Twenty-three years ago today I woke up as a single person. (At age 24, I could barely call myself a man). Just out of college, I’d had a trip to South America, a year-long city plunge in L.A., and a summer camp job bizarrely combining night security and children’s music.
I was finding myself, as they say. I wanted to leave all Continue reading “Who You Are”
I’ve been feeling out of control lately. Increasingly aware that loving someone means part of my heart is strapped into the passenger seat of their car. Though seat-belted, there is nothing safe about it. They are at the wheel, and their impulses affect my outcomes.
There is much in life I can control. I like those things. Even if they involve hard work. I can study to learn a skill that takes my career in a new direction. I can, with help from a good counselor, learn to speak up for myself and break the cycle of people pleasing. I can save some money, buy a map, and go on a trip to Ecuador.
Lately though, I’ve felt so out of control that I’ve done something desperate: Continue reading “10,000”
Today we visited a church to hear a family we love play music. Man, the music was so good. Filling the small, high ceiling sanctuary were the organs of gospel music and the cadence of Americana. The fat and tender guitar riffs drifted into my soul. God was pressing on me, as he had many times before in worship. It nearly always took the form of tears, and this time was no exception.
Though the music was modern, some of the hymns were not: we sang “Standing on the Promises”, familiar from my childhood days at small Bible Chapels on the east coast. Back in those days, I’d memorized God’s promises from scripture through clubs like Awana: “I will never leave you nor forsake you”. The promises were God’s, given to a different people at a different time, but we were taught to take them on as our own.
But today I heard the promises in a new way. Continue reading “The People are the Promises”
When I was a young parent, the beach we frequented hosted a Pride Festival once a year. On that day we would go to a different beach. I can’t remember all that we were afraid of, but the answer is probably somewhere close to everything. We didn’t know what our young child might be exposed to, so it was avoided. (To be fair, it also wrecked the parking)
As that very child came of age, the ineffectiveness of protectiveness was revealed. She is attracted to other women, and covering her young eyes would not change that. And so, twenty years later, I found myself volunteering alongside her at that very same Pride Festival. How did I get over myself?
Continue reading “What I learned from my first PRIDE Parade”
A24 Films have done it again, first horrifying us by exposing our high school hearts @ladybird and now a disturbingly honest portrayal of @eighth grade. Spend your therapy money on seeing this film twice.
That is, if you’re ready to revisit 8th grade. Continue reading “Eighth Grade”
Back from vacation, with my brain as slow as a lime in an oceanside cerveza. Only now can I see how much my mind works overtime. Like the 405 freeway every brain lane is full, with thoughts honking and swerving to pass each other, overloading themselves to get into that carpool lane and move.
But now, clear air. Wide open country lanes are few but free, ideas fueling the engine to get things in motion.
The freedom comes NOT from multi-multi-multi-tasking, not from getting it all done so that it would be all done.
Instead: Continue reading “Breathing Still”