fear

Hidden Gifts – Day 1021

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Jellyfish – Hidden Gifts – The Ocean Oracle by Susan Marte

Hidden Gifts

At least tonight drawing a few cards for wisdom and watchwords didn’t feel completely alien. The atmosphere surrounding life itself continues to feel out of sync to me. Things are off. Even the weather seems confused and ill-tempered. The temperature here dropped twenty degrees yesterday, but the humidity seemed to have increased, which seems impossible as everything’s sopping wet already. But could our inclination to withdraw into ourselves to escape lead to the discovery of hidden gifts?

That’s what a quick consultation with The Ocean Oracle would seem to suggest.

Instead of getting fancy, I asked the age-old cop-out question I use when I’m not sure what else to ask: “What do we need to know right now?”

Jellyfish – Hidden Gifts

“The Story

The florescence of the object drew her towards it. It was a jellyfish, washed up on the shore, its whole being spread upside down before her. She realized with some clarity the luck at the jellyfish being reversed. Upright and she would have risked stepping on it, not being able to distinguish its translucent shape with the beach around it. She bent down to study the still creature, noticed how out of its natural environment it instilled awe in her, and not fear. She thought how often we give more power to things through fear, things that out of context are diminished; safe; unalarming. She saw the intricate beauty as the jellyfish was laid bare before her. She was able to study the hidden side of this perceived danger with a sort of reverence – she never realized the beauty which resided in this creature, because she never had the opportunity, or took the time, to look. There were so many hidden gifts to be thankful for.

The Messages

Are you in a situation where you have to look deeper, or beneath, in order to see the hidden gifts before you? Even if you cannot physically remove yourself from the presence of what you perceive to be threatening or harmful, in your mind or heart remove yourself to equal ground. Turn the situation around to see the gifts being offered to you. There is huge fear around how things can hurt you, but do not let this distract from the gifts they offer. Edit the voice which tells us that what appears dangerous and poisonous and harmful we must stay away from or watch out for because it will hurt us. There are gifts in every situation.”

At the Foundation

Underneath the startlingly relevant card described above was the Shark card – Opportunity. The simple fact of Opportunity laying at the foundation of the Hidden Gifts speaks volumes.

For now, however, I leave us all to the ‘opportunity’ to contemplate what hidden gifts might be presenting themselves to each of us right now. Hidden gifts that we might otherwise be afraid of, but which are precisely what we require in the moment.

(T-90)

Hunker Down – Day 998

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Arf! – Photo: L. Weikel

Hunker Down

Is it just me? Or are you guys feeling it too? Lately I can’t even walk into the grocery store without feeling an edginess in the air that’s unlike anything I’ve felt before (especially in the grocery store!). Even when the pandemic was first starting to rear its ugly head back in March and April 2020, I didn’t feel this level of anxiety in the general populace. If you ask me it’s time to hunker down again.

OK, I’ll admit it. That’s coming from a person who probably would choose ‘Hunkering Down for $200, Alex.” In all honesty, I’d choose it for free.

The last thing I feel like doing is getting into a discussion with someone in the produce aisle who’s on a hair trigger over the fact that I’m wearing a mask. And believe it or not, I felt the possibility of that happening twice this week. I nearly fell over.

No to the Boston

And then another time this week, I saw a person walking across the parking lot I’d just entered with a cute little Boston Terrier on a leash. Well. You can all imagine how I swooned. Ooooh, how this puppy reminded me of Sheila when she was just a girl.

I jumped out of my car, whipped my debit card in and out of the meter to throw some money on it and turned to speak to the Boston and her daddy. “Your Boston is adorable!” I called out with a big smile. “I have two!” (never fully admitting to myself that Sheila is really gone).

Neither of us were wearing masks (we were in the great outdoors), and I asked if I could pet his pup. “Aren’t you concerned with…” he asked, waving his free hand in the air.

