A skunk is eating the cat food in our backyard...(Part 3 of 4)

(Continued from the previous post...)

The following is the continuation of a four page essay written by my oldest son just a few nights ago. I am sharing it with my readers since it is a rare opportunity to look into his thought process and abilities. If you want to make any sense whatsoever of the main idea behind this essay, it would be a really good idea to start reading it from the post that is identified as Part 1 of 4, before continuing to read below. Otherwise, enjoy and please feel free to send me any comments.

The Supercomputer and the Equation of the Universe

(page 3)

A rather controversial and respected spiritual state of consciousness is that of Ajna, or opening the third eye. We've all seen its symbol in our cultures multiple times, and a widely believed but as yet unproven theory is that the pineal gland induced these states of great insight. The pineal gland is located in the very center of the brain, although not a part of it and not made of brain matter. In reptiles it has a lens and a cortex and is located right in the middle of the forehead. This leads to the belief that it used to be an exposed appendage that was unneeded for the body's survival and as species evolved it delved deeper into the brain away from the light that it seems to react to. This devolving of higher levels of consciousness is in the same vein of the child's quick adaptation to survive and lessening of individual consciousness.

The pineal gland is known to release melatonin, a tryptamine neurotransmitter associated with sleep although markedly non-psychoactive, in cycles every day, the peak of which being at about 3am. It is surrounded by a seemingly unnecessarily nearly impenetrable defense system of nerves, the reason of which has yet to be discovered. Dr. Richard Strassman developed the theory that endogenous dimethyltryptamine, an incredibly psychoactive substance found in the blood of nearly every animal and in many plants, used in brews along with MAOIs by native tribes in Brazil to induce intense visions, is created by the pineal gland, thus explaining the strict security system surrounding it. Should DMT be developed so easily, it wouldn't allow for normal functioning at the survival level, so he hypothesized evolution helped to secure our survival by making it near impossible to happen under normal circumstances. However, at times when the brain is under incredible amounts of stress, such as birth or dying, it is presumably possible that precursors to DMT may flood the gates and be produced by the pineal gland, representing itself in the white light people report seeing in near death experience, and the development of consciousness after birth. We are born gods and we die gods, and everything in between is an attempt to reach that state once again.

Psychedelic substances taken at high enough doses recreate this pure state in a form known as "ego death," an experience of consciousness in which all other states disappear and where the concept of the individual has no subjective meaning. We are tuned into the supercomputer and become the mind of God. The subconscious mind has enough power than once tapped into becomes as exact as the universe itself. This state of mind is worshipped by Eastern cultures and religions as many things, and by Aztec's as the sun, above the tree.

The only state higher than this is the Crown, or Sahasrarra, of which is the movement of all energy in the Universe. We are assimilated back into it at death as the cogs than hold our survival in place loosen and fall into the natural self-sustaining energy system of the cosmos.

This movement into the deeper workings of the supercomputer is catalyzed by an increasing stimulation of the force of knowledge and understanding, the yin and yang of all conscious perception, each feeding the other. It shows itself in the left and right hemispheres of the brain, left being the subconscious mind with the ability to understand the entire workings of the universe, but unable to directly communicate with the right, the perception and desktop of which we are conscious of and attune with knowledge to allow understanding from the other side to seep through.

(To be continued on the next post...)

OK, so far we've gone through 3 of the 4 pages of my oldest son's essay on my blog. I am hoping that I have not lost too many readers by segmenting and putting the content one page at a time. My intent is to allow you to let some of it brew in your mind so that by the end you will have a more realistic and comparable experience from its content. Realistic and comparable to my own experience is what I am trying to say, since I did not just wake up one day to him talking about chakras and psychedelic substances. The experience has been for lack of a better term, evolutionary, growing little by little and creeping up into it's current state with the path of time.

My son asked me yesterday if I would take him shopping for sunglasses, since the ones he had inherited from a friend had found their fate as much of everything else that he posses, broken, or dismembered. It is typical that items that are in his constant use will live much shorter lives because of his continuous fidgeting. His compulsion will not allow him to find a new pair that is any different than the previous one, unless he has exhausted every venue that might sell them. To you, this inflexibility might seem like he is being unreasonable. To me, it is just normal behaviour from his end since I am already used to most of his compulsions and am fully aware that fighting them is just opening the door to a much worse outcome than the task of driving around for an hour just for a silly pair of sunglasses. Really, this does not bother me as much as it should because I typically take this time together to reach out and communicate with him. After all, he is pretty much a captive audience when it is just the two of us in my car. What better opportunity for me to ask questions, and seek understanding of his current mental status.

While we were driving around from store to store I made it a point of me to acknowledge having read his essay and requested a bit of clarification on some of its content. This I did not because a lack of understand of his message, but rather because I wanted to understand how he arrived to his conclusions. To my pleasant surprise, he was more than eager to talk about it, so I felt it was fair game for me to dig deeper. The process of asking questions and getting answers was tricky because he is much like a clever politician that when asked a direct question will quote something related to the subject and then go off on a tangent with his answer, which of course is more like avoiding the question altogether. As a polite constituent, I never interrupt his tangential reply knowing that it will only shut down the communication like that I have already established at that moment. Instead, once he has said his peace, I paraphrase his answer and recenter my question much more specifically. In the end, it becomes more like me being a clever lawyer and basically leading the witness.

"So, what you are telling me is that in order for man to achieve a higher level of enlightenment, he must release himself from the preconceptions that he has learned throughout his life?", I asked him at one point in our conversation. "The way to enlightenment is through the breakdown of anything that ties us to the physical world, and for anyone to let go, they first have to understand that the physical world as we see it is not what is real. That is why psychedelic drugs are effective, they release us from the mental barriers that we have built throughout our lives...", he answered back. "What about happiness? Can we find happiness if we let go of all of these barriers? I asked him after his reply. "Happiness and sadness are not real, they are part of what man has constructed in his mind, another barrier. The universe exist without the need of happiness or sadness, it is well balanced on its own..." He replied. "I can only imagine a total life of solitude, kind of like Jesus going out to the desert to reflect for 40 days...other enlightened men have done this too...yet they all seem to have a need to come back to share their enlightenment with the rest of us. I wonder if because we live in this physical world, in the end we have to accept our limitations, including our humanity. The fact that we seek to avoid sadness and find happiness I think is a sign that we apparently need those emotions in order to interact with everything around us...," I told him. "Maybe...," he answered.

This kind of dialogue is not without its value. It might sound like two guys throwing words into the air to see who has more intellect on a particular subject. However, it is nothing of the sort to me. As unclear as it might seem, there is a well of wisdom in my son's persona awaiting to be accessed by anyone that dares to throw themselves into the dark tunnel of his mind. As a thirsty parent that needs and wants to know and understand him, I have no choice but to dive in regardless of how deep or shallow this well might actually be in the end. It could all be just the regurgitation of words read in books, but I cannot take the chance of ignoring and not deciphering any hidden messages because it would be irresponsible of my part to do so. Hang in there, just one final page and we'll soon be on a new subject, hopefully with something to laugh about.

Dad

A skunk is eating the cat food in our backyard...(Part 2 of 4)

(Continued from the previous post...)

The following is the continuation of a four page essay written by my oldest son just a few nights ago. I am sharing it with my readers since it is a rare opportunity to look into his thought process and abilities. If you want to make any sense whatsoever of the main idea behind this essay, it would be a really good idea to start reading it from the post that is identified as Part 1 of 4, before continuing to read below. Otherwise, enjoy and please feel free to send me any comments.

The Supercomputer and the Equation of the Universe
(page 2)

One easy way to try to symbolize consciousness is that of an operating system. If the brain is the computer, then your consciousness is the desktop, and your perception's programs. Since the body is programmed to survive as best it can, most of your brains priorities lie there. Many parts of the observable universe go unseen, as it isn't necessary for the brain's primary objective. Hallucinogenic substances temporarily divert the brains attention from survival to attune its focus into higher levels of consciousness; the dullness we naturally perceive in comparison is merely a filter set in place to avoid the distraction it views unnecessary. When we are young we aren't conditioned enough to have developed these filters yet, which is why during these times everything is so much more vibrant and interesting, and therefore much more influential.

