Fully Present

Insight

I had an awesome weekend upnorth over the Fourth of July; fishing, cookouts, time with the three kids (Elle, Tommy and Taylor). Kathryn and I wound up without setting aside any time any time for each other, but we figured that out and will do better next time.

The girls were pretty much "together" - driving into Aitkin, renting movies, going into town to see Transformers II.

Tommy and I got to spend lots of time together. He started flyfishing, took his own fish off the hook, caught a bass with his flyrod.  He was eating like a maniac and even spent some time reading. He's in an amazing place right now.

It's actually a place I want to be at.  He was completely present for most of the weekend learning new stuff and trying new things.

On the way home we were hauling down Hwy 169 and there was a sign at the end of someones drive for Purple Martin houses for sale. There was one on a pole.

Tommy was blown away by the fact they look like a "condo or a hotel" for birds.

"Wow," he said. "I can just picture an little ice machine at the end of the hall and teenee hotel mints on all the piilows".

Wow.        

Step One: Bay J

I wonder what happens inside of Bay J.

It’s at the end of the alley way out of the way.

There’s a “No Parking” sign and a foreboding fence,

It could be portal to some major suspense.

 

What kind of person makes Bay J a stop;

a painter, a plumber, it looks like a junk shop.  

Is it storeroom for parts or a place to fix cars,

Is it full of glass glasses and pitchers for bars.

 

Bay J looks a little scary and dark.

Frankly the inside appears to be stark.

Maybe there’s nothing inside it at all,

It could be just a huge empty stall.

 

It might be just like a place on T-V,

where bad guys meet and fence stuff then flea.

Where cops and robbers chase each other at night

and always wind up in a noisy gun fight.

It could be a place where deals go down,

then the dealer decides that its time to skip town.

 

It doesn’t look safe from my point of view,

It looks unsecured and perilous too.

It makes me feel like its some kind of threat

I’m starting to break out in a bone-chilling sweat.

 

But wait; isn’t Bay J just another door,

just an entrance to an unknown place, nothing more.

Aren’t all my thoughts and the drama-to-be

cooked up because there is something in me

that is making me nervous or really afraid,

or anxious or tragic or feeling betrayed.

 

But I know when I’m frightened in any degree,  

It’s because of things that are inside of me.     

I guess now I think that Bay J is alright;

It’s a harmless garage door that’s not worth my fright.

Step One - Writer's Bloc

 I'm just writing to surrender.

I'm running into a little writer's block and struggling with the fact that it's a little quiet this afternoon here at work. I have research and some writing to do and I seem to be bouncing around a bit. But it's okay.

I try to keep focused and put 'one foot in front of the other' no matter much I may be struggling with concentration. I know that my "best isn't the same all the time."

But it's a great day; coffee with a friend in the program this morning, busy catching up at work after a nice weekend up north - Mancation fishing trip with my friend Ken.  I received an amazing call from one of my friends in the program and made the noon meeting at Kozy's and took the step - eight; then a can of soup and back to the research. I heard from an old colleague via linked in today, too. It was nice.

What sticks in my mind is the wonder of everything that is going on around me and in my life and the gratitude I have for everything I'll be doing the rest of the day: more writing, an errand for Kathryn at her old house for a second as she is getting it ready to sell; head down to Sherman's to play guitar for a while; then back home to spend some time with Kath.

Although I'm stuck on "what's next" in the writing I'm doing for work - I know one thing; it'll come.

I'm powerless over everything except my effort and attitude.

Back at it!

I do Yakusoko

My first memory of going to Karate is still vivid.  Once I was in my gi - borrowed from dad - I wandered into the training room and back into the corner where dad was.  The kids class was going on so the adults were stretching and joking and talking through some stuff.  After I was introduced I kinda stood in the corner and watched as dad and his friend Tim went through this exercise they were learning.  

I was mesmerized.

They were going back and forth, trading punches, kicks and blocks quick enough to look like a real fight; their blocks striking loud enough to know they weren't goofing around.  After a blocked kick they circled around each other and went back at it: Punch (block), punch, punch (both blocked), a side kick and all of a sudden one of them is in the air about to be tossed; obviously losing this round.  It was amazing to watch.  Seeing this exchange gave me a great deal of comfort; eventually I'd be able to do that.  

Last night in class we worked through an exercise I'd never done before; Yakusoko number five.  By the end of class it felt comfortable to me; my partner and I moved through it decently fast and by the end my arms hurt from hitting hard.

Now I'm able to do that.

Passing it on

My daily reading from Hazelden is an email I've received almost every day for over four years.  Most of the time it's at least appropriate, occasionally its very fitting, sometimes it's absolutely eerie how perfect it is.  Today is one of those days, though for a friend.  I'm posting it here because, well, it's just a good read.  I also thought the daily sky from dad was a nice fit.

Today's thought from Hazelden is:

For all the sadness of closure, there is a new and joyful unfolding in the process of becoming.
--Mary Casey

We must let go of people, places, memories, and move on to new experiences. The doors of the past must be closed before we can enter those that are opening to us today. However, no experience is gone forever. All of our experiences are threaded together, each one contributing to the events that claim our attention now.

Recovery has offered us a chance to be aware of our process of becoming. With each day, each experience, each new understanding, we are advancing along the path of personal growth. Let us remember that each of us has a particular path, like no other. Thus, our experiences are ours alone. We need not envy what comes to someone else.

Life is unfolding for us. The pain of the present may be necessary for the pleasure of tomorrow. We can accept the unfolding. Our inner selves have a goal; experiences of the past must be left in the past; experiences at hand will lead us to our destination today.

I am moving and changing and growing, at the right pace. The process can be trusted. What is right for me will come to me. I will let the joy of becoming warm me.

You are reading from the book:

Each Day a New Beginning by Karen Casey

Each Day a New Beginning by Karen Casey. Copyright 1982, 1991 by Hazelden Foundation. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No portion of this publication may be reproduced in any manner without the written permission of Hazelden.

The Next Big Thing

Elijah took his first steps last monday - five of them. It’s a big “first” and I was glad to be there to see it.  Since then he’s been content to do what he’s been doing for months; walking around using the furniture for guidance and crawling when he needed to go direct.  We keep watching but he doesn’t seem to have any real interest in repeating the feat. 

He’s moved on to something else.

When Amanda was pregnant I often wondered if I would be there to see things like this; his firsts.   Being at work all day I was bound to miss a lot of them.  As some of the “biggies” have drawn close I’ve focused in; listening to try to discern a word from the babble or watch his hands hover over the coffee table rather than slide.  Initially it’s frustrating because I’m there, waiting, watching, and he’s content to, you know, not do the next big thing.  Then I realized something.

Every day there’s something new for him; every thing is the next “big thing”. Every day. You can see it on his face.

Sometimes I’m so focused on seeing what I think the next big thing is that I miss the “little” or diminish what’s going on.  In his mind Elijah is already talking; he makes noises that we interpret to mean something and he let’s us know if we’re right.  He’s also walking; moving around from toybox to bookshelf to kitchen with frightening speed.  I get busy looking for walking and talking and he’s already gone on to dancing and making noise on the piano and pulling the chain to make the entry light turn on and waving and pointing eating by himself and....

Those things that seem tiny to me are enormous to him - all of them firsts.  When I realize this I stop\ thinking ahead to the next “big“; chasing a milestone in my mind that takes me out of being present. 

Instead I watch him wobble from new ”little“ to next new ”little“; always thinking, always exploring, always amazed at how he just discovered “the next big thing”