I stopped in my tracks. We were a good 20 feet away from each other. “What?” I was genuinely puzzled. Surely he knew I had no intention of getting anywhere near him. I just wanted to say hi to his pup.

“Covid,” he responded. I was taken aback. Honestly, it had never even occurred to me that I wouldn’t be permitted to pet a dog on a 10’ leash. You don’t get Covid from pet fur. Or even from surfaces. You get it from aerosols in the air; hence why it’s wise to wear masks when indoors.

“Oh,” I replied. “Would it bother you…?”

“Yes, it would, as a matter of fact.” Ugh. His tone. It had turned so…icy.

Backed Off

Whoa. OK. Of course I immediately stopped in my tracks (still about 15 feet away from the dog dad and five feet away from the Boston, which had of course had immediately responded to my high pitched hello to it and headed my way). I felt like I’d been smacked.

My reaction was silly, I suppose. But his abrupt attitude took me by such surprise.

It’s hard to know where anyone stands anymore. Or how they will react to many of the circumstances we used to consider mundane.

Makes me just want to hunker down in my own safe place. I haven’t a clue as to how people feel about anything anymore. And the enormity of that almost brought me to tears.

Spartacus in Repose – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-113)

Home Stretch – Day 777

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Home Stretch – Precious – Photo: L. Weikel

Home Stretch

Here we are, entering the home stretch of 2020, four digits comprising a year that will surely live as infamously in our collective memories as the three digits of 9/11.

Even though I sense it’s a mistake to think everything will suddenly improve once 2021 arrives, there is something to be said for ringing in a new year (or sometimes even a new month or a new week – if we’re desperate). No matter what our circumstances, it’s our nature as humans. We look for a reason to renew our hope, to believe that the tide has turned, that something – even if imperceptible – has changed.

And the truth is, things will change in 2021. As it’s been said countless times over the years, change is constant and therefor inevitable. Every single thing we look at, taste, touch, smell, perceive in any way is changing. It may be imperceptible at any given moment, but change is inexorable.

Fear of Change

Another truth? We humans tend to fear change at the deepest level of our being. How much do we fear it? We fear it so much that we’ll often opt to remain in a situation that literally hurts us physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, including combinations thereof, rather than affirmatively act to change our circumstances.

So these two competing concepts set us up for some serious stress. Everything changes; therefore change is inevitable. Yet we fear change, resist it, and plain just do not like it.

Coping with these internal stressors can be hard on us on a good day. But when you think about what all of us have been dealing with over the past year (and some might even argue for the past four years), including massive job loss, complete disruption of our lives on every level but especially socially, food and housing insecurity felt by people who’ve never encountered this situation before, pandemic infection rates rising exponentially, massive loss of loved ones on a scale not seen in a century. I could throw into this toxic mess the instability and fear that an unstable person in the White House who refuses to abide by the results of our election (and the appalling behavior of his enablers in the U.S. Congress) creates in the pit of our collective stomach.

It’s just all so very much to handle. We are at once being asked to duck and bob and weave the repercussions of change all day every day, while also, again, feeling like any change could lead to something worse.

Hope

And so? With change on the horizon, as it inevitably is, the best we can do is hope that it’s bringing us a better tomorrow. We have the ability to make choices that impact the change we experience.

We can choose to behave safely. We can choose to stay home unless absolutely required for our employment or survival. We can choose to be compassionate toward ourselves and each other. The person who is stressed out beyond measure in the grocery checkout line may well have just lost a family member or friend.

One in 17 of us have contracted the virus and one out of every 1,000 Americans have now died from Covid. The chances of personally experiencing the ravages of this pandemic – or knowing someone who has – are increasing at an alarming rate. Knowing this, we can choose to be kind. We can choose to respect each other and not force a choice between one person’s ‘rights’ and another’s.

We can choose to be people who engender hope – in humanity, in each other, in our future.

We’re in the home stretch of 2020. Let’s set the bar for ourselves for 2021 and stretch to meet our best selves this coming year.

