still breathing...

life is very seldom what it seems at first glance. we never end up at the end of the path we think we are walking down.

to make it, just to survive sometimes, we must call upon our future selves, draw up the spirit of the mature, mighty oak already alive and well within us to carry us along in the thin times that stretch us and threaten to break us limb from limb. but there is provision out there, laid up in waiting for us, ready to cradle us in layers of soft peace.

yet i find myself trying to suck in the air, instead of relenting, and allowing the free flowing breath to rush into me. i fretfully try and hold all the little shards of the present between my fingers, hoping to put the pieces together into my jig-sawed future. but, oh, the buoyancy and flight that we have when we 'breathe past' the hills and valleys.

tomorrow is here, and the present is one thought behind you. hindsight gives that crystal vision that we needed today. we crave it, that blessed perspective that equalizes. but for such a future minded people (or at least we hope to be), we fall prey to the so essentially and desperately human problem of being stuck in our present.

i'm not saying leave no thought for today. but it's rolling and frothing, wavelike, desiring to carry us forward or to suck us down into the tumult beneath the waters.

i'm, one day at a time, one step closer to finding my breathing pattern, and i'm just trying not to drown...

oh, waning moon, you leave me wanting...,

i always wait with such innocent anticipation for that full moon. and it always seems to take forever to fill that last little bit in. and then, if you don't catch it right....if you don't see it in it's full beauty, it slips effortlessly away. that golden moment passes and leaves you with days and weeks of familiar anticipation.

the lunar cycle of these events in my recently life have been occurring with great radiance. but here i am on the waning side, and the waiting is torturous.

oh how the moon, that harvest moon, that peaked over the mesa horizon in Hopiland, was full and shown for what seemed like night after night. the fullness and ecstasy of that surreal time with RedFeather, hung in the air those same nights. but that time and now that memory is feeling like that last slipping silver sliver.

then the expectation and all that came along with the move. now here i am in Nash, the roads becoming familiar, and here i am in my own apartment writing, bereft of typical furnishings, yet content. the warm feeling of this new home contrasts with a constant, yet waning, feeling of displacement.

my anticipation, (which i believe is a sane and necessary human trait but must be tempered with a simultaneous present-focused revelry in what you already possess), now turns me to thoughts of a job, a career. hard to find. harder in these times.

on a side note, i'm enjoying the cooler weather, and rather looking forward to sweaters, and scarves and that winter melancholy that is soothed with another warm body, hot coffee, and a burning fireplace.

just need to catch a break, i think. and i'm feeling right on the verge of that. i can see the moon is almost full again, and the waiting is almost over...

definition and dreams

trying hard not to equate job stability with the sense of place or home. but it's hard not to. hard to find great places who just aren't ready or able to hire. hard to find places anxious to hire but not quite right for me. hard to feel like one of the cattle, out on the much-too-small-range, hustling for my piece.

don't want to miss the opportunities. but don't want to jump just at the first prospect just because i'm hungry. want, most of all, to find the right job. the place that is going to give my heart peace, my hands challenging work. can't give up, though it's all i want to do after a hard day like today.

i am at a place of faith, if i've ever seen one. i need to trust that i'm gonna be okay, but do the necessary leg work. need to trust that the right thing is gonna come along, but i can't wait for it.

some moments of the day, i want to better my station and move up and outward to places unknown. sometimes i just want to be a simple carpenter who knows who he is and cherishes life in the same way he appreciates a fine piece of wood.

this crossroads, this junction, is so much more than just a marker in my life. i am choosing how to define myself, and the weight of such things is pressing.

i am thankful for the little i do know and i do have:

for her.
for my health.
for my dreams.

i suppose that is enough for now...

pacing my life...

(the new band in my ears: Fleet Foxes....check 'em out...)


do we consider pace as an important aspect of our lives?

it seems as if the world has picked up to a break-neck speed and shows no sign of slowing. and i feel as if i'm working very hard to slow down my little slice of this world. what's more, a slower pace of life has almost become synonymous to some with a backwards and archaic modus operandi. the coasts of this great land speed ahead without considering what can be learned from anything less then light-speed. so here i am. in the midst of slower paced part of the country. trying to find my place.

i had two interviews today that couldn't have been more different. one with a woodworker that cared about detail and excellence, who saw his integrity as connected and reflective of his craftsmanship. moving only as fast as the work dictates, making sure that work is second to faith and family. quality above productivity.

