The Artist's Part

“Maybe we should think of memory itself as a work of art—and a work of art is never finished, only abandoned.”

I remember asking my brother Roland, an artist, how he knew when a drawing or painting was done.... he hated that question.  He couldn't answer it.  It was usually an obsession, but then it could become a love hate thing......For so many a work of art is never done.... I can only imagine that Roland revisited a number of his works years later and could immediately see things to tweak....oh the "could have", "should have" syndrome must have been powerful....I  do remember times he would immediately call to attention flaws, or things he didn't like, things he remembered clearly and with much emotion, sometimes despair...  It was hard for him to look at his own work......

......Funny, I been looking at my "works of art"  from the perspective of a parent,   What if kids were the canvas....Could parenting be the palette of paint we are given?....I find myself wondering if all the "brush strokes" I did were the right ones.... was the texture right, did I capture the right feeling and was the technique good enough to shape them into the best they could be?

As the two oldest leave the nest, I cannot help but stand back and look at who and what they are.... Mostly I see them, their incredible selves.  Sometimes it is hard to see if I really added anything substantive here and there, but the more I look it seems much more about revealing what was already there...  Michelangelo knew:

Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.

Someone plays tricks in my head...One keeps whispering "you are done."  Another says: "you are never done."  Honestly the first one really seems appealing.  I tend to nurse that one, but like all things false, it is slippery and can't stay still.  I hear things like: "It's ok Aaron, you did your best... they will be just fine... Your work is done." .....  As if the painting was to be turned in as an assignment only to be thrown into the pile of other art "assignments" as if completed and ready to be graded by the teacher. Yes, I play with it.....but I know it isn't true.

So, I face the second one.... forever tweaking like Roland used to do.

Certainly they are living breathing works of art... they will never be "done", so therefore neither will I ever be done with the Artist's part.  As I slowly begin to accept this part.....I find I have more empathy now for artists.... I understand better now why they seem to be tortured as they reflect back on past art.  I remember my dear mother doing the same thing... wishing she had done this or that... where she "missed", never seeming to take credit for anything positive or good.    I remember almost getting angry with her for doing that... I didn't like that she did that in the least. What a useless activity I thought, to flog oneself for things that one cannot change.

Fast forward 30 years and I think I have a bit more understanding.  It is hard to not see your kids mistakes as your own as a result of that very intense creative art process of helping them discover who they are inside life's "block of stone".  I yearn to undo a few brushstrokes... I wish I had used a brighter color, one that would have shone better on them, that would have attracted more light.

For some artists, the better question to know when a work of art is done is "Is it overdone?"   Interesting... I remember keenly when Landon was about 15 that this notion came to be about getting out of his way, more than anything else.  Boy that was different "technique".  I don't remember them teaching that one to me in "Art school".  How does one apply that to the canvas?  That was a huge lesson for me...  Less is Better.  Now more empathy for the minimalists....I get it.  Thank you for your part in helping me understand.

For some artists the worst thing that can happen is that they actually really "finish" a piece.  It is very clear to me now.  I am never done... these works of art are never finished... there can be no walking away, only ever ending vigil...The work of art now needs the artist more than ever....... To think that they are done and somehow freed from your touch is true abandonment.  No, I will continue to dip the brush into paint and continue to brush the paint on.... however small or slight the mark may be....

Thank God for the artist's part.  May He gently guide and steer each stroke on every canvas.....

..... especially mine, 

who could be more undone?

A Girl Named Maria...

In 1979 I met a girl named Maria....

I was in 8th grade, she was in 7th. She was cute, popular and above all else.....nice! She was Argentine, but knew English perfectly.... Didn't know it at first, but spent many years in the U.S. (Secretly she still feels a bit "Americana"......)

She liked being called "Jose" (pronounced Hozy) That made it fun, and shorter!

I can't say we were deep friends by any means.  She was great fun to dance with and mostly I observed.....
Here is what I saw back then:

• She was high energy, full of life, 
• Passionate about things, sometimes loud (Argentine...!) 
• But always fun and always positive. 
• She was friendly, all about family, 
• Unbeknownst to most, kept things close to her heart. 
• She was thoughtful, sometimes insecure, but no one would have known that in a million years... she had us all fooled! 
• She was an athlete, and a cheerleader. I would say most wanted to know her.... ok, more guys than girls maybe! : )

As little girls do....this girl Maria (Jose) grew up too.... She studied, lived, experienced ups and downs and then found the love of her life--her husband. They settled in Cordoba and had 4 kids. Amazing kids! She stayed fiercely close to her family. She was inseparable with her sisters then, and still now to this day! 

Fast forward to 2012... July I think... maybe June... I get a call out of the blue from Jose...  She says she is in SLC..... "No way!"   In all the gin joints in all the world how does she end up here?? Nonetheless my heart leaps for joy that she called....She is in town for a week long Suzuki violin festival. Her daughter plays the violin and she has brought about 20 other kids with teachers and their parents to this event. 

We meet, reconnect, it is beautiful! Memories flood back from days of Brazil... my other home....home of so many special experiences and feelings. She is all that she was before, but much more..... We talk of kids, marriage, growing up and where our friends have scattered themselves all over the world. 

She gives me a peek into this new world of music for her. She never played any instrument with any mastery but not only has she introduced classical music to her daughter, I can tell she is the ring leader of some local chapter or chamber music group that feels much like a "Start up"....Not a lot of money, but some passion and a lot of elbow grease to get something going. She didn't state it, but I could tell she was the one in charge.  She leaves....

She comes back the next year too! So much fun. Other friends came a long with her Sister. We have a ball. I start to see more and more what she was up to... what started with a few friends and their kids has been ramping up.... I just had no idea to what extent. I have a pretty good feeling she didn't either!  She knows in her heart someone is going to have to take on a leadership role with this grass roots movement that is now growing up with big boy pants!!

Upon her invitation I visit her and family in Cordoba (April 2015).  I see first hand what the power of one idea can do in the hands of a remarkable person.  If only I had a movie camera....

Being there in person is the only way to truly understand what Jose has done......I had to witness it with my own two eyes, this incredible miracle worker that is Maria Jose Patino. There are few that I have known that have dedicated themselves to a particular cause in such a way that leaves one breathless.... She is one.   

What she has done single handedly with her family to bring the gift of music to the city of Cordoba is truly unbelievable. She has funded, orchestrated and managed to get people involved to start and maintain classical orchestra to schools.  Hundreds of kids are now involved. It is amazing to watch some of these kids practice without an instrument in their hands... they raise an invisible violin and bow, and they follow the Maestro regardless... they practice the air... while they patiently wait for the kid next to them take their turn.....Oh, and this is on Saturday btw.....

I watched her completely open her home to dozens of kids and teachers several times a week to for music lessons, only to then hold late night meetings with volunteers in her kitchen to wrestle with administrative issues... I watched the Minister of Education visit a local school where MJ and a handful of volunteers pulled off an amazing orchestral performance that opened the door to much needed government visibility... I watched her give up her Saturdays to ensure that under privileged kids and teachers had a place to practice in little plain rented rooms in small neighborhoods, often rough ones--but that is where there is space. She was there engaged in talking with parents and volunteers providing the foundational support that this community needs so desperately. She took calls at any hour to help make decisions, to console, to empathize, to influence, to make whatever needed to happen, happen....I was there when she and her husband stopped at a local music shop late at night and paid for 3 more violins to add the hundreds already acquired...She does't think twice, she just 'acts'. When you ask her how she does it, she has no answer...she downplays it completely and takes almost no credit. 

When the kids actually start playing, she glows, she is lost in the performance....the tears well up and in that moment she knows...that this is her heart's work. These kids, have nothing. Their parents have so little to offer them... Jose treats every single person with dignity and as a peer no matter what standing they have in the community.... most are so modest in means.  She is transforming music in schools, she is bringing cultural dignity to her city and country. 

