A big personal anniversary is coming up for me next month and I'm doing the research to see if I can find some old pictures from 20 years ago. Digging through tons of boxes looking for old pictures scattered throughout my house has got me thinking:
- The pictures I took back then were taken with a Kodak disc camera. Seriously. Boy, that's scary.
- Digital cameras are wonderful as storing the images and archiving them is a snap!
- Finding things from 20 years ago can be a lot of fun.
While looking for photos, I found the following:
The above picture is a piece that I made for myself back in the early '90s. On the left is a picture of me before I was two and on the right I'm 19 years of age and am in Paris. What's up with the crappy artwork under "Who" and "Do"? I was told a long time ago that "who" we are remains constant in that there is a core aspect to who we are as individuals but what we "Do" (the right column) is like a slinky that can collapse and change shape over time. In the center, is Whitman's "Song of Myself" poem.
Back when I was in my early '20s I wanted a reminder that who I am is good and solid and yet what I do will change over time. Now that I'm fast forwarded into the future I'm reflecting back to my early years, remembering who I was back then.
The question is: Am I the same person?
Yes and no. That's the funny thing about life. There are some core parts of me that have remained the same. Much of my value system has remained the same, my beliefs in family, God, people and the goodness of life have all remained firm. Yet my understanding and outlook on life and as to what is important has changed as I've gained a bit more perspective on life and living. I know a lot more than I did then: I specifically know that I don't know much!
When I look back at what I did back then, comparing it to what I do now the themes remain pretty much the same. I wrote fiction and tried to get my stories/novel published. In 2010, I've published my first novel "Dorothea's Song" and am working on another novel. I enjoyed computers and still enjoy them. Yet there was no internet back then and today I'm podcasting, blogging, creating videos for YouTube and using social media. The core values of what I believe have remained the same yet the tools that I use to accomplish my goals have changed.
Back in 1990 I had a goal to communicate my stories to people throughout the world in the hope that I could help share my life experiences with others. What people chose to do with what they learned from my stories would be up to them, but I had always wanted to carve out a small, intimate niche of work that when someone reads one of my pieces that person could easily imagine that a conversation between us is taking place.
I'm continuing to do my research and to work on a special blog post for sometime in July 2010, but I had to stop to just share this story as I hadn't see the pictures above in many years. I've not forgotten to sing of one's self. And hopefully you won't forget either. Thanks for stopping by.
On Love and Marriage
I've been meaning to take some time to sit down and write this, but I haven't had the time or maybe it's because I am a bit shy about being so open. In part, I think reading a short article about Michael Chabon has helped me though. In the NPR article about Chabon, I stumbled across how his wife, writer Ayelet Waldman, had written a rather personal essay for the the New York Times a few years ago. The essay created a stir as she said that she loved her husband more than her children and she went into some details about their sex life.If Waldman can be so open about her life, then why not me?
With that all said, I wanted to write about marriage as it's been on my mind. This past week my wife and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary. We've been together for 15 years, married for 10. I wanted to reflect on this celebration and be open and honest. Now that I have some experience under my belt, I must admit that being married and now being a parent are the two most difficult life choices I have made so far in my life.
There are many choices in life that I could have taken. When I was young, I thought about becoming a priest, but, honestly, choosing celibacy just wasn't for me. Once I knew that I wouldn't devote my life to God by becoming a priest (around the time I was 17), I made a decision that I would look for a partner and have a family and be happy. See, it's that simple! Unfortunately, the marriages I had around me were damaged and unhealthy. My mother divorced my father before I was six. My grandparents, though married for more than 60 years, bickered and fought like crazy on nearly a daily basis. In growing up in their household, I would come home from school and see them sitting on the sofa--one on one side and the other on the far side. Muzak like music would be on the radio and they would just sit there all day until it was time to eat or do work or move about. They weren't friends and didn't get along in working together. As for my mother's second marriage, that also ended in divorce.
Yet I remained hopeful that I would fall in love, marry a beautiful woman and find happiness, joy, peace and all the saints and angels would be swirling around me. How naive I was back in my early '20s. What I thought then was that love--just pure love--would solve any problem and fix anything. If you just loved someone with your whole being, then mountains could be levitated. What I didn't understand at the time was that first it was important to love yourself. How foolish I was to think that I could be damaged and broken from my upbringing and just magically know how to be healthy in a relationship. Yep, I was a fool. And I was also such a romantic by loving being in love.
