funny that

I find it strange that in the midst of doing exactly what your heart has always desired to do, or that which puts you right where you are often at your best - you are forced to confront your greatest faults. I guess it makes sense - what good would success or growth be if they didn't force you to take into account your shortcomings (and dare you dream, overcome them?) along the way? But that's the thing about true flaws - when you gather the rare courage to acknowledge them, it's almost inconceivable that they could ever be overcome - they're just so daunting. So you put them out of your mind to get through your day, until one day there they are bright and smiling on your doorstep - the only things that stand between you and the rest of your life.

Sweet Loki

Loki was not a dog, he was a presence. A massive body of long fur and drooly lips, he could always find his place in the middle of his people. Like his mama he never joined our family - he simply claimed the spot that we now realize was waiting for him all the time. And as we went about our lives and celebrations he was there, laying amongst our feet, picking up the tasty morsels we dropped as we prepared dinner, letting one of the kids stick their finger in his eye - because for Loki, "everything was love."


He was the first son in his family - he taught his parents to be both patient and proud, basked in their togetherness and shared their affection. When Dexter arrived he knew life was different, but he wasn't - and thus he stood by through sleepless nights, watched over the Speedy Gonzalez of growing babies with his own sense of pride (and occasionally became your every-day dog who barks in the middle of the night and wakes the baby).


Perhaps his only true claim to his namesake (the Norse god of mischief), was his ability to become something other than what he seemed. For this was not just a dog at your feet, nor a pet. This was man's best friend, and for his perfect portrayal of this role - he will be missed.

Where I've gone

Hi there, you can find me here now mostly. Separate blog world, hope you'll visit!

Recovery

Late last summer, in an untimely reminder of my lack of computer savvy, I crashed my old hard drive. It's horrifying when you realize how much of your life has been locked up inside what you thought to be an impenetrable metal box, and even moreso when you realize how simple it is to prevent such implosions of data-drowned micro-chips. Licking my wounds I found solace in my shiny and new Macbook Pro, and set aside my old computer (lovingly referred to as the behemoth) for a time in which I had 2 grand to direct to the pockets of the most deserving of computer geeks who recover lost data.

My life and luck being charmed as it is, just such a guy showed up in my living room a few weeks ago to address my very cracked blackberry pearl (let's hope my life has more resilience than the electronics that manage it) and I feebly mentioned my forlorn and dusty old lap top.

"Let me see it," he commanded - a wry smile alluding to the immense pleasure he clearly found in taking on seemingly impossible electronic tasks. I handed it over, admonishing him (and doing my best to keep my hopes at bay) that the 14-year old in charge of the service shop last year hadn't even been able to get it to boot. Of course before he could tell me that I was well under the spell of the Macbook Pro's brushed finish, practical weightlessness and sleek profile. Still, being reprimanded by a guy nearly half my age (and likely making twice my salary) for ignoring the flashing lights of "YOUR HARD DRIVE IS READY TO SELF-DESTRUCT" had left it's mark, and I didn't want my friend to be overly optimistic.

I unpacked the behemoth, handed it to my friend and tottered off to admire my new blackberry face plate (it had been cracked since I dropped it in gravel on day 2 of ownership). He plugged it in and on came the lights and the flashes I'd done my best to forget - the bright blue reminder that where my writing and pictures and years of data had once been, was now the simplest of color schemes and a screen that looked just like the first word processors we used in middle school.

But...my friend's face lit up - and even I had to admit that upon last plug in it hadn't even booted, so this could be progress. He quickly pocketed the hard drive, headed home to his motherboard and promised to call with what he was sure would be a full recovery of my data.

OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY!

Words cannot express. Not only did he recover it - but in the exact same form I left it. No scrambling, nothing missing - just files and files of years and years of ponderings, papers and most importantly, photos. Trips and family and holidays and friends - all back, safe and sound, on the shiny screen of my Macbook Pro. Oh, and my new external hard drive.

changing it up

Man, I look at my blog archives and I really used to write here. Oh, how I miss that! I don't know what it is about this year that writing has not been the medium with which I pour forth all that's been swirling around inside. I've tried not to be too hard on myself, but at the same time I know that writing is a discipline, and all the various benefits (the catharsis, the processing, the support from those who choose to read your words) are the result of such work. Perhaps it's that I'm not ready to process it all, that this year has been about reaching out and identifying the tools I'll need to work through it, when I'm ready. It's definitely involved a fair amount of holding others up in their times of struggle - perhaps the best therapy there can be when you're in the midst of your own.

I have been doing a lot of writing in my head - especially in preparation for my departure for Kenya (mid September!) and will get a new blog to chronicle that experience up soon. I know that I will need to write about this. I pray that I'll have the stamina to process it all on the page - because it is by far the biggest thing I've done yet (and the scariest, and most exciting!). I want to be present in the whole experience, and I know writing will be key.

I have found my voice off the page in a more literal sense this year, and after sending a pretty lame garage band recording (voice/guitar only) of a Coldplay song to some friends, my dear friend Phil returned the following to me. Since I've offered so little by way of words on the page lately, here's a bit of my actual voice. Thanks to those of you who still visit this space, share your own words and are keeping your stories going on your own blogs. I treasure this community and look forward to sharing my next steps with you!

boomp3.com

overflow

I was sitting at dinner tonight having a heavy discussion with my dad when I was struck with an image. I saw a delicate pottery bowl with a beautiful glaze reminiscent of a blue tile-bottomed pool. In the bowl, which was deeper than a normal bowl, was crystal clear water. If the bowl was set down and still, the reflection from the glaze would make it hard to see the liquid therein - it would be just one fluid piece of mass. But if you were to pick up the bowl and try to walk with it, the water would start to move around the interior, banking against its perfectly smooth sides, gaining momentum with each step as it would slosh forward, then back, then forward again. At any moment it would threaten to break over the side of the dish, to make its presence known on the ground or surroundings outside of the glazed haven it comes from.

How then to keep such liquid still? How then to prepare the world for its inevitable overflow? How then to prepare yourself?

grace and glory

You're in the midst of moments full of fear,
the unknown looms in a way you never imagined you'd be afraid of.

The necessity of leaving, of stepping away from the first real comfort you can remember.
The special moments you know you'll miss - the distance you're departure is sure to create.

These thoughts weigh heavy on your heart, your eyes droop with the tears of saying goodbye, even though goodbye is weeks, neigh months, away.

It's all in preparation, all in advance notice, all in protection of your fragile heart.

How to leave those you love, and who love you the most?

Then it hits you - the glorious reality of it all. You are loved! You are surrounded by those whose lives matter to you, whose joy matters to you. Distance means nothing in relation to this.

And as your adventure opens up before you, you are struck with the sheer magnitude of it all. How is it that you should be fortunate enough to be walking into the life you are about to take on?

There are no words, there is nothing that can capture the enormity of having turned dreams into reality.

But knowing you go with the wings of those you love behind you, this is the most glorious thing of all.

temporary

these walls carry the proof of where I've been
joined together by a door added after the fact
I had a vision of what it would look like so many months ago
And now here I sit, the lines in rust and green,
ready to let it go

So much of my life this year has been temporary
A stop for a moment before stepping into the unknown
Surrounding myself with those I love the most
But in the end having to move away,
I can't imagine the day

When these walls cease to bear where I've been
When they're blank or covered up with someone else's things
To drive away with the burden of past and the blank slate of tomorrow
with my life staying here, while I go there

In the end I know the truth isn't temporary
Its veins run deep in the lives of those I love
No matter where I go there is home in each of them
Only this I know, only this I know