This influence is from where we develop personality and diversity, every event as a child causes incredible amounts of adaptation; a child learns and adapts to the personalities of those around him and the actions that he might need to attain positive emotion at the time will stick with him for the duration of his life. As we grow older these intense emotions lesson, and survival starts to kick in more and more. This is true of all animals, however humans have adapted much faster than the rest, and survival is no longer something that takes all our time and energy. This is where intelligence comes from. Being able to go to the store and buy dinner to survive allows us to focus our attention on levels higher than just mere survival. The farther away we get from the base root of the need to survive, and the more we evolve as a species and make it easier to fulfill the basic urges, the closer our consciousness gets to the all knowing universal mindset of the supercomputer. All logical knowledge adds to this and gives us greater understanding of the Universe at large.

One of the oldest visualizations of this rise of consciousness is that of the Hindu's chakras, which is also reminiscent of the Aztec's Tree of Life. At the base and roots is what keeps us grounded, survival and vitality, the need to eat, sleep and procreate. It is necessary for all life to carry on, and rooted so deeply into our subconscious it comes completely naturally. It is associated with the legs and pelvic area of the human body, and the chakras Muladhara and Suadhisthana. Survival motivates the actions of humans, animals, plant systems, and even whole societies, and through transition the whole universe runs on it. It is what keeps everything sustained enough to reach higher up the tree.

At the trunk are the will and emotions that run our personal and social interactions; the basic emotions of love and fear that motivate our actions and represent our own individuality. The chakras Manipura and Anabata are represented by the navel and heart, which is known as the "astral bridge" the point where the purely physical and earthly progress to greater levels of knowledge and understanding outside the strictly necessary realm. It rises to the branches, symbols equivalent to the entropy occurring here, where the basic emotions take more detail and unique trails. All the branches of knowledge are mathematically intertwined, each bringing progress to the others while they extend. Artistic appreciation of the senses develop, previously unnecessary complex forms of communication from one enlightened individual to another assist in the growth of the mind. Visuddha of the throat is how societies evolve, each part of its whole helping feed the others into greater insight.

(To be continued on the next post...)

What do you see in the context of this essay? Is this an elaborate way of projecting and seeking a justification to attain a higher level of knowledge an enlightenment via the use of hallucinogenic substances, or could it simply be that this is truly how his mind fuels his ego via a complex array of ideas gained by the research he has conducted himself and that of the writers of this genre of literature? I am no different than you are as a reader suddenly being bombarded by subject matter that is above not just my interest, but also outside of my lifetime experiences. What I am trying to say to you is that I feel lost, out of touch with his reality. Because this is my child I have taken the time to read the complete four pages of his essay more than five times so far in search of a hidden message. I consider myself to be relatively intelligent, so in all honesty I will not plead total ignorance to his choice of words and subject. Yet I find myself in the middle of an unquestionable dilemma which drives me to keep searching for the true meaning of it all. This controversy of sorts is no more basic than my doubts with regard to the normalcy of his point of view, or worse, his belief system. In the past, when I was much younger, I found myself ignorantly contradicting the opposition and defending my own beliefs from friends that I currently will concede to have been much more knowledgeable than I was at the time. So yes, I have been wrong before several times, and now that time has past and I have matured I suddenly find myself wishing I could go back and learn from these friends that at the time were much smarter than me. For this same reason I do not dismiss my son's apparent advanced way of thinking, but at the same time I am not fully convinced that the mental process that he has been gifted with is necessarily, for lack of a better word, normal. I have learned through life experiences that any ideas that gravitate your lifestyle towards either extreme of right or left are typically not healthy and mostly ego centered. This is why I try very hard to stay as centered as possible. Not because I am undecided, but mostly because I am not so self-centered to believe that I am always right. Regardless of my opinion, you must admit that I hold in my hands, even though much like water between my fingers, the essence of a child that needs to be made into a man. I can only imagine what kind of beautiful mind is behind the mask that his teenage demeanor might be hiding. If you are patient enough and willing, keep reading the next two posts and I promise you will find between it all something you yourself can use to understand your own children.

Dad

A skunk is eating the cat food in our backyard...(Part 1 of 4)

It was almost three in the morning when I was woken up by the sound of door banging coming from the other end of my home. On first impression I thought it was all part of some noisy dream I might of been having, but just a few seconds of having my eyes adjusting to the dark and I came to the conclusion that the racket was real. When my oldest son has his sleeping hours turned around I am typically treated to everything from guitar playing and singing to the constant annoying whoosh and bang noise of sliding doors and opening and closing over and over again for what sometimes seems like endless hours while I try to fall asleep. This annoyance is a mixed blessing since most of the time the racket is part of what eventually puts me in the counting sheep mode because it also brings to me a sort of peace of mind because of my then realization that at least he is safe and sound at home. Last night was no different with the exception that the orchestrated nuisance had more percussion than most other times. I dragged by tired soul out of bed with the intent of heading towards the source of banging to put a stop to it when he must of heard my bedroom door opening and he preempted my move by describing to me how he had been trying to get a skunk that was in our back yard to leave so that he could go out and have a smoke. As miserable as I had been less than ten seconds earlier as I had rushed out of bed to make the "please stop the noise so I can get some sleep" speech, I just had to laugh at his dilemma loosing all advantage with respect to showing any power over the situation. I just turned around and went back to bed eventually falling asleep even though the "scare the skunk" song and dance was not yet at an end.

This morning as I woke up realizing that my total hours of sleep were definitely not enough to keep me from being grateful that it was a federal holiday, I found my son still wide awake waiting to share some of his prior night skunk adventure. A few minutes after our morning pleasantries he brought up to my attention that in the middle of the night he had written some kind of extensive essay revealing some of the things that he had recently learned from his own experiences plus a collection of at least five books I had noticed him carrying in and out of the house for the last two weeks. What suddenly surprised me was not the fact that he had done the paper since he is currently also studying because next Saturday he will be taking the California High School Proficiency Test. The actual treat came from his willingness to allow me to read what he had written. It is more typical than not that he will write an essay or a song and when asked if I can read or listen for his reply to be "not yet." Today was different and I have taken advantage of this rare opportunity to spend a little time getting some insight into his current mental process by reading his essay. I will confess that a lot of it's content is stuff that we have already talked about in the last few weeks when he sits soaking his feet in the jacuzzi and I am dipped in the wonder bubble machine hoping my mind will find a bit of the same relief that my back does while sitting in the hot water.

I have made a copy of my son's four page typed essay in order for me to be able to share with all of you this rare opportunity in the next few posts. I want to forewarn you that even I, that know my teenage son so well, had to read the essay a few times over before being able to totally understand all of it's meaning. Tomorrow will be his 17th birthday and as you will soon discover, this essay is a bit above average in content and thought process. Not all that you will read is simple to grasp, yet the parts in which you are able to make a connection to his mental process will bring a vast amount of light into what I have mentioned in many of my previous posts with regard to his abilities. All and all I have truly enjoyed reading this paper and hope that you will too. Here it is:

The Supercomputer and the Equation of the Universe

(page 1)

One of the most commonly thought about questions is the existence of God. The concept itself seems to open too many subjective interpretations, the definition usually including both a sense of all knowing and everlasting presence, and opinionated judgment over the living, the two of which seem to be the major contradiction in the common Western belief system.

Emotions and judgment stem from the core of human survival, the basis of all emotions being the commonly quoted "Love and Fear." Through adaptation and conditioning, positive emotions (stemmed from "love," a term used to describe the feeling of anything that we are conditioned to want) are the brains way of teaching us to perform actions, which are complimentary to our survival system. Positive action leads to positive consequence. In the same way, negative emotions train our bodies to avoid anything that may be detrimental to the achievement of positive emotions. All these stem from the basic need for survival, which we learn to keep ourselves alive and keep the brain causing these emotions to function. These emotions are wired into our every perception, and motivate our every action.

The contradiction this brings to the common God theory is that a self sustaining omnipresent system such as God would have no need to attempt to survive, as it is everlasting, therefore its perception would have to be devoid of all emotion and judgment. The belief of sin and righteousness is a human flaw attributed to our lack of understanding of the objective cosmos.

In dealing with logical objective concept of God, the only feasible explanation of an omniscient and omnipresent force, the only one known to actually exist, is that of the Universe itself. The concept is reminiscent of many cultural beliefs, even that of Christianity's understanding that God is part of everything. The Universe is the name of God, mathematics is the logical "thoughts" of God, and physics is the most basic physical representation of God, the building blocks of the universe, atoms. These building blocks form chemical structures, which form biological structures, which form coexisting ecosystems, which form the bigger picture that is the entire Universe, and mathematics runs through all of it and controls its every action.

In this way the Universe is akin to a massive supercomputer, consisting of physical representations of mathematical equations constantly interacting with one another, intertwining everything with everything else into one big universal equation. The brain itself is not unlike this complex computer, were it not wired into its constant survival trip it could probably conceive these equations and interpret them in a way for our consciousness to perceive. It's not known how these basic chemical reactions in the brain cause the phenomenon of consciousness, nor why we perceive certain things the way we do. Why does a photon moving at a certain frequency give us the perception of the color blue when it bounced off the water and into our eye sending an electric pulse through the optic nerve and into the brain, and why do certain psychoactive chemicals alter these perceptions in such a way to make these color more vibrant or bring out new previously unnoticed dimensions in the world around us?

(To be continued on the next post...)

Dad

Mixing mortar and laying bricks...

One of the most common words used to describe my father was "handy." You can ask just about anyone that knew him and much sooner than later his ability to repair just about anything will give rise to stories of not only his skills, but also his willingness to help others that lacked these talents. As a child I was fascinated by his "handy" demeanor. There never was a doubt in my mind that if one of my toys broke, I would be able to count on dad to fix it. His talents went above and beyond just fixing broken toys. My dad could repair almost any car, house appliance, electronic or mechanical device, and furniture you could imagine. As an adult I am still in awe with what I now look back at and realize to be an incredible talent and set of skills which he possessed. He would as easily bake a cake in the shape of a two story ship, as he would process photographs in a dark room, or draw the architectural and structural floor plan of a completely new home. In my mind, not just my heart, I am totally aware that he was a man way ahead of his time. Given a longer than the mere 44 years of life which he lived, I always wonder what other amazing things he would of achieved. He definitely drew a seemingly unfair short straw when his life was taken by heart disease at such a young age.

I think that I inherited more of his curiosity than I did his amazing capability to take things apart, and then put them back together successfully and in working condition. I remember as a child dismantling toys, radios, recorders, and all sorts of gizmos just because I wanted to know how it was that they worked inside. I would probably estimate that my success at later putting the same devices back together and then having them work properly was somewhere in the 95 percent range. Not bad for not having all the right tools to do the job. The majority of the things that did not safely survive my dismembering curiosity where typically because they were not meant to be dismantled in the first place and some part would snap and break and later make it very hard to glue them back together. Awe, superglue, the miracle liquid that probably brought up the survival rate of my mechanical patients from a mere 85 to 95 percent!

This extreme curiosity of mine of taking things apart, later paid off handsomely when I enrolled in engineering school. Electric and mechanical motors, gears, wheels, pulleys, belts, locks, triggers, and all other sorts of mechanical devices were all old news to me by the time I started to officially learn their purpose and functionality. My first big boy toy was a 1971 VW Beetle I purchased with a loan co-signed by my girlfriend's father when I was in my first year of college at age 17. Just like my dad, there was no place in my vocabulary that would accept the word "professional mechanic" as an option when something went wrong with my 8 year old ride. I remember once spending over six hours trying to figure out how to remove the rear wheel drum casing. After hours of hammering, adding heat, and a whole lot of frustration I later realized that behind the casing there was a small hole that allowed you to loosen the cover by simply spinning a small gear with your finger. What I would of given for the now so simple access to this kind of information via a Haynes Auto Repair Manual, or just looking it up on the Internet. Still, it was my total pursuit of figuring out these things on my own that eventually led me to be able to do much of the same kind of repairs my dad insisted on me watching him do while I was growing up.

Recently, on my way to take out the trash I discovered that some not so alien creatures had put an excessive amount of weight on some of the decorative bricks that adorn one of the flowerbeds in the front of my home making them loose. In fact, a whole row of the bricks had come apart and were just waiting for me to touch them so that they could land on the ground instead of where they had been replaced as if nothing had ever happened to them in the first place. In my first home I had once made some flowerbeds in the front of the house and I instantly understood that as talented as I might think I am, this was a job that would require a few hours of work and could not be repaired with super-glue. A quick query to one of the alien creatures that lives in my own home revealed a "those bricks were weak dad, they fell from just sitting on them", which was meant to be a confession with no admission of guilt. When I asked the young man if he would help me repair it, to my surprise he easily accepted either because of a guilty conscience or a possible opportunity to earn a couple of quick bucks. I did not offer money for his support, but allowances have been scarce since he recently dropped out of school, and we both new that physical labor is always worth rewarding in order to develop good working habits.

A few days later I soon found myself going to the hardware store to buy the mortar, a mixing bucket, some gloves, and a few tools to get the job done right. Later that same afternoon we dressed down for the occasion and took our sense of manly intentions and set ourselves to the task of mixing mortar and fixing the damaged flower bed. I know that if I would of done it all on my own, I would of finished in about half the time, but in my mind there was more to fix than just a flower bed. We removed the damaged bricks and I immediately gave him the task of chiseling the old mortar off the old bricks while I chiseled the old mortar off the decorative blocks that went beneath them. He struggled at first trying to figure out an easy way, but soon I showed him the right way which not only made it easier, but also made it safer. While I poured dry mortar into the mixing bucket I talked to him about the first time I had ever done this kind of work in the house now occupied by his mother. Then I told him the things I learned in the process about wetting the bricks, and keeping the mortar mix with just the right consistency throughout the project so that it would hold for a long time. In fact, not one of those bricks at my now ex-wife's home has ever come apart from the flowerbed. Soon we were both working in what I considered an interesting harmony by him keeping the mortar nice and ready, wetting the bricks to be placed back in place, and handing tools back and forth while I laid one brick after another until we were done. A one hour job actually took us close to three hours to complete, which in my opinion worked out to be just the right amount of time that we needed to share this father and son moment and make it worth both of our time.

I am not as young as I feel inside anymore. The three hours bent over laying those bricks did a job with my back that took one pain killer, two Motrin, and 90 minutes in the jacuzzi to set me back into working order again. To my surprise, when I walked into the house after cleaning all the tools and the work area, I found my almost 17 years old assistant passed out and sound asleep on the family room couch. Apparently he is not as alien as I thought, and more human than I imagined! Later that same day in the evening, while I was soaking my soar back in the hot tub, my son arrived with a friend in the back yard. While they were chatting away they exchanged a couple of silly comments with me, but I was sure that once his friend would depart, so would my son into the teenage wilderness. I was wrong. After about 30 minutes the other young guy left and my son instead walked over next to where I was soaking and spent another full hour in conversation with his old man. Just when I thought he probably had had enough of the father and son theme, I discovered that he was still in the mood for sharing some more of that precious commodity of time with me.

I am glad my dad had strong "do-it-yourself genes" that somehow got passed along to me. Even after his death he is still being "handy" by helping me fix some of the things that are broken in my life. Sometimes I feels like he is sitting right next to me when I am mentally and emotionally engulfed in the task of trying to super glue the bits and pieces of my life that were not meant to be taken apart in the first place, but somehow ended up in that condition anyway. It is almost like he is telling me that if I am patient, if I take my time, one by one of those broken parts will all fit back together again and start working as they should. Us men, we are like this, fixers. We have an urge, almost an instinct that drives us to glue things back together when we see them in pieces. I for one am not ashamed of this compulsive behaviour even though many times I recognize the weakness that comes from going overboard and trying too hard. Not everything that seems broken truly is broken. Sometimes that is just the way things are, and I recognize that by trying to fix them I will probably make them worse or not work in the end. I understand now that sometimes my desire to fix what in my mind and heart seems to be malfunctioning is more out of instinct, than out of true knowledge. For this reason I seek knowledge, wisdom, and enlightenment. So that I don't have to spend six hours hammering, applying heat, and being in total frustration, when in fact there might be a little hole in the back part of the problem that might allow me to get the job done much easier and hopefully allow me to do it right too.

Thank you for reading,

Dad

The Phantom of the Opera...

Two teenage birthdays coming up. I remember the days that just the idea that my two kids birthdays were on their way filled my head with all sorts of things to plan and do. This is no longer true since at 14 and 17 years of age respectively, my boys only seem to be interested in hanging out with friends and doing their own thing. I could make all kinds of plans in my head, but in the end they will most likely shoot them all down in exchange for what their idea of fun might be instead. This really does not bother me since I too remember being a teenager and thinking that making a big deal of my birthday would seem lame in the eyes of my peers. I am, however, very interested in finding out what their idea of doing something special might be instead.

You may ask how it is that my two boy's birthdays happen to be separated by one single day? Well, if you count the nine months backwards you will discover a significant event that seemed to have triggered their conception...my ex-wife's birthday...hahahaha! Happy Birthday dear!!! We dated for three years before getting married. Then we were married for three more years before we had our first child. We wanted to have our kids sooner, but medical reasons stood in the way and soon enough we found ourselves measuring basal temperatures and finding time to do the special deed whether we were in the mood or not. In fact, I remember that for my first child's conception, I had bought tickets to go to see the Phantom of the Opera as a present to my then wife for her birthday. I also remember having a fever of 104° from an illness that had started just a day before the special occasion. The morning of her birthday I was sick as a dog when she returned from the bathroom with the basal thermometer in her hand giving me the news that she was most likely ovulating and if we wanted to have a baby I was going to have to do my job sick or not. As for any 29 year old young male, sex is never really a sacrifice even when you are sick. Sure enough, a few weeks later we discovered that after almost a year of missing the target, this time she was pregnant.

I cannot imagine a more exciting and wonderful experience than that of watching a monochrome monitor that suddenly reveals the quick pitter patter of the heart of your first child while the mommy's belly is being probed with a sonogram. I still have that printout that was given to me with an image that mostly seemed like a little gray alien, but in reality was my son. I went to every single one of her doctor's appointments, and he probably knew how much I loved being there because regardless of whether the insurance would pay for it or not, the doctor did the ultra sound every single time I was there. He was a wonderful doctor with such caring and graceful staff. I wanted so badly to have that first picture to be able to give to him so that they could put it on that huge board which contained just about every baby he had delivered. My son was special and in my mind he needed to be on that board as soon as he arrived in this world.

No matter how many times you tell your kids the story of when they were born, I guarantee you that they are always ready and willing to hear of it over and over again. There is no doubt in my mind that what I say, how I say it, will always be engraved in their minds as much as it is in mine the way my parents talked about my birth. I was a breach baby. My mother tells the story of already having two girls and wanting so desperately to have a boy that when I was born, even though I literally ripped her apart with over a hundred internal stitches required after my delivery, all she asked was to show her my naked body so that she could truly see that I was a boy. After she new that it was true, she says that nothing else mattered and that she was in so much bliss that the horrible pain really meant absolutely nothing to her. I not only remember her story, I can hear her voice in my head in the exact emphasis on each of the words she has repeated to me over and over throughout the years describing the moment of my birth.

If you think that for one single moment my first child's birth had more of an impact than my second one's, you are seriously wrong. I can recall every detail of each of their births. From their mother's mood, my mood, and the doctor's mood, to what they looked like, how they cried, and me cutting their umbilical cords. I diapered them both first, nobody took that honor other than me. I swear that they already knew my voice from before they were born because I cannot count how many times I would talk to them while they were still inside their mom. Nothing was more amazing that holding those little bodies with tiny fingers and toes close to me and snuggling them with all of my love from the moment that they were born. I have such a clear image in my mind of them in the hospital, coming home for the first time, and watching them for endless hours day in and day out.

As per their request, I will be handing over some money for them to buy themselves games, musical instruments, and all sorts of their own choosing goodies. However, my true present to them this year will be that I will find it, and make the time to sit down with each one individually and tell them one more time the tale of their birth. I want to plant one more time the seed of my love for them in the story of how significant each of them have always been to me from the moment I found out that they were on their way into my life. No money in the world can replace the quantity and quality of my feelings towards my children. In the past 17 and then 14 years I have been blessed with having two souls in my life that are more precious than all the riches in the world. Troubled times are not and have never been a source of degradation to my emotional attachment with my boys. In fact, if it would of been all easy, I could of never of loved them more than I do today.

Dad

What does your mix taste like?

Nothing is perfect, but who said I was looking for perfection anyway? The past few days since my return from my trip to Japan have been kind to me with respect to my oldest son situation. Being sober is giving him the opportunity to come back closer to the center or normalcy and assess his recent behaviour. This peaceful time has also given me a chance to asses my own recent behaviour too. It is interesting that when life becomes full of stressful events, even the simplest things as taking time to do self evaluations becomes a completely undesirable task. I think that doing this self diagnosis is actually very important and should not be left as a New Year's Eve motif only. In fact, the older I get, the more often I find myself checking my notes and verifying that I am on track with what should be important in my life. What good does it do to go on a diet after you find out that you have very little time left to live? You might as well get on the bus as soon as you can so that the ride can be more fun knowing that there will be time in the end to enjoy the view.

On Monday my youngest boy will turn 14, and on Tuesday my oldest will be 17 years old. At 17 I was graduating from high school and starting my first year of college. In our home it was never about whether we were going to go to college, but instead, what college we would be attending. Not once did it ever cross my mind that I would not get a degree. I started my journey thinking I was going to become a doctor so I enrolled in Natural Sciences and threw myself into the higher education pool by taking 19 semester hours my first term, and 21 my second term. By the end of my second year I had completed everything that was necessary to have an Associates Degree in Science plus just about all the courses required to complete pre-med. However, that was the year my father died and in my mind I suddenly used his unexpected departure as an excuse to change my life course from the medical field to engineering. In hindsight it was a really bad choice for me, since I am more of a people person and loved every minute of the classes I had taken so far, and afterwards hated with the same intensity every minute of the engineering classes I got myself into because of my sudden switch. I was only 19 years old, and to be honest I now recognize how very immature I was at the time. Nevertheless I kept at it and eventually finished what I started in my new quest.

I have a serious confession that will not surprise those who already know me, but is only fare to share with those that might not. Almost every one of the decisions I made while I was a young lad had something to do with a pretty skirt. As much as my grade school nuns wanted me to become a priest, that was probably as much as I always liked girls. In my mind there was a less than zero percent chance that I would ever become a man of the cloth because I knew it in my heart how much I liked girls. To prove this point I give you this much: I graduated from high school a year early because the girlfriend I had at the time was one year older than me; I moved to college from Puerto Rico to Mississippi because the girl I was dating left a year earlier to study Psychology in Mississippi; I stayed in Mississippi an extra year after I finished my engineering bachelor's degree because the girl I was with at the time still had an extra year to finish her accounting degree...do you see a trend here? I am truly amazed that I ever got anything done in my life with all those hormones making all the important decisions in my life for me. Youth is a beautiful thing, and every time I think back at the process and the steps I took in my younger years, I see that I am truly shameless because in my mind I know it was all worth it. At age 21 I dated a 31 year old adorable lady and almost gave my mother a heart attack for doing so. Yet, other than whatever damage I might of caused because of my immature actions, I have absolutely no regrets because it was her that I have to thank for today being a lot of who I am. For this reason I have very little grounds to pass judgement on the young people of today's world. They not only have to grow up from their own experiences, they actually need them in order to fulfill their destinies.

Self assessment, a personal look at myself reflected by the mirror of my life. I have made so many mistakes, but as I have told you in previous posts, not one of them has gone by without leaving a permanent impression on my journey. To screw up and not ever have to account for it is just another way of saying that an individual never grew up. I promise you that I have had to account for every single one of my mistakes. One way or another I have learned my lessons. In fact, I am still learning from several of my misdeeds, and I am not ashamed to admit it because again, I have not wasted a single one of them. I have learned more from my mistakes than I would of ever learned from always doing things right or always being right...if there is such a thing. One thing that drives me up the wall is when dealing with someone that has the audacity to believe that every one of their opinions and actions is the only right choice. If you are reading this, it's time you take a much better look at yourself.

In this post, I would like to help you find an internal reason for you to spend a little time to do your own self assessment. It is not necessary for you to try to get a grip on your entire life all at once. In fact, I highly recommend that if this is a new concept for you that you start with the basics, the simplest question yet probably most important one you will ever face. Do you know what love is? Have you given yourself a chance to truly understand love? We all did it, we fell heads over heals over someone that we thought would be our true and only love in our lives. Are they still there or did life find a way to change this idea of what you thought was true love at the time? If you have children, can you compare the love that you give and are willing to commit to these creatures to the person that you first fell in love with? If you have never had children, but instead have dedicated your life to your mother, your father, your brothers, or sisters, can this grip that they have on your heart be compared to that of anyone else? Interesting, huh? A life without the experience of love is almost unimaginable and yet if you ask anyone on the street what love is, I guarantee you will have almost a different answer from every single individual. There is a reason for this, and you should know what it is in order for you to be able to start any true self assessment. How you have lived your life, what you have given, what you have taken, and what you are missing all combine together in the magnificent elixir called love. Only you, nobody else has that exact mix of given, taken, and missed experiences, therefor only you can recognize that unique flavor which each of us calls love. If you did not get this last statement, read it again, and again, until you understand it.