The day we lose our hope, we lose ourselves.

Home Stretch – Spartacus (aka “Kissing the Bear”) – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-334)

Schitt’s Creek – Day 653

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Promise on the Horizon – Photo: L. Weikel

Schitt’s Creek

In an effort to avoid as much deliberately-induced anxiety as possible, Karl and I decided to abstain from political fare this week. We’re choosing instead to rely primarily on video clips embedded in news articles for a recap of the state of our country as viewed by the Republican Party. Which brings me to what we’ve been watching instead: Schitt’s Creek.

We only started watching this show, which ran for five seasons, about six weeks ago. It just aired its last episode on Netflix this past April – and I’m pretty sure we started watching it because of the affection expressed by viewers who seemed genuinely sad to see it end.

It took us a couple episodes to get into it, but the campy characters and their affectations are both over-the-top and endearing. There’s no violence or ugliness. It’s mostly about relationships, primarily superficial ones, but some of them are particularly playful and truly fun to watch develop.

Most importantly, though, the show is an easy, light, and playful escape from, well, the shit’s creek we find ourselves up, especially as Americans, if we’re clear-eyed and honest. And just catching some of the clips from the two evenings of the RNC extravaganza so far, makes it clear (if it wasn’t already) that we’re navigating without a paddle.

(No. I couldn’t leave it. It had to be said. You knew it was coming. I tried to muzzle myself but, in the end, I couldn’t resist.)

The truth is, we’ve streamed an especially generous number of episodes of Schitt’s Creek over the past couple of days – and the irony just had to translate into a blog post.

The Alternative

The alternative to me making lame jokes about the name of a television series and extolling its efficacy in allowing our minds to slip into neutral for an evening is – you guessed it – more cloud sharing.

Tonight we witnessed some towering specimens of magnificence, which then gradually gave forth to some startlingly ominous and threatening banks of darkness. And yes, the metaphors weren’t lost on us.

It was as if we were witnessing a water vapor enhanced exposition of the soaring visions painted last week juxtaposed against the oppressive boogeymen of fear and oppression on offer this week. What was most remarkable, perhaps, was the rapidity with which the transformation occurred.

Looking NW – Photo: L. Weikel

A Warning

All of which feels like an essential reminder and warning to all of us. Things can change dramatically (in a myriad of ways) in the blink of an eye. We make assumptions at our peril.

We mustn’t be afraid – but we also must, at the same time, remain vigilant and steadfast in what we know to be of greatest importance in life. We’re living in unprecedented times, and we’re being asked to choose the world we want to both create and leave as our legacy.

Do we choose to see and build on the beauty? On love? Or will we focus on the darkness, the fear, and the division?

It’s up to us. And our choices are our paddle.

Looking NE – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-458)

Go Gently – Day 500

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Deer on Municipal – Photo: L. Weikel

Go Gently

I think it’s safe to say we’re entering uncharted territory. The next few days are going to herald unprecedented numbers of horrific circumstances that no one believed could or would happen here in the U.S. (We need to go gently.)

Weeks ago, we heard the stories and read the articles and twitter posts by people in Italy, and even though we comprehended the dire warnings intellectually, I think there was a deeply buried adamant belief that it will not happen here. Indeed, I think we’re still telling ourselves that. (We need to go gently.)

Only now, it’s cities, counties, and states across the nation that are telling themselves, “What’s happening in New York is unique to New York. It won’t happen to us.” (We need to go gently.)

A lot of us are realizing that the warnings and alarms about the depth of this crisis were not and are not overstated. We are right to be honoring our governors’ “stay-at-home” orders, exercising wisdom and compassion by isolating ourselves from anyone and everyone, including those we love the most – especially if we don’t live with them or they are in a high risk group. (We need to go gently.)

What’s the Message?

