approaching on the horizon

where do you go for
answers
next steps, and listening ears
tellers of wisdom and tellers of tales

tell me what is out there
on the horizon's edge

beckon me with adventure
even if that road leads me back home

when do words lead to
action
new ideas, and new paths
trepidation can be
exhausting. fearlessness, audacity needed
do. risk it all, and try something new

My garden

My garden is a good metaphor for my life. Or rather my mind. While every other plan, project, job, task has a certain level of responsibility to other people, this one is all on me. For me. Sure, the other gardeners may have their interests or concerns about the edibles and weeds growing there, but let them look distastefully, it doesn't matter. When they say, "you have a lot of work to do." I simply reply, "I have three other jobs." And I offer them a basil leaf, growing amongst the weeds.

It started out organized, prepared, planned. Then I started to wing it, get creative, be spontaneous. I let other things--other people and other projects--take precedence for a while, and that was fine. But, of course, there was a price to pay later, and a great deal of sweat and work went into trying to reclaim stability, and the morsels growing there.

I am constantly surprised--given new hope--when, as if by magic, a new vegetable, a new idea, is discovered. Some struggle, and die. Other catch on, as if by sheer luck; I have seemingly no control over what flourishes and what does not. Some thrive by being ignored, others grow with attention. And some refuse to grow despite my best efforts. But it is what it is.

It needs, and it is independent.

It grows. It surprises. It fail. It survives.

P.S. And yet, the more I think about it, I realize, that it is not, it cannot be just for me. Harvest the rare and precious produce for myself, and it sits, uneaten, and goes to waste. Give it to others, and it is eaten. And I am far more nourished than I would have been, consuming by myself.

what do I know

I know that I love work that uses my hands and my mind.
I know that I love being around hard-working, fun-loving people.
I know that I love talking about ideas and possibilities.
I know that I love spaces that allow for creativity.

I know that I do not know what is to come. But I dream. I hope. I plan. I learn. And maybe, with a little luck and a lot of elbow grease, it will happen.

wind in the trees

There's just about nothing better than laying in a hammack in the shade, the wind off the lake blowing through the trees, causing the leaves to sing and the light to dance.

Well, maybe there are some better things, but since perfection is not limited to a single moment, that one is definitely part of the ranks.

Family

Many of them I don't see more than once or twice a year. And when we're together it's controlled mass chaos. One aunt that can't stop taking pictures. Another that can't stop managing the situations. An uncle that can't say a serious statement to safe his life, and a father that walks around with a screwdriver and duct tape fixing things. The same questions asked a thousand times and a dozen opinions in a conversation with half as many people. It's difficult for us to know one another beyond one weekend each summer, rarely being able to just hanging out, get to know one another's moods and quirky traits. My other families may know me better. But, for some reason, we love one another unconditionally. We yell. We laugh. We listen. We argue. We play. We cook. We eat. And we eat some more. We drive each other nuts, and we marvel at the energy of all of us in one house.

There are so many of us, each completely unique. And as a group, we are ever-growing, shifting, changing, surprising, consistent. We are family.

A Do-er, or a Facilitator of Do?

I once had a my AmeriCorps director tell me, "We are not necessarily the do-ers, we are the facilitators of do." Another colleague said that, although I am a do-er (and a good one at that), I'm not meant to do projects--I'm meant to supervise and facilitate other do-ers. While I understand my propensity to see solutions and connections, and recognize an ability to put systems in place to make things happen, the simple truth is that, deep down, all I want to be some times is a do-er. I like doing laundry and finding screws and washers in my pockets. I like considering in the theoretical and imaginative and working in the tangible. I like being given a problem and having to use my mind AND hands to find a solution. I like being able to get dirty, to be physical, and be tired from carrying, creating, caring--rather than tired from doing nothing other than sending nine hundred emails.

Sometimes I think of teachers as the ants that have climbed up the stem, and are now holding their place to help lift others to higher posts where they too can change the world. In some respects I find solace and pride in creating the spaces where others can learn and impact the world. I can shine with happiness when I see my students out there connecting with others and making a change. But I cannot deny that, as much as I can logically love teaching and facilitating, sometimes all I want to do is get my hands in there, use tools and materials, work as part of a team to create a product.

Sometimes, all I want to do, is do.

Looking out, and in

I look in the mirror
of the world's reflective surfaces
and wonder
who is this person looking out
and staring back?
Around the room I see unique, precious individuals
chiseled by their experiences
irreplaceable because of their talents, ideas, personalities,
the spark that makes each a one and only.
They are confident in their own skin
accepting of the talents and perfections and peculiarities that make her she and him he.

Looking in it's harder to see
awkward uncertainty can cloud my view
so I spend more time looking, wondering.
Even so, despite the layer of haze, I have noticed two ingredients
that push all the doubts away.
Laughter
and production.
Laughter of bliss, of life.
Mind is clear and the moment, here, now, is relished, and all that matters.
Production of a concrete (maybe even creative) product.
Maybe it's the result of so much soft-skills work
but when I can successfully create/produce/build/fix something solid
and when I know what I am doing
there is no doubt
or self-critical eye.
And the reflection in the mirror
smiles.

Balance

Is balance good?
Is the peace I work to achieve mean that I'm missing the fruits of life on the edges?
Is the joy of the flight after the leap worth the threat of the fall?
Maybe so.

Perhaps even, most certainly.

If the key to life is everything in moderation
maybe moderation itself needs to balanced
with risk
with chance
with a full-tilt run through the barriers of the safety zone
and a possibility of the extremes.

once again, the words crumble...