the second was with a marketing firm, where if you weren't bettering business no matter what the cost and producing no matter the time it took, you were dead weight and not worth the breath it took to tell you. my head was spinning with the lightning-fast thoughts and retorts that it took to respond to the interviewers machine-gun questioning. pitting me blatantly against the others at that cattle call.

since Ford or the industrial revolution we have lauded productivity and the speed therein more than the skill of the working man, on which all of it was built. we streamline ourselves, to make more time for everything else. but if we lose our souls, our skills, our basic human understanding, what do we have left to spend our time on?

i'm scared that i'm in a squeeze. that the hunger and the need for money to make my little world keep turning, will inevitably force me to a place where i can't make the slow pace life work.

I want the freedom to provide for my future family without having to give up the pace of life that keeps me close to the earth, that keeps me close to people, and close to the things that really matter in the end.

new day, new life, new land, new post...

i have landed. folded up the sail. tucked in the wings. put down the map and compass.

here i will stay, nest, and build a new life.

nashville, my terra incognita.

had a little bit of a lapse in strength and mental stability as the wave of newness washed over me. (all the ocean i'm gonna get now, is in metaphor...) i'm okay now, as this pulsing pulsing back and forth has brought me to a point of peace. sweet. and then bittersweet. back and forth, rocking me in my little boat. every hour, everyday i feel better, i'm getting my sea (life) legs. i'm finding my place. this is now my home.

i'm on the cusp of so much, and i can feel it. i'm at a bakery, to poor to buy bread, pretending that coffee is a meal, stealing internet. i'm about to take possession of my first apartment. one that is all mine (at least until april, when carly and i get married...). yet, i have nothing to furnish it with but camping supplies. it's a wonder that i can survive anywhere else but in the woods. i am not immediately suited for this city living...but i'm coming into it.

we were just in kentucky, enjoying the wedding of her sister. (a preview of things to come...) but now we have reached that place and time that has been anticipated for so long. even from the beginning, this point is where our future sight had been set. and now we are here. and the vision must now refocus. to all that is to come from here on out.

my spirit already aches for the open road and the wilds of open space. but i wonder if it's not to be trusted this time. perhaps it's not that old familiar wanderlust, but fear instead. fear of newness. fear of change. fear of failing.

so i'll do the harder thing and stay put and fight. for every inch and every interview. to make friends and a life. to find home here now, instead of in the ever elusive unknown.

i was told yesterday that we have only what God gives us and only in his timing. and i'm trying hard to live that.

stay with me on this journey...i need those close to me now more than ever...

wonderful silence

so. the post you've all been waiting for.

SHE'S HERE!

quite the ongoing surreal experience. that only seems to be getting better, day after amazing-norcal-sunshine-day. yes. the love of my life arrived on the afternoon of wednesday. the last two days have been wonderful, and the excitement shows no sign of stopping (given the adventures we are about to depart on).

i remember driving to the airport to get her. i was sitting in traffic. it was strangely silent, even if only in my head. i was worrying if i was going to make it. when i really began to realize what was happening. i was about to step through a door, and nothing was ever going to be the same. but these are the doors we live for. metaphysical signposts that show us that we are in fact growing, moving forward to new and better places. there was that calm before it all. that realization.

and then, there she was, standing in the airport, laden with much luggage, existing between two lives, waiting for me to scoop her up and show her what this new home was like. that long-distance newness, (that feeling of missing someone, and being without them, only to after all that time, have them standing before you...), was beautifully sharp. but i was glad, though it's novelty felt good, to know that it was the last time i would experience those feelings in that way.

it was good. there is a time and season for everything after all. and let me tell you, that season is done done done. onto the newness of seeing each other every day. hmmm, that's good.

so, we drove back to Novato, brought her home to her little studio apartment that she can call all her own, and settled into, what felt like, the rest of our lives. she laughed at me when i told her this, and said that every day could be considered the 'rest of our lives'. i told her it was special that day. she smiled cause she knew what i meant. we sat in silence. wonderful silence.

we went out to Lagunitas last night to share a meal with and spend the evening with Galen, my spirit-connected-friend from long ago. his house in those beautiful redwoods has finally been finished. the creek, washing by, babbled with it's appreciation. nestled, quite literally, between the trees, we enjoyed good food, good wine (from a sweet jug!), a hot stove fire, and soft, heart-resonating music played so effortlessly by Galen. there was a silence out there, as my eyes became so heavy. i was being lulled. the serenity cut deep and calmed us all. there was no other world, there was only the musical silence captured between those four beautiful walls.

