Be vigilant in examining your privilege. Pay close attention to your needs as they compare to your wants. Love others with intensity and intention and compassion and empathy. Be kind with your words and more with your actions. This human life is fragile and delicate and precious in every way that it presents. Our minds are intricate and complex and ever-growing organisms that are the constantly renewing sum of our previous experiences. It is these experiences that we bring to our present existence and it is these experiences that we use as a sounding board for new challenges. Be mindful. Reflect regularly. Move forward with purpose. We have an incredible opportunity in every moment to feel joy and happiness and, more importantly, we have the same opportunity to bring that same joy and happiness to those around us. Choose wisely. Love without judgement. Be well.
03.10.20
“Right now in this moment is the only moment”, said the white robed man as he loaded spoiled food into the back of an unmarked van. It was snowing and cold that night on 72nd Street and the words that were heard couldn’t have been closer to the truth. We only get this moment. What are you going to do with yours?
03.08.20
Love ferociously. It kills doubt and keeps the walls down.
03.07.20
Mind meld. Transition time. So many roads and so much energy dispersed into the ether that it’s either in or out or both at the same time and a thousand ones and zeros. Dance. There’s tobacco in the air and the man at the ferry wants guns and furs for passage. Sunlight. Sun kissed. Sunken ships and rocks at the bottom of the ocean. Four years ago the dog came home and mom was born and life was altered forever. Forever forward. Up and at em. Flyby. Firefly. Peaked interest is interested. A whole thirty. Tattoos on the arm and chest and when the sun comes out the sun comes out. Fierce. Intense. Clipped nails. Stream of consciousness. Stream of water. Stream of dreams. Field of dreams. Baseball season and the saggy sidi’s. Mud season. Mud hens and laughing hyenas and some nature film about animals in Africa. The West. The greatest. The one and only and another one that is also the only, but can there be only two onlys and only one at the same time? The same Tim. The same Tim and his brother Tim and their uncle Tim had time to go to the festival of Tim’s, but they left without their shared father and his father and their alcoholism. They left for the party before the party started and they got their after it finished. The Tim and Tom and Doug. The space ship on the rug. The earthly beings that circle the wagons and prepare for the rapture. The red sneakers and the tin foil hats and the media man tell us to calm down as they pump fear into our veins. Like a heroin addict we just take it and nod off.
03.06.20
I create a separation between myself and the other person as a way of detaching myself because I sense the beginning of pain. That is to say, I pull back from relationships because I have experienced pain in relationships. It’s a wall I build to protect myself.
It’s something I have experienced over and over and over and until I am willing to leave myself unprotected by the wall, I will never feel true and genuine love.
I cannot say that this is true for all, but, by my experience, I think it’s close to being accurate for many.
Making plans is nice. Having regular feedback regarding interest and attraction is nice. Being told I am wanted is nice, but when these things don’t happen, I have a reason to throw more bricks up and when I throw more bricks up, I feel comfortable because I am in control and when I am in control, I can avoid pain.
Sadly, when I am so determined to avoid pain, I also avoid love and care and kindness.
My goal today is to not throw any bricks at my wall and be open to the love and care and kindness of others in my circle.
Just thoughts.
03.04.20
Anchors away and a parking spot across the street from some place called Mary Ellen’s. Fish bowls and fish and chips and the sound of a dozen dishes crashing. Check the phone and watch out for the internet because it’ll get you every time. Send that letter to Arizona. Beached whales and broken sawhorses and a million Indians displaced by white people hungry for free land and their very own chance at liberty. What unbelievable level of fucked up happened here in the 1800’s? What kind of lawlessness promoted the killing of human beings in the name of growth? It still happens. It happens today. Death in the name of progress. Sadly, today, our lawlessness is tied up in our laws and our monies and our government and our marketing. Our death is slow and agonizing and painful and isolated because our kids don’t have time and they put us in nursing homes because it’s easier than caring for our elderly selves. It’s bananas and bonkers and catchy words that used to mean something until time happened and the tattoos stopped and the timer went off and things were not respected. The boundaries. The fences. The happiness set aside for the joy. Round and round. Up and down. Inside out. Over and under and a lawnmower parked on blocks because the wheels stopped wheeling when the deck hit the rocks in the front yard. Rope tricks and horse wranglers and cowboys. Frightened. Strings of thought. Consciousness confused for conscientiousness. Corduroy jackets and a monkey on the pocket. Wear the hat. Wear all the hats. Stop. Be nice. Channel the energy into positivity and make somebody smile. Do it. Ask for nothing and get everything. I love you.
03.03.20
Exhausted. Drained. Empty. Yet full.
The byproducts brought forth by the uncovering of a hornets nest have revealed themselves in ways that I have not previously experienced. It is as intense as it is relaxing. It is profound and deep and shallow and simple. It is conversation and extension. It is listening and hearing. It is taking every blow with grace and dignity while remaining steadfast in my own integrity. It is showing up when I’m tired. It is showing up when I feel like running. It’s riding the bike and doing the pushups and taking time to take care of myself. It is everything and nothing. Byproducts. Hornets. Bees. Winged beasts that are as much a part of nature as the sun rising and setting. Are they beasts? Is the hornet sting not just a reminder that we feel? Sure, there are allergies and an occasional death, but by and large the sting of the hornet is remedied by time...just like everything else in this world. Time heals. Let it pass. Participate in it. Jump headlong into the wind and see where it takes you. Adventure. Life. A change of course. A chance meeting at a bar. An opportunity to be seized. Relish in it. Grab it by the horns. This life. The only one we get.
03.01.29
Coffee, clay and gingerbread houses. Ninety miles in one direction and the music from twenty years ago. Instructions on properly drying clay. Golf bags. That’s where the money is.
Nothing matters and the internet will lie to you.
Social media is for envy.
Acts of kindness will resolve your dilemma every time. Be love. Feel love. Open doors and an open heart. It’s not surgery. It’s not science. Get exercise. Be nice. Write letters and communicate. Holding things in to figure them out is the fast track to depression.
02.29.20
It’s Leap Day. The extra day. The plus one. The add-on. The day that counts, but doesn’t count unless it’s your birthday. It’s also Saturday. All day.
RADIATE POSITIVITY
Send out what you want to get in return and it will likely happen. The world is your oyster. Your mind is your biggest enemy. Follow your heart and trust your gut.
RADIATE KINDNESS
02.28.20
To Whomever Might Read This:
I hope today is filled with amazing for you. I hope, when you wake, that you are smothered by feelings of awe and wonder. I hope your smile is contagious and that all those around leave wondering how you can be so happy. I hope there is someone in your life that lets you know that you are loved and appreciated and valued. I hope today is the best day and that tomorrow is better. You got this!
Love, Chris
02.26.20
I took the only seat in the house to hammer away on these keys in the hopes that I would string together some strain of sentences that resemble some forgotten sentiment, some pathway to the long compacted sediment under which my heart is buried. The poets and the songwriters seem to sum things up so well that my vain attempts at compiling letters into words and sentences and paragraphs seems like a road to nowhere littered with boarded up convenience stores. No fuel for the drive. No snacks for the car. Just an empty road that leads to nowhere. And don’t bother punching the clock because this work trip to the woods is on your honor and it won’t matter anyway because they’ll deliver the remainder of your meager earnings to the funeral home to help pay for your service. Just like they’ll do for all the poor souls that sold themselves to the company store. The work. The toil. The unending hours in the cave with the tiny yellow canary in the cage that just won’t stop singing that song about how you should have left years ago. Remember that? Remember the song? In the cave? In that dark, dark space where there was dancing and laughter and so much enjoyment that two people should have had to pay admission to see the seven shows? Drive. Get in the car and drive. Write the letter and mail it. Write the letter and burn it. Write the letters into words and send them all the way to space and back. It’ll change your life. It will. It will change it because you’re a good egg and you’ll end up right where your supposed to be and there isn’t anything that’s going to stand in the way of that because that’s how the universe works. It works out for everyone and nobody leaves before they're supposed to because if they did everything would be disrupted and nobody would have to go to work anymore because there wouldn’t be jobs and there wouldn’t be money and everything we know would be gone because somebody left before they were supposed to. It’s a chain of events. It’s dominos. It’s one foot over the other until it isn’t. Sentences. Paragraphs. Run-ons.
02.25.20
Disconnection. Reconnection. No connection. No understanding. No standing under. No nothing. Off the front with no one to ask questions of. The future is present in the past and a million decisions later the phone rings and it’s her. So angry. So justifiably angry. Onward. Show up. Bring consistency and play the long game. No anger. No hate. Radiate positivity. You’ll be in your grave soon enough. Enjoy the time.
02.19.20
Time and space and imagination and a bunch of circles colliding into each other to create Venn Diagrams. This is how we live. Every day. We are simply circles bumping into each other and sharing an intersection for a moment or several. What’s odd is that, sometimes, even when we aren’t directly in contact with another and their circle, we still overlap. It’s stunning really. Intersecting with another human being even though they cannot be seen or touched. Our minds are incredible in their capacity to leave the present and wander off into the past or the future. It’s a lot.
