The Glorious Aching

Hola Papi!  Como vai andando....?  Tem sido um ano que voce decidiu partir daqui pra fazer um passeio com sua querida Jennie. 

Hi Dad!  How's it going....?  It's been a year since you decided to leave here and take a walk with your sweet Jennie.  I spent the day thinking about you.... It was profoundly quiet and yet so full of incredible memories.....

It isn't the same without you, but I bet Mom felt the same way for a lot longer... I know who is going to win that battle for sure... I couldn't be happier for you!

I have a couple of images that I carry around with me of you: One is this picture of Don Quixote.  I read part of his story today stopping often to picture how you would react to different parts of this beloved story you identified with so much.   I thought I saw your smile and heard your familiar laughter.  That was pretty fun to experience again.  I re-read "Or I'll Dress You in Mourning" and found you all over the place.   I wish I had talked to you more about that book and what it meant to you.  I know it was deep and you connected with Cordobes' plight in a personal way.  I believe it is your deep empathy of the "underdog".  I have looked at underdogs with a different perspective since you parted and I hope that I feel what you may have as you so often rooted in their behalf with great hope for anyone that found themselves resembling or fully wearing that title.

I miss you..... terribly!

How grateful I am for.....the early Saturday morning trips to the AERA Club to play tennis all morning in Jakarta.  Often, it was just you me driving in that huge station wagon in the early gray mornings.  I loved watching you play even before I knew how.....What was at least as much fun was listening to you socialize in the clubhouse with all the people in between matches.  Your wit made the time pass so well for all.  I remember the crazy spins you would make on the court completely driving people crazy... I think you loved that even more than winning!

Those early days shaped my own love for tennis. Remember later in Brasilia, when we would make those late night runs to the Embassy courts where we would play for hours?  Saturdays there were even funner because I got to play with you... How many doubles matches did we play?  Many!  How lucky was I...?  Completely!

I miss the lazy Sunday afternoons in Monterrey when you would get on the piano, which was rare and play your own special versions of chord progressions and turn them into sonatas and etudes extraordinaire!

I loved being around you... you didn't say much often, but there were those long deep drinking sessions where you would reveal everything and a new universe opened up to me.  To get a peek into your heart and mind was so special to me.  Normally the only way there was through your poems.  But I will treasure forever the you and me late niters that were like drinking from a deep cold clear well of water.

Today I thought of you and thirsted mightily again.... Oh! The need for another long drink with you is so strong I can feel it.  I know you would if you could.  I will close my eyes and pretend that you are right here, quietly and knowingly listening to all the contents of my heart and then with great kindness watch you blow the chaff away.... leaving only that which is bright and pure to shine light and your particular brand of big picture perspective into my life, reminding me how I should see things and consider others.

....I just want you to know that you will always be so close by to me.  I lean into you often and I know you know that.  I appreciate your help when things get hard here.  I feel you close and it means a lot.

Maybe I can find you in the woods for a stroll one day.  I know a place..... Not sure if you will be there, but I will try.  I will let you know so you can put in your calendar ok?

I miss you Dad.  The aching continues.... and will always burn in the very best of ways.  It is certainly glorious....


Much love and affection,
Aaronius Maximus, your 5th

Trigonometry and Trisonomy 21

It was early Saturday morning.....I had just jumped on McKenna's bed to wake her up!  She was already awake, as if just waiting for the right catalyst to the next adventure.  We decided to go see Landon's and Alexa's BYU intramural soccer games.  Both of them were on teams in the playoffs.  I hadn't seen a game all season so this seemed like a perfect time to go.

We arrived and they were both there in the huge indoor football arena on campus.  Sitting with them was Andrew, a young man of 14 that Landon tutors.  Andrew has Down's syndrome.  When Landon first met Andrew he wasn't sure if he was up for a sustained part-time tutoring gig.  Andrew's parents, knowing how hard it was to find people that would care enough and that would that would stick with Andrew over time, asked Landon if he would tutor Andrew. A year and a half later, Landon is still there, as always for Andrew.  Landon has forged a wonderful relationship with him and has a number of really special experiences with him.

This was my first time meeting "Drew" and he shook my hand and sat back down in the cross legged position on the soft green artificial turf.  He didn't say anything.  He had a BYU tank top and athletic shorts on with white socks pulled up and slip on deck shoes.  He had a well worn, shredded nerf football in his hands.  He was sweet and pretty quiet, but his eyes and ears were active!

The kids were excited we came to see them play.  Landon's team played first and did really well.  He scored 3 times and they ended up crushing the other team.  It was super fun to see him play with such enthusiasm and fun.  Alexa's team was next.  They were in a higher division and had some awesome players.  They played a hard fought game and came out on top 2-0.  Both games reminded me of the years of practice they went through as kids, through high school and club.  The repetitive drills of passing and ball handling techniques.  

