in Christ's name, it is rather difficult to find evidence that the Church believes at all in the resurrection of Jesus.

Growing up Catholic, I was surrounded by gory images of a beaten, thorn-crowned, crucified and speared-through Messiah. Those images of death and torture seem to signify the morbid mindset of many of today's Christians. Their pre-occupation with death and judgment leads them away from the life-affirming and life-changing message of Easter.

If that wasn't true, wouldn't we see more evidence of Christ-likeness in the Church?

The question of "Who Killed Jesus?," rekindled in large part by Mel Gibson's film a few years ago, matters little in my opinion. Whether you fall into the John Crossan camp, believing “that the Romans, not the Jews, killed Jesus as a revolutionary agitator inimical to their continued governance of Judea”, you side with the Anti-Semites who solely blame the Jews (you'd be in a growing minority btw), or you believe both are culpable, the pressing issue is whether you fixate on Christ's death or His resurrection.

For me, the resurrection is just as much about my attitude every day, as it is about a promise of life after death. And if, like me, you believe in the abundant life proclaimed in Scripture, then it should effect the state of daily affairs in your life. It should be evident in the way you approach challenges, the way you interact with others, the way in which you conduct yourself and the way you spend your time, energy and resources.

A religion fixated on death will produce more of the same, but a living faith rooted in the life of Christ will produce abundantly more. So, as I reflect on the Easter story, I am once again encouraged to live out my faith actively. And for me that means doing more, spending my time, energy and resources more wisely, loving more and having a more positive attitude.

If Jesus is really alive, then how is it effecting your life here on planet Earth?

A Drummers Dilemna

Some of you may not know that "in another life" I worked as a radio personality and semi-professional drummer. The short-lived smooth jazz station in Tallahassee was where I called home for the last semester of school back in '97 and for several months after graduation. Money was the main reason I left that job for greener pastures. But throughout my whole adult life, I've found ways to pursue my passion for drumming. Opportunities have dwindled since leaving the church music scene back in Tally, but the passion is still there.

Any time I am in a concert setting, at a music store or around other musicians, I get the urge to pick up a pair of sticks and bang on something. That was the case this past Thursday.

Indy's smooth jazz station, WYJZ, was hosting a listener appreciation party at a small music venue, featuring saxophonist Walter Beasley. He brought his whole band and for 90 minutes they rocked the Music Mill. Paying close attention to the drummer, I thought (as I often do), "I could be doing that!"

And it's true. While not the most technically-precise or fine-tuned musician, I do pretty well to hold my own with most contemporary forms of music. A self-taught drummer, I really prefer to play smooth jazz, R&B and gospel for their rhythm-centric groove and syncopation.

And its not just the magic of music or the thrill of performance that calls out to me in the shadows of the club, church or music hall. It is the whole atmosphere and the connectedness that joins musician and audience member. It is the power of creation at work, drawing people in on an emotional and physical level.

Even when I handled events for the radio station in days gone by, I sensed that I was part of the larger music scene. I was able to go out and enjoy good music while feeling a part of some larger community not bound by race, socio-economic status or religion. I miss that.

Thursday's concert was just another reminder of what I am missing. And while I've tried to fill that void with the occasional church appearance as guest drummer on a worship team, I yearn for more than just a four-song set on a Sunday morning.

I think it is important to seek creative outlets and to explore the things you are most passionate about. Sometimes life can get in the way of that pursuit, but it helps to be reminded that you make time for the things of most import to you. If you are passionate about something, if you have a creative spark inside you, why aren't you passionate in your pursuit of it? I find myself asking that question more and more.