"Every Man's Journey"

How many lives do we live? Not in some transcendental manifestation or hereafter, but how many lifetimes do you see when you look back at your past?  I see three.  And each is so different from the one before.  Not truly an evolution, but each winding through the person I was, or more wasn’t yet. All along one path full of ebbs and flows through a story that I no longer shy from when asked to share – that is if you dare.

Dissecting each, I’m trying to give myself some clarity as to where they all meld to make today, tomorrow. And maybe yield some perspective on how all of our lives are one continuous journey, with many stops along the way.  They have meaning, purpose and even in the dark times they give us the deepening roots to who we are.

Joseph Campbell was quite right to perceive “The Heroes Journey”, a circular pathway to enlightenment and growth.  If you don’t know who this is, it’s ok.  Star Wars, Hercules, Jesus, Iron Man all go through a similar arc.  And while I dig his thoughts and insights, I HATE the term Hero.  So, I will call it “Every Man’s Journey”.  And this is my call out to EVERY MAN, EVERY WOMAN.  Over the course of my own three lives.

First Life: The child inside dies, yet there is a spirit of hope, of laughter about him… “Shattered”

We all start out with this innocent core.  Something that is waiting to be touched with design, with insight, with new things to explore.  Yet there comes a point where all of that is tainted.  With the brutality of an abusive home.  The need to be perfect from a former prom queen mom.  The silence from career parents who need to focus on the next step, the next promotion.  With the uncertainty of poverty and neglect.  With our own searching and seeking knowledge/truth, where dark and light often sit side by side.  Everyone has a story being written from an early age.  Maybe even from conception, but I dare not broach that topic because I might enrage some with my own personal stance.

When it’s shattered, the innocence that’s so precious, it’s not a bad thing.  It’s how the fracture is handled.  Is it mended and tended to or is it hidden?  Is it made known to everyone through ridicule or shame?  Is it embraced and honored, even blessed?  When innocence is gone, it’s gone.  But it doesn’t have to destroy.  It can further enlighten and mold us – if there is communication and a voice given.  Side note – as I was traveling through the pain of my past, I learned that I had to bless the moment of fracture.  Otherwise I would stumble along for the rest of my life.

When I was 8, I knew.  And I hated myself for the longest time.  But I also loved the simplest parts of life.  I’ve always sought those out.  Even rotten, disgusting acts by evil men can’t take that away.  At least they don’t have to.  I survived.  I hid.  Yet, I still played.  I ran through my neighborhood, rode my bike (symbolic now if you know me).  I wanted to fit in more than anyone would ever know.  In fact, every chance I had to tell my hurts was immediately pushed down by my need to be LOVED and not feel rotten at my core.  I was busted up pretty good.  Found food.  Masturbation.  Star Wars.  God.  Music.  And finally writing.  Oh, thank you for the written word.  That may have been the biggest safeguard to the inevitable.  

But a dam is only able to hold back so much water, so many tears before it collapses.  And mine burst.  It burst forth with the destructive power of a tidal wave and it wreaked havoc on my and my young family’s world.  And the clean up from such an event, well there’s just not much you can do but try and start over.  Nothing left but a “Shattered” man.  A broken life.  And Death – though not a physical one.  A spiritual collapse of epic proportion that just doesn’t go away.  

Not without help. 

“How many times can I break til I shatter?

Over the line, can't define what I'm after

I always turn the car around

Give me a break; let me make my own pattern

All that it takes is some time

But I'm shattered

I always turn the car around”

~ Shattered by O.A.R.

Second Life: Two Worlds Collide - “Against All Odds”

After losing everything, and yes, I truly lost everything, I found myself seeking anything that would fill the void within me.  And at this point I knew EXACTLY how big of a chasm I housed inside my soul.  When your truths are exposed, they aren’t always palatable.  They can frickin’ burn!  Truths are a fickle pill.  They can be just that, true, but who the hell can handle all of someone’s truths.  The family I loved dearly quite honestly didn’t know how to handle the monster that I was.  Though they wouldn’t ever know all of my ‘sins’, just the pain that I caused.  The rough edges inside me started to show – then hide.  I found myself meandering more than ever.  I was truly lost in a wasteland of hiding, being found out.  Living for my God/Spirit yet burning within.  And It was a good thing.

Yup, I just said that.  It was a good thing.  You can’t really move past early hurts without hurting as much in the groaning to be more (Think Thor in the latest Avengers movie).  Oh, I didn’t just spend a little time groaning.  15 years.  Not wasted, but in pain.  Wondering if there really was anything up above.  A waste of a man, at least in my own eyes.  I fought to be ‘normal’ while I wasn’t even sure what normal was.  I gave myself to growth, then pulled my own feet out from under myself in the process.

But it doesn’t have to be some epic event.  It’s in the daily grind.  I respect the HELL out of some men who I see as really good dads.  For some reason my cousin Casey (Chatham) keeps popping to mind. I don’t know him well in this life, but we grew up around each other.  I do respect what I see from his and Lisa’s, his wife’s posts on Facebook and just knowing the provisions he brings to his young family.  You have to daily decide to go against the odds and fight everything that pulls you away from a spouse, family, persistently making that small difference that will touch not only his kid’s lives, but his wife, friends, family.  Just because everything looks good on the outside doesn’t mean there aren’t huge heart battles being fought.  Battle lines drawn and all enemies kept at bay, silenced and unable to take hold over those that are entrusted to us.

Against all Odds…

I thought I was there.  But I lost that battle.  I failed.  And so did my spouse.  And we fought each other with a vehemence that terrified me both physically and spiritually.  We were wrong.  And we lost.  Only a little boy survived (barely).  And that has been no easy back and forth.

I am strong.  And I’m a fighter.  But I often fight my battles deep inside without any loud battle cries or strong champions at my side.  And that stings when one of your deepest desires has always been to find that one person who ‘gets me’.

Third Life: “We’re Not Gonna Take It….. Anymore” 

Then there comes a point where it really just doesn’t matter.  The pain, the struggle.  They are just your past.  You wake up one morning, after years of fighting and realize that breath is more powerful than all those dark hurts.  You shed the boy and become the man.  Not losing hope, joy, laughter, but realizing that the world can really just SUCK IT!  I’m not gonna take their bullshit.  It’s my life and all the other hidden and overt designs upon it can just take a big ole hike!!  Believe what you know to be your own truths.  Live and love the way you were meant to, for you.

The journey, Every Man’s Journey is one day at a time.  In each moment.  Digging deeper roots, even in foreign soil in the far reaches of the universe (the Pacific Northwest), while growing stronger, wiser, calmer.  Find spirit.  Seek truth.  Guard when you need to guard.  But don’t hesitate from opening up to new possibilities or truths.  They grow us.  Make us stronger.

So journey on.

Link to Video about "the Heroes Journey"

Finite

adjective

1. 

having limits or bounds.

"every computer has a finite amount of memory"

synonyms:		limited, not infinite, subject to limitations, restricted; More

2. 

(of a verb form) having a specific tense, number, and person.

Some of you never knew the world without instant connection.  A screen that lights up and allows you to go just about wherever your mind can imagine. Video chat with a friend in Bangladesh, sending memes through the universe on a cloud of information, communication and connection.  Or at least the semblance of these things.  And inside all of this connectivity I find myself lost within a fantasy that just isn’t always the truth.

We can seem invincible. Not lost in a sea of distraction. But aren’t we really?  I know I am.  And I waste so many hours in search for truths that the internet, Google, Microsoft, Instagram, Facebook all just seem to forget, if they ever knew them at all. We need touch.  Breath.  Deep conversations and spontaneous laughter that can’t be felt, held, or even truly accurately heard through the best iPhone XXWZ22.  We replace our hearts with endless rabbit holes of nothingness.

I am finite.  No matter the spiritual persuasion you hold to… 

I will die.

And so will you.

We weren’t given eternity here. We were given time.  It is the best and hardest gift to manage.  And for those like me who have the dreaded ADD/ADHD, it is insanity when you find yourself losing hours to meaningless searches, ‘friend’ requests, Cat-memes (what the F*@k!).  I lose myself to fantasy and come up empty.  The time slips away.  And time isn’t something that we can go buy from Amazon or Walmart.  It is gone quickly and vanishes if we don’t leave it with a mark that keeps those moments rooted in our heads.  

I’ve seen this as I’ve left all of you.  I still check Facebook, and I’m thankful for being able to take a peek into your lives.  But I’m just scratching the surface with 1,000 people that I may or may not know very well at all.  I long for face to face.  That feeling of being in the same room with someone and hearing the subtle nuances of their tone. The trembling of a voice in pain. The guffaw that stops the entire room at some seedy bar.  The hand that reaches out to comfort and to let you know that there is still real human connection available.

So, as I write this, I’m sitting 2600 miles from a little girl who starts college on Monday.  She’s in a pretty good place.  I’ve talked with her every day and I think she’s gonna be ok. She’s headstrong and stubborn like both of her parents.  And she stands as one of the best things that I’ve ever been a part of.  I had the privilege of spending the last three and a half years within earshot.  Close enough to hear sobbing when a boy wasn’t good enough, and to open my home to the many friends that would come to hang out.  I am a blessed man for that time, even though it’s changed in the last month.

The moments you share and the memories you make with others are so vital to who we are and what we were created to be.  Don’t get lost in a world that is so full of ‘likes’ that you miss out on something really special.

I sat at a table at my favorite Mexican restaurant with someone special.  I begged her to give me 7 weeks - the time that was left before I left to come to Oregon. Those few weeks rank up there with the greatest in all history!  At least for me.  

We are finite.  

Time here will end.

What are you going to do with it?

Live deep.  Connect.  And be.

Do Not Go Gentle

I was told that I was "Lazy".  That I wasn't capable of anything more than the basic place I held.  A man without any focus or distinction.

I was told that I wasn't good enough.  That my kids would fail, like I have.

Real words that were spoken to me.

They are lies.


I will not accept the lies of those who can't clearly see.  Nor should you.

I will not be made to listen when the voices speaking are filled with bile.  And you too should grow deaf to them.

I was told I'd never be more than the past that haunted me.  But I already am.  And you should shed your own demons and live.

We all have stuff.  Hurts.  Pain.  Disconnects.  Crazy thoughts that some see as a burden, but we know are part of who we are.

Don't bury the unique, beautiful creature that is inside you.  Embrace what engine makes you move and GO!!  Go fast and hard toward the light that beckons you from inside.  

When nothing else makes sense, listen to the voice inside that truly knows you.  The little place that holds the essence of your spirit.  Let that be your guide, not a man, a program, a self-help guide.  In 47 years I've found that fad diets don't work, everyone has their "best intentions" laid out for you, you can 'trust' our elected officials, and there is no quick way to make a buck.  So, why do we continue to look to the world for the answers that resonate inside like a GREAT BIG F*C%ing GONG if we just listen??

I came to Oregon to be close to my son.  Yet I've left two children in Georgia.  It tears me up, yet I know they have to find their path just like I am here.  But that's a blog for another day.

I came here with purpose, and a lot of fear.  I had no job, no place to call my own.  Nothing but everything I own on the back of my truck and in a 6x12 trailer.  And I wanted most of the trip to TOTALLY, HOPELESSLY Fail.  Truth.  I came here hoping that everything would cave and I could run back to everything that I had in Georgia.  And there are lingering vestiges of this.  

But if you know me a little, the me now that isn't quite the coward from just a few years ago, then you know one thing.  I don't half ass life.  Not anymore.  I run headfirst, cannonball in the pool, leaping off the deep end into a maelstrom!  

I came here with nothing.  And tomorrow morning I will wake and go to a job that I found within days of being here.  I will wake in the place I was led to call 'home'.  I have seen my little man more in the last two weeks than I have in any period over the last two years.  And I'm NOT DONE YET!  Look, I'm my own biggest Roger Ebert, and I still have a lot of growing to do.  But I am not backing down.

I will not go quietly.  I will not fall prey to my own past.  I will stand.  I will walk.  Hell, I'll even run.  But I will GO WITH A BIG NOISE!!  Hastening to the end.  Hoping to suck the marrow out of each and every day.

And you should find your own passion.  Your herculean adventure.  Your mountain.  Your Moby Dick.

And not go gentle...

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieve it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas