Survival kit

  You know how you are cruising along, minding your own business, when suddenly you remember a thing from way back when? The survival kit, that's what I can suddenly now remember. Or maybe I forgot that I remembered it. Either way, its a fresh memory right now. But I digress....

  Mom and Dad had built a house in the mountains. It was the late 70s. The hippy, live in a commune, fuck the government phase had past. Now the  isolation, live in fear, fuck the government phase had begun.

  Life was chaotic, but we were taught to put on the happy face towards society. Not actively taught, more like.....well I don't know what its like. There was some shame, but I also thought it was all normal. I didn't understand why other kids had so much privilege. So pretend happiness was the order of the day.

  If your biggest asset is putting on a front that everything is OK, by isolating you can be "real" more often. Why pretend to be fine when you can separate your family away from society and be a jerk all the time?

  Isolation promises many things, it can't keep any of them.

  So here I was, a kid around 9 years old, Mom was investing heavily in alcohol futures, and Dad was disillusioned with his faith. My sister and I were trying to figure out who to please to make the insanity stop. Not that we knew that was what we were doing, we just thought it was normal.

  One day a survival kit shows up. Maybe it was a cub scout thing, maybe dad bought it somewhere, all I knew was this thing was way cool. It was an oval cylinder, perhaps six inches tall x four wide x two deep. It had everything! Space age blanket, fire stuff, fishing stuff, knife, coffee, water purification tablets, etc.....

  I would read the list countless times. Was this really all I needed to survive? It was an alluring proposition.

  In bold lettering the tin said that if you opened it you would never get all the stuff back in it. Oh how I wanted to see what was in there! I never did muster up the courage to open it up.

  We kept it on a shelf in the laundry area. Occasionally I would pick it up and read the label. Countless times. I might be projecting my current thoughts onto a younger me, but I think I took solace in the idea that the survival kit always had my back. If things got too rough, grab the kit, and head out.

  Being alone in the fields and mountains brought great joy to me. It was more than an escape, it was childhood. Yep, in spite of all the gunk, I got to be child sometimes also. So perhaps the survival tin was an extension of my desire for adventure.

  Either way, the tin had an impact. I am positive its creators would never have imagined that their product found leave such an impression on a young dudes life.

  Everyone needs a survival tin.
 
 

Partaking

  Its been a beauty couple of weeks. Without going into specifics, on February the sixth, I witness someone reach out with compassion and grace towards the person who hurt them. Gratitude. Oh so grateful. Its good to observe someone begin forgiving the person who hurt them. When you are the one who did the hurting.....its overwhelming.

  This sparked off a few days of unmitigated joy. I even called up some close friends and left them messages of how well I was doing. It is important for close friends to hear all the stuff, even the good stuff.

  One might worry that relying upon someone else to provide your joy is potentially harmful. That's a valid concern. That's what makes this time so much the better. Its not reliance, its partaking. Partaking in the love offered.

  This journey has been one of finding myself and not flinching. Its one of taking the hard look at the dark stuff and finding comfort. And so, I was complete before all this happened.

  AND IT HAPPENED!!!!

  OK, it began.

  But I can not put exclamation marks behind "it happened". So there!

  At any rate, the last couple weeks were euphoric and I am excited to see where this next fork in the journey goes. There are many incredible things (and tragic) up ahead, I plan to be in attendance at all of them. Its all part of being a sojourner.

The note

  "Will you please change your address on this card so it goes to your moms? Thanks"

  Pretty simple note. My wife and I are separated and she doesn't want my credit card statement coming to her anymore. So why, for the next ten minutes, was I hacked off?!! Its stupid, right?

  Maybe if you could just see the note, you might then see why I felt like flipping out. Sure she has excellent penmanship, her point was simple and straight forward, but there is venom in between the lines. Can't you see it?!!

  This isn't about changing an address. Its a big, "Fuck off, get out of my life." Am I being too sensitive? Most likely. I mean, I spent ten minutes trying to figure out if I would spend the next two days being pissed about this. A simple note does that to me....wow.

  Thirteen minutes later and the address was changed. All that's left to ponder is why I can't just do the thing and not end up doing mental gymnastics trying to source out hidden meanings.

  Divorce sucks.

OK here is the note. What's with the exclamation at the end! Am I supposed to be excited for the note....maybe SHE is....I am going to go ponder that for a while. Just kidding folks! I am going to go smoke a camel. They are tough to light, but they smoke forever!

Football

  Its been an interesting football season for me. It started out with me mildly caring about football, because my mom does, and crescendoed with me hooting and hollerin at my TV!

  Oh sure, at one time I was a follower of the sport. I watch the Saturday Night Live skit about Da Bears, learned who a few of the players were (GO Fridge!), and was immersed into the realm of the NFL. I watched as Emmett ran and Aikman threw. The Cowboys cheerleaders were intoxicating and the sport was a place of companionship.

  Unfortunately,  years of religious drubbing had taken its toll, sitting in a pew piously pitying the unwashed masses who would dare miss church for such vulgarities. I'm not even sure I ever desired to be more faithful to God by being so holy, I just seized upon an opportunity to exert control over others. Here was a way to place myself firmly in the Holier than Thou land! And boy did I!

  So when I became a sentient being, football needed close evaluation. Mom had become a powerful force of love in my life. She loved football. Should I risk the scorn of the professional religionists? Could this sport be enjoyable and even, dare I say, a good thing?

  Seattle won, so I guess that answers the "good" question! Ha!

  At the start of the season I watched some games with mom. It was terrific! She hooted and howled at the screen as I gazed on in wonderment. How come I couldn't relax that much? As the Seahawks continued their dominance, reflections of my youth began returning. I was mocked once for liking the Seahawks, but I really did like them, my family was from there. At one time I could sit with friends and cut loose watching a game!

  The season progressed and I found myself becoming more and more interested in what was happening. I was slowly becoming a fan again.

  So, when I had the chance to watch the Superbowl, I did. Reflections upon years gone by, celebrations of the game at hand, and dreams of future Superbowl parties, were all present and accounted for. Completely out of character, I barked at the screen and found a taste of freedom that was lost somewhere back on the trail.

  Oh, my friend, it was glorious! If Denver had won this blog might be more somber, but they lost, wooopiiieeee!!!! It was great!

One last thought......

"Pastor wants you to have the same passion for church that you have for the Super Bowl. Scream at him if he fumbles his words during the sermon." - Church Curmudgeon