On Monday, Karl, Sheila, Spartacus, and I were trudging up the steep hill that eventually meanders through a horse farm, when I happened to glance into the woods to my right. Standing right there, looking right into my eyes, was a doe. She stood stock still, her eyes looking right into mine.

She did not move. Quite honestly, she did not give off any semblance of anxiety or stress upon knowing for sure she’d been seen. Mind you – this sanquine attitude was conveyed in spite of the fact that we were walking with two dogs.

“Hey Baby! What’s your message?” I cooed to her as I handed Sheila’s leash to Karl and fished my iPhone out of my pocket. “May I take your photo?”

She quietly obliged, even permitting me to take a couple shots from other angles as we continued to slowly climb up the hill, stopping every couple of steps to gain a different perspective and slant on the sun behind her.

“Go gently,” she said. “Risks are everywhere – for you and for me. In the end, the way you walk through these challenges will be the message you send. Remember: all that’s important is love.”

All that’s important is love – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-611)

Chupacabra – Day 468

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Chupacabra – Photo: L. Weikel

Dingo Or Chupacabra

The lonely figure loping across the field strikes terror in the hearts of those who catch sight of it. Seeing it directly or out of the corner of the eye, it causes gooseflesh to rise without warning.

Mothers clutch their babies to their breasts, terrified that the beast, be it chupacabra or dingo, might randomly turn its ravenous, amoral gaze in their direction, stealing their child and dooming them to a life of despair and lamentation.

Their blood runs cold. They’re nearly paralyzed with fear. They sense stories of this encounter will be handed down for generations – if they, and their loved ones survive, that is.

Check It Out

While this reaction is understandable, it’s essential to step up, check things out personally, and make sure what’s being seen is real. A lot of times, our minds leap to conclusions, causing us to interpret what we see as something far scarier than it really is. Indeed, our imaginations can run wild if we let them, especially if we’re prey to the stories we’ve heard from others.

But investigation can sometimes feel daunting and scary. If we take a chance and get too close, perhaps it’ll turn on us. Maybe it’ll even savage us!

Yes, it takes courage to stand up to the fear that might overtake us and cause us to either freeze in terror or run the other way.

Not This Time

Not in this case, though. It wouldn’t take a lot of courage to sniff this baby out.

This time it was remarkably easy to stop for a moment, take a breath, and engage in one’s ‘due diligence.’ All you had to do was take a few steps back, shift your perspective, and follow the leash.

Not-quite-so-scary Sheila – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-643)

Bummer – Day 320

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September Sunset – Photo: L. Weikel

Bummer

I wasn’t going to write about this tonight, but I have to tell you: it’s not easy coming up with something to write about every night. And that holds especially true when something kind of crappy happened during my day and it’s sort of the only thing that’s occupying my mind.

Well, there are a couple of understatements: ‘kind of crappy’ and ‘sort of the only thing that’s occupying my mind.’

I realize, believe me, that facing the fact that my car has two tires in the junk yard is a miniscule concern compared to so much of what so many other people are dealing with. I know that. But that doesn’t mean this isn’t big in my world at the moment.

Regardless, There’s No Comparison

Yeah, I write the words contained in that paragraph, above, but truthfully they ring hollow. Yeah, it stinks that my car is essentially irreparable and may conk out at any moment – and in such a manner as to render me stranded and the vehicle worthless.

But aren’t I lucky that I have the knowledge, in my back pocket, that I have AAA? Yes. I am.

And aren’t I lucky that I have the knowledge, deep within myself, that I will manifest a new car? Yes, I am.

So I call bullshit on myself.

There are simply so many things going on in the lives of people all around me, people I love and care about, people who are blood family and people who are Spirit family, people I don’t know well and those I don’t know at all, that are far worse than my car wearing out. Indeed, the very fact that I was able to take care of my car for 15 years, eke out 311,241 miles (and counting, if only by the hour!) out of her, and not have a car payment for ten years is amazing.

So, no.