Soccer is a game of angles and the relationships they create.  In fact, one might say that it is a game of trigonometry.  That subject that seemed so elusive to my non-mathematical high school mind made for a beautiful game (jogo bonito) when applied to a real life application.  It was beautiful to watch the angles play out with feet and ball like an choreographed dance.

What was most interesting however wasn't the soccer games we came to see.  It was watching all 3 kids interact with Drew throughout the time we were there.  One of the first things Alexa said to me quietly was how cute he was.  McKenna couldn't resist and found herself throwing the football back and forth with him.  He could really throw a spiral--amazing!  Lexi joined in several times.  It was simple enough but then it seemed to trigger these 30 yard spontaneous sprints he would make.  His legs all gangly and awkward but his face intense and focused as if he was running an Olympic 100 yd dash! He would stop, and then do it again.  He was his own person for sure, but it was evident though that his interactions with the kids would prompt a variety of spontaneous activities in him.  Landon, who knows him best would get him so excited and run around and play with him.  Throwing for sure won the day as top activity, but he mentioned that Andrew was in a really good mood.  I watched the kids the whole time, the small things they would do.  Each of them, without talking, without a plan, would simply find ways to connect with him.  I noticed one time when McKenna sat down cross-legged once and taught him a "patty cake" type hand clapping game.  He would get embarrassed and put his face down over his legs to hide for a while.  He would then show us how he could stretch and be so flexible and limber.  It was his body was made of rubber.  He would do all these poses with different angles.  Pretty amazing.

It didn't hit me until later, that there was another application of trigonometry -- Because he has this one extra chromosone called Trisonomy 21, his body is free from tight tendons and muscles that keep you and I a bit more rigid.  Andrew's body can do all kinds of trigonometry that you and I cannot. We watched the unusual angles he produced and marveled what he could do.

What got me emotional though, was watching the care and love each of my kids had for Andrew through their interactions with him.  It just seemed to flow from them.  I really didn't remember teaching them anything specific about this, but early contact with a cousin with similar "gifts" certainly shaped their feelings.  They had profound respect for his limitations and could laugh and enjoy the trigonometry he could create.  Not just the angles of his body, but the relationship of the "angles" and connections he created with each of the kids, because of one little miniscule chromosone.  They wanted him to be happy and were willing to take the time to spend with him, for him.  Not for anyone to see.  It revealed their hearts to me.  I was so inspired.  I felt that familiar warmth creep up from inside and felt the emotion rise in my heart and eyes.  They threw the ball back and forth, they ran races together, talked with him, and tried to engage with him throughout the time we were there. 

I thought of the countless hours Landon has now spent with Andrew over the past year and a half wondered all the things he has learned from him.  I learned a lot in a few hours watching and interacting with Andrew.  I learned about him, about my kids and a little bit about myself.  Mostly though I learned another little lesson about how scientific things like Trigonometry and Trisonomy 21 have meaningful application to our lives and can find a way to make more room in our hearts for things we do not understand.

While many might not consider one extra chromosone a gift from God, when seen through a different perspective, that one small add can make all the difference in the world.  Trisonomy 21, packaged just right, and perfectly placed with the right person, can change the trajectory of the heart.... of at least three people that I know.  I wonder how many others Drew has changed and influenced.  
What myriad of angles has he orchestrated in his own "jogo bonito" or beautiful life that has inspired understanding,  patience, love and many other virtues in others.  

I cannot say what happens in that beautifully quiet and misunderstood mind of his, but I would not be surprised if he isn't really just here to help us re-imagine the trigonometry of our own lives so that we create the more meaningful angles or connections to others.  Life is a game of angles and the relationships they create....

....Yes, I thought I came to watch a couple of soccer games.... I did....But that isn't what I will remember.  I will remember how I felt.... a little bit closer to heaven and I thank Drew for bringing out the best in me and my kids.  One day he will know if he doesn't somehow already.

.....Maybe I will have to re-think the whole "I hate Math" thing--Trigonometry is pretty cool after all.....

It Takes Time

It's true isn't it? 

Things take time....

I can thing of many experiences and events just in the past year that have brought me to this conclusion.  No matter how fast I want things to go or progress, many things in my life are just taking their own sweet time.....

After being frustrated at initial attempts to hurry things along, I find myself circling back around, over and over again to this truth, that although I have free will and can choose to direct my life, I am simply just not always in control of speed, sequence or acceleration.

Things at work, things with kids, things with friends, things with marriage all seem to setup in a way that is tempering my impatience, elongating my view, causing more humility and allowing me to take on new perspectives that I would not have appreciated had I been able to move at my own pace.