we are packing today, for the travels that we soon depart on. but right now, i'm trying hard to hold onto all that silence. take it with me, tuck it my shirt pocket, and let it carry me from one God-given-day to the next.

map obsessed

maps. a wonderful resource. cartography, a ancient profession. both art and science. printed on paper. read and often poured over. yet, books, they are not.

they became increasingly necessary, only now to lose their value in these modern times. after our mayflowered forefathers wistfully (yet intentionally) were blown across the pond, the discovery of a new world, gave way to a great need for maps, of both high and low quality.

as the virgin grandure of america was explored, an interesting thing happened. men, mountain men, bold and nearly hewn from the very earth itself, came to be as important, if not more than the maps that showed where they had been. guides they became. they studied the world around them, not just following the written instructions of others, when it came time to move forward.

where have our modern guides gone?

i sat at the breakfast table this morning looking for an article or something to read. (it just seems right to have food, coffee, and something to read while passing those precious few morning minutes). there were no papers or magazines. but just beyond my coffee cup, alone on the vast empty table, was a map. a map of my little home town. i spread it open, and let the little roads wind around on the table. i let the parks and green spaces unfold and whisper promises of hikes and adventures. i laid it out, and began to traverse my familiar piece of the world in my mind.

how funny i must have looked, intently pouring over this map, detailed though it was, of a relatively inconsequential place in this big world. yet, there i was, lost and enraptured.

i have a confession. i'm kind of a map junkie. i love them. and not because i always want to know exactly where i am. but rather, to see the roads and the possibilities they represent. (i've even been known to, while driving those long stretches, to crack open that atlas and just wonder).

having a map is also an opportunity to look back and see where i've been. looking back. moving hundreds of miles an hour as i trace my finger across the lines. oh the places i can go, the things i can see in memory, as fingertips press the pages.

but i'm realizing something. all those maps are no good without the map in my head to go with it. at the end of the day, they are just papers with lines on them. the wide countryside, the beauty, the roads, are only meaningful in us.

the forests need no maps to tell them where they are. they only need us, in their midst. so, at the end of the day, all the maps and atlases in the world are nothing, if we do not learn from where we have been or have the foresight to see where we are going. if, after a bit, we cannot do away with the maps, we do not even deserve to have them.

i see more and more clearly where i have been, both on the road and through the years. i am looking to where i am going. and let me tell you, it's definitely uncharted territory. but, i'm finding that if i put down all the maps i've been given, and breathe deep the brisk air, i actually do know which way to go.

so, if you find my compass and maps, don't worry, we're finding our own way...

168 miles an hour

i am nearing these awaited days. her coming and our leaving.

it's funny. the cycle of things. i find myself, again, anticipating the day in which i will take to the open road. leave the day to day worries behind.

it's like a spring. coiling round and round. from one view, life seems cyclical. round and round we go. from another, we see the upward movement we make. where we have come from and where we are going. round and round, up and up. ever progressing. ever circling.

there were so many days last summer, that i hated the road. the silent, singular wandering. i longed for the stability that i have found in her. i still do.

but, i see that old wanderlust differently than i once did. that the love of the pavement, the swiftly passing trees, and all the little things that seem like they only can exist 'on the road'. i find myself longing to feel it all again. but not in the same way as before. but with her this time.

almost as if having her in the car, as we traverse the roads i have come to know and love, will seal them up behind me. sew up the fabric of that old man i used to be. draw the line in the sand, the rolling countryside, between once was and what is present and future. i want to trace that line one last time, just as i did before.

how do we measure things. how can you place a price or a value on open air. or matchless time spent with the love of my life. people ask me how i can afford to travel, to volunteer, to turn my cell phone off.

how can we afford to do anything. by focusing, while we do the work of our hands, on all those things that will redeem the time, and cannot be paid for any other way.

i figured it out the other day. every hour that i work right now, i can travel 168 miles in my car with my lady at my side. every hour that i work now, i can buy a piece of the future that i want.

there is a strange and wonderful lull that sweeps over me even now as i write. for in a week she will be here. and our time of being apart will come to a silent end. we will come and we will go. but we will do it all together.

everything is about to never be the same. everything is about to be better than i've ever expected.