For the last several weeks I have been focusing on the concept mentioned above. As such, I too have not been fully present to my surroundings. I’m not certain it’s even possible to be fully present one-hundred percent of the time, but, alas, it is an excellent goal.
I digress. Venn Diagrams. Our intersecting points as humans. What does it mean? What is the value in this analysis? I have surmised the following:
I am one person. In being this one person, I occupy only the space above my feet. For the sake of keeping things simple, I have decided to view the space above my feet as a perfect circle that I constantly occupy. This circle, this space above my soles, is everything about me. It is my feelings. It is my touch and my scent and my audio and my taste and my sight. It is my emotions and my memories. It is everything that makes me who I am as a human. Like me, everyone else has a circle underneath them and their circle’s represent who they are.
When I interact with another, be it by sight or by sound or by touch or by scent, according to this visual way of understanding, my circle is intersecting with their circle. Where our circles overlap is key.
Imagine it this way. I have this circle underneath me that represents me and I am the sole responsible party for what the contents of that circle are. I get to decide what clothes I wear and what words I use. I get to decide how I smell and how I feel things when I touch them. I get to decide who I like and who I dislike. I get to decide who I love and who I do not love. I get to decide everything that registers as a thought in my brain. This is my reality. Everyone else gets the same with their circle.
When I find myself overlapping my circle with that of another, be it seated next to a stranger on a bus ride, or deep in a conversation with a loved one, the contents of my circle are mingling with the contents of their circle. How these contents interact it super important, but without mindfulness as to the overlap, things can get real weird, real fast. For example, I may not know anything about the other person and as a result, I may say something that is common place and comfortable to me, but that very same thing may resonate poorly with them. Because our circles are overlapping, where they intersect is no longer one-hundred percent mine. This overlap becomes a shared space. It’s not any different than having a fence around one’s property and leaving the gate open. With unabated access to this shared space, we don’t get to control what comes in and we should be prepared for anything. This can be scary. A ray of hope exists though because we do get to control, one-hundred percent of the time what we contribute to this shared space. If we want to say kind things, we get to do that. If we want to make positive contributions to the others circle, we get to do that. Conversely, if we want to be rude or spiteful or mean, we get to do that do. These intersecting spaces is where our humanity happens.
So…circles. They’re a thing. At least to me. What’s more about these circles is the way my mind occupies itself around the circles that I cannot see or touch. My mind, in all of its incredible wonder, somehow manages to find a way to intersect with folks that aren’t even close. On the surface it doesn’t sound like much. It actually seems pretty normal to think about the people I care about when I am not around them. This is all fine and good, but what about when my mind wanders to somebody that I do not care much about? What about when my mind occupies itself with someone that has wronged me or negatively interrupted my life in some way? What does this exertion of energy do for my emotional health? How does this pattern of thought remove me from the present and launch me into the past or the future? Does any of it even matter?
Yes. The answer, to me, is yes.
When I am fully present to my circle and to the circle’s of others as they are physically in my life, they are getting one-hundred percent of my attention. When I am thinking about someone or something else, my attention is diverted from what is happening in the immediate physical space around me and I am giving less than one-hundred percent. As I think about the people that I often see and genuinely care about, it troubles me to think that I may be giving them less than all of my attention. It pains me to think that I might be inconsiderate to their needs and their desire to overlap my circle because I am thinking about something or someone else. The Venn Diagram visual is a helpful tool for acknowledging myself in these situations.
All of this might sound jumbled and disorganized. It is entirely possible that it is. After all, these are just words being dumped onto a page. To me, though, this makes a ton of sense and it has helped me be more specific when I address and interact with others. Adopting this view of myself and myself as I interact with others has improved my mood and left me happy in places and times when I have previously been depressed and/or disappointed. It has allowed me the space to feel like I am in complete control of my life. It has empowered me to believe in my choices and my words and my actions. It has created a space for me to use the aforementioned as tools to foster kindness and build strong, healthy relationships with the people around me and while I realize that this method may not be for everyone, I am curious to pursue it more and discuss it at every opportunity that presents itself.