Everything has a season – Photo: L. Weikel

Listening and Perspective

Because listening is so sacred to me, and because it is probably the greatest aspect of myself I can give to those around me, I can safely say that a day doesn’t go by that I don’t extend it to someone – at least one person – every day.

And lately, especially, I’ve noticed that there is a lot of upheaval in the world. People’s lives are being upended in astonishing ways: loss of loved ones (human and otherwise), profound betrayals and ugly realizations, prolonged struggles with depression and pernicious recurrences of hopelessness and despair. Fear of losing a job or the business that’s been cultivated for decades. Loneliness – even when surrounded by people or in long-term relationships that died long ago.

And of course on the world stage, there are people realizing the jig may be up – on so many levels and in so many life-altering ways.

All I Have

Meanwhile, here I am, enjoying so much. My family. My friends. My amazing four legged loves. The birds that frequent my feeders or soar above me when I ask for a message, or reveal themselves as I sit by the creek. My beloved Tohickon and the Lenape Sipu (Delaware River). My work and the amazing people I get to meet through what I do. My health.

Yes, I’m mostly speaking in generalities because to be specific feels like bragging, and that’s quite honestly the last thing I’m intending in this post.

How could I look at tonight’s sky and remain upset over my car? How could I, when I was able to walk with my best friend as the colors of the sunset deepened into an indigo that was hard to describe?

I couldn’t.

(T-791)

Procrastination – Day 231

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Lilies – Photo: L. Weikel

Procrastination        

I think there’s a really weird dynamic going on, within myself at least, when it comes to procrastination.

I’m finding it just makes me sad.

The weirdness of which I speak comes from a perception I think a lot of us have. Or at least it’s a belief I’ve had when I thought about procrastination generally. And that belief is that one procrastinates because they do not want to do something.

In other words, if a person doesn’t want to do something, they put it off. We’ve all seen the sarcastic adage, “Why do it today if you can put it off until tomorrow?” I believe most people embrace that attitude as the primary reason people procrastinate.

Is it Fear? Or is it Anticipation?

But actually? I know from my experience with lots of creative people (and myself) that many people procrastinate because they don’t feel as if they deserve  to spend time on either the pursuits that make them smile (and their hearts sing) or the tasks that will make life better for them in some way.

In my case, for instance, I procrastinate on taking action toward my goals. I procrastinate on putting my self, my dreams, my ideas at the front of the line of my daily “to-do” list.

Funny thing is, if I saw one of my clients doing what I do, I would call them out on it. I would make them choose themselves. I would methodically pick apart each and every one of their excuses for not doing what they were ‘called’ to do. I know I would. And I would persist until I persuaded them to honor themselves.

But it’s a lot harder to call myself out; and it’s harder to persist with the relentless follow through I feel is often so effective in my relationships (and practice).

I procrastinated on something today, something pretty big that I wanted to announce. And yes, something beyond my rate increase, which technically went into effect today.

Perhaps I’ll announce it tomorrow. Yes; perhaps I’ll follow through with it tomorrow. It’s time to stop these shenanigans.

(T-880)

Deep Thrum – Day 217

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Tohickon Creek – Photo: L. Weikel

Deep Thrum – Old Fashioned Cool

I’m sitting here on my couch, alone in my living room. The front door is open, and that usually means I can hear the nighttime sounds of ‘outside,’ which for the most part at this time of the year consists of bullfrogs. In a month or two, crickets and katydids will join the boisterous, gravel-voiced amphibian chorus. But for a split minute, there are no bullfrogs, no sounds at all filtering through the mesh-screen door that separates me from the wilds of the darkness outside.

Even Sheila is failing to provide her usual contribution of deeply resonant snoring.

As many of you who’ve been reading my posts for a while know, I savor silence. Every single time I give myself the opportunity to bask in it, I’m better for it.

