Some Never Came Home

 

 

I am one of the lucky ones. My dad came home.

My father served in the subservice of the United States Navy for 28 years. For 28 years I watched my dad leave for extended duty. Birthdays, Christmases and countless plays, awards and milestones ticked by without the security of his presence. When he came home, he always looked a bit different. He seemed foreign. But the look in his eyes was always one of joy and love and grace. Oh how I would love to see my father come home, bearing gifts from around the world and stories that kept my imagination fed.

I remember after one long deployment my dad came home 30 pounds lighter. At first, I had no idea who this scrawny man was at our door. But those eyes. They were my daddy's eyes. As a child, there was nothing to understand. It just was the way it was. Daddy had a job to do and his job was to keep our Country safe. I never resented his absence in my life. I simply looked forward to his return.

Similarly, I had no idea what he was sacrificing. My dad served during Vietnam and the Cold War. An estimated 58,220 Americans died in Vietnam. I wonder how many of them were daddies. As deadly as the Vietnam War was, The Cold War was a game of cat and mouse fought on the open ocean, as soviet warships depth-charged American submarines. During this time, as American subs sank into the ocean's vast abyss, I was clueless. I had no idea how much danger my father was in.

My father joined the United States Navy as a submariner in 1958 at the age of 19. He served 28 years and retired when I was 16 years old. My husband served in the United States Navy as a submariner from 1988 to 2012. As an adult I raised my own family with the absence of my husband, leaving for long deployments for a singular mission: to protect the life and freedom we take for granted every day. I thank them both for their service and dedication to their family and Country. Both my father and my husband served and retired. They came home. How blessed I am that they came home.

Since the inception of our great Country, 1,319,943 million American's never came home. They left their mothers, fathers, siblings, wives and children behind. They stepped out from the security of home into harms way to keep America free. This is dedicated to every man, woman, son, daughter, mother, father, brother and sister who paid the ultimate price. Thank you for your service. May you, resting in eternal peace, have finally found your way home.

For the Music Makers, the Dreamers of Dreams

 

Sometimes the world regards dreamers as aimless wanderers, fleeting from one thing to the next in search of some joyful, yet nonexistent utopia. These people are not dreamers, the world that is. They don't understand the plight. And that's alright because we are all born with unique gifts and talents. We are all destined to fulfill a specific purpose. With that said, this is a call to action to the dreamers who are still dreaming.

For those dreamers among us, it is excruciating; a never ending pursuit of something that is always dangling just beyond our reach. It is a daunting task to live up to our own dreams. We are each created to touch the world in our own unique way. We are musicians, writers, artists and entrepreneurs. We were born with an innate sense of necessity to accomplish something profound. Step by step, day by day, year by year, from the moment of our earliest cognitive memory we have felt the urgency to be what we were designed to be. And, for those of you, like me, who are still dreaming it is time to wake up.

By wake up I do not mean abandon the dream. The dream is who you are. You can no sooner abandon your self than you can refuse the air that fuels your body. By wake up I mean, set in motion the steps necessary to fulfill your destiny. Stop living that life that is manufactured. That thing that you do because everyone counseled you to take the safe path. Start creating again. Start dreaming again. Return to yourself. Return to your passions. Return to who you were destined to be. After all, there is only one YOU! There is only one person that holds the gifts and the passions that you do.

Consider for a moment your mentors, the biggest inspirations on your life. Who are they? Think of their faces. Truly see what they have given to this world and to you. Now consider what the world would look like without them. Consider what the world would look like if they accepted defeat and took the responsible, safe path. Imagine, if you will, yourself without their influence on your life.

Imagine a world without Picasso, Monet or Escher. What would today's music sound like without the influence of the Beatles, Jimi Hendrix or James Brown? Would Matthew McConaughey have made it to the big screen if it weren't for Jim Morrison's influence on his Dazed and Confused audition? Life is a series of domino effects brought on by the inspiration of those who touch our every day lives.

Now, let me pose a question. What if you were destined to influence others? What if the aspirations of future generations hinged on your mark upon this world? What if future generations miss their destiny because you have chosen not to share your gift with the world?

For all the dreamers among us, myself included, wake up and stay true to your art. Stand up and be accountable for the gifts you have been given. As Gene Wilder so eloquently said, for "We are music makers. We are the dreamer of dreams."

