THOUGHTS: Of Life and Death and Life

Today was a very liberating day in lots of ways. Today didn't mark any big anniversaries for me, maybe the beginning of a new one, a date to remember, as a day one remembers simply for having their epiphany in such a way that changes or at least sticks in their life for its remainder.

Today I went to a scary place in my head. It's the scary place in all of our heads, the place where we take all of the bad things we've done, the bad things we've experienced innocently, we wrap them all up in nice little boxes and we keep them there. We don't acknowledge them except in very general and vague terms. When people ask us about these things, we brush off, redirect, or, at most, simply state that they're here inside, locked up.

Today I went to that place. For done reason, I knew it was time. It had to be time. It had to happen, and I was ready.

What happened, what's happening now, what will likely be happening for a while, is most unexpected. It's like a reorganization of faith.

Up until today, I had a good idea about what I believed in, where God fit in, any church, any theological or philosophical proposal, I could give anyone a good idea about how it was all connected. I had no idea that by acting on those principals, that it would cement these fluid beliefs into a certain unique faith.

I actually believe in certain things.

I believe that love is rare, can change lives, and doubles in potency when shared with someone else, be it a dog, a stranger, a kid, an old man.

I believe that there is universal salvation, that nobody will ever suffer more than they do here on this point in space and time.

When we finish with this life, I believe we are present in those who miss us and choose to share our lives with others, that, especially when our life was one filled with love and forgiveness, that the ripple effect our rocks of life have in the ponds of existence will resonate long after we've dropped below the surface.

I believe that God is this simple, a ripple effect in the background, the tide, gently coming and going, reminding us how small we are and how big we can be.

I believe that God isn't always manifested in obvious places. Sometimes God is in a tree, a smile, a hand on your shoulder while you weep, a pain in your abs after a long laugh, a set of eyes your seem to be memorized. Holding a baby. Letting a dog lick your face. A long hug. Saying goodbye. Forever.

Call it what you will. I'm sure there is a proper title for the philosophy behind this, but regardless of what it is, to me, it's something to believe in, something I can see, tangible. I can kiss it, I can touch it, I can laugh or cry or remember what's in my little boxes, or remember what life was like before the boxes.

The key is trust. Faith. Belief. Forgiveness. I said "key" and said four things... They're the same, and it's essential that you have all of them. The hardest part for me was forgiveness. Forgiveness of myself. It's the part that's taken me years to get through, and will likely take new years to complete.

However, I saw it today, the potential, the actual light of having that forgiveness, and it was amazing. Indescribable. Beautiful. Symphonic. Eloquent. Simple.

And so, I share this with love and joy in hopes that it may help someone share some of this love with me.  Throw your boxes away. We're here.

CHRONICLES: State of the Chronicles

Lately, life has been a crazy mish-mash of insanity.  In the span of a couple of months, I've found myself both hopelessly alone and incomparably content.  The heartbreak of close people leaving your life and the joy of finding new people to share it with have been inexplicably hand in hand, and I find my mind clearing itself from the fog that it seems to have been shrouded in for far too long.  I feel like the clouds all around me are lifting and the possibilities for the future are starting to reveal themselves like mountains after a snowstorm, pristine, sparkling monoliths reaching towards the sky, sharing and inspiring a limitless potential.

With any luck, in the coming months, there will be a sailboat/home in my future.  In relation to my son, the boat provides a comfortable, if not unorthodox home for us.  Cozy.  Warm.  Inexpensive.  Mobile.  Docked at a city float with all of the amenities of a small apartment.  Learning how to sail with him years from now will be joyous, and hopefully, it'll provide him with a life experience unlike many of his peers.  With his mother living in our home state of Colorado, he'll be able to see cultural and intellectual things that he can't have here in our isolated corner of Alaska.  But with me living here, he'll be able to see a natural beauty that even Colorado rarely compares to.

The future is a bright one if we can remember to remind ourselves about it.  Try not to get lost in that fog.

CHRONICLE/PROPHESY: It's Better to Have Loved and Lost...

I woke up this morning around 5.  I don't know why, but I couldn't fall back asleep.  I know I must have had some sort of bad dream, but I don't remember what I dreamed about or how it put me in this mood.  I can deduce that it's a bad dream, because when I dream a good dream, it's easy for me to smile in that foggy state, roll over, and fall back asleep.  This morning was different, though.

I finally crawled out of bed after 6.  My alarm clock made it's first and only reminder that there is a necessary and productive day ahead of me.  I rolled out of bed, and I made a cup of coffee, fed the dog and the cat, and just kinda chewed on things for a while.  What did I dream about?  Why can't I remember?

Pieces started falling into place.  I remember a dark hallway, walking down it.  It was like my old high school, a building that no longer exists.  Things were different, of course.  It was dark.  It smelled moldy.  Ceiling panels had fallen to the floor and wiring dangled haphazardly from above where they used to be.  Lights flickered, struggling to stay alive, struggling to help me find my way to some place important.  I carefully made my way around all of the debris on the floor.  Contents from lockers were strewn about with things foreign to any high school.  Old barrels with fires burning.  Tires.  Clothes.  Rats.  Shopping carts.

