I Hope You Fail.

I want you to fail…

at least once in your life, if not multiple times, just maybe not as many times as I have. 

I want you to fall on your face and realize you’re not enough. Because we’re not. Not alone. No matter how incredibly healthy, intelligent, wickedly smart and full of ourselves, we need each other. Because sometimes in our failing we learn about ourselves, we learn about those around us, those who will actually show up. We learn about life. 

People who’ve never failed scare the fuck out of me. How in the world can you go through life without ever having to get up off of your knees? Look, I’m not advising you to bottom. I can give you that story and it’s not pretty. But failing is part of life. How many attempts did NASA have trying to get a rocket into space? How many times did Abraham Lincoln try to win a political office? How many times have I picked myself up,  brushed off the dirt and realized it was time to begin again? I don’t think we set out to fail, but I do think we often times set out to not fail. To not falter. To not have any hardship. And that’s just not life. Fear and contentment can keep us in a world of mediocrity and lack of growth.

If your life has never been hard, who the fuck are you and what are you drinking? I’m sorry to sound harsh, but everyone has a struggle. Addiction, mental health, family dynamics, divorce, health issues, hell, all of them!! Spiritual disease and abuse?

Here’s the other side… today I am truly thankful for my failings. Even the hard ones. I’ve struggled this week with being an absent parent. That’s how I feel at times. My two older kids are coming up upon the eight year anniversary of their mom tragically passing. They were 15 and 16 when it happened. How in the hell do you walk through that? I don’t know. I never know what to say. My youngest lives across the country and even though we chat every day on FaceTime, only seeing his face on the screen just screams “I’m not enough”. And maybe I’m not? I feel like a failure in that area. And yet my mentor told me yesterday “that’s just dealing with life”. And we all deal with life. Again, you ‘bubble people’ don’t have to read any further… 

What’s your challenge? And how do you face it? What is the area that looms over you? That traumatizes you and makes you freeze, or it makes you run for the hills? I had three men who I consider guides along the way as I was getting back on my feet in 2020. A counselor and two mentors who took a stranger by the hand and said “it’s going to be okay”. My life is much better, even on cold nights with the heat doesn’t really seem to work. I get to get up and breathe. I get to live. And I’ve still had my failings, but they are less and they are less drastic. And I’m trying to learn from them. One step at a time.

End it seems that the right people have been there when I need help. That I’m not alone.

So, if you’re struggling, it’s okay. You’re not alone. And if you’re falling… There’s someone who will be there. You may not believe in God, but I do. my God put those three men in my life and continues to show up. Maybe you need to find your own higher power? I suggest starting with looking within. And then realizing you don’t have to be alone. 

I’m here. Reach out if you need anything

I hope you fail.

And grow into something even more beautiful.

~ Peace

The Burtle 

The Radical Nature of Love

I Woke this morning as I went to bed, tearful, aching, mad at myself and at God.

Missing a little boy.

I had to have a hard conversation with his mom yesterday and change plans.  The trip I was hoping to take to see him needed to be pushed back a month.  Airfare, lodging, etc.  I chose to be honest with her about why, knowing that it would be another place she would potentially lash back at some point - but that’s her stuff, not mine.

My own feeling - I’m not enough for him.  That he deserves more.

Those who know the situation have heard it all many times.  The simple is that divorce sucks and there are no winners.  Just a sense of loss (even amidst the sense of freedom - relief that the relationship is over).  

And as I sit here, sipping coffee on a cold early winter morning, I’m just broken.

I love…

Otherwise this wouldn’t be hard. Love is funny that way.  I know that I have often gotten swept up in the ‘feels’ of love, but the journey of the last decade has taught me more about the power, even radical nature of love.

Patient

Kind

Selfless

Blind

Loving my enemies

Loving my ‘self’

Letting others love me - well I’m damn well trying to!

‘All you need is love’

(and maybe food and shelter.)