To me, this isn't really about music... it is about hope, a doorway to freedom and transformation of lives.... these kids will open doors that never would have been available to them without Jose.   She has set a true example of how to live an honorable life with no regret. And everyday she worries about the next, can she keep it up?  Will there be enough left in the tank? Will she get the help she needs?  How can she take it to the next level?  What if she can't?  Her humility carves the path for all things to work out in their own way.... 

I honor you MJ, and your family regardless of how many votes you get. I will never forget how I was marked by your work, and your heart.

Mr Holland did get to hear his Opus finally... Jose, you are hearing yours everyday.

When One Word Says It All

Have you ever looked for a word to describe something so special but it just doesn't seem to exist? I have been searching for this word my entire life......It was quite by accident, but won't forget how my heart leapt when I stumbled upon it.

I will always remember how excited I was, having just attended my senior class graduation with 33 of my class in Brasilia, Brazil.  4 years of amazing experiences in a foreign country.....The closeness we felt, all different nationalities, experiencing a new culture all together, bonding in ways that most never would given our circumstances...

I brought that excitement home... feeling accomplished, feeling good about being a good American in an international assignment... not that kind the movies make fun of....no, the one where I wasn't sure I even wanted to go "home"....

But I did... I couldn't wait to share the amazing set of experiences I had had living abroad... I had so much to offer, such unique perspectives, so many different cultures, so many lessons learned that I felt I could share....

"So, did you live in a hut on stilts in the jungle?"

That was the first question I got from a friend back in Utah.....  I almost thought he was joking....he was not!  I said, have you ever heard of Sao Paulo?   He shook his head.... I said it was a city bigger than NYC!!  Rio de Janeiro was just behind it....  

That was the first inkling of many to follow over the years of how these conversations were going to go....

Next was.....

 "Did you have running water or a car?"

"Did they have McDonald's there?"

"You must have hated it there"

Next was...

"You had a black girlfriend??"

Really???  This couldn't be happening....

I remember being truly confused first.... then angry....then sad... they had no idea.  My understanding of how this was going to be slowly drooled into my brain like thick molasses...  Yes, Exulansis.   I lived in shock for a long while.  I realized I was all alone with these incredible memories and experiences... noone really cared, noone understood and noone was going to do a dang thing about it either.... I was truly alone in my own country that seemed so foreign,  among 'my' people that had no empathy or no understanding of the world in the least.  Where and how on earth was I going to reconcile this debilitating disconnect?    ....The answer is a longer story.....I have written about it in previous posts.  

It is amazing how finding this word after so many years still immediately hits me dead center... Those things did happen, I was there...  it was amazing.  I am less lost today.  But, now I have a most beautiful new vocabulary word that sings to my soul when I see it.  

 Like a friend that I never knew..... 

Being Seen

“The Reality of The Other Person Lies Not In What He Reveals To You, But What He Cannot Reveal To You.
Therefore, If You Would Understand Him, Listen Not To What He Says, But Rather To What He Does Not Say.”

― Khalil Gibran

I am not sure if this has ever happened to you.  My guess is that you will know if it does.  It is a powerful experience.  I have been thinking about this idea of "being seen."  A friend was talking to me about this....  Some of us are desperate to be seen, while others would rather die than be seen.  To be seen as we truly are....  why would that carry such enormous risk and peril?  Maybe it is because we are not able to handle the idea that maybe we could be accepted and loved for who we are....  Maybe others will see "through" us instead...

Listening to what someone doesn't say takes a particular gift I believe.  I have been on the receiving end of that and have appreciated it so much.  When someone "gets" you, without you having to spell it out....  magic.  It is like a gift you didn't even know you needed, and so when received it is so special and precious. 

