L.A. Winter

Frost in winter comes as a surprise to no one—except us in Southern California. Of course we're talking about the evening dew that has frozen (nearly frozen) during the night. (Yes, only on my windshield and the edges of my lawn.) And the surprise, you guessed it, is not one of delight but annoyance. When departing for work in the morning involves more than slipping on a windbreaker and jumping in the car, I gotta tell you the truth, I have a serious work of adjusting to do. I mean, who leaves time for defrosting windows? I don't even adjust my alarm earlier to make time for something healthy like exercising, much less make time for prepping the car. It's a shame that being able to see is such a crucial aspect of driving.
When dressing to go out involves any thought at all, it's cold. Not that much thought goes into outer wear. It seems there are just as many people wearing shorts as there were during the summer. I, on the other hand, shiver visibly no matter how many layers I've put on. Between not being able to see out of the car windows and waiting for my body to stop convulsing with the cold, I'm generally a bit behind schedule each day. I've been told the cold affects my hearing as well, but I think that's just a brief state of semi-consciousness I experience in the process of losing all my body heat.
I suppose it's for the best that I make my home in Southern California. Anywhere else I'd have to spend the winter in hibernation.

Heads Up

The steam rising from my mug dispassionately promises to scald my over-eager tongue. The precautionary sip is too small to either sting or satisfy. Inhaling deeply I warm my shivering fingers with a two-fisted grip so that at least two of my senses are sated while I mull the approaching day.
The hills lounge comfortably outside my window gossiping idly among themselves. Their undulating contours shelter as many as they swallow, while the furtive souls at their feet scurry, heads down, anywhere but here. The bright sun teases with clarity even as it blinds.
It is my turn to step out into the coursing stream of activity that will be my day. I will keep my head up.

Valuable Boundaries

We limit our driving to one side of the street not because we need to be restrained, but because we share the road with others. Both to facilitate flow and to prevent accidents.
So it is in all of life. Boundaries serve to enhance effectiveness and protect against harm. When the limits and boundaries are established by others, especially those in positions of authority, we too easily forget their purpose and redirect our attention to our relationship with the authorities. When we need to question or reject certain authorities, we make the mistake of rejecting the life-serving boundaries as well as the persons, offices, and/or institutions. We validate the idiom by "throwing the baby out with the bath water."
The value of boundaries in life is inestimable. Their purpose, place and design deserves renewed attention for its own sake. The problem of authority abused and authority misapplied deserves attention as well. But as a different subject. Not as a rationale for demanding the freedom to drive on both sides of the road.

Self Reminder

I'm following my own advice. Imagine that.
"Many challenges. No excuses."
If I want to see change I need to start with myself.
Easier said than done in times of frustration, high need, or when weary. That's when I need a reminder.

It's Not My Job

Even when the shoulds and oughts all belong to someone else, we are never absolved of a duty to act in light of the presenting reality. It may be unfair. It is probably unjust. It almost always painful.
We don't step in and do what they should or ought to have done, as if we could cover or recover what is absent. We enable the negligence with such a course.
We do what is our own personal should or ought. Yes, the unchoices of others impact the context of our next choice. By honoring our own next ought, our shoulds transform into wills and wants. Radical acts of freedom in an otherwise enslaved world. Seldom vindicated but always powerful contributions to hope-drained scenario and scenario.
While others give up, run away, hide, or cover their eyes, we love again. That's our job.

Facing Reality

Knowing that something must be done and knowing what must be done are two very different things. Having admitted that I can recognize the obvious, I beg only to confess that I do not chose that which I know. Such a choice would involve some difficult questions. No. The greater need is to find those to whom such questions could be shared. I've discussed these matters with myself for too many years already. The problem is both that I struggle alone and that I am left alone to struggle.
Some hear the word, "struggle" as a sad word. "I am sorry to hear that you are struggling." Others hear the word almost heroically. "I admire the tenacity with which you struggle." My only real commitment to myself is to view life heroically. Hence I am more frustrated about not being a skilled struggler than I am about having struggles.
Interesting the predicaments our frames on reality create for us. We might best be served by facing this reality first.

Mercy Calm

The search for peace takes us through a dizzying array of empty promises and seductive turns of phrase. As I have complained on previous occasions, most are far more articulate about what life is the absence of rather than of what it's presence consists. This peace for which I yearn is not a vague spiritual inner calmness, which would be mine for the taking if only I stopped failing at... (You fill in the blank with the religious, metaphysical or special interest group prerequisite of your choice.)
My search... my hope... is for a peace that takes the form of a capacity to make choices. Choices made with neither certainty nor vindication. Only the suspicion, upon which we will bet everything, that at the end of the day, there is mercy.

Deadly Calm

There is a calm as still as death. It is possible to shut down completely. Walking and breathing but little more. So safe. No risks. No adventures. Never a victim. Never a loss. No skinned knees. No humiliating failures. Yes, perfectly safe.
Oh yes, and as good as dead. Stillborn in adulthood.
Where is the calm that stokes life's flames and thrives in turbulence—that which the ancients call peace?

Impossible Calm

Thrashing around for a foothold in life's quicksand only exasperates the panic and accelerates the inevitable suffocation. Fear and desperation cloud judgment and choke out reason—like the sinking swimmer who drowns his would be rescuer.
Unable to hear advice shouted from positions of relative safety. Blind to the rescue efforts that failed to head off the disaster in the first place. Everyone else too late and too far away. Again.
Only calm can save him now. From whence will it come?

Moody Man

Temperamental swings take their toll on previously sound foundations. The subtle pressure over time chips away at moorings established over years of faithfulness. Subtle, subtle. Take note now. Choose differently today. Time can be both friend and foe. Each step has significance. Each step is life. My life.

When It Counts

There is a readiness to do what needs to be done that I find very attractive that is in direct contrast to how I feel abou things like training, discipline and practicing. Key then may be finding connections to what is attractive and making those central to my framing of any discipline undertaken.
The readiness to do what needs to be done.

Fitting In

Damn conventional wisdom. I'm tired of the sugary sweet rhetorical questions laced with spirit quenching fear. All the socially sanctioned definitions of success or responsibility or life that have nothing to do with anything except stroking someone else's ego. I need to go with my own intuition. Trust my gut. I haven't got to this point in life to instructed like a school boy. (Unless, that is, I conduct myself like a school boy.)
No. We are going forward. Any and all are welcome to come along. Those more comfortable watching from the sidelines are free to do so. I won't be in the vicinity to hear your perfect hindsight.