Two Different Fathers

I have been living with the changes inside my mind about changes in my life this week.  I have paced a bit and worried, of course, and come back around to feeling the freedom beneath my tennies bouncing back up at me.  The cycle of letting go, grieving with sadness, denial or blame and then calm.  Trusting the process isn't one of my strong points and I can get there.

I am running more, reading more, drinking more tea, discerning stress tucked in job announcements and just trying to use the magnifier that comes with hard knocks.  I am open to new ideas and a few have come to visit.  Today as I was looking for work on the Internet I turned my head to look out the window and an Acorn woodpecker was walking up the trunk of the Maple outside my window.  Just then, a gift.

I listened to an NPR program that was so riveting that I had to sit in the car to finish it.  Fresh Air had an interview with Frank Calabrese Jr. about his book Operation Family Secrets.  I listened to the choices that Frank Jr. made about the life he was drawn into by his mobster father and wondered where that kind of courage comes from inside.  A frightening almost surreal account of murder and revenge is enough to make us wonder what kind of father would jeopardize a son.  Yet Frank Jr.'s father enjoyed killing people and using his sons to achieve those end results were part of the plan.

http://www.npr.org/2012/03/02/147725615/frank-calabrese-jr-on-opening-his-family-secrets

The second part of my afternoon was spent with a man who took us for a hike on Taylor Mtn. nearby on a very sunny and warm afternoon here.  He is a man who hikes there often and showed us ways to hike across the emerald green hillsides above the Santa Rosa plain.  I found out as we hiked that our friend was raised by Mormon parents though he is a very loving and compassionate Quaker now in life.

He told us the story of his own father who helped him to find his way after High School.  His father told our friend that "his job was to get an education" and not to go off on a Morman mission as most young men of their faith do. This strategic choice for our friend changed his life dramatically.  Loving, real and courageous, our friend moved on to psychiatry and a different faith altogether.  Many times, our friend has offered me words of support and he continues to offer just that to the co-workers whom I left behind now feeling under seige from what I call "The Unholy Trinity."

I am stunned by the character of both sons in these two stories as being so similar and yet with very different fathers. Where does that depth of character come from and how does it steer us toward certain choices?  I was left with more questions than answers today and that is just fine with me. 

Asking the question doesn't neccessarily beg the answer these days and I am fortunate to see the magic in the space in-between.

Walking The Way We Talk

I have little to say lately that I am sure of and that, for a writer, might just be writer's block.  Today though is a bright, blue, cold morning in Northern California that holds the promise of a Sunday adventure in the Mini and that always opens up the horizon in front of me. 

Last night we had dinner with some former co-workers and residents from the wonderful campus where I worked for five months as a gardener.  I miss them so much.  I miss my place there and the beauty and their stories.  Such kind, real and strong older folks.  My role models to be sure. I came home light and full of contentment which has been challenging lately as I find some distance from the difficulties of the near past. Especially distance from Mr. Big I and II, a strange shaming interraction with a Chiropractor and a Grocery Store manager. 

 I am doing well, considering where I have been, finding new volunteer opportunities, finishing up an online class that I have been taking and doing some home projects.  I am getting bored though.  Boredom is a sticky wicket for me as the "shame machine" starts to cough and sputter. That piece of machinery can be the source of pain if I let the gears begin to whine at a high rate of speed.  My mind will sort out the most negative messages from the "shame machine" and twist the past into some kind of blame game that is far from the truth.  Other people will try to do that with us and we don't need to shovel the coal that fuels that monster.

There is different way.

 "...If I feel ashamed, I need a reality check because my thinking is probably distorted. Even though it may take great courage, if I share about it with a (friend), I will interrupt the self-destructive thoughts and make room for a more loving and nurturing point of view.  With a little help, I may discover that even my most embarrassing moments can bless my life by teaching me to turn in a more positive direction..." -Courage To Change, One Day At A Time In Al-Anon II

This is not an easy project and yet it can be the most loving way to create nueropathways that open up into bright, sunlit mornings on our lifetime of challenges.  This is my journey and I want to be a part of the solution for myself instead of part of the source of darkness.  That is a tune I can whistle all day long.