I really like the phrase:  "Slow your roll." It suggests more than just slow down... to me, it invites a more contemplative state, as if to be aware of what is going around you instead of just speeding down whatever life's "highway" you may be on.  

Is it possible that somethings are just meant to take time?

I have a number of friends that have become expert at the art and science of barbecuing/smoking meat.  The more I hear them talk and understand, the more the principle of patience and taking time applies and comes to life for me.  They talk about all the pre-work one must undertake with the right wood, the right rubs, the right spices and then always there is this long process of hours of marination....  by the time you actually get to eat your dinner, it has gone through like 24 hours of careful, painstaking preparation--but the results are amazing!  It is completely worth it they say.

So..... Things take time....

I think about the things we did as parents when the kids were young hoping they would learn early in their lives the importance of certain values and habits often feels hopeless because we expect results much sooner then they are able to digest and appreciate.  It is only years later, after much consistency over time might they come to realize those things you invested in with so much passion, emotion and hope might actually be recognized or appreciated.  When those small moments occur, they seem like huge wins inside!  Years of waiting can immediately disappear with one small  "Mom, thanks for helping me not make a horrible decision"  or the best one  "Mom, thanks!"

Once these little moments start, they seem to trickle in with a bit more consistency and flow.  Each one is like a precious gem.  It is amazing how few a parent actually needs to hear to feel validated for trying to do the right thing....when it seems so easy to second guess ourselves with the "could have, should have's" that never help or take us anywhere good.

I have received a couple of these recently.. man did they feel good!  they melted my heart and burned inside with a warm glow.  Maybe, just maybe I did a couple of things right.... I guess wondering will always be part of being a parent.  Maybe that is what keeps us on our toes, so we remember we are never done, no matter how old they are or even if they leave home.   I don't try as hard anymore, I try to listen more, ask a few more questions back, and then hold my tongue and bring to life this new phrase I am learning... 

Keep chill....and Slow your roll.....More often things tend to turn out better than over analyzing, over orchestrating, or thinking too hard.  (All of which I am pretty terrible at....)

Miyazaki the Genius

I cannot remember how I was introduced to Hayao Miyazaki's amazing body of work.  I just know it was around 2001 and I had no idea how a simple little movie would move me so much and make such a huge impact on me and my kids.  It started in around 2001 with "My Neighbor Totoro."  That was enough!  It was one of the most elegantly simple and pure movies I had ever seen, much less an animated one.  I found it amazingly refreshing, poignant, completely beautiful, innocent and magical.  You could say that I was somewhat breathless by the end. After "Totoro" I couldn't get enough.... 

Miyazaki's serene masterpiece nails the infinite possibility of growing up, the sense of wonder, and the life-or-death urgency that comes along with it.


Incredibly enough, almost every movie that came after that were all so wonderful in each of their own way.  One of the things I love most about Miyazaki is how he sees through the eyes of children, and mostly through the eyes of girls and women.  He doesn't do cliche romance and he doesn't love stomping out evil either.  He believes in a balance of both good and evil.  He understands the tension, and treats it very delicately as informed by his pacifistic position.  He manages to transform you into the child inside with ease, and then he makes you believe you always will be.....pretty cool!  

.......He helps us remember childhood before we forgot about it.

"Is someone different at age 18 or 60?  I believe one stays the same."

-Hayao Miyazaki

Watching his films has been a lifetime journey thus far with the kids.  We often, even know, will pick among his many movies, anxious to see and feel those familiar feelings we know are going to be there, every time, like a super solid bet.  I think I have watched Miyazaki movies more frequently than any other movie.  They transport you away to a place, that doesn't really even seem that far away..... imaginative?  Oh, for sure, but they all seem to happen right around us.  They cause emotions to soar, and they help you articulate feelings you didn't know you had.  You start to empathize with the lead characters.  The hero's are never so powerful, so big, so talented, gifted with powers....rather they are kind, peaceful, curious and caring, sometimes hilarious.... always connected to a cause that you find yourself holding onto unknowingly.  These magnificently brave and courageous characters overcome many obstacles, lots of adversity and usually find themselves at the brink of despair, but always come through because of the purity and kindness of their hearts.  They are just beautiful!

He almost never explains enough... part of his genius is in his understatement.  He draws you in unexpectedly and you are so glad he does.  

Some of his work is serious, tragic, depictions of the consequences and implications of war.  But to me, they are all important. You sense his strong sensibilities towards many things in society, but he never falls into the trap of making sure you understand, he just paints what he sees, and then let's you immerse yourself, and decide for yourself where you stand on the matter.  I have grow a lot more empathy than I ever thought I would for things that are happening around me today in this world.  He is deep, he is serious and he is childlike.

