The Dirtbag Dad

What is Brave?

The most brave are the most vulnerable. The general leading the very front of the charge. Black folks sitting at an all white lunch counter in the 1950's. An Afghani girl getting an education. Understanding that your anxiety is both a challenge and a gift.

Being brave = being vulnerable. Owning and seeing the power and beauty in your imperfections. It's allowing you to reveal your whole self with its imperfections and strengths, and, to paraphrase John Cage, realizing that it's all beautiful in the end.

Inspiration and gratitude to Gigi Yogini and Brene Brown. 🙏 And to Jeremy Collin's for his Instagram post that asked and welcomed musings on the meaning of bravery.

The Joy of the Journey

As an eleven year old in New England, I read Colin Fletcher's The Complete Walker and dreamed of wandering the wide open spaces of the west as he did. I set off on excursions into rainy and dense local woods that are littered about Massachusetts's small cities and small towns. Wide open, big sky spaces were few. Off-trail travel involved bushwhacking, swamps, and poison ivy. You'd get to the top of a peak (well, really a glorified hill but we're talking imagination here) and... you'd still be in a forest. These places are wild in their own ways and do have their share of wonder and charm. But I wanted to go big and I would eventually find my way to the west years later. But even within the claustrophobic confines of these eastern forests, I still to happened upon small sanctuaries of inspiration, quiet, and solitude.

From The Boy Who Spoke to the Earth

Around the same time, I began my life a distance runner, inspired to run marathons. My runs took me far and wide on the backroads where I lived. I sought out the wildest places possible. And, during the process of that training, I discovered the power of the journey. It's no accident that I was reading Homer's Odyssey at this time; I couldn't avoid its influence. Completing a marathon was a joyful achievement for me. And the actual journey of running the marathon was also joyful. Yet, most significantly, the months of training that lead up to the journey delivered the most joy and reward of all. All those hours on the road in those woods, each mile with a myriad of moments—from here is where the greatest pleasure arose.

Inspired by The Boy Who Spoke to the Earth, author Chris Burkhard/illustrator David McClellan, Dreamling Books.

It's a cliche, but the journey really is the reward

Well, at least part of it.

One of my yoga teachers noted when I was just starting out my practice, "If you just show up, you are doing the practice."

This reminds me of my teen and college days when I felt strongly compelled by both marathons and Homer’s Odyssey. In case you're wondering, both are about very long journeys.  For the marathon, this includes the months of training prior to the actual race.

It’s become cliche, but the journey is as important, if not more so at times, than the destination. The journey often is long , so it's useful and fulfilling to be present when you are in the midst of it. It’s that continued presence that can also make the destination fulfilling too. Though the destination is but a fleeting moment, it’s no less deserving of present, mindful attention than the longer, preceding journey.

 

Who Am I?

Love this little film.  Portions of the footage are from the beloved Joshua Tree National Park:

 

On Climbing and Meditation (and Other Acts of Presence)

"There are few experiences more grounding or more peaceful than walking through snowfall in the dark."  That resonating line was written by Mark Jenkins, a climber and writer.  He excels at both. 

Below is the piece from which that line comes.  He wrote it a while back and it's stayed with me.  Mark describes an experience with meditation and climbing that would be uncanny if it were not so commonplace.  You can insert "running," "kayaking," "cooking," "golf," etc. for "meditation."  Any activity that puts you in a present state of mind will do.  Cleaning the house does it for me as well.  Of course, I completely share his connection with climbing and meditation.

Out Of His Mind

 

Dr. Seuss: A Prayer for a Child

The whole gang was wandering around downtown Laguna Beach one night last week.  It happened to be the Art Walk that night, so there was a lively, hopping scene.  Lots of galleries that normally would have been closed at that time of day were open.

There's a gallery there that has a permanent display of some of the artwork of Theodor Geisel (aka Dr. Seuss).  We'd passed that place many a time, stopping to admire his work from the outside, but never venturing in.

This time we did.  The free Oreos might have had something to do with this.

And we stumbled upon the following poem.  It struck a chord within all of us:

A Prayer for a Child—Theodor Geisel

From here on earth,
From my small place
I ask of You
Way out in space:
Please tell all men
In every land
What You and I
Both understand . . .

Please tell all men
That Peace is Good.
That’s all
That need be understood
In every world
In Your great sky.

 (We understand.
Both You and I.)

 The poem goes with this serigraph that Dr. Suess created: