21. Alone And Not In Bali

I don't get lonely often but when I do I own it.  I square up.  I look it in the eye. If it ambushes me, or comes in a bum rush, I rush back.  I'd rather collide and feel the impact than be rolled and consumed.  Lonely is less lonely if you aren't afraid of it. Lonely ain't nothing to be feared. 

The best way to alleviate loneliness is to enter and feel it.  You need to locate its source.  When I get lonely it's usually because I feel a lack of connection.  When I feel connected to self, and that I'm a valued part in a larger community, I feel whole.  I feel my life has purpose.  I feel that way in a trailer on a horse ranch here in Chico.  

If either of those factors weakens, however, shadows form and light will turn to darkness. Something akin to that occured today and I was bathed in shade.  The cause?  Aidan boarded a plane to meet his brothers in Bali in a far away part of the world.  All three boys are gone for now and when they're gone everything seems darker.  When they're gone the sun sits lower in the sky and I, inevitably, feel lonely.

It also leaves me feeling perplexed.  I'm accustomed to not seeing my sons for months at a time.  That's not unusual.  It's normal.  But when they're someplace foreign, someplace beyond my reach, the way I miss them changes.  It affects me on a spiritual level.  I feel a void that can't be filled.  Some folks say hat's part of being a parent.  I'll take it another step further.  When you become a parent you become a practitioner of a sustained meditation on Loss.

So much of what it means to be a Father is defined by the way you allow space to grow between you and what you're terrified of losing.  It's a   Preparatory School for when you're asked to vacate the space you've held for decades, and allow what's meant to grow beyond you, to take over.  For me, that's my sons.  I live in gratitude, thanks to them.  I'm humbled to know such depth of decency, and character, will follow.

I feel alone during the moments I'm meant to feel alone, moments created by Life and circumstance to impose hibernation and dormancy on me when I neglect to do so.  Moments like this one where my sons are building their future together and I'm left to reflect on what's been lived, and what has long since passed.  Theirs is a future I won't see or shape.  I understand that.  And like most things we deem difficult, I accept it.  Still, it's a fucking lonely task. 

Acceptance is a simple idea.  It's a relatively basic concept.  It's also the difference between feeling bitter, cheated, and angry when something we love is lost, or being grateful and feeling blessed instead.  It's a very simple concept.  But it's a hard hard behavior to embody, and enact.

I'm proud of my sons for breaking from the societal herd and making time to reflect and redefine themselves in Bali.  Most people don't understand the importance of doing that.  Even fewer at their age.  It's a good use of time, never the wasting of it. It's a display of the kind of confidence and courage necessary to live a meaningful life.  It's a foundation for a purposeful future.  It's a pledge to acknowledge the fragility of Life, and live in the present moment.  

I'm proud they chose to do such a thing together. It warms my fading heart to see the affection they have toward each other.  It's comforting to see the effort they'll make to show up for, and support one another.  It has been  the greatest privilege of my lifetime to participate in their lives, even if it has been from afar.  I owe so much to the times that I felt lonely.

20. Big Shit

 When I wrote the post "A God Thing" I mentioned I had a feeling I needed to do something for God as a form of repayment for all he's done for me. I also said I didn't know what that thing is.  My life is instructing me on it now.

A few days ago I had a minor stroke that landed me in the emergency room. They did an MRI and found a small growth on my pituitary gland. We hear about other people being informed of things growing in their bodies but when it's you who is told it's dream like, surreal.  Only two things grow in the human body - babies and diseases. I can't have a bany so I'm leaning toward disease.

I didn't panic or worry when I was told.  In fact, I had no reaction at all.  I didn't react because I didn't know how. I had no reference point to instruct me. I sort of assumed everyone has things growing in them that shouldn't be so I took it with the same casualness you would a weather report. 

In the hours that followed I tried to process the information I'd been given. Does this mean I'm dying?  Does it need to come out or is there space for it to occupy without affecting what occupies space around it?  Should I be concerned, and if not why did you tell me it's in there? Do I keep this to myself or share it with the people I love? Will I turn into a genius like John Travolta did in the film 'Phenomenon' when he had something growing in his head? And most importantly, am I ready for something like this?  Something that could profoundly change your life, or inform you that this will be the end of yours.  Doesn't matter, because ready or not, it's here.  I'll know if I'm ready once I'm in it.  

One thing is for sure: I'm entering a space I've never been in before.  That means an opportunity to grow, and the probability of psychological pain.  It means being partially dismantled, and completely re-arranged.  It means I'll be okay. I'm at my best in spaces like that.  Buckle me up, and here we go.

God doesn't ask us to do things for him that are easy, common, or mundane.  We're not farm animals or lab mice, and we're not errand boys sent to pick up his dry cleaning.  God asks us to do big shit, shit that matters. Shit that shakes people up, or breaks them down.  Shit that creates controversy, or ends one.  God asks us to do shit that forces us to question what we're certain of.  He asks us to do shit that reveals what's left after what we were certain of is carried away in a flood.  I don't know what's growing in my head.  All I know is this.  I'm gonna have to deal with it and that's big.  That's some really big shit.   It's the kind of big shit I love.                

When you ask God to give you direction, or show you how to best serve othetrs as I sometimes do, he usually gives hints about which path you're meant to follow.  The choice to follow the path is always yours, and yours alone. And there aren't repercussions or consequences if you choose not to go where beckoned.  The only difference between the ones who say 'yes' and those who say 'no' is the depth of awareness and perspective they hold.  And readiness.  To say 'yes' to anything requires preparedness.  " Ready" doesn't happen for everyone, all at once.  It comes to those who seek it and we all seek at different speeds.  We all have different capacities for what we're asked to carry.  In general, the more you carry, the more you know.  And the more you know, the easier it is to accept you really know nothing at all.  

Those who say 'yes' feel the profound and expansive weight that is the world as their normal.  They mourn what they overlooked and under valued.  They understand it's a mistake to ascribe measurement to anything, and the importance of seeing things 'as is'.  Nothing exposes the inherent and resplendent beauty in everything that exists in the world like a confrontation with the possibility it may be your time to leave it.  Like learning you have a mass growing in the brain that lives inside your head. 

Admittedly, some people are better equipped to live in the unpredictable and unexplored spaces of the world. People either shaped by their Creator, or a series of uniquely specific life experiences that enables them to enter places others don't like to acknowledge.  People who come to exemplify resilience and survival.  People who have been relegated to the fringe of society for so long it's what they know as home. I am one of those people. I'm proud to be a member of that tribe.  Big shit happens out there all the time.


I feel more alive today  than I have in years.