Dear Bridget

The only woman who understands
barbershops is a woman barber.

The rest just pretend,
call it a haircut

when it’s an awakening,
a becoming of becoming

who we can be, shaping
rough edges that make us

men. What makes us men
is more than talcum and shears—

we need eyes to see our ugly,
ears to hear our fears,

razor blades to shave away
what no longer serves us

as men.

Step in unkept.
Step out a new man,

less of you but more complete,
now aware that what could be

can be. You are what no other man
can be.

“What will it be?”

Pain, Art

Pain, because you can’t heal
if you don’t feel your scars,
relive forbidden memories, and
forgive yourself to give yourself
hope for tomorrow.

Art, because pain needs a place
to rest in peace, broken pieces
make masterpieces before
weary eyes. Be proud of this, be
witness of tomorrow.

Therapy, because dragons can’t
be slain in broad daylight. Daybreak
breaks silence once feared, now embraced
with hope, with witness, with a brave heart—
freedom in tomorrow.  

Keep Walking

There’s a plastic bag taped to
a streetlight in my town protecting
a piece of computer paper
with a message of hope on it.

I read it once and learned
that caterpillars grow alone
and maybe I do, too.
But I knew that already.

I kept walking but the
caterpillar’s eyes made me
uncomfortable. They followed me
to see if I would listen this time.

A mosquito bit my arm
and I killed it.
It’s hard being hideous in
a world full of miracles.

Every time I pass the taped bag
there’s another piece of paper
with another message of hope.
Tomorrow I’ll walk a different way.

I want a small life

Not a big one or one that’s filled with stuff. Forget making a difference or impact; I want to make art and leave it at that.

Everybody wants to help, but nobody asks who wants it. So we create problems and pay other people to solve them.

A good life is a small life where my house is in order. Your life isn’t my life, so I’ll stay in my corner.

Think small and be small, I’m not trying to show off. Because when the show turns off what’s left is what’s right here.

Make it yours

I often find myself wanting to quote others. The education system has made me fearful of plagiarism (rightfully so), so citations are essential. But the system has also made me afraid of thinking for myself. I look outside myself for answers, and generating original ideas (if there is such a thing) isn’t a skill I’m expert at.

Here’s what I realized today: when you say somebody else’s words, that power becomes a part of you. You become one with whatever message those words hold, and you resonate at the same frequency. There’s a unicity of perspective engendered simply by the act of sharing.

IN-Q is my favorite poet, and today I tweeted a verse of his. It’s from his poem Say Yes from his new poetry collection, Inquire Within. It goes like this:

See, everywhere you are is where you’re supposed to be.

So hopefully you’re hopelessly

as lost as me,

’cause if you’re not, you oughta be.

from Say Yes by IN-Q

When I tweeted that, when I shared his words and gave him credit, the message was his but I was the vessel. We brought it to the world together, in mutual agreement. I felt the verse more when I wrote it down and shared it with others.

Don’t be afraid of saying what’s already been said. Everything has been said before, but not by you. You’re unique, and your voice is important. Only you can say it from your perspective.

Only you can make it yours.

How to Start Something

  1. Remember all the things you’ve tried before (like blogging every day).
  2. Take stock of which pursuits were successful in the moment and which were successful after some time.
  3. Next, note the failures and your shortcomings. See if they have, in fact, made you a more well rounded individual, more robust in your knowledge.
  4. Now forget all that. These past outcome, whether positive or negative, have no say on your destiny.
  5. Time to get creative. Think of something new you can try, something that will challenge you and push you to become better than you are currently. This thing can be less ambitious than previous initiatives or just as ambitious (such as blogging every day, only this time not worrying if any single day has been missed). Past attempts ought to hold no significance over any future endeavors, though it would be foolish to not embrace your newfound, innate wisdom.
  6. Make a list of what you ought to do to fulfill this task. Perhaps a checklist, maybe an intention. Either way, there should be some means to identify your success.
  7. Make a commitment to yourself, a pact to do your best to uphold your end of the bargain into the foreseeable future. If desirable, create an end date for this new practice. Leave it open-ended if you’re more easy going.
  8. Do your best.
  9. Forgive yourself when you slip up.
  10. Continue until you’re done. You’ll know when the time has come.
  11. Repeat this process, paying special attention to number 4.
  12. Embrace your childhood wonder, that ambition present deep within your being. Hold it close and become it’s ally. Together, you will accomplish many great feats.