The Joy of Traffic

 

This morning was one of those mornings. One of those hurry up and wait mornings. Rushing to get out of the door only to end up in the throes of gridlock. You know the drill. Bumper to bumper, calculating miles per minute to determine ones exact degree of tardiness.

If there is one thing I can say about my personality it is that I despise being late. My father always told me, “if you’re going to be late, be early.” I never understood that. I still don’t. No matter, he planted the seed of all things that are unholy and unclean. The top of the list: tardiness. It is no wonder that when I see a traffic jam I feel the blood in my body build up conscious pressure.

But today was different. Something odd happened. Something alien. Something refreshing. Something most welcome. As I merged onto the interstate, calm seemed to whitewash my entire body. I was transfixed by peace. In the background I could hear the faint sound of Van Morrison calling me into the mystic.

In that moment I did what any music loving being would do. I cranked it up and remembered the feeling of once having a gypsy soul. I let the horn break consume me, draining every ounce of stress and negativity from my spirit. Freedom enveloped my subconscious, while I happily joined the cadence of the stop and go traffic surrounding me.

The minutes lapsed as brass gave way to the sultry voice of Janis reveling in love and loss. Like seasons of my own life, Bobby McGee weaved throughout her past and present with resounding illumination of all things beautiful, yet passed by. Love is like that. It envelopes you and releases you in its own sweet time. It is a lost song, a distant memory, a fading joy. Fading like Janis’ voice in the shadows of St. Elmo’s Fire.

“Growing up, you don’t see the writing on the wall…” An anthem to my youth. “Soldier on, only you can do what must be done...” Suddenly I am filled with empowerment, hearing the lyrics to a song I have heard many times over yet never really felt until this very moment. “I can climb the highest mountain, cross the wildest sea.” Damn right I can! “I can feel St. Elmo’s Fire burning in me...” Inside my car, a concert hall. Just two feet to my left, another car bearing the burdens of an agitated passenger looking at me as if I were the sole cause of the traffic folly.

Suddenly, I am brought to level of awareness that begs for my reserve. And yet, as this awareness engulfs me, for the first time in forever I do not care. “Just once in his life a man has his time, and my time is now. I'm coming alive…” He’s still staring at me, this man…this angry man. I see a familiar face in him. I see myself, a person of lost joy, focusing only on life’s duties.

When did music leave my soul? When did I lose my spirit? When did I surrender control of my joy to happenstance? Since when did I allow the irritation of traffic to hijack the rest of my day?

And just like a perfectly written script, “a long, long time ago I can still remember how that music used to make me smile.” At that exact moment when the realization hit me that I have allowed life’s burdens to suffocate the music from my life, confirmation of the loss is delivered by none other than Don McLean. I glance once again at the agitated man to my left and I smile, I roll down my window in the 40 degree chill to share the gift that I have been given on this random Thursday.

As the day fades, I sit in reflection of my gratitude for a simple traffic jam and a mirror image of who I choose not to be. Ah, the joy of life. It can be found in the most unpredictable of places.

You, Me and Prosperity

It has been a few months since my last blog entry. For those of you who follow me, I apologize. I have been going through a transformation. I decided to make my blog posting a part of this change because, after all, it is a journey and writing is a reflection of who I am and who says I cannot embark on a new journey or bring my reflection along for company? But my reflection and I digress…

This post is not about me, my reflection, or my transformation. It is about change and fear and failure, and to be specific, the fear of failure. It is about you, me, and uncertainty.     

Opportunity is often passed up because it disguises itself as uncertain abyss. It is unfamiliar, cold and untested. When it knocks, it appears as a stranger and this stranger wants something. It wants a decision and ultimately, a commitment.

Wait a minute! Last I looked; I didn’t go searching for this stranger to come knocking on my door. I was completely content, wrapped up in my swaddling comfort when this odder, called opportunity, came knocking. Who are you and what do you want? My instinct is to slam the door and mutter to myself under my breath utterings about the sheer audacity of opportunity to show up unannounced. Because face it, when opportunity knocks, actions must follow. We must shut the door and miss out on growth and success, or we must step out and face our biggest fear: failure.

This got me thinking about the origins of such fear. It also got me thinking about the absence of such fear. When a toddler learns to walk, it is an endless process of falling and standing and falling and standing, then stepping and falling and standing and stepping. A toddler does not fear failure. A toddler has enough drive, motivation and desire to endure countless missteps before his or her first wobbly three step stroll. Fear of failure is a learned behavior that becomes imbedded in our subconscious with every thought of self-doubt.