But the point is that last night I had two people tell me that it’s ‘gonna be ok’.  And though I’m still choosing to deflect that just a bit, I’m so thankful for voices that speak truth in Love.  

Living in Love is not what they often try to sell you on social media or network news.  They are selling you a product, on emotions, on guilt and greed and lust and envy.  Push the right button and you just might buy their product, vote for their opinion, rally behind their cause.

Love though, is a choice.  I chose you.  I chose to pick up the phone and talk to that little boy everyday - often learning so much about him through watching Lego builds or discussing his new fascination with Harry Potty (I know Cambrey, it’s Potter!).

I chose to love the ones closest to me.  Starting with me.  That one took about 40 years to decide upon, and it’s a new love affair with this man who I sometimes don’t even recognize from the child I once was.  And some days I even really like what I see!

My other two, both young adults who I know deserve more.  I love them.  They’ve been through hell that no teenager should have had to face.

Love can open doors you thought were closed and help you realize dreams you didn’t even know still existed. But you have to choose to accept it. To grow it.  Tend it with care and to weed out the bad and daily water it with Truth.

And it often grows in the background. Not on the stage, not through silly love songs, not in words, but in actions, deeds, truth and light. 

It is scary as fuck at times.

It can seem overwhelming.

And it is worth it.

“The greatest of these is ‘Love’”

Thank you Rachel and Sam.  Love you both.

~ Peace

The Burtle

Why?

I took a drive today for work and ended up winding through an area of town that I don’t get to very often. The place were a much different me, the me trying to do life without help, without a process, without God was angry. The most angry I think I’ve ever been in my life. Hurting. Scornful at a deity that would allow all of this (the past) to happen.

And I asked why.

Why?!

I’ve often asked that question. Haven’t gotten a lot of answers. 

Life happens. 

Usually when I ask that question is when the depression is hard. When things have just gotten a little darker and I need to find a little light. And the light doesn’t just shine… Because I believe most of us that deal with depression know how to hide, know how to curl up in a ball, know how to just let the darkness sink in. And it does. I don’t think any of us are immune. I wonder what the psychobabble people would say, but the reality is that just like many other illnesses, it’s really hard to kick, it’s hard to get into full remission from depression. 

Depression remission? Is that a thing?

As I was driving, I drove past the church where I sat in the back three years ago and prayed that I would see my abuser and once and for all have a showdown - in the middle of the 11 AM Sunday service, no less. Because I wasn’t gonna do anything little. I wasn’t going to just subtly knock on the door, I’ve been trying that in my insides for years. Oh no, I was going to make a statement. A statement to the church, a statement to the pastor who wouldn’t listen and a statement to God that I ‘had this’. But I didn’t. I didn’t have anything. And amidst that process I ended up losing everything.

And while I questioned God in everything during that period of time, questioned those of authority around me, questioned the establishment, questioned my own thought process, I still remember very vividly a recording I made while I was driving to Florida in September 2020. Because I was done. I flipped on the recorder like I often do, and just screamed and tore my heart to a God I hated about the life that I wanted to leave, while all the fucking happy people watched from the sidelines.

Why?

I often joke that I’ve wrestled with God, maybe not like Jacob (Old Testament WWE style wrestling match), but I’ve had my battles. I’ve come fully prepared, openly without any abandon before him and said, ‘fuck you! I hate you! I hate you!’

Because I did.

And I didn’t.

I don’t know your faith but I know this. That same being that I screamed and spat at is the reason I’m here today.  I’m not here without him. Without this silver strand that wouldn’t let me go, like those terribly strong and annoying spiderwebs that just won’t get out of the way. The ones I always seem to keep walking right into.

I don’t know how anybody does this life without a belief system of some sort. I don’t know how anyone does life without God. But that’s my choice. What I do know is it trying to do this alone, well that’s basically a death sentence to a depressed, suicidal, victim of childhood abuse.