My teens passed on by and in my early '20s, while in college, I fell in love and became engaged. It is here that I learned a painful yet valuable lesson: Two people who have issues to resolve cannot come together to make one healthy person. It just doesn't work. But I tried it anyway. Some time later, the engagement was broken, my heart crushed and years passed. I decided to do something during those years--something smart. I learned about myself, who I was, what I wanted, where I wanted to be and I realized a very important thing. Something critical: I'm not normal. My sensibilities, likes and streak of rebellion make me a bit of an oddball. I buck against tradition and I often ask hard questions of myself and those of my closest friends. Those who know me best love my honesty and understand why I am so genuine, but it's often misunderstood by many. In going through my '20s, I picked the pieces up, healed myself and learned, through counseling, how to deal with the problems I have and to become a better person.
What I learned along the way is that a partner doesn't just fall out of the sky and fairy dust is sprinkled on the two of you and suddenly everything is okay. No, that's not how it works at all. It's damn hard work being married. I've worked hard on learning what my quirks are, what are my personality faults and struggled to be a better person.
So imagine when I've been working on all of this, trying to become a better me when I went on a blind date with a beautiful woman. She talked about the gym, the gym, the gym and the gym. It was during that date that what I wanted from a partner crystalized within and I understood that I needed to look for someone who would be on the same wavelength as me. I needed a best friend.
A month or two later, by pure chance, my wife and I met. Dating went wonderful, then living together and presto--10 years of marriage with two kids. Has it all been glorious and wonderful? No, it hasn't. Want to know what have I learned in all of that time? I've discovered that I don't know jack shit. I've learned that I make more mistakes than I can count on a daily basis and that my wife and I have had wonderful times and the worst of times. Marriage to me is a journey in life. It's filled with the best and worst of time. As I'm human, I'm flawed, imperfect.
When my wife and I met, could we ever in a million years see where we are now? See our children, have gone through our dark times and understand the love and light that we've built together? Could we have? No, we couldn't. We took a risk. A very, very chancy risk. A good many marriages end in divorce. It's scary to think of that, but it's true. The second most important thing that I've learned about marriage (the first being that I'm no expert in it!) is to listen. No, I mean really listen. I often wish I were better in this department because I am a strong individual who is extremely stubborn. But when I listen to my wife and hear her, problems can be worked through. I've also learned that "listening" with my eyes ties so closely into hearing her words. I try to pay attention to her body language, facial expressions and how she carries herself. In the darkest of times, a little laughter, listening and reaching for a hand can set the groundwork for solving any problem.
Good communication between she and I can slay any demon or dragon, but we both need to be willing to listen, be open and compromise. Which is the third tool in my marriage toolkit: Learn to compromise. That doesn't mean that one person dominates all the time and the other always compromises. No, compromise goes both ways. Sometimes both people need to compromise at the same time as neither person can have exactly what he/she wants.
When I look back at all the years, the wonderful experiences my wife and I have had, the places we've been, the triumphs, sad points, joys and lows--there's a thread of experience that has multiplied itself thousands of times that's become our life. The tapestry that we've built is ours and it's filled with such wonder and excitement that I often have lost perspective, assuming I know my wife and she knows me. Time passes, we grow older, but we also have changed. I'm not the same man I was back when I was 24 and my wife isn't the same woman. Learning to grow with my wife has been a challenge as sometimes you grow apart and need to find ways to come back together again. Nothing holds a couple together (yes, yes, yes--you can argue children, bills, etc.), but their choosing to remain together. Love as it starts off as passion and fire burns bright but it won't keep you together. Tempering that fire, holding it in your heart and remembering it over the years is a must. I have caught myself looking at my wife and I see her as only I can. I remember her when I first met her and see her now. How sunlight changes the color of her eyes to a brilliant hazel and how I see her face, so pure and open, when she's asleep. Love in all its beauty grows in time, strengthens and changes--if my wife and I continue to allow it to. How you're in love for the first three months of being together is different than when you've been together many years. There's still plenty of passion and fire in my heart for my wife, but now when I'm with her there are memories of our lives woven into our love. Seeing my children born, holding them and growing into the role of parenthood has changed me beyond what I thought possible. Marriage and love. Love and marriage.
My wife and I have only traveled a short distance down the road of life together, but this is where I take a moment, sit by the side of the road and take a drink of water. I'm reflecting on my life and, in my heart and soul, I know what marriage means to me. Do I ever regret being married or wish I had never done so as some men I know? No, I don't regret that at all. I've had my doubts and fears, but I'm glad I've made this decision. Marriage is living to me. Every day is filled with wonder, excitement and possibilities. The challenge, for me, is to continue to be open to those wonderful possibilities. And as for love, it can move mountains--if you're patient and kind. I might have been naive to think that love could solve all problems--it can if you are at peace with yourself and both of you are open to love's wonder. It's the ultimate letting go: Marriage and love. A wild ride of life that will take you down a rabbit hole and up to the highest mountains. Here's to what we've achieved. Here's to us. Here's to our family, friends, God and every bit of luck we can get to help watch over us for the years to come.
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