There was a time when I didn’t shave my head. There was a time when I dated a girl who had a black dog. There was a time I hiked every weekend…. I don’t miss those times, but I do remember…. Thought I’d share.
I have straddled fences, though. My recent decision to step out on a limb represents my attempt to jump a certain fence I have straddled for far too long. Although I tend to be confident, courageous, daring, and innovative, I possess a slender but deep vein of cautiousness - especially when dealing with relationships. To put it simply: I am not the easiest person to get close to.
I am a good listener, and I will speak about "personal" and "deep" things perhaps more so than many men. These two traits have a tendency to lull the other person into believing that they are getting to know me and know me well. In a way, they are, of course - just like you would "know" the plot of ground you have owned and lived upon for twenty years. If you never took the time to explore below its surface, though, you would never know that the ground possesses a rich vein of gold, or oil, or some valuable ore, or hazardous waste. For twenty years, people have "known" me only to find out later that they have been damaged by the contents of my heart… only to find out later that they failed to discover the richness of my spirit… only to find out later that they didn’t know me at all.
Sometimes, the other person bears most of the responsibility for such failures. Most of the time, it is all me. I have a layer of bedrock beneath the rich topsoil. To reach what lies beneath requires too much work for most. To weaken that almost-impenetrable layer requires too much work for me. Until now.
While not exactly qualifiying as a SuperFund site, this heart and soul and spirit has been in need of extensive clean-up. Responsible parties are nonexistent, except the one in the mirror. So, I have ponied up the initial expenses and am mining for more funds. Clean-up is underway. Before long, the rich layer of topsoil will be nothing compared to what lies beneath. It may not always be easy to get to, but it won’t be impossible, either. Maybe I will learn that giving all of one’s self is … um… super fun.
I have known that I am a difficult person to love. However, apparently I am an easy person to want to love. I remain forever distant to some degree, though, and that wears on a person who has laid themselves bare. I have straddled this fence between protection and sacrifice for far too long, even though I have known that love is sacrifice. I am jumping the fence. I am hoping to get back up when I fall.
Never take lightly
Shades of a sunrise slaking
The dark thirst of waking
Hills dressed in early spring
Nightcaps garnered with foglace
Even though Momma’s probably up
By now and the house is one
Big coffeepot steaming done
So I smell coffee outside
I always am a child when I think
Of Poppa and of dreams
And of Momma’s old surprise
The magic coffee sunrise
Never take lightly
All those burnt summer evenings
Between the trees behind the house -
The two dogs chased squirrels
And I sat until the sweat dried
Mostly wondering if dogs cry
They look so like they know some things
I like to run with them at night
In visions tomorrow wide
I sometimes drift away when I spy
Chimney smoke flapping in the wind
And clouds floating vividly
Above a pastoral mountainside
Never take lightly
But the milking and feeding
And mowing need done by noon
Then the fence the far pasture’s needing
Must be up by new moon
Baby brother will soon be here
Pondering the sunrise, reckoning
Son, the tomorrows keep beckoning
Ages pass year by year
I laugh at becoming my parents
Still, their sun shines brightly
The mountains are quenched – time to rise
Long working day – don’t eat lightly
~jericho~
Apparently, judging by some email I have received, some are a tad worried that my previous post indicates some dire circumstances over here on My Side of the Mountain. While allowing that what constitutes "dire" is relative, I assure you that my current situation is one entered into by choice. I have options. I once had many more. Systematically, I have eliminated most of my other choices. I closed the doors on relationships that could have served as options. I threw away the schematic that showed the way to other possibilities. I cauterized the tendrils that kept me linked to other worlds, others’ worlds. I must do this without a net, or at least without a net that I strive mightily to secure. I must have faith.
In the spring of 2004, I was making a little over $75,000 per year working as corporate counsel. During the work week, I was lucky if I got home in time to bathe my kids and tuck them in bed. I spent Saturdays and Sundays with the kids. My desire to spend time with them negated my spending too much time on writing, music, and other personal pursuits. As a result, and after much contemplation and worry, I left that job and became a teacher. My salary decreased by one-third. Soon thereafter, a major home repair swiped $4,000 from the security blanket. A few months after that, the mom’s minivan was totaled by Bambi, so add a car payment where once there was none. Add the incredible mess my Jeep was in, and subtract another $4,000. All of a sudden, the one-third decrease in salary doesn’t seem so manageable. I had much more time to spend with the kids, though, and that made everything ok.
Throughout all this, I journeyed through the maze of self, setting priorities, establishing and abandoning and re-setting more firmly my convictions. I learned much about who I am and what I need. I decided to discover my personal purpose and to pursue it. We all have purposes. One purpose I serve and will forever strive to perfect is that of being a daddy. Another is to become and remain a better son, brother, and friend to others. Another is to be a good steward of what is given to me to manage. Arguably, of course, the first two purposes can be subsets of that last one. That said, you now know where I found myself: what has been given to me and how shall I proceed in order to manage it well?
I can work construction. Specifically, I can refinish hardwood floors, roof a house, work in drywall and carpentry, and service plumbing works and some electrical. I can perform many auto repair services on my own. I can play the piano, write music, and even sing a little. I can conduct legal research, draft legal documents, and put together and argue a case. I can teach. I can write well, which is a dying art, if you ask me. I can manage a restaurant. I can manage a human resources department. I can build amazing forts and even design and build great towns for the Hot Wheels set. What type of steward of these talents and abilites have I been?
Without boring you with too much background, suffice it to say that I am an attorney because I can be one. What I wanted to do was to continue studying music and writing and be the starving artist/teacher, content with who and what I am instead of pursuing what others thought was best for me. I didn’t do that. The reasons are simple, and how it happened is easy to understand. I’ll share it if you want, or you can wait for the day it shows up here.
Meanwhile, I have two unfinished novels on the shelf. I have written 62 pages in one and 131 in the other. I have 14 songs that should be taken in a studio and recorded so that I can let them go for whatever is destined for them. I need to return to the things that I have buried. You may not read the Bible, much less believe it, but the parable of the talents is one that transcends religious dogma. The parable tells of three servants who each received "talents" (money) from their master, with each tasked to manage the talents until the master returned. Upon the master’s return, one servant, scared of losing the master’s money, had hidden the talent in order to preserve it. The master was upset that the servant had not managed well, so the master took the talent from the servant. I have set aside the spade, dusted off the mason jars, and prayed that it is not too late.
I am going to work on saving enough money to get into the studio. I am going to pursue those things that I set aside because they were not "practical." I am going to fulfill the purposes of this heart and soul. Contentment lies not in achievement, but in knowing why you strive.
…another layer stripped away….
I did it. Fifteen minutes ago. I submitted my resignation. I have no job lined up. I have no great plan. I have no lottery winnings or large nest egg to live on. In fact, I believe that I could make it for three months without any income if I had to. Yet, I am not worried. I am stepping out on that limb, not worrying about what’s below.
The coming weeks will be busy, as I transition out of this office. Each day, I will leave with a load of books and papers that belong to me. In the end, there shouldn’t be much left. I have already cleared the computer of my files, and I now use a flash drive. Also, I will begin to make living and work arrangements.
If you have read this blog for any length of time, you may know that I have lived in a restaurant and in my car. Oh, yeah. Let me tell you, in case you have wondered. First of all, I don’t advise using your vehicle as boudoir. However, some vehicles serve this function in passable fashion. Generally, my Jeep Cherokee works well as a place to crash. However, when the back seats are folded forward and half of the cargo space is filled with a keyboard, PA system, amps, clothing, books, journals, and the detritus of the typical nomadic pack rat, well… there isn’t much room left to sleep. It’s all in how you pack, though. I am a master at that.
Once you have determined that you are sleeping in the vehicle, though, you need to concern yourself with where you are going to park said vehicle. I have found that Wal-Mart Supercenter parking lots are safest, provide sufficient lighting to allow one to read without draining the car’s battery, and are close to sufficient indoor plumbing and supplies if such are needed. As an added bonus, there are all sorts of fun to be had in the parking lot in the wee hours of the morning: People watching; Noticing how many others are sleeping in their cars; Freaking people out when they see you arise from the back of the car… alone. When sleeping in your car, though, (again, I do not advise such sleeping habits) you must be aware of safety concerns. If you are a nervous person, a worrier, or otherwise disposed to frantic bouts of fear at just the mere thought of someone standing outside your house… none of this is for you.
In more rural areas, I find a logging road and pull down into the woods. I like that best. Granted, there are other things to fear there, and if one is truly and wholly unfamiliar with the area, well… who’s to say what danger lurks beyond the shadows? I usually create an illusion, though - one that probably scares others as much as they would scare me if they only knew.
What now? Good question. I am up for a road trip. Anyone want to strike a deal? Tomorrow is in our hands, soft, pliable clay. I am plopping it on the wheel. Everything else has been spinning, spinning, spinning. I stepped off that dizzying ride. I am now a work in progress, and I have my own potter’s wheel as well. My hands are unsure. My experience is but a resource. My plans are in the pen which is perched above a blank sheet of paper. But my vision is golden.