The Richest Chocolate in the World

As Camille and I walked through town this afternoon, we came across a French bakery. Fluffy croissants and muffins enlivened the display window and espresso beans filled the air. We heard this place had desserts as well, so we poked around until we found the counter in the back of the store. Elegant macaroons, cakes, and chocolate boxes filled the shelves. The chocolates were calling to us.

We asked the woman behind the counter if she could show us the chocolates closer. She picked a box from the display and opened it, unveiling nine perfectly arranged chocolates of different shapes and flavors. But if we wanted one, we had to buy the entire box.

“How much for the box?” I questioned.

“Twenty six dollars and fifty cents,” she responded promptly.

“Okay, I’ll take one. It must be worth the price.”

There Camille and I sat, eating each decadent chocolate as if it were the first time and last time we would ever try it. Every bite was savored, each flavor experienced. We saved four pieces for a rainy day—a day when we’ll need to be reminded of wha the good life tastes like.

We left the French eatery satisfied at our chocolate excursion, grateful for the opportunity of encountering these special treats.

—————————

You’re postulations are correct. This story is a lie. Camille and I did walk into a French bakery in town today, and we did explore the rich box of chocolates. But we didn’t buy it. How could anybody justify spending $26.50 on chocolate on a regular Sunday afternoon? I love chocolate. I could eat a dark chocolate bar a day and never get sick of it. In fact, last week I bought three chocolate bars on sale for only $2.61 and ate them in three days.

And guess what? Those were my three best days in recent memory. I was in love with myself and the chocolate as I respectfully devoured it. I was filled with joy and peace and a sense of completeness. Nothing mattered in the moments of my chocolate indulgence. The only available emotion was love. And each bar was worth 87 cents.

The richest chocolate in the world is the chocolate you slow down for and make the time to savor. Don’t fall into the expensive trap (that is, if it’s expensive it must taster better and, therefore, should be savored). You make chocolate decadent by experiencing it fully. If you never slow down to taste it, there’s never any difference between quality and experience. You’re just overpaying for a Hershey’s bar.

The richest chocolate in the world is the chocolate you slow down for and make the time to savor. Trust me, that Trader Joe’s dark chocolate peanut butter cup would have made Jesus cry tears of joy.

Chicken Stock

You are the chicken to my broth

and the bones to my stock.

Today we simmer united—

never to be separate again.

What’s a Light?

What makes a light more meaningful: that it produces light, or that it shows us what’s right in front of us?

How to be Here in 2020: Creating Meaningful Intentions

I don’t make resolutions as much as intentions. A resolution can be kept or broken. An intention is a standard the can be measured up to. When trying times come, the intention remains, standing tall like a stick stands in the mud. My intention for 2020 is to remind myself that, “I Am Here.”

I spent a good portion of the last decade worrying. I worried about past mistakes, about future challenges, and about if I would ever become successful. I can happily report that most of what I worried about was nonsensical, though some of it manifested as I had thought. For instance, I didn’t yet die from running a hard workout, but Flow Training hasn’t taken off as I had hoped, meaning I’m running tight on cash.

But there is good news through it all: I am still here. My feet are planted firmly on the ground and my life, though uncertain, continues on. Joyfully.

You know the smell of burning hair? The one that occurs when your hairs are singed as you carelessly cook on a gas stove? If you’re like me, you almost instantly get upset at yourself, wondering how you could be so foolish. You fail to recognize the bigger picture: maybe your hairs got burned so your skin wouldn’t have to.

2019 was the year of anger over singed hairs. 2020 is the year of gratitude for the burns and no expectations for anything less the next time I cook. 2020 is for being here, now, as the late Ram Das suggested.

I Am Here, and that’s what matters.