Five years...

I moved into my house five years ago today. I didn't know it at the time but my marriage was unraveling. I didn't know how bad the hard times we're going to be, and didn't know that my journey would challenge and transform me in ways that I still don't quite understand.

I didn't want to buy the house I now own. I wanted a townhouse, but my wife at the time really wanted the one she found with the realtor she was working with.

But, I own it now. And, I can choose to focus on the positive moment rather than the traumatic ones that I fixated on.

First and foremost, it's my stage. It's a place for me to be alone so I can sing and play guitar to my heart's content. I can let myself go and explore whatever strange alchemy allows me to let my mind go and do two things at once in an effort to craft whatever style I'm crafting. One day I will be brave enough to work with others, but for now, I am safe in my house.

If I look into my heart and mind, I don't have a shred of bitterness or sadness related to the end of my marriage. My children are part of my life, and I'm a happy co-parent again, working with my their mother and her partner.

Second, I live in a great location. I can walk to the park. I can walk to my gym. I'm close to a school that my children will go to when they are older. I am on a bus line (for now).

Third, I believe that good things will continue to occur there in the future. I've had four sets of tenants living in my second bedroom upstairs, and that time is about to end. The fifth set of tenants will be my children, who will finally have their own spot in my house.

Fourth is that being underwater means lower taxes. That coupled with a recent refinance means that I am playing a much lower mortgage payment.

So, in general, it's okay. It's all okay. I have a place I call home, and I have earned that.

These lines

These lines around us can be turned around if we can attain new perspectives. There is much that is urgently vibrating around, and the power of these waves must be harnessed and no longer ignored.

To what do I refer? I'm not sure yet. I have grown cryptic of late, and this is perhaps part of the need for increased perspective.

The main part is that I write for myself in that ten percent of my life when I'm not doing the things that I have to do in order to keep the structure of my life together. I don't take time to make this into my craft.

That may be changing. It may have to change. After all, what are we without a strong sense of narrative?

I am the person I say I am, or so I say.

That's what these lines say. That's the meaning that surrounds and binds every word into a sentence.

The slowest Ten Miler

The sky was dark when I pulled up to WTJU to park and the rain came down slowly. Generally I don't run in the rain, using it as an excuse to get on the treadmill where I can watch television and not have to think about where I'm going.

I didn't decide to run the ten-miler until this week, when my friend Morgan told me he was still going to run it despite not having trained. He had run it five times in a row, and didn't want to break the streak.

I wasn't planning on running it, because I had set a pretty lofty goal. I had wanted to break my times for the last three years. I ran it in 77:38 in 2010. Then 80:00 in 2011. 82:00 in 2012.

I've been slipping. And I wanted to do better.

But, I didn't train the way I needed in order to do that. I've been running at least three times a week, but not at any kind of distance. I just haven't had the time.

So, I had thought about skipping it, saving the money, and sleeping in.

But when Morgan said he was going to stick it out, despite his lack of training, I knew I had to do it.

I may not have put the miles in, but I was able to draw upon my training. I came up with a race plan to run the first two miles as slow as possible, and then to see if I could pick it up after that.

After parking, I walked across Emmett Street and made my way to the start line. People were waiting inside the John Paul Jones arena, and there weren't too many people on the street yet. I didn't know what time it was. Slowly, people filled in around me as the sky grew slightly lighter. I didn't see anyone I knew, but I smiled at all of the different things people were saying. Taking in everyone else's energy prevented me from worrying about my own race. I didn't have any doubt at all that I could run the entire way.

We were packed in, waiting. One flaw of the race is that they don't have a big enough public address system, so if you're in the middle of the pack, you can't hear what's going on. You just slowly see waves of people begin to move, and you wait for it to hit you.

And then, the wave hit, and suddenly we were all in it together, strangers no more as our legs picked up and we were all different points on a line, breathing in and converting oxygen to energy, moving through this space of ours, this town. I ran slowly, took in all the sites, and didn't think about much of anything. I just moved through the world as best I could, trying not to collide with anyone.

I ran the first mile slow, second mile slightly faster, and then poured on the gas at mile 3. Unfortunately, the 8 minute mile I ran took a little out of my tank, and so I ran the next one slower. There weren't as many bands on the road because of the rain, which ended right around mile 2.

There's that moment on Alderman where the road is split, and I got to see the front-runner speed past, just behind the motorcade. There's that moment where you realize just how any people are running with you.

There's that moment where your shoe comes untied, and you stop and you're relaxed because you don't care if you win. You're just out there with a couple thousand of your friends.

I love running this race. It's become a rite of passage for me. I'm glad my streak is intact, and I can't wait to talk to Morgan to find out how he did.

*have to run now - didn't really get to finish - but that's okay - I ran ten miles*

A day to be alive

Now that I'm waking up an hour earlier without really wanting to, I'm struck by how much birdsong can stir my soul. Imagine: Those creatures we take for granted arise each day with the sun, heated by the early morning light. They sing tunes that reach our ears when we are in the upper atmosphere of slumber.

We forget the things that make us joyful. That seems to be one of the undercurrents of modern society. That which lifts us up is deemed to be not as important.

Perhaps that's why things often seem so broken.

Someone I know died last week and is being buried today. I'm going to miss it because I have to work. I have to take notes on what happens in a public meeting. This is what I do. I listen to the birdsong of bureaucracy in hopes of writing a tune about how things work.

The person I know drank himself to death. I heard details last night about his passing that truly horrified me. His body fell apart under the onslaught of alcohol. I can fully understand how people want to give in and go that route.

I don't want to go that route. I want to grow towards the light. I want to wake up earlier. I want to embrace the things that make me joyful. I want to learn how to heal and create.

I want to memorialize this person by being better, by encouraging myself to be stronger and by continuing to embrace whatever philosophy seems to have lifted me out of a dark, dark hole.

Marching orders

There are notes that must be sharpened.

There are nails that must be straightened.

There are shelves that must be leveled.

Mesmerized

People talk about something and I'm supposed to pay attention. Yet I'm typing these words in this box while they debate the item I'm supposed to be writing about. My brain is looking for the things to write down, I am concerned that I did not exercise today. I had the chance but I did not seize the opportunity.

Life has taken a turn for the numb of late. Head down. 

The end of 2012

In all, this was a rebuilding year. I made a lot of progress and a lot of fronts, and I don't have any regrets really about the way things went. Three months ago I was dealt another set of cards that I'm playing fairly well at the moment. 

I've had a very good week to end this year. I've spent more time with my children than I have in four years, and it felt like I was a full-time father again. I handled it and I find myself feeling more complete than I have in years.

That's what has rebuilt. I feel more prepared to be better than I ever have been before. That's going to take some work, but I want to challenge myself in the next year. 

I'm a man with no regrets. I've made many mistakes, but I don't regret any of them. I've learned from all of the failures. I don't think I've learned all of my lessons, because I keep making mistakes. But, I have a lot of confidence that I'm on the right track. 

2012 was a good year. Nothing too terrible happened. I spent a lot of time with my children. I spent a lot of time living the waves of a really great story and writing a lot about what happens around this community. I've learned a lot more about how to play the guitar, and I'm finally getting the confidence to trust in what I do. 

The next year offers a chance of being even better, because the world has moved on, and so have I. I'm living in the now armed with the tools I have earned and fashioned in the past. I look at the  next 12 months as an opportunity to make the best of it. I am whoever I am supposed to be, and it turns out I'm doing pretty good at it all.