If you haven't sipped from this well, I invite you to do so... please start with "Totoro" and then go from there.... My bet is on the well! 

Enjoy remembering your childhood again....  and again.....!

#WORLDONFIRE

To me, the world seems to be on fire....  I am sure I have an insulated perspective sitting where I sit as I wonder if what I am experiencing is isolated or not.  Regardless, I find myself reflecting about the world today and how different it was only a mere 10 years ago....

A few months ago I went to the Burning Man exhibit in Washington D.C.  What a interesting and weird deal that is.... There is seemingly no real purpose and its mission seems pretty aimless....people gathering to co-exist, smoke pot, be hot in the desert together and then burn stuff.

We have raging fires burning out of control in California. All kinds of everything burning to piles of ash and rubble.  Pure devastation.  The loss of home, communities, and lives was difficult to watch and comprehend.

The current political climate is scorching.... I can't bear to watch the news anymore... Everyone is screaming and screeching at each other in the worst kind of ways...  There is no room for rhetoric from either side.  Just continual embarrassing unprofessional diatribes looking for standing ovations from splintered special interest groups.  The blazing moral divide in our society is widening everyday and what is incredulous is that we all see it but don't seem to want to close the gap.....like at all!  What might look like a "phase" in our collective global journey, is morphing into the new permanent future that seems to celebrate the certainty of catastrophic contention--the new cement of our society.

Diversity and Inclusion awareness is sweeping across corporate America like a plague.  What should be a set of noble principles piercing people's awareness such as unconscious bias and fairness is now threatening the very principles it stands for... the pendulum has swung so far that now no one can utter or voice an opinion because it will inevitably offend a #metoo-er to such an intensely inflamed state that there is no room for apologies, concession, or mutual discussion.... just an enraged outcry for justice as if the person has been wronged their entire lives.  Those that bark the loudest don't really even want a solution... because a solution would mean that there would be a mid-point....yes, even a meeting place where two people could meet, have coffee, share experiences, find empathy for each other's position and then see how and if one could help the other.   No!  We can't have any of that nonsense!  The idea of compromise or consideration for anothers' idea is entirely unacceptable anymore.  Why would either side lower or subject themselves to such a deplorable level?  .... Oh no!  This could never happen.... Any shift would mean "losing" or giving in, or selling one's soul... It is all or nothing now.

Calm cannot exist in this new environment.  How about a hopeful reach for peace you might ask?  No, not possible.  The justification for one's individual's position is the new truth of our day.  Whatever I decide you have to accept....Tolerance has been redefined.....  If you aren't on my side, then you must be done away with....  You have no position, no say, no space in "my" world.....I don't want you to just "understand" me and no, I don't want you to just "disagree" with me but still "respect" me... I actually want you to not exist anymore, because that would probably be better.

Is this what you see?  10 years ago I saw it occasionally, today I see it in front of me all day long, no matter where I turn, politics, sports, entertainment, work, TV, and social media.... it is everywhere.  Everyone deserves an "oscar",  not really for the highest level of performance, rather for other reasons.  I should get a standing ovation because I identify myself as a 6'4" blonde woman despite being a 5'10" brown haired male.  I am convinced that in the very very near future being a heterosexual will be viewed as bizarre and strange and practically abnormal.  What is normal is no longer.....what is morally wrong seems right and what seems righteous is skewed into something that seems wrong.  I am constantly reminded that what I thought was very strange about the citizens of Panem in the Hunger Games is actually being personified more frequently in real life......not just in Hollywood, but all over.....at an accelerated pace.

What bothers me the most is the hatred factor.  Disrespectful behavior is not honorable or acceptable.  But flat out hatred? I thought that was only found in truly exceptional cases that pointed to a certain known handful of named people throughout history.....Nope...not any more.  I know people personally that would rather have someone be wiped off the face of the earth than even have to listen or talk to them about something contrary to their own views.  I find that completely crazy and incomprehensible.

..... So where does that leave me?  Do I bury my head in the sand and hold my tongue?  Do I pretend to "go along" with stuff?  Am I willing to lose friends?  Can I still wear my BYU hoodie outside of Utah without fear of what that will provoke?  To be honest, I don't always know the answers to these questions.  In an age where religion is viewed as one of the most intolerant of all institutions I find myself actually looking more closely there to hold onto the principles of my own faith and listen to what my conscience tells me feel is right.   I have been tossed a bit in this whirlwind.... I have had to shift my feet to find more solid footing.  I have had new doubts surface for the first time ever....... Where I thought I was strong I have learned I haven't been after all.  The noise has forced me to re-evaluate and connect to those things that I know to be true and am searching for ways to grasp onto them more tightly.  Maybe all of this is helpful after all.....to cause the self reflection needed to make the necessary changes.

Yes... the world is on fire and it can't seem to rage high or strong enough.  I fear this fire will leave a more lasting and deeper devastation than anything the California fires did or what Trump says or does.

The good news is that I am learning a lot about myself and where to find the answers. I am so blessed to have friends and family to help me.  I just know I can't and won't let go of hope and will find a way to persist through the smoke and heat.

The Gemba walk

I first learned about the term "Gemba" many years ago while working in manufacturing.  It was one Japanese term used in the "Lean" vocabulary which is basically a way of thinking and improving processes and systems.  The underlying philosophy of "Lean" is about continuous improvement, removing waste and adding value at the individual level.  Everyone becomes concerned about these principles.  Not just the leaders. 

Gemba translated means:  "The place where value is created."  It is where the work gets done. 

It is often referred to the manufacturing floor in some environments, but it can applied to all industries, even any place.  These were some of the principles that were introduced post WW II and transformed Japanese auto manufacturing that led to culture breaking leadership practices as well.  

Before Lean, Asian plant managers were king, everyone walked behind them in a plant.  all were subservient to them.  They knew all the answers and led with a top down mentality.  With Lean, there was a complete 180 paradigm shift.... Managers began their morning walking the manufacturing floor--or the Gemba, and asked questions of all the teams of people making the products and asked how they could help them improve their areas, How they could remove roadblocks, add resource, give more autonomy and authority to teams and individuals to improve their work.  It was all about respect for the worker.  Leaders believed that there should be no undue burden on the worker and anything they could to to help them bring their best was in the best interest of the customer.  It was a philosophy and belief that broke down the very strong traditional Asian cultural hierarchal norms.  Since then, Lean has been incorporated into almost every industry across many organizations because of the great results the application of its principles have yielded.

Interesting... the place of value or of truth was not in the manager's office, No.... it was where the factory workers toiled.   

Jesus, before he was known as the Christ, I imagine observed farmers, fishermen, shepherds and others during his informative years.....  Before he taught, he watched, and walked in these "Gembas."  He chose his 12 from these Gembas.  He knew what they did.  He knew their work, he knew their world, and he knew their hearts.

About 10 years ago I was asked to help guide some young men in our neighborhood in their spiritual development.  As I pondered the best way to help them, I thought about applying what I had learned at work with what I believe Christ did in his ministry -- daily Gemba walks.  I got a map of our neighborhood, and divided it up into geographical sections and called them Gembas, and assigned each young man to a specific Gemba.  I then taught them the principles of what Gemba meant and then I shared with them what I believed Jesus did in his Gemba walks.  I invited them to spend an hour per week just physically walking their "Gemba" but being quick to observe any opportunity to render service.  We did it together first, and I modeled what I thought could be a good gemba walk.  I picked up trash, I right-sided tipped garbage cans, I notices weeds in widow's gardens, I ran to help those that were unloading groceries, I said "Hello" to anyone out in their yard or driveway, I actually rang the doorbell on a few homes I felt impressed to.  One elderly lady said her furnace went out.  I made a note to share with church leaders.  The first walk wasn't momentous, in fact it was unusually ordinary and simple.  But after the walk we sat around on some grass and shared what they saw and witnessed.  I asked them what else might they do on their gemba walk?  As the obvious ideas came out it triggered some out of the box ideas to start to flow.....I will never forget one 14 year old who asked:    

"Aaron, what if we said a quick prayer before our Gemba walk and as that we might be sensitive to spiritual whisperings in addition to physical things we see?"  

I smiled..... (It is always very cool when someone really gets it.  Do you know what I mean?).... I could feel the emotions coming to the surface.  I said that would be a very special way to prepare for a Gemba walk.  I invited them to have their own experience that next week and we would meet again on Sunday to share and see that they learned.

A week went by, and I prepared myself to lower the bar as I remember how motivated I would have been as a teenager to go walk the streets of a neighborhood by myself.... Not so much!

We met, and while some did not take the invitation, several did.  One in particular was so excited to share.  On their walk they noticed a lawn that was covered in leaves.  They decided to rake up all the leaved.  They went and got other family members to help them and they ended filling 30 hefty bags of leaves!  It took several hours but they loved it because it was a direct result of doing their personal Gemba walk.   He had found the place where value is created.  Although entirely so simple, I would like to think he won't forget that first Gemba walk ever again.

This Christmas I have been thinking about Jesus.  His ways and who he is.  I have reflected on how he might of thought about his ministry.  I wonder if he thought about how he would best connect with people. He must have been so thoughtful about the approach and pattern he took.  At the appointed time, he walked his own Gemba.  He had no office.....He just walked and never stopped.  

It was in his Gemba walks that he taught about Love, Forgiveness, Kindness, Repentance, Life beyond physical death.  

I would like to believe that he continues his Gemba walks even now. I don't see him, but I feel his influence often when I pay attention.  It is almost always through a feeling or impression upon my mind or often through kindness of others.  I wonder if he does what that young man did.... Begin his daily walk with a prayer for you and for me, wondering how he might lift us, how he might bring more light to our lives..... how he could create value for us, such as inspiring us to look another's way instead of our own and cascade any light we feel from him to others.

So my friend, whether you believe in Jesus Christ or not, do you think their is any power in embarking upon your own Gemba walk?  Just think about it..... This season may be a great time to start one......What might happen if you tuned your mind and your eyes with a bit more precision to seek out opportunities to lift someone each day that you may not have thought of before?  Could you surprise yourself?  Not only that, but you might completely change someone's life with a simple choice to start one........

                                                      ...........maybe even as small as one single solitary email response.

Liftoffs and Landings

I was on my way to NYC...Normally I get an aisle, but this time was a rare window seat.  As the plane turned to line up for take off I got a quick glimpse of the long runway.... It was a powerful image and struck me as completely thrilling as I put myself in the shoes of the pilot.  To know you are about to thunder down this little strip of land with this massive machine with all these souls aboard and lift off through some magic called physics and aerodynamics up into the clouds.  Pretty impressive feeling I imagined....

I wondered if they feel the same exuberance for landings...or would it be a bit more like anxiety... that twinge of butterflies that I could only dream would be there... Somehow finding that little spot and bringing everyone home safely must be a daunting feeling.  Which one would be the greater experience?  Maybe it isn't right to compare.  They both are their own thing.

I found myself musing about liftoffs and landings.... and life.  Most of the times liftoffs are about going somewhere....maybe somewhere new, exciting, full of opportunity and adventure.....freedom from feeling bound or tethered.

Landings are about returning... maybe for some it feels like coming home.....coming back to what is known, what is stable. Maybe even to what knows us..... embracing us back into its fold.  Sometimes it might feel like the ending of an adventure, and the transition back to the inevitability of responsibility, structure and the stark reality of routine.  Sometimes it can be as exciting to come back home.....We all love adventure, we also love home.....The familiar patterns and smells, the hugs from kids and dogs, the familiar feel of the the house.  Landings give us both these.

I've experienced some amazing liftoffs and landings this year.  I have explored new places both geographically and figuratively in ways I never expected.  I have seen sights, tasted food, felt the soul of many cities.  More importantly I have met many new people and have made a few special friends.

And it is this little stretch of land is the place that makes all the arrivals and all the departures all happen....The runway.  It sits silently waiting patiently... in between, creating the necessary space for both to occur.

If in the twilight of memory we should meet once more, we shall speak again together and you shall sing to me a deeper song

She Is The Hero

She never stops fighting for what is right.  She never backs down.  She is the one that suffers silently for things that no one will ever understand.  She smiles when others wouldn't.  She smiles when she shouldn't have to.  Her gaze cuts through the haze of uncertainty and confusion--because she is fierce...  She bears the weight of world, because it is through her that she will bear all those that will come after... to shape and sculpt the world into what it will be.... She is the vehicle, She is the means....She is beauty.

The betrayal she endures only unveils her vulnerability and true beauty.... to live and love despite what others do, to rise above and persevere...and to often...forgive.  She gives effortlessly and  knows when to hold back to create safety for herself and maintain the self-respect she deserves.

An all the while, she seeks persistently for clues to elusive, unanswered questions....answers that will open her heart like a fountain of water to the thirsty traveler.....answers that will unlock doors to the creation of transcendent experiences....

There is no man that will ever truly know Her.... Her mind, Her heart, Her experience, Her burden, Her loss, Her self-doubt, Her sorrow, Her strength or Her triumphs.  The world somehow sees all of Her and beckons Her to keep bringing all that she is to each new day that comes.

And here I stand....all amazed.... watching, in absolute admiration...pretending to understand, pretending to know.... realizing that the only thing I do know, deep down inside, is that at the end of the day I will never know....

I sit on the side....and watch in awe....wondering, hoping...... wishing that someday, that I can be part of her....like the consistent ebb and flow of the tide..... moving together in beautiful natural unison....in an important pattern that Heaven smiles upon.....

.....Do I dare ask..... Can She can still save me yet....?

Quand Je Avais 12 Ans

Would you agree that most of us would say of the time we were 12, that if if there were a film of our lives that section would be heavily edited out? At best, it would be the first on the list of "deleted scenes" never to be remembered because of how painfully that age represented the height of awkwardness, insecurity and overall physical and emotional horribleness....!

No Bueno.

When I was 12,  do I remember not feeling so confident?  For sure... Did I not fit in with the cool groups?  Correct, I did not.  Did I wonder what others thought?  Yes, and I didn't probably take compliments well as I didn't know it was ok to accept them without seeming egoistic.  I was on the smaller side of humanness and do remember being self conscious.  But, I gotta say, despite all that stereotypical drama and fuss,  I loved that time.  I am probably out of my mind, and yet I do remember those years very fondly.

They were so defining to me, they brought such clarity...  

When I was 12, I remember clearly so much of that time frame.  I felt like I soaked in everything, I watched people, I watched what I didn't like and I watched what I did... I began to identify with those differences.  Those experiences and interactions of Jr. High totally helped shape very quickly who I thought I was, and who I might want to become.

When I was 12, I remember really clearly defining what pretty was.... like creating my own Webster's definition of the term.  What defined pretty wasn't words, but names, names of girls.  Girls who I admired, looked up to, thought were so smart and so grown up.  I remember for the first time in my life realizing that some girls were pretty, but I didn't like them and all of a sudden they weren't as pretty any more.  Others, that seemed more plain, less talked about by my friends, became more pretty as I got to see them on the inside and how they acted and carried themselves.  Funny how that worked.... I didnt' understand why, but it went like that for me.... did it for you?

When I was 12, I started to figure out why I liked certain people for the first time other than liking them because my parents did.  It was an extraordinary time to have these awakenings and early insights.  I watched what people did, I listened to what they said, I soaked in a lot without knowing I was doing that.  I then found myself thinking a lot about why people did the things they did.

When I was 12, I didn't know it, but I needed this rich diversity of cultures and nationalities to help me define who I wanted to be. Intetersting I needed to see a lot of what I didn't want to be as much as what I did want to be in others.....  I couldn't have done it without them or those experiences.

When I was 12, I had no idea if anyone would notice, or remember me.  Everything I did was about getting noticed each day, at each party, in each conversation, during each class, with each love note written, ... it was more about a series of living in moments than laying down tracks for the future.  No one thought about that, at least I didn't.  The longest I thought about the future was maybe several weeks, maybe a couple of months at best.  Everything was about "now"!  Maybe that is why it is still such a vibrant memory for me to this day..... Each day was like a mini-liftetime because each day was "it".

When I was 12, I did hate leaving my friends.  I felt their loss when they moved away.  It was intense.  I sincerely thought I would never see them ever again.  The way we lived overseas made sure of that.... it was an age before technology and social media knew how to fill those gaps.  The inevitability and permanent probability of never seeing good friends again caused a lot of ache inside despite the continual reocurrence this cycle had in my life.  It really never got better, I think I just became more numb.... but it did cause those moments to be super tight -- meaning, I squeezed the most out the ones I was dealt.  This made a difference later.... that investment paid great dividends later.... much later!!

When I was not 12 anymore,  I started finding people and they started finding me...  Can I possibly explain how important that was for me?  Probably not very well....    What has been so beautiful is that many that I thought I didn't want to be like, surprised me!  Others, were the opposite.  So interesting to see how all these lives unfolded like long roots flowing out from that center place of being 12 all together.  To see the different directions their choices had led them was fascinating.  What was the best of all is that almost in every case, each friend was still the same... they were still that 12 year old kid at the end of the day.   There was the instant familiarity, the feeling of knowing, the sense of community and immediate understanding and empathy causing an euphoria of emotion and joy.   Despite the stark differences that had taken place, there was that beautiful balm of universal understanding and feeling of "remembering who we were" in an instant!

When I am 112, I will still look back and find the times when you and I were 12 to be some of the most important in all my life.  Yes, they were awkward and painful.... But I wouldn't trade them.

Thank you for being 12 with me then and staying 12 now and hopefully remaining 12 forever.  Can you do that?  Your fingerprints are all over me, your influence lingers, and I could never have become me without you being 12.

S'il vous plaît restez 12 ans pour toujours....!

Sounds of The Night Vendors

I wish I could explain what it was like..... to be 8 years old and living the first few days and weeks in Jakarta, Indonesia.  It would be impossible to describe the color, the smells, the humidity, the heat and the dirt.....the kaleidoscope of a fascinating culture.

To go out into the street I could inhale so many things in the air there.  To hear the early morning and late afternoon islam prayers being broadcast from the local mosques.  To see the the stunning colorfully painted sunsets......It was incredible to experience all of one's senses at once.

We had just moved there from VA.  So the immediate difference in life was stark!  The first couple of nights were so eerie... I remember having jet lag which meant every night I was wide awake at 2am with only my thoughts about this new interesting land and my ears hearing sounds I had never heard before.....or ever since.  They came like haunting calls in breaking the silence of the night.....

"Sapooooo!" "Sapoooo!"  

A voice called out in the black night....  this was the first of many....These were the sounds of the night vendors.  The first few nights these guys freaked me out and I ran to my parents room waking them up only for them to explain to me that these were people out in the street trying to sell something to make a living.   What a foreign idea....Why would they be out so late and yelling out loud??  Who would buy something in the middle of the night.  It didn't make sense.... but in time it would.

Once I knew I didn't have to be afraid of them I began to to catalog the different sounds and sometimes I would try and sneak a peek out the window to see what type of vendor they were as they passed by hurriedly.... to see what were they selling.   "Sapooo!" was the call of the sweep and broom vendor.  There was the cobbler, the butcher on the bicycle, the medicine woman, the knife sharpener, the myriad of food vendors (Satay guy was amazing!), the basket man, the metal clanging guy who I never figured out what he did.... All of these amazing people out in the street late at night walking often barefoot with a bamboo pole slung across their shoulders with their wares hanging on each side creating perfect balance.  Because of the weight and the flex in the bamboo they would almost do a dance-walk, very rhythmic and bouncy as they pitter pattered down the streets.   They would yell out while walking letting the neighborhood know that they were out....to give enough early warning to the neighborhood so they had time to run out and flag them down if needed before they passed by.

As I became more of a night owl even in my young years, I came to look forward to nighttime in Jakarta,  because I knew that when everything else became silent, the night vendors would be there, their calls often haunting and lonely, but to me they became comforting and soothing.

"What a solitary existence....I wondered...." 

Wandering the streets hoping their longing call would trigger a sale.  I would hear them while in bed, waiting to see how many seconds would pass in between their calls.  I wondered what it might be like to do what they did, to live as they did...... I fantasized about being one of them, walking in the night, never cold, being so happy when someone stopped me to buy something and then thinking I might eat that day.  I wondered at times if they were sad or if they even knew what that meant.  Just because I thought they were poor and destitute maybe they weren't... maybe they were quite happy.  They seemed to be able to walk all day and all night with the same energy and pace....not prone to slowing down.  They would carry their sarongs around  one shoulder and then when it came time to sleep, which could be anywhere, they would wrap themselves in it like a poor man's sleeping bag and catch a bit of sleep and probably dream of roads not yet traveled hoping for a life of more ease.....and better food.

Did we partake?  Oh yes... my parents were big fans. They would flag as many down as they could week to week.  There was nothing more fun than to run down and then watch each one do the bargain, do the pitch, start high on the price and then inevitably come down with the art of the bargain.... The cobbler was my favorite.  He came for 5 years and he seemed to never age but I think he was 100 when we started.  He would come up to our driveway and set up his little shop.  It was incredible what he had inside each of those two hanging baskets..  He had an iron anvil shoe horn, tools, leathers, glues and all kinds of doo dads.  We would bring out a dozen pair of shoes (six kids...) each time even if some of them weren't so bad....  I would sit there and just watch him work.  It was hypnotic and I was in awe of his skills.  So adept and supple with his hands.  Measuring, selecting the right leather, tracing it, cutting it and then gluing or nailing little rivets into the soles.  It was fascinating and my memory is so clear of it even today.  The smell of the glue and leather.  His silent toothless smile.  We paid him a bit more which my parents always did....not too much, but more....

I can look back now and honestly say these were profound moments of life for me.  I realized later that it was an honor to see a man live off of his own hands and efforts and to take such pride in his work.  I learned then that it doesn't matter what our work is.  We might be a dentist, a lawyer, or a ticket taker at a concert....what matters is how we carry ourselves and if we do it with our best effort and to be fair in what we are paid for.  I feel God reveres this old man who had nothing but the shirt on his back and the roll of a few coins hidden in his sarong for some rice and tea.  Each vendor was the same, the meat grinder, the broom guy, the lady selling medicine etc....  They weren't looking to be saved or subsidized... they wanted a fair price for their best.  They probably wouldn't have taken more than what was fair.

Do you still know people like that?  Are you like that?  Am I.....?  do I bring my best everyday?  Am I honorable at the end of each day as I look back on each interaction and effort I expended?

It has definitely caused me to reflect on my own approach to my work.  I think I can do better....

So, when the night comes now.... I don't hear those sounds any more... I miss them terribly.  Nothing would make me happier for slumber than to hear outside of my very developed HOA community, the call of a new night vendor... Man, that would put things into perspective again.

I cherish those familiar calls.. they linger long in my memory.  They continue to live and breathe each time I remember....

I won't forget their beautiful sound, and I won't forget what they have taught me...