Standing Back Up

I want to talk about learning from your errors and the letting them go, and how ridiculously hard it is to learn to do so.

First off, I'm terrible at this. I'm better at it than I was at, say, 18, but I feel like a 33 year old hairless ape should be a bit more advanced than I am. And there was your first example. I couldn't make it through two paragraphs without disparaging myself. I'm telling you, this whole acceptance of self thing takes work. I have friends that this skill seems to come to naturally, and I envy them. For the rest of us, letting go of past failures is like cutting off a tumor without the benefit of anesthetic. I don't know about you, my dear readers, but for me there is almost a fear involved, like I'm accidentally letting go of some mysterious part of me that I'll desperately need later. This is all bullshit, of course. If we don't let the bad go, how can we have room for the awesomeness in our lives? Of course, this is significantly easier said than done. 

I wish there were some magic advice I could share that would allow all of you to be able to instantly unload all of your bullshit and we could come together as one hive mind, free of all negativity and strife, to explore the universe together in eternal bliss. Unfortunately this skill, like any other skill, takes effort and perseverance and all those words that a thesaurus will tell you basically mean work. There's no escaping it. And, if I'm really honest with myself, the reason I'm only as far along the path as I am is due directly to the amount of work I've put in. Because it's way easier to just fuck off and party and forget about all of your troubles and just slack through life. Now, I'm not saying anything against partying, slacking off, or general fuckery. These things are important to a balanced life. All I'm saying is that you need to put in some work now and then on yourself. Your life is a direct (sometimes painful) reflection of what you've put into it, so be careful what you put into it. 

I don't have answers. All I can do is pick apart my short existence here on Earth as an example. An example of what, I'll never be sure. Maybe it's an example of a trajectory of one specific piece of stardust, hurling through beyond, without the slightest notion of a destination. Yeah, I like that.

The Birthday Blog.

33 trips around the sun. What a concept. I don't know about you all, but I love the fact that we are all living on an organic spaceship orbiting a nuclear reactor, amongst a bunch of other organic spaceships orbiting their own nuclear reactors, orbiting some other interstellar gravity event that will eventually hit the reset button, only to start the process all over again in a few billion years. The only constant in any world is change, and to embrace it is to embrace the closest thing to reality that we can all objectively experience.

Now, on a more terrestrial level, that last year has been change incarnate. Somewhere between the spectacular highs and cataclysmic lows, I've learned some incredibly valuable life lessons. Although there are too many to list here, I'll give you the top 5 (in no particular order):

1- No matter what you've done, or where you've been, or how you were brought up, everyone has something to teach you. And I mean EVERYONE. Most of the time, the lessons are subtle, nuanced, and almost invisible. But, with the right kind of eyes, there is wisdom in it all. It might not be the wisdom you're looking for at the time, but it's there. Pay attention.

2- You get out what you put in. Think of it like a car. If you ignore the basic maintenance (changing the oil, keeping air in the tires, praising it when it does a good job, etc.), it will eventually give up on you. Now apply this to your relationships. Yes, really.

3- You never know how much time you have here, so try to make it a positive experience. I don't just mean for you, but for everyone. That being said, you don't have to sacrifice your well being for everyone around you. Find a balance that works for you, and learn to enjoy the act of giving. You'll feel better, I promise.

4- Get a hobby. I'm not saying stamp collecting or baseball cards should be in your future. I'm saying you should find something in your life that brings you a few minutes of calm and allows you to regroup and get centered. It can be anything (as long as it's not terribly detrimental to your physical or mental health), as long as it provides some kind of solace. Me, I like writing sarcasm. 

5- Become your own advocate. This one is incredibly hard for me. I've never had the best self-esteem, but I'm learning that it is more of a learned process, as opposed to an innate skill. Some of us are lucky enough to be born with bad-assery built in, but the rest of us have to learn it over a period of time. It's a long, hard road, but well worth it. Once you can accept your own awesomeness, you can do anything, deal with anything, love anything. True story.

This is by no means a complete or definitive list. This is just what I've gleaned from this last lap around the sun. That being said, let's start a conversation. Comment on important life lessons you've learned, and maybe we can all help each other become better adjusted humans. Word.

Five Year Plan

"Life moves by pretty fast. If you don't stop and take a look around sometimes, you might miss something."

I take comfort in these words. 