02.17.20
Full plates and a kitchen staff that moves in a million directions. The best dishes are usually not on the menu. Talking out of both sides of the mouth is the fastest way to end up silent. Cake. Pizza. A coffee to go. The best advise I ever got was when it’s done it’s done and the phone doesn’t ring anymore. I didn’t know exactly what that meant when I heard it twenty years ago, but as the saying goes had I known then what I know now. Truth. Say it. Live it. Two lines. An out and back. Washed up. Wash burned. A cabin on a lake. A stone fireplace. More beer cans than I’m comfortable with. I miss my friend and it’s dark and I have heartburn. Or is it heartache? Or is it the memory of depression? I’m not upset or mad or disappointed. I am accepting and I have a full heart. I understand and I also have boundaries. I have a fence with a gate around this beautiful house of mine in these beautiful woods along this beautiful river. All the way up here. All the way out here. Out here in no man’s land. Out here and over there and don’t bother calling again because the phone lines are down and the postman lost the address. Send it by pigeon from a rooftop in New York. Send it via telegram. Send it to somebody else because the gate doesn’t open and the mailbox just got emptied. Twenty years. Ten years. A handful and a shakers worth and we’re all racing to the same place. Go home, you’re drunk. Feeble. Fable. Stable. A bunch of horses running loose on the eastern plains. I’ll call it. For good. There’s a lot going on and I can tell it’s too much. Don’t bother coming back because nobody lives here anymore. They’ve all gone off to join the circus.
02.16.20
Sunday on the snow and ice and nobody cares where you’ve gone or what you’re up to and that’s the best feeling in the world. Get out there. Ride across the lake and don’t ask questions. Pedal. Forward. Never look back. Cut your losses and push your heart into the place where it’s about to explode and then keep going because the other end of this thing is going to be so much better than where you started from. Jump in. All in. There is only one life and one trip from birth to death and if the smiles aren’t there they simply aren’t there.
Return to sender. Undelivered. What happens while you’re gone is irrelevant. Don’t ask. Keep moving because this band sucks and they’re not going to get better, but they try hard and they showed up which is more than can be said for a handful of others, but it’s twelve months later and the whole world has changed. It’s Sunday. All day. Unless it rains, but we all know that isn’t going to happen because it’s only fifteen degrees in this event center on the edge of the ice.
Pound sand or crush gravel or crunch snow or kick rocks. It’s all the same when it’s swimming around in your stomach.
02.14.20
Checked my pulse and did pushups until my arms fell off in some vain attempt to maintain a level of fitness that has been pressed onto me by the magazines and the machine that owns my soul. Drank whiskey because the burn felt better than facing the fears in my life that only exist because my ego is too big to hide in this suitcase. Hid from my hiding spot when the sun went down.
Sorrow. Borrow. Tomorrow.
Don’t you know me? Haven’t you seen the sights named after me? Haven’t you secretly snapped your selfie with my likeness in the background?
Once a loser, always a loser. Shots fired...from a seventeen year old gun. Rust on the bullets. Dust in the chamber. What kind of person hangs onto that kind of anger for so long? What kind of person feels the need to cleanse their soul at the expense of another? You know. You know damn well and you know your tree lost all its leaves when you lied and when you left and there’s no chance they’ll regrow. That’s life. That’s how things unfold in real time. Everything ends. Even your ignorance.
02.13.20
Sitting on the curb with the trash and taking every piece of pent up energy from the last ten years like a toll booth attendant at the Holland tunnel takes change. Trash. Waste. Time.
You weren’t there. You weren’t. You can’t contest that and nobody is expecting you to. It isn’t a thing and you know it, but you do know that no journey begins without the first step and you took that this week and nobody is going to take that from you. Show up. Keep showing up. Things will change.
—STOP—
Soup for dinner and a cough that appeared out of nowhere. Plans for the weekend and an invitation. Do something. Anything. Do what you will because it’s nighttime now and that’s when the rest comes if it ever comes so just wait for it until you fall asleep. Maybe.
You’ll write more, just not today. Today isn’t the one. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day. Some day.
01.15.20
There is a saying in the world about walking a mile in another’s man’s shoes. It references prematurely passing judgement.
Shoes. We all wear them.
Sometimes, when the situation presents itself, one can loan their shoes to another and perhaps whatever journey the other is on can be made a little easier.
That is to say, “Here, try these on, they’ve already walked a good portion of what lies ahead of you; they know the way.”
01.12.20
Ego and lies and expectations run rampant is this beautiful culture of ours. The purpose is to sell out. Sell out and earn more because more money and more stuff equates to more relaxation and more vacation time and more affection. Look at me!!! I am important!!! Why doesn’t anyone understand?
01.05.20
Marketing marketing marketing marketing. We speak to each other in pictures and we name drop the brands we like because we think it will bring us some kind of good deal on the next purchase. We do the work of the hand that feeds us and we don’t ask questions.