So three years ago I was done. And then there was this moment. Were all of that angst and turmoil - well it didn’t matter. And you know what, he changed everything. 

E V E R Y T H I N G.

I think there’s somewhere in the scripture where it says to gain life you have to lose it. I’m probably misquoting that, but the thing is I didn’t get this whole life was a ‘journey, not a destination’; it was more - until I lost everything. The building I drove by today, It was just a symbol. And honestly it’s not that I’m angry at this person - done with that.  It’s that it hurts. No matter how much healing, no matter how much therapy, no matter how much recovery, no matter how many clean days, no matter how much kicking and screaming to get through, it still hurts sometimes.

Why?

Because that’s life.

And I wouldn’t know the joy of talking to an eight year old boy this morning, I wouldn’t know the joy of hearing my daughter talk to me about her life, I wouldn’t know the joy of touching someone’s hand and saying ‘I love you’.

Because it all goes together. 

Why?

Because that’s the way we are. We are complex, creative, blasphemous, morality police, sinners, saints, believers, agnostics, we all ARE. And we are here.

Together.

I don’t know how to speak on world events, but I feel we really needed a whole lot more together. Gather with each other, listening, understanding as best we can and just knowing that we’re not alone.

Why?

Because we’re not alone. I just said it!!

You are not alone.

I am here.

I am a father 

a son

brother 

a friend.

I’m a sinner.

I’m a child of God.

I’m a victim of childhood sexual abuse, 

a survivor.

I have depression.

I have hope. 

I have love. 

I have peace in my heart.

I am here. 

Why?

Because on November 19, 2020 I was given a choice. And I said, “I want to live!”

~ Peace

The Burtle 

the boxer

Other than Michael J. Fox I’m not very familiar with the disease.  Not that I am totally unaware of it and not that I’m insensitive. Just that I haven’t been impacted by it.

Yet.

  - - - - -

He gave me Neil Young. Actually, he taught me to love Neil Young. I had never cared for him or his music before. But when someone you love comes to you with something that they care so earnestly about, hopefully you listen. And maybe you find the bright notes of a melody that resonates between both of you.

Neil Young.

Prairie Wind.

Then there was a live concert filmed at the Ryman theater. Neil played one of Hank Williams guitars. And I fell in love.

How can someone so polarizing to my quite conservative life at the time become part of it? Because someone I loved showed me something they loved. And it mattered. 

I had lunch with him yesterday. Not Neil Young, silly, but with my friend; one of the greatest supporters I think I’ve ever had when it comes to just being positive and letting me know that I matter. That my work is important, that I’m good at it and that I’m a good person. Without coddling me or making me feel like a baby he’s always showed interest, insight, and a whole hell of a lot of sarcasm.

He always talks about when I was a teacher. And it’s the one time I ever feel like I was actually good at it. 

This crotchety, crusty old man from New York is one of the biggest hearts that I’ve ever met. At least to me. We typically go to lunch every couple of months at Mad Italian in Atlanta. It’s not about the food, it’s about the conversation. 

I noticed about a year ago that things were changing. I could tell he was not well. I didn’t understand it and I felt like his spirit was tired. And that’s what he told me. “I went to the doctor…

…they said I have Parkinson’s.”

At first, I did a deep dive - researching and trying to gain some level of understanding of the disease. I’m not part of his every day life but I do care. Wasn’t as connected to my faith at that point in time, but I did pray. And I hoped. 

So yesterday I met a man who is 30 pounds lighter, definitely showing more signs of this dreaded disease, but his mind is there. And he still loves meatball sandwiches. As we were talking, I stopped and asked how is health was. I wasn’t gonna shy away from it.  I want to know how he’s doing. I want to know where his life is. Because he’s always been so beautiful in asking about mine and truly listening.

His words:

“I did a Google search and looked up boxing for Parkinson’s patients. And 1.9 miles away from my house there’s a gym we’re a little Asian lady teaches people with Parkinson’s how to box.”