When I had finally made my way to what used to be a library, I found a bright light emanating from all around the closed doors.  I knew I had to be there, but I couldn't get inside.

I pause to sip my cup of coffee and answer a phone call from an old friend.  It's a brief call.  Not a lot of time.  He says something that triggers more memories of my recent dream.

I searched frantically for something blunt.  An ax or a hammer would be ideal, but I settle for some conveniently placed aluminum bat.  I begin beating at the door, specifically at the padlock on the chain through the handles.  As I labor to open this door, I begin to hear voices and an icy blast of air rushes down the hallway, stirring the smell of the empty building and it's recent inhabitants.  The voices tell me that sorrow lays behind this door, but for some reason, I can't stop beating the lock.

The tears start coming now, as I remember them falling in my dream.  My recollection is trying to break down a metaphorical door of its own, and I knew that I had to work together with my subconscious.  I get sucked into the imagined memory once more.

Sparks flew from the pad lock, flecks of metal stinging my skin with every swing.  My arms grew tired.  At this point, I've almost immobilized myself through tears.  I stop, yielding to the immovable door.  I feel like I failed.  Like I failed everyone.

Suddenly, everything gets quiet and I hear noises on the other side of the door.  I hear kids playing.  Little kids.  My mind keeps trying to force me outside to a reality where a cup of coffee, the sound of rain, and a cozy apartment exist, but I'm pushing now against this door with everything I have, pushing against my brain, trying desperately to cling to this memory before it vanishes forever.

Suddenly something shifts, and the door falls open, and I stumble into this world, where there is nothing but white light.  I actually remember in my dream wondering if I was dead, wondering if this was the cliche of the white light, the afterlife, the gates to heaven and all of that bullshit.  I could make out two figures.  One was small, and I recognized him.  It was my boy.  My younger boy.  He was so happy to see me, and I hoped and prayed that he hadn't had to come the way I did.  We ran towards each other, hugged, and looked at the second figure.  He held my hand, and then he told me that he had to go now, but that I needed to stay.

Another pause in the recollection as I receive a skype call from my boy, who didn't sleep well.  I wonder if he was actually there.  There.  That's where I need to be.

I remember my boy disappearing, and being left in the room (I call it a room, but it was more like a bright void).  There, in front of me, after my eyes worked to adjust, was a boy.  Red hair.  Looked to be about 7 or 8.  He looked so familiar.  I couldn't place him.  And then, with a word, my whole reality, my whole world, all of the light, all of the pain, all of the joy, everything came crashing down around the two of us, me and the boy.  The light started spinning around us.  The walls and ceiling and everything, obliterating itself and whirling everywhere.  It was just me... and him.  I looked at him, I cried.  I wanted to hold him, but I couldn't.  This boy.  This beautiful boy.  The boy who had grown so much since I'd seen him.  The boy who would have just turned 7 in November.  The boy who had just seconds before smiled at me and said, "Dad".

Things started spinning faster.  I felt myself getting more and more weightless.  I reached out a hand, trying so hard to hold on to the moment, to what I was looking at, to WHO I was looking at.  I hadn't seen him in years.  I didn't want to lose the moment.  But, as quickly as it happened, it was over.

It was all over.

Everything.

Over.  The wall had been put back up.  And now I'm just hitting keys on my keyboard, drinking my coffee, and letting the tears quietly fall down my cheeks.

CHRONICLES: A Recap of Getting Here

Here is a series of videos getting on the M/V Columbia... old school.  Nice to revisit the past sometimes.  Have to love the pre-editing time.  Here's to more adventure like that.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ec9YveOw0KQ&list=UUSTFTWxPv_xYnj-woSdszsw&index=8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qMYWwiKCbk8&list=UUSTFTWxPv_xYnj-woSdszsw&index=6

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ux2rL71QHqM&list=UUSTFTWxPv_xYnj-woSdszsw&index=7

RADIO: Happy New Year Colorado!!!

It has been one hell of a spectacular 2012.  In lots of ways, a very good year.  In other ways, I've found myself wishing that the whole Mayan prophesy had been correct.  Bah, humbug.  At any rate, here's an opportunity for us to go on and make an honest year out of 2013.

2012 has set us back in a lot of ways.  Still stinging are the surreal massacres in Minnesota, Colorado, and Connecticut, where people who had no access to healthcare but plenty of access to weaponry committed atrocities that shouldn't have had any place in our society. Yet, there they were.  Right in front of everyone.

2012 saw us continuing wars in countries that we had all but forgotten about.  Yes, we're still at war with Afghanistan, but then again, we have troops in Iraq, we're still, after 5 decades, technically at war with North Korea, and we're at war with ourselves, with congress having voted to label the United States a battlefield, giving the government the right to detain whoever they wish without question or due process.