Find time in your busy life to once in a while recognize that nobody is as important as yourself. No matter how unselfish you have become, which I believe is a beautiful quality in itself, take a moment to assess your life experiences so that when loves is taking a stroll by your side you are then able to recognize it and make the most of it. Why do you think that this might be important? Would it not be simpler and maybe even healthier to just let life take it's course and not worry about these issues? Well, there are very few things I can tell you with certainty, and the following is the angel on the top of my tree. Sooner or later you will have a chance in your life to impart a bit of wisdom to that oh so troubled generation that is galloping right behind you. You know who I am talking about, those kids that are being raised with every single confusing visual aid available via media and more. I honestly believe that it would be wise that when that opportunity arrives to teach a younger person something of value about life and love, that you yourself have your ducks in a row and truly understand what is at stake. Every thing you tell these children is a seed you plant in their hearts and minds. If you think for one instant that they are not listening, you are wrong. It is now, more than ever before, that true wisdom, values, and enlightenment is necessary to be shared with our children. You might not have the means to fill their pockets with gold or silver, but there is no reason why you should not have the ability to fill their hearts with the meaning of true love.

Thanks for reading...today we reached 1,500 views of this blog. I am amazed at how much you care.

Dad

Gravity, Air, and Wind...

Some of the simplest things in life are truly majestic. In the material world an invisible force keeps us from floating away into the sky. This same force takes charge at preventing everything that is contained in our planet from escaping into the infinite vastness of space. Gravity, one of the least understood forces of the universe is the fundamental key to the existence of everything we are, and everything that has been formed since the beginning of time. At it's root, gravity is somehow intertwined with another one of those simple yet hardly understood concepts, time. To put it into simple terms, time and space are directly affected by the force of gravity in a way that neither could exist without the other.

Gravity is not the only invisible part of our existence that amazes me. Air, the most common compound in our planet, is constantly changing it's composition to supply us with much more than we can ever put into words. People, animals, plants, and so many of the chemical reactions needed to sustain us, feed themselves from the air contained inside the atmosphere of our beautiful blue marble called Earth. Again, very little would be alive if it were not for this precious commodity.

Just when you think that nothing could be improved in a world containing the above, then a dance between it all finds a way to amaze us even more with their combination and the creation of wind. This invisible part of nature provides us with so much more than just a magical way to fly a kite. Without it most of our world would be stagnant and still, keeping us from the wondrous effects of it's reach. The exact same wind that moves seeds to extend nature's ability to grow wilderness around the globe is the one that carries the oxygen we breath, the lift required for birds to fly, and even sound waves to our ears. Amazing, isn't it? Even in a space in which the air has calmed itself enough to prevent a single blade of grass from moving, all one has to do is move in order to create that majestic sensation of wind touching our bodies.

If wind had the ability to process memories as we do, what do you think it would have to say about it's experience of surrounding us throughout our planet? As far as we can tell it has been here since the beginning of Earths existence. Wind has been a constant in our evolutionary progress, touching it all at one time or another. Would it then tell us how far we have come or how much we have grown? Would it reveal all of the secrets that have been locked up in time when there was nobody to record our history or anyone to witness all that has happened throughout time? What would it say with regards to the final breath that our ancestors took when their own lives came to an end?

It is said by some who profess to understand these things that our universe is just one of many in which each is just a little different than the other based on the choices each one of us makes in our lives. Here you might of decided to take the chance of extending your hands to a complete stranger which eventually led to a romance and life with children. Yet in another one of those multiple universes your timing never coincided for you to meet that person, which took you on a completely different path in which you both never met. As incredible as all of that apparent fantasy of multiple universes might seem, chances are that because of the nature of how physics works it all might be true. However, unless we are able to unlock the current door to this mystery, the chances are slim that we will know the answer to these questions.

I know that this is one of those posts that you might be wondering what the hell I am trying to share with you, so I will offer a bit of light prior to closing the door behind me. Even the simplest things in life have fundamental mysteries that are too complicated for the average human being to wrap their minds around it. This does not make them less real, just as the wind in your face is hard to explain or describe, yet you can feel it, hence you know it is real. Nothing in life should be assumed to be just what it seems, much less our ability to affect or influence the world around us.

As I walked over today to pick up some of that Chinese food that I so much enjoy during my lunch break, I reached the end of the line at the exact same moment that someone else did too. We both laughed at the instantaneous dilemma that came about with respect to who should go first, and in my typical friendly mode I offered the 30 second lead to eventually exit the restaurant to the interesting accent that was revealed in my encounter. Guatemalan special education teacher...married to a Cuban gentleman that works for the state of California...he's being affected by three days of the furlough a month...they are both heading to Florida this weekend to attend a friends wedding...they have a daughter that just graduated and also just began her career as a high school teacher...after so many years of marriage she has more of a Cuban accent than that of her own heritage...and so much more. All of this in a conversation which was probably less than five minutes long. Life has a way of making things happen as long as we are open to allowing life to do it's job. Meeting new people is like letting the mystery of wind graze your hair. The effect is invisible and yet it somehow touches us even if we are not intending for it to happen at that exact moment. Friendship is more than exchanging pleasantries and superficial information, but there are very little chances of us making new friends if we live in a vacuum where not even sound travels because of the absence of air. I believe that in order to make the most out of the simple things that surround us we need to be open to what life's wind brings into our paths. Pay attention to the little things that are touching you on a daily basis and let them blow whatever it is you need to be happy your way.

Dad

The Eye of the Storm...

For the past ten years I have suffered from the most excruciating migraine headaches imaginable. I grade them on a scale of zero through ten, zero being a total absence of any kind of head pain, and ten being so bad that I must lock myself in a dark room for hours at a time to avoid wanting to die rather than imagine the pain getting any worse. Originally, as I had my first episodes I never imagined that something as simple as a headache could actually be so painful. Soon, after a horrible period of three months in a row in which I had what are considered cluster migraines, I discovered that the degree of pain possible from this condition can actually make the first few that I originally suffered a welcome relief if there existed some kind of exchange policy to make the trade. I have heard that only those that have had this condition are actually able to relate to anyone that is having an episode at any given moment. For those who have been fortunate enough to never feel this kind of pain, the word migraine is just another way of describing a bad headache. For those of us that have had the misfortune of bearing with this medical condition, the word migraine has a completely different meaning.

One of the few things that anyone suffering from migraines is able to do in order to help themselves is to discover what are the triggers that cause these unbearable headaches to start. Another of the few things that helps is to recognize the symptoms early enough to medicate yourself before they become excruciating on the pain scale. About five years ago while I was on work travel in Hawaii, I was unfortunate enough to fall into a few days of agony by suffering a migraine headache for almost four days in a row. Later I fortunately discovered that in my adventurous search for the perfect Mai Tai, the pineapple ingredient happened to be one of those elusive triggers that I previously spoke about. After learning the hard way that if I drink pineapple juice or anything containing this marvelous natural ingredient I am almost 95% sure to trigger a migraine headache, my list of favorite tropical treats dropped down to just a few instead of the so many available. This is such a drag because I make the most amazingly delicious Piña Colada! Oh well, I know leave the tasting of my treat to friends instead. Another of the few triggers that I have discovered and now avoid are MSG, cigarette smoke, and recently I have discovered that the smell of marijuana does it to me too. Fortunately for me most of the above are easy to avoid, unless of course someone we all now know tries to party in my own home and I get a whiff of his deed by second hand smoke.

I really thought that by Monday I would have recovered from the 16 hour time difference from Japan to California, but unfortunately for me sleeping was not on my bodies agenda. By the time I finally fell asleep it was already almost four in the morning and three hours later my alarm clock was playing the first track of one of Marc Anthony's CD to remind me that I still have kids to feed and at least one that is willing to attend school. Afterwards my mind was encouraging me to get dressed and go to work, but my body refused to obey and dragged my tired carcass to bed again. Finally, sometime in the early afternoon I woke up feeling much better, but also knowing that later in the night I would pay the price by not being able to fall asleep again early enough. Hence my typing away this post at almost one in the morning.

I had gone to Costco looking for a few easy to cook goodies for the boys, which included some meatballs. When hunger stroke I popped a few of the reasonably sized treats into the microwave with some rice and got ready to clear my body from it's state of food deprivation. Less than one hour later I started to feel the oh so familiar onset of one of those dreadful migraine headaches I sometimes get out of nowhere. Immediately I took my medication thinking it would be safer to do it as soon as possible than wait until it would creep up on my zero through ten pain scale. Well, sometimes I take one, other times I take two of the miracle pills. This time, not wanting to abuse their magical power I only took one, which turned out to be a huge mistake. In less than thirty more minutes I was in so much pain that I reluctantly found myself rescaling what a ten level of pain really was supposed to feel like. I kid you not, the nausea was horrible, the pain excruciating, and so many of the other symptoms showed up as quickly as goldfish surface to eat their little flakes in a fish bowl. I tried not to have to consume more than I needed, but by 1:00 a.m. I have already taken three of the little blue pills, and trust me when I tell you, these are not the ones that keep a cat's tail erect if consumed by accident.

I since have gone back to the kitchen to do what I should of done in the first place before making dinner and read the label on the box of meatballs. Yep, the once so delicious treat and now source of my misery are made with pineapple! Yeash, it said it like four times all over the freaking box, but I never did pay much attention to the wording and mostly had focused on the appealing picture instead. I have very little choice in the matter, let the pain run its course and obviously never eat the damn things again.

Not all is bad news though. In my effort to treat myself to some home remedy I turned on the heater for the jacuzzi and a few hours later dunk myself into the steamy hot water which truly helped make things a lot better. What became gravy on the whole issue was that about thirty minutes after I went in, my oldest son walked over, rolled up his jeans, and sat on the edge soaking his big feet and keeping me company. The occasion was ideal and I took advantage of it to talk and catch up on a few things. I think that what became more therapeutic than the almost boiling water was the ambiance in which we both shared this time together. It was really good, I mean REALLY good. In his typical openness towards me he talked about a lot of what had happened to him while I was gone. Just as I have mentioned before, he left very little out of the vocal exchange by telling me how by inviting just a few friends over to sit around and talk, one of the evenings had turned into a massive amount of unsupervised kids in my home, most of them which he did not even know. Apparently the get together lasted until about four in the morning, and then several of his close friends helped to clean up the mess they had made while this unplanned party evolved. I told him I was surprised that none of the neighbors had called the cops complaining about the noise and he told me that it was not really a party, and that everyone was just hanging and having fun without doing anything totally stupid, which of course I find hard to believe but am left with little choice, right? By the end one of the guys told him that they had done too good of a job cleaning and that would probably give away the reality that had taken place at my home. Little did this young man know that part of my son's personality includes a uncontrollable urge to tell his dad the truth, even if it drives me insane, angry, and up the proverbial wall. What can I say, I just have to take the good with the bad, my choices are extremely limited.

Soon after, my other son popped his head out of the back sliding door and said, "hey, I did not know you guys were out here..." and went back in to put on his swim suite and joined us for even more interesting conversation and bonding. If I took the time to write to you all that we shared it would take me over another hour, so instead I will give you a short synopsis. After all of the past week event conversation the subject turn course to science, progress, war, nuclear consequences, smart people getting smarter, dumb people getting dumber, lost phones, interesting happenings during my trip to Japan, and the always on their mind allowances. I am going to try to get some rest so that I can get up in just a couple of hours, make breakfast again, take my younger son to school, and hopefully convince my aging body to follow my mind to work instead of bed.

I do want to leave you with a motive for my late night posting to share what I discovered tonight. In the middle of every hurricane there is a place of calm called the eye of the storm. The very nature of this tropical weather event creates a beautiful sense of calm filled with blue skies and calm. My grandfather used to tell me stories about how some people in the old days had no idea that what seemed as the end of the storm was actually the middle of it. Once the thirty or so minutes of peace were complete, the other side of the storm came back with a vengeance with winds just as strong and scary as the original ones, but this time in the opposite direction. Not being ready for this second run of chaos was always more damaging than the first part. I too am aware that I am currently in what seems as the eye of the storm. The difference is that I am actually utilizing this time, this in between chaos state to recharge and hopefully tie down the so easily flown away roof of my life. The only one that could change this from being what I am pretty sure it truly is would be God. In some what seemed to be random occasions the eye of the storm actually led to a less than devastating second part due to the storm actually losing it's might because of how the centered mountains of the island had battled and weakened it's strength. Who knows, maybe the few centered mountains in my life are large enough to have the same effect. Even better, maybe God has taken charge of this story and written a much deserved better ending for us all. Goodnight.

Dad

P.S. - The music video below is really nice...

It takes a village...

I find myself way too often wondering why it is so hard to figure out teenagers. Consider that we were once teenagers ourselves, so how is it that I suddenly lost my ability to figure out what is going on in my teenage kid's heads? Is the gap truly that large between one generation and another? Apparently it is so. With the exception of the common mental theme of wanting to have sex every chance we could, the rest seems so foreign to me. Physiologically, hormones are pretty much the same from our times to their times. Sociologically, I see and incredible gap between what we found to be a bonding friendship environment and what they do today. So as a parent it is not so hard to talk about refraining sexual impulses as it is to discuss what might be going on in their lives regarding their clan.

I am fortunate that at least what I am raising are boys. My experiences are much more geared toward their behaviour than they could be towards young teenage females. At least I can make a few assumptions that are mostly on target with my two sons that I would never be able to do if what I had were daughters. For any of you that might of had to deal with young teenage daughters, I applaud your efforts, especially if the household relation is or was not intact during this phase of their lives. I believe that divorced parents truly have it rough when trying to maintain healthy parenting skills sharp. Of course, the opposite is just as true. Any single mom that might have had to raise boys on her own, bravo to you too!

Intact households are at an advantage when dealing with teenagers, but of course they are not exempt from all of the trials and tribulations that typically surface during those challenging years. For one, most of the time one of the parents seems to take a much larger role than the other when dealing with behavioural issues with their children. It could be because of work schedules, previous experiences, or maybe just personalities, but it is very typical for one of the two parents to be the one that takes the more active role in providing discipline over their children. During my childhood it was obvious that my mom was the enforcer between the two parents. When I try to remember the situation in some of my friend's households, the results seem to be mixed. I cannot truly find a trend by the simple process of just thinking it through. However, I am inclined to believe that if a scientific survey is available to account for this query, more than likely the results will fall into a 50/50 percentage category.

What I find a bit disappointing with respect to this conclusion is the fact of how little credit is given to the parent that is typically on top of things and trying to keep the kids in line. In fact, it seems that the more a parent cares and tries to do the right thing when it comes to raising their children with a reasonable amount of discipline, the worse this parent looks to the outside world. What seems even more degrading is the incredible amount of grief, to put it mildly, that this responsible parent has to put up with because the children in their quest to get what they want will mostly gravitate towards the more flexible and less dominating parent for obvious reasons. It is way too often that these children will play the easy going parent against the disciplinary parent making the effort of teaching them adequate morals and behaviour even harder.

As I returned from my trip from Japan, one of the first things I did was contact my ex-wife to find out how things went while I was absent. The first reply was way too simplistic to take as it really being accurate. After a short conversation I asked her to please tell me everything so that I knew what I might have to deal with during my first week back at home. Sure enough, my oldest son had on a scale of one to ten been pretty much a solid seven, but it did not go about without some challenging moments. A hole in the hallway wall had been patched up by his mother in an attempt to not get me all worked up for an incident that had occured while I was gone. I was grateful for her efforts to alleviate my already stressful life by trying to conceal the event, but more than anything for her honesty because I believe that we should not be holding secrets that can later come to bite us in the ass. The event had occurred while he was going through an anxiety attack, but as it typically happens, she was not at my place when it happened. The more common scenario is that I am here and having to deal with it since he lives with me 100% of the time. One good thing that came out of this outburst was that since I was not present, nobody could blame me of being a trigger to the incident. It is too often that in his mind he finds a reason to blame me when things get out of control. At least this time he was alone and being as smart as he is, it helped him face the realization that dad is not the reason he gets the way he does most of the time. Even for me, I found it validating to know that I held no weight in the momentary loss of control that typically finds it's way to my guilt drawer.

A good sign seems to be that apparently he has remained sober for the last couple of weeks. My request for my older son to stay off any kind of chemicals might be allowing him to contribute temporarily towards his own healing. Your prayers are working and I thank you all and beg for you to please not to stop. Maybe we are close to an impasse, a crossroad in his emotional and personal growth. It is way too soon to say, but I needed this break to catch my breath anyway. Just like we all need to take a few steps back in order to gain a bit of momentum when jumping across a gap, I too am trying to take advantage of the clean air surrounding me at this moment to recharge myself for what might come. Life is much more than just living, there is an incredible amount of work to be done when raising children is added to the equation. If you read this and realize that your partner is pulling more weight than you are, giving them a hand would be swell. I promise you that they will not forget your efforts anytime soon.

Dad

The Balancing Clown...

Japan was a lot of work, but also a lot of fun. I started my trip by realizing two seconds after I buckled my seat belt on the plane that I had lost my cell phone. Instantly I jumped out of my seat and started searching like a drug sniffing puppy in customs for my apparently indispensable gadget retracing the route I had taken while boarding the plane. After getting permission I ran back into the terminal hoping I would find it somewhere near the gate where I had spent the last half hour before boarding, but what just a few minutes earlier was possessed by the amount of people necessary to fill up a Boeing 747, now was as empty as a grade school classroom after the final bell of the day. I dropped my point of contact information at the counter in case someone had found it and decided to return it to some lost and found booth later on. I re boarded feeling defective, as if my ability to lose something so important meant that my mind was no longer as sharp as it should be at my age. One moment it was in my hand, the next it was simply gone.

The flight was long, a bit over eleven hours of pondering why bad things happen to good people. Like most losses in life, even something as simple as a material thing brings with it some of the phases we encounter when losing much more important things. Desperation, frustration, anger, sadness, and a resignation. Fortunately or maybe unfortunately for me, I have lost much more important things in my life so even though I tapped into all of the above emotions momentarily, it was not more than an hour later when I was already resigned that these things happen and that I would just deal with it when I got back home. Mystery chicken and rice, two rum and cokes, a sleeping pill, and a comfy travel pillow and I was knocked out for at least three hours allowing myself to get some of the rest I was going to need to complete the long day ahead of me. To my surprise, when I woke up from my over medicated nap I found myself having a bit of an anxiety attack because my body felt like it was freezing all the while I was sweating profusely. Should I tell anyone?, I questioned myself mentally. I put in some extra effort and forced myself to the lavatory in case it was motion sickness since the ride had become unusually rough while I had passed out trying to remember how to count in Japanese. It could of been the chicken, or maybe my overzealous effort to force myself to sleep with too much of a good thing. I even considered that maybe I had fallen asleep so hard that I might of put too much weight on my neck with the travel pillow and blocked some of the oxygen I needed to keep my brain doing it's job properly. A couple of prayers and less than 15 minutes later I was already feeling much better and thanking God for sparing the old fool I saw reflected in the bathroom mirror.

Yeah, eventful...that would be a good choice of word to describe how my trip to Japan had started, and pretty much how it would end. As we got closer to Japan I decided to pull out a sheet of paper and write one more time all of my point of contact information to leave with the crew in case the cleaning folks might eventually run into my stealthy phone. I flew with a co-worker with whom I am very fond of but was seated several rows apart during the trip. When we deplaned and finally got out into the terminal area in which another co-worker was supposed to meet us, we realized that our arrival was almost a whole hour earlier than the itinerary described. In a way this was very nice since what awaited us was a bus ride from Narita to Yokohama of an hour and twenty minutes and we could really use the early arrival time to stretch, and walk, and assimilate a bit of airport culture before sitting down again on the bus. Just as we were heading to the door to breath in our first breath of Japanese air, a voice over the speakers was calling my name to the airline counter. Yes! The cleaning crew had found my mystery phone and the little note left behind had paid off. I guess good things happen to good people too!

My whole trip was full of simple, yet frustrating little problems that kept happening and then solving themselves sooner or later. For example, the automatic teller machine at the base worked perfectly for my working companion, yet when I stepped up to do the exact move he had just done with my own credit card and ZAP! The thing swallowed my card after completing my transaction just like that! At this point I could only laugh, I just could not understand why the demonically possessed contraption played nice with my co-worker and two other clients that walked to do their business right after me, yet it found my government credit card so damn yummy! I wrote down the phone number that was given on the side of the machine in case of problems, walked into the building right next door to find a readily available phone that did not even required me to put any money to make the call. An apologetic voice answered and in less than 10 minutes a very nice lady and gentleman arrived in their cute car to retrieve my source of gold. Just like that, everything was back to normal again.

You have to believe me, I could write paragraph after paragraph of crazy things that kept happening, including an encounter with a Spanish/English/Japaneses speaking gentleman that took mercy of me while lost trying to find the correct bookstore to buy a book my younger son had requested from me before I departed. I had searched for almost 45 minutes the underground shopping area with a map in hand given to me by another bookstore that did not have the book but was kind enough to do a phone search and find another bookstore that had it. Everyone else in my search party had given up after the first 15 minutes but I was too stubborn and knowing that the place existed was good enough to make me keep trying. On one of those profoundly concentrated moments in which I was staring at the red dot on the translucent mall map that obviously had to mean "you are here", a kind broken English voice walked from behind me to offer me a hand. As the Japanese gentleman walked me over to the correct location, not only did he show me the way, he also had the kindness of heart to let me know that the first time he looked for this same store, he himself had gotten lost in the underground. This made me feel so much less dumb. Being grateful I offered a not so truthful compliment about his wonderful ability to speak in English when he revealed that he also spoke Spanish. Instantly we switched to my native language and he started telling me how much he loved to go dancing salsa at the local clubs on the weekends. He even waited until I had book in hand before escorting me back out of the store in conversation when I asked him which of the two languages he preferred, Spanish or English? Maybe also not so truthful of himself he said Spanish making my heart feel all warm inside for the beautiful compliment. I asked him why he preferred Spanish, then he said in an almost whispering voice, "because Spanish people are kinder to me." I was so happy to know that someone else that speaks my native tongue had made such a wonderful impression on this man, instead of what could of been the total opposite.

My life is full of wonderful and beautiful moments that somehow surround themselves with crazy instances of what might feel like sheer madness. I lose it, then I find it. It is taken away, then it is given back. I am totally lost, and somebody finds me and brings me back to the right place. Even though in the middle of it all I sometimes feel completely broken, I somehow manage to function, to be part of something that works. What I thought to be the most important piece of equipment to be able to do my job on board ship this time was not working properly. The data which I so eagerly collected so some very smart people back at home could spend hours creating briefing products for the next day to be used in important presentations was stuck in the machine. Eventually I found another way to get it to them so that they could do their jobs. It meant that I had to work four times harder than I really expected to work on this trip, but I have never been one to let things go wrong if I can help it. When it was all done, at the end I realized that what mattered was not whether the machine was broken, instead what seemed to matter was whether or not I was broken. Even though I started this trip thinking that I was mentally losing it, apparently what is left of my brain was good enough to get the job done right.

I confess, in a way that you might think is sad but I sure as hell need to say it as I truly see it, in the past 13 years of my life I have many times felt as if I was broken. This is not a pity seeking confession, not at all. I just want you to know that if you have ever felt this way, you are not alone. Not being able to fix my marriage and going through a divorce put me in a position that forced me to evaluate how much of marital dilemma was because of me. For a very long time I kept feeling guilty because as much as I tried to fix it, I just was not able to rescue a 21 year relationship. Of course, much of the guilt was driven by me being the one that apparently gave up by leaving and later filing for a divorce. My non-quitter personality and mentality contributed to assuming that by walking away I was a loser. Worse, if no matter what I tried I had not been able to fix things, my mind gave into the idea that maybe I was broken, damaged goods, to put it in simple terms. It did not help that on top of it all I also found myself in such a complicated situation with my oldest son. He too contributed to my sense of being damaged. If it were not because of the contradiction brought about by my youngest son personality and behaviour, I probably would still have it in my head the idea that it is because of me that these things are the way they are today. However, I know differently now and understand that even though I sure as hell must have contributed to my failing marriage, I cannot and will not take the guilty emotional road, much less full blame for it's outcome. Ditto to my son's condition, which I am so sure is not my fault either.

So, if you start to walk on the same road of feeling broken as I was once strolling about, please reconsider and try to see your life for what it really is, and not for what anyone else might think it should be instead. Dust your yourself off, lift yourself from the guilt road, and give yourself some credit where credit is due. Like they say, "it takes two to tango." In whatever relationship you are in, unless you are totally wicked and without remorse, if things are not working out and you are giving it your all, chances are that the other end of the rope is not being held at the same height you are holding it. I remember having a toy as a child named The Balancing Clown. It was actually pretty simple yet very cool. A toy clown was riding a unicycle while holding an arched balancing stick with a weighted ball at each end and traveling on a string that was held between two height adjustable posts from one side of a table to the other. As long as the two poles where at the same height the clown remained still in the center of the string. We would take turns spinning an arrow dial that would land on one of three different colors. The arrow would indicate which color you would raise your pole making the cycling clown move closer to the opposite side of the table. Whoever got the clown over to the other end first would win. If every time you lift your efforts to make things better in your relationship, the other side does not raise to the occasion, sooner or later you will push the problems all the way to the other side of the relationship and your partner will either have to do something about it, or eventually lose you. Even as a parent this analogy applies. You give, and give, and keep giving because they are your children and you love them so much that your source of giving is close to infinite. At some point your children need to give back some effort of their own, otherwise the load is too much to raise on their end and their lives will be full of hardship.

Once in a while I still feel a bit broken and I think this is normal. The difference between now and then is that before it was because of what others made me feel, and now it is because of what I allow myself to feel. Other people should never have control of your feelings, that is a job that is too important to hand out to anyone else but yourself. I have control of my own feelings, and even though for a moment I might allow others to change my mood, in the end I am the one that decides what I am going to feel by making the proper adjustment to the value of the contributor of my emotional state. Being flipped off on the freeway means absolutely nothing to me because when it happens, and it has happened, I did not mean to upset the other driver. I might make a mistake and pull into a lane while someone is in my bind spot, then he or she has all the right in the world to get upset with my driving, however, since I know I did not do it on purpose I shrug my shoulders, lift my hands in an "I'm sorry" gesture, and go about my day like it never happened. If you are offended by something I say with no intent of hurting your feelings, I will apologize from the bottom of my heart, but will not stay and beg for your understanding because it is pretty much up to you to decide when you are no longer upset, and not up to me.

It rained almost everyday that I was in Japan. I had a choice of getting wet on my one hour train ride and later walk to work, or buy an umbrella. Yep, I bought the umbrella. It is all about choices. I also had a choice of coming back from work tired and going straight to bed, or changing my clothes and heading out to discover new places, food, and people. You guessed it, I put on my comfy tennis shoes and hit the town every night. I figured that I would rest when I got back home. As I rode on the immensely crowded train on a rainy day, every time we went into a tunnel I could see my reflection on the glass window I was facing to view the landscape. On one of those self portrait flashing moments I saw myself and was impressed by my own image. Inside I was full of excitement and wonder because of all that I was absorbing from this temporary adventure that made me feel like a kid. The reflection spoke otherwise and whispered into my mind that I was tired, old, and sad. At that same instant I realized that I needed to fix that about myself. I might not be able to make myself younger, but I sure as hell should be able to not look so tired and sad. A few weeks back during a funeral a friend made that same comment to me. She said that she had noticed that lately I seemed much more tired and my moments in thought revealed too much sadness in my face. Well my friends, this is because I am genuinely tired of the stress I have been dealing with because of my oldest son's situation, and of course I am genuinely sad for his well being. However, now that I am aware of this, I am making a new effort on my side to lift the rope on my end of the table and bring the balancing clown back to the center so we can play together again. It truly is much more fun to play when both sides want to win. ;-)

Dad

I'm out of town working...I'll be back soon!

NOTE: Please forgive my absence and not being able to post on my blog while I am working for a week in Japan. As soon as I am back I promise to share with you some more. In the meantime, go back to some of my older posts and send me a note with a comment if you have the time. I would love to read what is on your mind too.

Dad

P.S. - As of Friday September 25, 2009 there have been 1,373 visitors to read this blog. You guys are awesome...thanks!

Time travel...has anyone seen my 10 lost hours?

On September 16, 1985, 24 years ago, I started working here in Southern California after driving my one week old Toyota SR5 long bed blue pickup truck and towing a 5' x 10' UHaul cargo trailer which contained all of my worldly possessions all the way from Tennessee. During that summer I had been working two jobs, one converting an analog inventory system into a digital one at the Dupont plant in a town called Old Hickory in Tennessee, and the other programming sales computers for the People Express airline. Two and a half months of working two jobs for 16 hours a day had taken it's toll and motivated me to go job hunting for a better future. The job market for engineers on that year had been a tough one, making the task of getting a descent job pretty much like having a third job. I applied to 98 different engineering jobs all around the United States and had promised myself that the first one to make me a reasonable offer would get me instantly. I still have a log book in which I kept track of everywhere to which I sent a resumé, any letters that they sent back, and any interviews that were offered. Out of the 98 tries, only two made the effort to hire me. The first letter that arrived with good news was from the job I currently and since have held here in California. The other one was an even better offer, but I had already accepted the previous one and felt committed to my first choice. I have been fortunate enough that even though budget cuts have come and gone, reduction in force once took almost half of the people working at my location on the street, and our military command has been on base closure lists twice, God has blessed me with never having to do the job hunting ordeal again. For this I am extremely thankful.

Throughout the years, as I mentioned in a previous post, I have moved around within the system and tried my hand at least five different jobs. My current position is not only rewarding in many ways, the people that I work with are great too. I have learned that who you work with is more important than what you do for a living. Spend enough time with miserable people and I guarantee you that the best paying job in the world will turn out to be a real drag. When the opposite is true, the most challenging job in the world can actually be kind of fun when you are in good company. I use the term "fun" relatively loosely because what might be fun for me could be incredibly not fun for you. Either way, although people like to describe themselves by what they do for a living, instead I rather describe myself by how I do things for a living. It just makes more sense to me.

Today, as I write this post, I just finished packing my bags to head out tomorrow on a trip to Japan to do my job. Even though there is a certain degree of thrill involved in heading to somewhere new to challenge myself in my career, I can't help but feel a little bit cheated after trying to figure out my travel schedule and the hours it will take me to get there and back. I know this is going to sound a bit confusing, but try to keep up. I will be flying on a direct flight from Los Angeles to Tokyo that will take me almost twelve hours to get there. However, on the way back the return flight is also a non-stop flight but it will only take nine and a half hours to reach Los Angeles. I am assuming this time difference has something to do with different airplane speeds and whether we are flying in the direction the earth is rotating or opposite to it. I am going to get to the bottom of this when I have some time to research it, so don't worry, this is going to come up again in another post...hahaha!

The time cheating does not end there. Another confusing fact is that even though I depart Los Angeles on Saturday at 12:50 p.m. and the flight is 11 hours and 40 minutes long, I actually lose almost 16 hours of my life by the time I land in Tokyo at 4:30 p.m. Sunday afternoon. What's up with that? This would not be so confusing if on my return flight I would get it all back. Strangely enough I will leave Tokyo after completing my job a week later and even though my flight departs on Saturday at 4:00 p.m., after flying for almost ten hours when finally arrive in Los Angeles it will be 10:00 a.m. the same day. According to my calculations this means that I will arrive 6 hours before I departed. So where are the other remaining 10 hours from the 16 I lost in the first place? There is a certain degree of madness in all of this flying around a planet that is moving while you are trying to reach your final destination. Personally I am a bit more concerned about who is going to pay for those 10 missing hours of my life...hahaha!

Thank you for putting up with my nonsense. I hope you all have a wonderful next week. I am pretty certain that I am not going to be able to make any posts while I am gone, but I promise to bring you something nice back with me to share. If you start feeling withdrawals from not having some of my nutty stuff to read, my advice is to go back and read some of my earlier posts and find something to share with me in a comment or email. All of you have been extremely wonderful guests and I appreciate your advice, comments, positive thoughts, and more than anything your prayers. I can definitely use them while I am on travel since I will not be able to interact with my son and just being so incommunicado scares the crap out of me sometimes. I have to believe that God will take care of him even better than I do when I am home...right?

Dad