And so it was a surprise when I closed my eyes and just sat for a few moments, pondering what I would write about tonight, that I recognized a comforting, lulling sound far in the background of my consciousness. Don’t get me wrong: it’s a real sound alright. But it is such a deep part of me and what makes me feel ‘at home’ that I rarely think about it consciously.

Deep Thrum of a Different Silence

I’m speaking of the comforting deep thrum of our whole house fan. This contraption, comprised of a small motor, a belt and a couple pulleys that turn the blades of the fan, and a slatted vent that opens in the ceiling of the hallway of our second floor, sucks air into the house from outside through our screened windows and doors. It pulls the air in from outside, creating a cool breeze, and circulates that air right up into our attic.

Most of the time, except when the weather is extremely muggy or relentlessly hot (such that it barely cools off at night at all outside), our whole house fan is a wonderful way to keep us cool. We have a couple room air conditioners perched in a smattering of rooms throughout the house, but we try to minimize our use of them.

Part of our desire to rely primarily on our whole house fan is environmental. It uses a lot less electricity. And it also just feels more natural, less of a subtle stress on our constitutions by jerking our bodies from cold to hot, muggy to dry.

It’s the Memories

Trust me, though, this is not a crusade. It’s not some holier-than-thou passive aggressive attempt to shame others who use air conditioning as soon as it gets a little warm or elevate myself because I don’t. Not in the least. I’m simply realizing that I love the whole house fan because of the memories, not least being the aforementioned deep thrum.

Yes.

I grew up in a stone farmhouse that was built in 1770. For a long time in my childhood, I remember the only means of staying cool in our home was via our whole house fan. That fan, too, was mounted in the hallway ceiling of the second floor of our home and sucked all the air up into the attic. It was situated right outside my bedroom, so I grew up with that deep thrum front and center in my consciousness.

Nearly every summer night I’d be told to ‘run upstairs and put the fan on,’ and it was always sweet relief to feel the coolness of the evening cascading into our rooms and throughout the house as soon as I turned it on. Not only did I fall asleep to its rhythm, I also realized I couldn’t hear anything from downstairs (like the tv or my parents having a conversation). This could feel disconcerting. I could either be afraid something would happen to them and I wouldn’t hear it, or I could let myself feel wrapped in a cocoon of cool, quiet thrum.

Always a Choice: Fear – or Surrender and Trust

I remember consciously making that choice a bunch of times. Was I going to give in to that fear? Or was I going to surrender to the comfort of the deep thrum.

I think I was in high school before my parents bought the first couple of window air conditioners for the house. One in the kitchen and one in their bedroom were the first to arrive. Eventually one in the ‘den’ where we would watch tv. But my parents still used ‘the fan’ most of the time. Just like we do now.

It’s a peculiar comfort, I suppose. And yet installing our whole house fan was one of the very first things Karl and I did when we bought our home (which is also old – not 1770 old – but more like 1840 old). Installing central air has never even crossed our minds.

All of which brings me back to an awareness of what I sense at this very moment. I hear (and feel in my very bones) the deep thrum. The thrum that’s both a visceral reminder of my childhood and a present-day comfort, calling me to come to bed so I may savor the stream of night air being drawn in to dance across our summer sheets and keep us cool.

Good night; sleep well. And don’t forget to whisper your sweet dreams to the full moon tomorrow night.

(T-894)

Lucky 77 – Day Seventy Seven

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Lucky 77       

I don’t know…this seems like it should be a ‘lucky’ post, don’t you think? The seventy seventh one?

Not only is it a multiple of 11 (let’s hear it for the 1111 Devotion, folks, the reason we’re all here – or at least the reason I am), it’s also the year I graduated from high school. Which kind of jump-starts me to thinking about my birthday that’s coming up in a couple months.

For some weird reason, I’ve been thinking about it lately. I’ve found myself literally reminding myself that this birthday will be different. Not on the outside. Not with respect to anyone or anything outside of my little old self.

But the very fact of it is already different inside myself.