I've been traveling for a month. I've been on planes, trains, and automobiles. It's been stupidly fun and and just irritating enough to balance everything out.

My life has changed dramatically in the last month. I'm finally starting to see the fruits of the last five year's labor. I'm finally actualizing all of these hair brained, skin of my teeth plans I've been rambling about for years. And I bought a new fly rod.

I'd love to delve deeper, but I'm on my way out the door to see Old Crow Medicine Show at Red Rocks. It's a tough life, but someone has to hold down the fort. I'll write more this weekend when I get back to the Great White North.

Ramblings Of A Snow Addict

I keep trying to write about how something profound and engaging, but if I'm truly honest with myself, all I can think about right now is next winter. I've realized that the seasonal snow isn't something I simply enjoy, but an integral part of my existence. I could no more separate myself from winter than I could separate myself from one of my arms. It's only June 11th, and all that I can think about is snow. I have a whole season of fishing in front of me (which is awesome), but my mind is on a mountain, peering into the white abyss of a steep entrance and a sketchy exit.  Addiction doesn't even begin to cover it.

Until then, I will have to subsist on sick video parts that approximate my wildest snow fantasies. Things like this. Watch it. 

For Doug

I don't know how to start this one. Everything floating in my head seems either preachy, or hackneyed, or just plain sad. But, the show must go on.

I guess I can start with this: Doug was a hero to me. He was the kind of man I wanted to be. He was confident. He knew music. He worked at the coolest bar on the planet. And he smiled readily. The fact that he also managed to start what is quite possibly one of the cutest families in the history of families is also not lost on me. He was a Burque Renaissance man.

I met Doug when I was 13. Back then, he was a lowly barrista at the coolest coffee house in town (seeing the theme here?). Even then, he exuded "cool motherfucker" as easily as spent air. He kept everyone around him smiling. He still does.

I'm still at a loss for words. The vacuum of grief is powerful. When we lose one of God's own prototypes, it's like losing the last black rhino. There will most likely never be a genetic configuration like that ever again. And we were lucky to have been a part of it while it lasted.

Godspeed Doug. And if God won't take you, come on back. There's plenty of room on my side of the bar.

When when is when.

I just had to do the hardest thing I've had to do since being out of the hospital: I canceled my month and a half long road trip to the lower 48. Why? Because I'm just not feeling 100% about it anymore. I'm getting the same feeling I get when I'm out skiing and find myself out of my league. And then, as it is now, is time to pull out. 

I suppose this isn't really the hardest thing ever. I was really looking forward to 4 days on ferry coming down. I was looking forward to seeing my friends in Seattle and other places I  now won't be going to this summer. I'll still be heading home for a few weeks, but I'll be flying instead of driving and be more limited without a vehicle, but I'll be making the right choice for my health. I think this is the first time I've ever really done that.

Maybe this is what wisdom is. Maybe I'm beginning to touch on that often sought state of "enlightenment." Or maybe I'm just not being stupid and listening to what my body is telling me. Either way, this may be the most adult decision I've ever made, when distilled down to it's very core. It's almost as if I'm learning.

What a concept.

Summer In The North

I've been trying to get my thoughts together and do a blog on self-determination, but with the amazing weather we've had since I got out of the hospital, I haven't quite found the time. Camping on beaches whilst shooting guns really eats up your time. Luckily, I pushed myself out of my comfort zone today and wore shorts for the first time in a decade, so I now have a subject to write about.

I'll start off with this: I'm terribly self conscious of my legs since I've broken my back. Most of the time I look down and see these shriveled, knotted sticks where these powerful limbs used to be. But today, that all changed. How? I forced myself to go out in public and present my matchstick legs, for better or worse. And you know what? I feel better about myself. Now, when I look down, I don't see broken, unusable parts. I see me. And it feels great.

As I write this, listening to Bad Brains at high volume, marveling at how much my attitude towards my body has changed over the last 4 years. I used to see this frail, broken reflection in any surface with half a shine. I used to cry myself to sleep because I thought no one could ever love this body, including myself. Now, I just see me. I see my body for what it is, and for the first time, I really accept it. I love it. I love it because it is mine, and no one else's is like it. I am not broken. I am a unique specimen, amongst a sea of unique specimens. And I will swim on.

So, I have a project for you all. Do something that scares you this week. Put yourself out of your comfort zone, even if it's just a little and for a moment. You might be surprised with the results. Word.