saturday mornings

(setting the scene: i'm listening to the 'Juno' soundtrack...amazing indie epicness)

so. i have my cup of coffee. 'Major Dickason's Blend'. it's pretty good, but the name makes it awesome. i know i might be letting the cat out of the bag here, but i will confess that occasionally (most all the time) i purchase items (coffee, wine, etc.) based on the name. or the label. yes i know. a haphazard and potentially foolish way to make culinary decisions. but i have to tell you. more often than not, i'm quite pleased. my three favorite wines were all purchased based on their cool names/labels.

so i've gotten off track. surprise surprise.

i woke up this morn around 8. early by some standards, late by others. but i venture that on any old saturday morning, 8 is on the early side of things. after all, we work all week, waking in those morning weekday hours. most people are looking forward to saturday just to have a break, a rest, a chance to 'sleep in'.

in fact, i think that we spend a great portion of our lives anticipating saturday.

it's funny, though, our sleep cycles in connection with saturdays. i have three memories of saturdays, including today. each a different time in life.

the first fond memory i have of the idea of 'saturday morning' was when i was a little kid. no more than 5 or 6. saturday morning represented autonomy, freedom, and relaxation. (actually, i think that's what it's always been about, just seen differently...) the parents would sleep in a bit more than usual. i would wake up early, though. 6am. head out to the living room. saturday morning cartoons awaited. a small plastic bowl of Kix or Crispix. a little dry cereal and some G.I.Joe and i was a happy camper. it was my time, before i fully understood how great that fact was.

second memory being that of a lazy teenager. seemed as though i could never get enough sleep. and saturday represented the one day where i could give myself fully over to that need. and quite literally sleep away the day. freedom was found in sleep and dreams and not having to go to school.

today, i remark, i have come full circle. in some ways, i guess. now, at almost 27, i cannot sleep for hours upon hours, like my teenage self. no, now, i get a headache if i sleep past 9am. but i don't usually get there on a saturday morning. now, it's up early cause there is much to always be done. stuff that seems to be impossible to accomplish during the week. now, i wake early to be productive. or at least attempt productivity.

we are always pushing toward saturday. we work for the chance to do what we want on saturday. we are always seeking that freedom.

and eventually, when i have a family. i will strive for saturday so that my son can have his autonomy, freedom and quietly eat his dry cereal.

intersections and infusions

alright, alright, alright. i'm in trouble. i have become slack. there is no one to apologize to, and none will be enough to satisfy the guilt in my head. this digital journal is as much a taskmaster as it is a welcome reprieve. (i think that 'reprieve' might be one of my favorite words. that and 'ache'. but i digress...)

here i am, though.

funny thing, i've been in Novato for weeks and have not penned a single word. have taken yesterday, today and tomorrow off to drive down to SB for my own version of a weekend. inevitably, something about movement, for me, stirs those creative juices and calls me to write. something about getting outside of my norm. the final ingredient. the necessary catalyst.

truthfully, i know not who follows me or cares to read this. i write blindly into the abyss of ones and zeros. for myself. to keep a record of where i've been. for a wonderful peace of mind that can only come from written accomplishment.

but it was jonathan hicks, old friend, who tongue-in-cheek, indited me for losing my resolve.

so here i am. resolved. resolving. chalk full of resolve. that is until i lose my way again. bear with me, my friends. i am but a wayward, distracted storyteller. shiny objects and a certain beautiful woman are my obvious weaknesses.

i'm down in SB for Mr Casey Caldwell's bachelor party. festivities and general, albeit mild, revelry will ensue following the completion of this post. (a raise of hands for those that thought that was unnecessarily wordy...)

for those of you that haven't heard, my beautiful and talented girlfriend has conquered the beast we came to know as Architecture School. diploma in hand, adorned in stoles and cords, she walked out of that strange life, and into the wide world that i have become so optimistic about.

eminently, she joins me and my conflicted thoughts about California, in this ever-beloved state that i have grown up in. leaving worry (and mississippi) behind, we will finally be together in this long awaited summer. road trips to Montana and Hopi-land, AZ. family camping. stolen afternoons. quiet nights. lazy saturday mornings with the fam. but above all else, the incredibly appealing, desperately normal, day to day that has been absent. the final two week (or so) countdown is here.

there is definitely the feeling of convergence. intersections of life. some are exciting, some daunting. much is happening. the world feels slightly technicolor alive. some mysterious infusion of energy. there is a buzz, a hum. you just need to roll the window down and listen...