Approaching 60

It’s strange to think that I’ll be turning 60. Of course, everyone surely feels this way when they get here. And when they continue to be lucky enough to reach further societally-acknowledged milestones. I realize I’m not unique. Unless you count those who don’t reach this number. Or won’t. Ever.

It’s weird for me to think that I’ll be turning twice the age Karl was when he died. I’ve had twice the number of years to experience life, although I am quite confident that he encountered many situations and had a myriad of scares, adventures, and opportunities (for good and for ill) that I may never have (or would never seek out). And that’s true in spite of the fact that I’ve had more than the average bear’s chances to do some wild and crazy shit.

In fact, I sometimes wonder if my willingness to recount some of the adventures I had spurred him on to take some of the chances he did. Probably.

Was My Approach to Life a ‘Contributing Factor?’

And there have been moments, usually when writing in my journal and perhaps reflecting on how I see or perceive other people and how they react and respond to their kids, that I’ve asked myself if my parenting should or could have been a substantial contributing factor to his early death. (Not that I’m saying it was ‘my’ parenting. To be clear, it was (is?) mine and  Karl’s – one thing we strive to always be unified on is our approach to raising our sons.)

What I mean by that ‘contributing factor’ musing is that in listening to others and how they respond to their kids’ dreams and ideas, I’m often genuinely surprised by how outlandish my instinctive responses seem to be in comparison.

I’m all about gathering experiences.

Which is probably why I am so attracted to living a shamanic approach to life – the essence of which is based in one’s own unique experiences.

There were at least a couple of moments in the eleven months that I was in Europe when I was 17-18 years old that I could easily have died. In a few, I could have been killed accidentally. In a couple of others, I was simply lucky that the glint in a few people’s eyes didn’t turn into something deadly. I even knew it in the moment of each occurrence.

Learning Through Experiencing

Knowing I’d been lucky in those times that I surely was, though, didn’t make me swear off adventure or unique opportunities. But I know that that knowing  served to hone my instincts. I distinctly remember realizing that the little niggling edge to the wildness I’d seen in someone’s eyes might next time be a ticket to horror.

A couple of times I knew on some level I’d been given a lucky break. You can’t count on them happening every time. You can’t even count on them happening twice. But you can learn from them. You can reflect on what that situation taught you to avoid next time.

I honestly don’t know where my philosophy of life came from. But I’ve always known I wanted our sons to never say no to an experience simply out of fear. Out of intuitive caution? Yes. An assessment of risk that said in their head and heart, “That’d be dumb?” or “That’s a risk not worth taking?” Yes. But due to generalized fear as a result of other people thinking it was a crazy idea or it was something they wouldn’t do? No way.

I know Karl pushed his edge. I know he did things that pushed the edge of his fear, sometimes going too far and paying the consequences (or getting lucky) and other times because he had thought it through and considered the experience worth the risks. And I know he had stories he wanted to tell me – but was waiting until the ‘right time’ to tell. I regret I’ll never hear them; and I regret he never wrote them down the way I asked him, repeatedly, to do.

Regrets?

There’s the chance, I suppose, that Karl (husband) and I could have tempered Karl (son’s) ambition for adventure. No. That’s incorrect. We could have, possibly, attempted  to temper his ambition for adventure. But I truly believe that if we’d spent our time trying to talk him out of things (or more likely, threatening, cajoling, or forbidding), we would have ended up either repulsing him right out the door without encouraging him to be smart when choosing risks, to use his brains and his instincts and his intuition, or we would have broken his spirit and condemned him to a life of mind-numbing (and illusory) safety.

So no, I guess I don’t regret the way we’ve encouraged our sons to approach and live their lives. And if the way we raised them resulted in Karl living the life he did in his 30 years and dying the way he did? I have to rest in my core belief that a life lived full on, as they say, is a life worth living.

Wow. How did I get to this by beginning with a comment about the number 77?

(T-1034)