I’ve been listening to a song today: Colin Hays “Waiting for My Real Life to Begin” for a number of
reasons. And now while I am playing this, Eva Cassidy’s version of Sting’s “Field of Gold” is playing
in a mixture – I’d gotten two applications going by mistake. All mingled together. What a juxtaposition as they
sing together - songs about the past, the present, and whatever the future brings. A tangle of hope, promises, and past chances.
I encourage you to listen to both.
I lost my job last month – or it lost me. I am sorry to be out of a paycheck but not too sorry to be out of that
place of work. Lots of good people, - but an ugly place to work.
I also lost two friends this weekend. Possibly both by their own hands - in different ways. One I had lost track of
years ago, and one I had reconnected with in the past couple of years. He and I became close. We all learned about each other
when we were young and bold. We were funny, and athletes. The future could be anything. We were healthy, we held some promise.
We were young. There was hope.
For reasons of their own, they lost their hope. Some reasons I understand – others I will never know or pretend
to guess at. I can’t judge the demons, despair, desperation, or defiance of these men. I am saddened and at a loss.
I have planned to spend the summer pulling myself together after a year of stress, high blood pressure and lack of focus.
The job consumed me in a very bad way. The time has come that I stopped waiting for my real life to begin. I intend to heal
my own way – with intent, but without urgency, other than the impetus to make sure it happens. The loss of my friends
cements that in me. Our past can’t be invalidated, but I have to live in the present, and my future must be. Don’t
forget, don’t flounder, don’t f*ck it up as I go forward.
I am going on 22 hours awake – so forgive me. I got the second bad news at 3 a.m. and couldn’t go back to
sleep. I laid there wide awake and listen to the rain – the dripping a ticking of seconds - the times of our lives:
the sound of all time we have been here, all the time we have left, and all the time we will never be here again.
The birds began to sing, just before 5 a.m.
Not joyous to me. Just a reminder that life goes on – often blindly. We wake up for each day. We just go do it
– and forget to try to be conscious where we can exist well and make a difference, if we might.
And remember Hope.
I got up and did what I could to bring some sort of order to my world – I did my dishes. A simple gesture, a cursory
reach at control, or routine, or solace. A completely, ultimately, useless act.
So I did the only other thing I could do for the day. I went out early to meet folks for coffee that I know and trust,
and enjoy. I contacted people I thought should know about these passings and reached out to people I just need to let them
know that I need them. And I watched a western and drank beer with friends who know me. We pondered, and joked and choked
The past year has been one of loss of people and feeling like I lost my way. The path I want to be on now, hopefully,
is one of my own making. I will try to make that happen. The people we love and know can sustain us, but the choices are our