Somehow, some way God sees us completely and trusts us in our struggles to see ourselves and to be seen by others.  Somehow He is there, part of that process....  giving us glimpses of what can be so that we can aim our arrows to a good place.  All we seem to need are those glimpses, those little flashes that come unexpectedly and then are suddenly gone... but the image lingers.... even though fleeting, it is there just beyond reach.  We know what to shoot for, we just don't always know if we are ready or if we want to....  What happens if we actually become that person?  Someone told me :  It is as if finally boarding that elusive ship, but now wondering what to do next...  

......To be seen or not....  

I wonder if it is more about being understood than anything else.... that is why I feel Gibran's invitation to listen for understanding in order to really "see" beckons so strongly.  I thank those who have listened that way to me... it has made all the difference.  The gratitude is so deep.  Maybe I am ok to be me after all....

Healing and Time

"Time heals all wounds"    Really..?  Does it?

I have been re-thinking the whole "Time heals all wounds" thing we hear during difficult times.  I don't thing time has anything to do with it.  I think it ultimately has a lot more to do with what we actually "do" during the space we call time.  Time is passive.   If we just decided to do things sooner, rather than wait and wallow in our own hot mess we wouldn't rely on the circular incessant passing of two hands of time to somehow miraculously solve our problems.

Because if you believe that feeling better is simply a matter of time, and not within your own ability to control, you will eventually give up hope of happiness because it has failed to ‘arrive’.

Is it time's fault we carry resentment for years?  No, that is on us.....I believe that time doesn't heal us at all... Growth does.

"The light at the end of the tunnel isn't the illusion.  The tunnel is."   --Unknown

When you take an active part in your healing, rather than simply wait, the sooner the proverbial tunnel shrinks and the quicker you reach the light at the end.

So...what to do?  Wait..... maybe something will change on its own... maybe we should continue nursing dissatisfaction in our souls because we are justified and it feels good....

or we can grow up and become that person that beckons to us inside.... the one that we see when we close our eyes... the one that is just a bit better than we are today, the one that fills us with emotion and inspiration...   Yes... let's do it.  Let's grow up together and reach for that light today!  Don't let time haunt you any more.... it is a thief if you let it be.

The Unbearable Burn of Hurting Good

It finally came.... the day of pure dread.  The day I used to think would be so exciting and cool.... the day we would drop McKenna off at college.  Exciting and cool it was.... but where was the manual that would prepare me for the absolute angst of my heart strings being pulled like stretch armstrong.  Talk about the 'Agony and the Ectasy'....Sheesh!

There are no words to describe the different emotions that swirled like a twister inside me that day.  It would have not have been so hard if we hadn't had the type of previous year that we had with her...  Of all the years of my life, this would rank in the top 3. Spending time with McKenna was truly an exquisite experience and memory that I will cherish with all of my heart forever.

Seniors aren't supposed to have time for family, much less parents... Everything about them is about not being home.... in fact it is very much about leaving home as soon as possible.  It is all about not being seen or embarrassed by parents, complaining about them, hating the curfews, resenting being asked "how was your night?"   Not for McKenna... she loved being home, at least she made us feel that way, and she seemed to genuinely be interested in spending time with us.... there were so many special times when she was engaged in finding out about me personally, about my work, about parenting, about me and my hopes and dreams.  Spending so much time with Mom really helping her think about and solving problems.  Letting us both in.....what a blessing.  All I really know is that I do not know how, in all the big wide world we were so blessed and fortunate to have her come to us, be part of our family, to inspire us every single day.

Yes, it would have been easier if she had been the normal high schooler -- into herself, boy crazy, can't-wait-to-get-out-of-here girl, because then maybe I would have even had a slight urge to see her "move on" if you know what I mean.... She took an entirely different but beautiful route.

Let me put it this way.... when she said,

 "Dad.... do you just want to come to college with me?"

I really didn't need to hear anything else.......ever!  She immediately leaped into my personal Hall of Fame.   Game over, strike me down now, take me I am ready.....Seriously??  Who is she?