2012 also saw people in Washington and Colorado speak out for legalization and regulation of marijuana, which was unprecedented and wonderful, as perhaps it's a sign that the people realize the War on Drugs has been about as successful as Prohibition was almost 100 years ago.

But 2012 is all but gone.  2013 has already arrived in parts of the world.  We have the power to make it a better year, but it's on each of us.  We can't make the world a better place until we can make ourselves better people.  We need to spread compassion and joy and love.  Share them like we have way too much to keep for ourselves.

That being said, I'm sharing my time, my radio show tonight, with my friends back home in Colorado.  I'm playing music from there, and when the ball drops there, it'll be 10:00 here, right in the middle of the show.  So, Colorado people, enjoy... this episode of the B-Dub Chronic is for you.

Flobots "Rise"

Tickle Me Pink "Typical"

My Body Sings Electric "Oceancrest"

Five Iron Frenzy "The Greatest Story Ever told"

3OH!3 "Don't Trust Me"

Gabrielle Louise "On Account of Me"

The Fray "How to Save A Life"

The Essence "Dream On"

Five Iron Frenzy "Oh, Canada"

Chemestry Club "Bend to Colors"

Reno Divorce "Lovers Leap"

Gabrielle Louise "Don't Be Hasty"

The Helium Arch "Lost, But Free"

Royal Dead "Death Cycle"

Devotchka "All The Sand In All The Sea"

Joe Nicholson "It's Raining Progs!"

The Darning Needle "For Grandmother"

Tickle Me Pink "Madeline"

Mahatma "Me Siento Bien"

Gabrielle Louise "Until The Morning"

Flobots "Stand Up"

Michal Menert & Break Science "All Eyes On You"

The Helium Arch "Entering Capricorn"

The Fray "You Found Me"

Flobots "Handlebars"

So, Colorado, get down, kiss someone you love, and if it's a stranger, kiss them like you love them, too.  You never know what 2013 will bring...

RADIO: News and the Christmas Eve Playlist

The past few months have been a crazy mess of craziness.  Yes, that's redundant, but the layers and layers of chaos that have been permeating through all of this have just been a hectic mess.

At any rate, the radio show is tonight.  The playlist is as follows:

Maserati: "Monoliths"

Ratatat: "Lex'

The Darning Needle: "For Grandmother"

The Album Leaf: "Always For You"

Caspian: "Last Rites"

Massive Attack: "Teardrop"

Modest Mouse: "Float On"

We vs. Death: "Snow Cushioned The Fall"

Matisyahu: "Time Of Your Song"

Mice Parade: "Mystery Brethren"

The Echelon Effect: "Tracking Aeroplanes"

Sevendust: "Xmas Day"

Tristeza: "Aurora Borealis"

Band of Horses: "I Go to the Barn Because I Like The..."

Aberrant Corallary: "A Beginning Among Millions"

Oasis: "Champagne Supernova"

Saxon Shore: "The Shaping of a Helpless Joy"

Tortoise (featuring Bonnie "Prince" Billy): "Daniel"

Elbow: "The Bones of You"

Icaro: "Munich"

Sasha: "Wavy Gravy"

This is sort of a greatest hits of my favorite songs from the past year.  I'll be doing more of this next weekend.

Also, very importantly, from this point on, I encourage people to call in to the show, (907) 225-9655 or email me at fourteener.t@gmail.com, and tell your story, talk about your favorite Christmas memories, highlights from this past year, lowlights from this past year, shout out to friends, all that stuff... share your Chronicles, regardless if you had yours in a BattleWagon, too.  This has been a very difficult year for many of us, and we can only hope that 2013 brings love, respect, and justice to everyone.

THOUGHTS: On Gratitude

This morning, I'm enjoying time with my son. He is playing with his little toy race cars, loving it, while Star Wars plays on the background.

Yesterday, we had a feast, and I did the typical American deed of eating so much that it physically and emotionally hurt when I was finished. It was delicious, and it hurt in the best possible way.

It was a very unexpected and pleasant turn of events. The past few weeks have been turbulent, as they were at third point last year. And I've made some horrendous mistakes that have contributed to this state, not least of which is the abhorrent lack of communication with the wife. While fear based, one could argue very logically so, it is also avoidance driven. No matter how it's defined or what actually transpires, one can only take responsibility, as much responsibility as we can. We always have choices, even if we aren't conscious of them at the time.

So where does the gratitude fall in to this formula? The gratitude... I am blessed to have had a wife for 8 very difficult yet rewarding years, and whatever happens, I'm very humble in that experience. I'm also so fortunate to have had a son for four and a half months when some people never get that opportunity. I also have another son who unexpectedly fell into my life, and he's two years, seven months, and seven days old today, which is incredible. And (most days, like any toddler) he's filled with joy and curiosity and energy. He's smart, and he's funny.

And because these are the obvious things, I'll call them the tip of the iceberg. There is much more beyond sight to be thankful for, even the mundane and the every day stuff we take for granted.

So take a breath and breathe in life. It's all good.