How to move their muscles and how to fight - not an opponent, but to fight for life.  So, twice a week my friend goes and stands in front of a punching bag and trains. Trains to live. I love the spirit I saw yesterday. I’ve always loved this man (even when I shooed him away as a translator at the deaf school when I was teaching. But that’s another story). Yesterday I saw that he’s fighting. After he left us he was going to babysit his three-month-old granddaughter. It’s a far cry from the man who two years before was honestly looking pretty bad. I’ll say that now; I never would’ve said it then.

On the way home I looked over to Rachel and said “I need to go to a trophy shop and find a set of Golden Gloves and give it to him” because he’s winning. Every day. 

What I am going to do is go listen to Neil today. To honor my friend. Not because he’s passing, but because he’s living! 

~ Peace

The Burtle 

White Horse

*Writing this one on the road, so we’ll see where it goes!*

White Horse

Ideal: 

I believe there is an ideal in most of our eyes. Built from childhood, imagination, what our fathers are or are not, what we would like to be or like to see ourselves be.

Maybe it’s built on the picket fence pseudo-perfect suburban lifestyle, or wandering cityscapes that tower above us. But I’m more referring to our own personal ideal. How we want to be perceived and seen to the world. And if you have a spiritual belief, how you want to be seen in the eyes of God. 

I think my first ideal was Luke Skywalker. Fictional fantasy that got me through some very hard years. Yes, at eight years old there were fucking hard years :-) I was allowed to weather them and honestly don’t know that would be here without a ragtag band of rebels trying to face the dark, evil empire.

And it grew and morphed over the years, that whole white horse, shining armor syndrome that no one can really live up to. 

The Six Million Dollar Man

Indiana Jones

Superman (like, “I’m Batman!)

Flash Gordon

The Lone Ranger

But maybe we can? Maybe there’s a point in life where you can be the knight on the majestic steed. Just maybe not quite as polished, with some tarnish, some dirt, light grey horse with miles under its hooves.

Maybe it’s finding that perfect ideal for you. Not one made by man, by religion, by societal ‘norms’. But one set by faith, direction, listening to something bigger in the universe. Maybe it is about showing up. Knowing that you’re gonna do your damnedest, even when it sucks. That you’re going to face the storm, kind of like a buffalo. And at the end of the day, no matter what anyone fucking says, you know that you followed your heart, your passions, your love, your God. 

That’s what I’m working on. And I don’t always do it well. But I do it. Every day. I’m still working on me, and I see an ideal. A little mix of Mark twain and Rhett Butler, with some Bill Murray thrown in. Kind of a funky mix, right? :-)

About a year and a half ago, I made a list with my counselor about what I wanted in a partner. It’s been very effective, especially in recent weeks (different story for a different day!). But there’s also a list I needed to make of who I really am. Not necessarily hope or dreams, but who am I? What do I want to be? Not what my father told me I should be. Don’t get me wrong, I love my father, and I think we’re a lot closer aligned in many things than we might realize. But this is my journey - my time to show who I am to my kids, my family, my friends, at work, and hopefully to someone special. ;)

The ideal, idealistic, passionate, prodding, stubborn, quite lovable man I am.

Got to go find my jack ass… Cause that’s what I’m gonna ride… Or maybe a unicorn :-) 

~ Peace

The Burtle

Go Where the Light Is

Typically there’s a song playing in my head as I wake each morning.  I don’t pick it, just randomly kinda plays from the soundtrack of my brain.  Music is powerful, emotional, real.  My playlist finally switched off of Ashely Cooke this morning (we’ll meet again - nothing wrong with some pop-country love and hurt at times!)

This morning: Where the Light is, by Campbell.

Chorus:

“So can I go?

Can I go where the light is?

Go where the light is?

Can I go?

Can I go where the light is?

Go where the light is?”

We are seekers of light.  From Plato’s Allegory of the Cave to Edison’s quest for man-created illumination.  We need it, want it, want to be the owners of it.

My body craves it; sun, warmth, direction.  I moved to Portland, Oregon in the summer of 2019 and it was glorious.  Such a beautiful place.  Green, the state of Oregon is one of the most magnificent countrysides and blue skies that rivaled Georgia's, and so bright and inviting.  Until October.  Then the sun shut down for 4 1/2 months and the curious affect which is seasonal depression kicked in.  I mean, I’m from Georgia - we have SUN!!!  Even in the winter.  For that four months, before I decided I wasn’t made for the dreary skies of mist and gray, I agonized over the loss of light. 

Take away the illumination that we’ve created to stimulate, scintillate and direct toward whatever earthly goal we have in mind (we’re not living in the time of simple streetlights guiding our paths home through picket-fenced neighborhoods or the city’s vast burroughs) and you have the true light.  It’s inside us.  It’s burning, even if just an ember.  It’s real, like the sun.

I seek it daily. 

For me it is internal and eternal.  How can you capture the sun?  You don’t.  We as humans have found ways to harness and utilize it - think suntans to solar panels.  It is present, it is powerful and at least for me, it is life.

I am a seeker of the light.  The light that guides my day, hanging above the skies and the light that guides my heart.  Hovering amidst my spirit.  I found that living in an environment that looses the light for 4-5 months at a time isn’t conducive to my mental health.  And I know that even a day without seeking the light that guides my spirit is akin to death.

Where is the light?  In morning.  In coffee.  In real conversations with my peeps.  In placing my fears out on the table with a trusted friend (Fear Inventory - ask me about that if you really want some depth!). In music!  In my heart (“this little light of mine”).  In you.  In God.  Let’s be honest, if you know me, you know that my faith has been the one light that has walked though Luke’s cave (ROTJ), crawled up off my belly like Jonah, warmed and warned me when I was cold or in danger.  The light that shone when I was darkest.  It’s in the smiles of my kids, the hugs of dear friends.  It’s all around us. 

I hope you find your light.  Maybe it's something we could talk about.

For me, I’m gonna “Go where the light is!”

~ Peace

The Burtle 

Where the Light Is, Campbell - YouTube

the dark

It comes. 

Whether I want it to or not.

the dark.

It doesn’t come as often.  It doesn’t stay as long, but it still comes in like a dark cloud and sits.  Sits over my days and on my emotions.  And it doesn’t just go away. 

I pray.  Lean into God. 

I reach out now.  There were times in the past when I just dug a big hole to hide in.  Scared and alone.

 - - - - -

The people around me know what’s going on. 

It’s not subtle, it’s not easy, and it fucking sucks. 

For a day.  Maybe two or three. 

It comes. 

And it’s here right now.  I’m not crazy; I’m not losing my shit.  I’m just being honest, and it’s okay.

It’s going to be okay. 

Resting, but not wallowing; hurting, but not hurting myself. 

It’s a wave that I’ll ride.  Then the sun will come up and I’ll be okay. 

I know what to do now.  I know who to talk to, and I know how to keep it real.
 

 - - - - -

I retreat a little more when it’s like this.  Only wanting to be around those who know and understand. 

I am one of many.  I’m not alone.  There are so many others out there who understand the dark cloud of depression much better than I do.  Many others who are walking through this one day at a time. 

Mental health is a real thing.  How many of us have deficits there?

Don’t be scared.  Be brave.  Be open and let those who care about you know. 

Don’t take it for granted though, because it’ll fucking kill you.  It’ll end you if you don’t do the things. 

Talk to others. 

Journal. 

Pray. 

Walk. 

Breathe. 

Breathe again.

And sit in silence, knowing that it’s going to move on. 

“The sun’ll come up…

…tomorrow”

~ Peace

The Burtle