The week before I was already feeling the loss.... it was very deep and it hurt like all get out.  The day before I was doing all kinds of things to keep me distracted... then the day came.  At first I decided I wouldn't go all the way down, rather just catch her half way at work, give her a hug and then let it be that.... they stopped by, I JUMPED into the car and said  "I am not missing this for anything."   Best decision I have made in a while.

We got her all fixed up, went and got groceries, set up her printer and laptop, put everything away, then we walked out to the car to say good bye.  She pulled out letters for Mom and me.  I knew I would not be able to even read it for at least a day.

                                                                   We hugged....yep... you know the kind... the one where spirit hugs spirit... way beyond body.

The ache started amidst the happy parting words.... it lingered until I found the courage to read her letter.... So powerful. So rich, so beautiful, so grateful....

                                                                                    .........for the unbearable burn of hurting good.

Where Angels Land

Last weekend I found myself in this place shown to the left....  a place called Angel's Landing.  A most spectacular and unique place.  There is a reason for the name.... It is like those movie scenes where you see someone on top of a particular peak that they couldn't possibly have gotten to without the aid of a helicopter..... or by the wing's of an Angel.  6 people have died since 2005 exactly where this picture shows.. this last .5 mile spine with chains to help guide each footstep to the final peak.

I didn't really want to climb it.  I was at a family reunion and that morning when roll call went out for those going on this hike, my hand did not raise as part of the "counted" as going.  But something inside said "go".... So, I went.....

My head was telling me that I should go with my two sons.... my heart had something else in mind but I didn't know what that was until later.....later when I was winded, exhausted and taking more and more little breaks on the way up.  It was very hot, I was exerting a lot of energy.  It felt pretty good, although I was out of shape.

During the hike my mind shifted from paying attention to the trail and surroundings to an internal thought that was brewing inside and trying to bubble up....It finally surfaced as I was about 3/4 of the way up.  the thought was pretty clear once if formed in my mouth and I actually said it out loud to myself:

"Aaron, you need to leave something up here that you will not return with...."

I listened to myself as I said it.  I pretended to question myself but I knew exactly what it meant.  I just didn't know where that question came from....or rather, I wasn't sure that was going to be the question.  I have been working on a theory of mine over the past couple of years... which is, maybe if I spend enough time on figuring out the right questions in my life, and then offering them up to Heaven, maybe that is the best way for me to ensure I am on the right path and doing the right things in the moment of that particular question..... (It wouldn't be me if I didn't make this complex)  I knew instantly that the reason I came was  not actually just to be with my kids.....(btw they took off way ahead and didn't see them that much anyway)... rather it was to have this question accompany me on the way up and then extend the invitation to leave something by giving something up.  

The good news is that I have a rolodex of hundreds of things that I could do without that I have collected along the way that are pretty much unnecessary in my life. The bad news was this was not going to be one of those "low hanging fruit" things...  This was going to be something more significant, something that I would not want to give up, something that would make me a bit afraid to not have in my life anymore....something very familiar, something that seemingly would feel safe, but ultimately would keep me from spiritually growing up.....something that would hurt.
  
My thoughts crystallized with each step.  The remaining difficult .5 miles was slow and technical, giving me time to ready myself.  It wasn't easy... I fought and wrestled inside trying to replace the "thing" with another thing, but it wouldn't go away.  It won the day and I was tired inside now, not just my body.  I slowly gave in.  I started to go through the mental motions of giving that up.... offering it to God.  Letting loose the tight grip I had on it.  I tried to "feel" ahead what that would feel like afterwards..... days from now, what would I think and feel... would I recover, would I stick to it... could I sustain and maintain?  I wasn't sure.  But I knew I had to try.

So there on the very top of Angel's Landing I found a quiet little spot, I closed my eyes and offered a very simple prayer.....  "Lord, please send Angels to help me let go of what I need to"  I thought it would be ok to ask that way, given the location.   "And grant me the strength to see it through, to fight through the pain it would bring, to grow up so maybe I could help others do the same."

Some tears came.... partly due the physical exhaustion, mostly due to the parting....like letting go of a friend.... but it was time.  Little boys must grow up.  I have a new perspective on the whole Peter Pan philosophy and empathy for Pan himself. 

"When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight"                -- GIbran

  I came down from that mountain a bit different.  I thought about if I had not chosen to come.  I remembered the wrestle I had internally earlier that morning.  I felt the victory of making the choice I did.  It was a very interesting experience that I was not planning on.  It happened.... I felt it was important, I felt I needed it.  What was particularly special was what I learned that day.  I learned that listening to that still small voice is important.  I learned that acting on promptings can make a difference... I was reminded that a man named Jesus was willing to give up something too.... for me and for you.  He too wrestled inside and with God, in a way I will never understand. He asked too "if possible, let this cup pass away from me", He was tired and exhausted and yet and he gave up his life of his own free volition.  I was grateful for the experience, yes....even the test, to see what I would do, on such an infinitesimal scale.   

Should chance and you meet on this mount someday.... I openly invite you to consider what question you could ask yourself as you reach that place where Angel's land and Heaven feels a bit closer.

Pray for me....that I can "stick this landing" like I need to, and I will pray for you....

Coming Home

The last time a picture had such a powerful emotional effect on me was when I saw my mother as a young woman dancing  for the very first time.  (*See "Finishing Touches" post)

When I saw this one today, two days before Landon comes home from his 2 year mission, I was struck by 100 things all at the same time and I didn't even know what they all were, yet at the same time they all made sense in my heart and I knew that I would slowly dissect each segment -- like peeling apart an orange a section at a time.  Mostly I just had a "knowing" feeling.  Immediate knowing.  A new friend of mine would call it "Suchness."  It was much more about feeling this photo than it was about seeing or looking at it.  I fell instantly in love with it... with what it captured, conveyed and spoke to my heart.

I love first that it is in black and white.  It almost has a a late "50's or early 60's" feel to it.  A bit of a throw back.  The fact that he is completely alone, headed across this bridge... Oh, what a bridge it is!  A major bridge in his life, a metaphor of the transition back, a crossing.... a rite of passage..... a moment of maturity, a resoluteness in his posture and step.  He isn't wavering is he...No, his gaze is fixed, his air of assuredness noted and his sight is set and it isn't downward, it is set on the prize...

Once someone I respected a great deal offered me some counsel after a particular trying assignment I had on my mission.  I had been in one area for 9 months and confined to an office.  He said, when you leave this area for the next one, don't look back.  Do a 180 degree direction change and just move forward and don't spend anytime looking over your shoulder wondering, or fretting about what will come behind you.  It was exactly what I needed.  I needed to give myself "permission" to move forward, no regrets, no doubts.  I feel this is exactly what this picture conveys to me.  Landon isn't wondering or fussing about what he is leaving.  He has done it, completed the requirements, given his all....now ready for the next experience...the wind at his back.

Noone is watching, he doesn't need that... he has his own terms.  Seems right.

I said two years ago I would catch you on the "flipside"  Just pretend Landon that we are on the other side of that bridge.......

"Well done thou good and faithful servant"

Father's Day

Landon posted the other day on FB.  I didn't even know about it until it had been there a while.  He said some very special things that tore me up inside, in the very best way of being torn up inside.... I couldn't hold this one back at all... it just power punched me right in the heart and I was a pool of goo after that....literally I think I just melted onto my knees.

First:  The photo.... How on earth did he get this??  I don't even remember owning this one.  Rod Manning was my companion in Portugal when I served my mission for the LDS Church back in....uh oh...are you ready?   1985.   Landon is on the right, looking better....as he should, with his last companion in Edmonton.  What a cool pic!  I will treasure this one....

Second:  The honor......What an incredible way to honor this long standing LDS tradition of serving missions.  Mine changed me and my life forever... I believe Landon's has done the same for him.

Third:  The gratitude.....this is pretty profound for me.  Other compliments are wonderful.  This one....wow... kinda can't really express or completely take in yet.  It is like the water overflowing a pitcher in the sink...  not enough room.  I think of all the people in my life that it took to help form my choice to go.  Too many people, not enough words.  This is just so very deep and special to me.  

So what is the lesson?  Do good things... all the time,  'cause someone is watching and you truly never know what the ripple effect can be....

You think that sometimes it is the things you say that might be the biggest part of parenting.... finding the right words, saying them the right way, trying to never miss those teaching moments that are so fleeting... but this is a reminder that maybe one of the best parenting practices was about something I did vs said.   Especially crazy since my mission was 30 years ago, long before I was a parent.  Interesting to now hear Landon's thoughts and feelings about what I did so many years ago, now continues to influence him in a pretty significant way.  

Humbling is what it is..... and beautiful too.  I love you more than you will ever know.  Thanks for taking the time, sharing your words, hoping and knowing that I would love it.  Thanks for your generosity.

Landon.... I can't really find the words to express the gift you just gave me.  I will find room for it, and I will make a special place to honor it with you.  A trophy, a legacy, an echo of eternity.....


                                        Thank you.
                                               谢谢

The Sound of one Million Memories.....

Have you experienced those moments where you hear a song and suddenly you are taken immediately back to a particular memory? Sometimes it can be a smell, a phrase or even a word that can trigger those memories.  It is an amazing experience that almost takes on a life of its' own.... you weren't thinking about that time, place or person, but suddenly in an instant, you are there, fully immersed in the whole experience all over again.  Not only do the details seem crisp, but you can almost remember the smell too.... Mostly what you remember though is the feeling.  The sensation of your whole body reliving each step all over again.  A smile forms, time stops and you forget the here and now for a brief moment.  The music has this magical quality of stirring up these forgotten photographs, like finding an old book on the shelf and pulling it out, dusting it off, looking at the cover for a moment before opening the cover to find some name and date of someone who gave you that book.  A smile forms as you remember the circumstance of how you received that book, the person who generously, graciously and thoughtfully placed it in your care as a gift.  Then you begin to fan through the pages......Underlined or highlighted passages jump out...you re-read those golden nuggets that made an impact then, and probably still do.  You think about how the power of a few words and how they shaped who you are now, how you think, and the choices you made since.... You pause, reflect and retrospect..... yes... the meaning still remains....still after all these years.. still relevant, still deep, still immovable.   Somehow,  it is still important now even though the book has been passively waiting on that shelf for years.  It is as if it knows it's own role.... to be consistently there until that next impulse moment causes it to be drawn again.....  It knows it will still stir the heart like disrupting a pile of leaves on a blustery windy day.  It is very patient and somehow.....knowing isn't it? 

"Remembering" to me.....is the sound of one million memories... 

 Memories that really never fade, rather they get put aside....just out of reach at times.  But once remembered, they are amazingly "present", ready at a moment's notice to do their job.  To articulate every detail, every emotion, every element that composes that memory, to help us "remember".... The subtle "creak" of the memory door is that sound of a million memories.....  Remembering is the invitation to open..... return and drink deeply from never-ending well of mind-blowing emotions.  Every memory is its own unique destination-- it's own language, culture, tone, and timbre.... it knows its' own feel.  That feeling is never forgotten

I am hearing a lot of "creaks" these days..... kids leaving home, changing jobs, friends no longer seen....  I am grateful that when I hear them that what comes after is almost always inviting, beautiful and so often feels like "home"..... like falling water over rocks... the hard part comes in knowing I can't stay.... I have to wake up....yes, maybe even "grow up", to return to today in order to find what it takes to make the next memory for future perusing and visiting.

May you hear the "creak" of your own remembering...that you too can return, soak, learn and marvel at what you find....nothing is so sweet and powerfully moving than those little "trips" that capture your imagination, refine your purpose and reminds you who you really are.... Remember well.

"The Sound of one million memories is the eternal echo of a life well lived"