Late Spring has proven a bit blog-dull as I haven't posted in a while. I began this blog in an effort to share a bit of our daily life with loved ones near and far. I began this blog because after an ugly divorce, public journaling became the only way I could write. I began this blog because I wanted to slow down the fast-forward moments of everyday life...to pause and treasure the mundane, the ordinary, the common-place. I began this blog for many reasons and now I find myself asking if those same reasons apply for continuing it. I am in the self reflection process right now, reinvisioning my relationship to the cyber media and how I would like to see it evolve or not evolve. Occasionally, I feel like a blog lends itself to a onesided reflection of life or self (particularly when I read the inviable blogs of others, oozing with creativity) . We rarely post photos of the many hair tearing moments, or post about the many airballs, stumbles and jostles of humanhood. And yet it is the whole picture that is truly beautiful...the guts and the glory... the sticky, dirty grime and the flowering, blossoming radiance. It is the union of these that provides the basic warp and weft of life. I am trying to find balance, while treasuring the beauty in each moment... the muddy child who poops in his pants rather than leave the treasure trove of dirt and water he has discovered, the flower blossoming in agonizing splendor, a body struggling toward health, a ten year old growing up achingly fast, a fabulous man seeking to discover himSelf, and my own imperfectly evolving self who continues to surprise, disappoint, astound and inspire. Yes, all these and a life so filled with beauty that I ache to remove the blinders of self to see it clearly.
Some days, you just have to forget about ‘healing’. You have to stop trying to feel better, trying to overcome your emotional wounds, or trying to be anywhere other than where you are. You have to embrace the day as it is. And you have to give yourself the most sacred permission of all: To shatter. To break. To be an ugly mess. To lean into a place of utter humility and powerlessness in yourself. To cry out to the heavens, “I can’t do this!” To admit utter defeat in the loss of the life you had imagined. To crumble to the ground, lonely and hopeless and profoundly ruined. To want to die, even. And there, in the darkest places, in the blackness of the underworld, you may begin to rediscover... life. And learn to love the beginnings. A sacred reboot: A single breath. The way the sun warms your face. The sound of a tiny bird singing in the tree over there. The raw simplicity of a single moment of human existence. Hell has been transmuted, thr...


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