This blog post is dedicated to a dear friend who is currently standing at the threshold between opportunity and fear. So, for her and for anyone else who may be embarking on a new challenge; an opportunity paired by risk. Do not let fear of failure steal your destiny. Step boldly into the direction of your fear. Embrace it and let it empower you to overcome every notion of self-doubt that remains. You are talented. You are creative. You are formidable. Open the door. Welcome opportunity. I’ll see you on the other side, in the land of prosperity.

#takebackthejoy Challenge

It is that time of year when we take time out to reflect upon our blessings. We are all blessed, regardless of what we may be wading through. If we have food on our table, family and/or friends to share it with, and a roof over our head we are indeed blessed. This is especially important this year in the midst of recent social events that seem to be spreading negativity across social media.

I know what you may be thinking: this is nothing new. We are all conditioned to focus on our blessings on Thanksgiving. But think about this… just one day later, we surrender all that is sacred as we fight our way through the Christmas rush on Black Friday. 

There is simply not enough joy in the season. We are obsessed with negative events, task lists, obligations and the countdown to C Day that we have lost the joy. Today I challenge all of you to take it back. Let’s take back the joy this Christmas and holiday season!

Every day from now till Christmas make it a goal to do something nice for someone. Give a stranger a compliment. Pay someone’s fast food order in line behind you. Pass out candy canes during holiday rush shopping. No matter what you chose to do, focus on making people smile in the midst of the holiday rush.

Warning, if you chose to take on this challenge, you may find yourself with a permanent smile. Others may think you are hiding something. Friends will inquire about what’s going on. Some may think you’ve had cosmetic surgery. Why? Because, you possess something rare, something elusive, something radiant; you possess joy and others either want it or they want to be around it.

   

If you commit to the #takebackthejoy challenge you will increase your blessings ten-fold because your joy will radiate your soul and permeate your surroundings. You will increase the blessings of others because joy is contagious. One compliment or random act of kindness from you will spread from stranger to stranger and unbeknown to you, will reach numbers beyond your imagination.

When you do something to spread the joy, post it on social media. Let’s make joy go viral this season! #takebackthejoy challenge

The Hero's Journey

The first thing I learned when I took a scriptwriting course twenty something years ago was that nearly every successful movie or novel follows the same formula, The Narrative Arc. The Hero’s Journey is comprised of twelve scenes and three acts that guide the hero across The Narrative Arc. 

I was blown away. “Really, I’m going to learn the secret of writing success simply by following a formula?” Not so fast. The formula is essential. However, successful writing is not nearly as simple as the formula may suggest. The trick is to follow the same script, yet keep the audience guessing. Now that’s a challenge. How does one use the same formula since the days of Greek mythology and keep stories fresh and spontaneous? That challenge has kept me writing for the past twenty years.

I admit, I look upon my early work and cringe at its novice. Just as I likely will look upon my current work in twenty years. Honestly, I know I am not the best writer. That sobering reality hit me at the Hawaii Writer’s Festival when an agent read one paragraph of my novel, winced and said “it aint that bad,” then opted for a slightly arrogant pass. That moment of sheer devastation took me years to overcome. But, in retrospect, the event was quite edifying. I experienced profound growth from that small moment in time. The reality is every disappointment results in character refinement.

The truth is I am evolving, just as my characters evolve across their fictitious narrative arc. However, my arc is anything but fictitious. I can look back upon my patchwork past and see my own hero’s journey. How amazing it is to look back upon one’s successes and failures and recognize individual plot points that fall directly into The Narrative Arc formula. Except, I realize that I am still on my journey. 

The fact is I am nowhere close to how I envisioned my life. My being surges with professional aspirations that sometimes feel so far aloof that I want to abandon my ambitions. But then I look at my journey and I recognize a strange familiarity in my stagnation. Act 3, scenes 10 through 12, of The Hero’s Journey come after 9 previous scenes of triumph and defeat. If I am indeed following The Hero’s Journey I may very well be on the last trial before my ultimate win.

Each one of us is the hero in our own journey. When we feel like we are just too far from that coveted dream or too down to climb back up out of the pit we’ve fallen into, chances are we are only three scenes away from total victory. Keep walking. Keep fighting. Persevere. In the end, you are the hero in your own journey and the reveal to the story is well worth the effort of the quest.

Bargains and Boundaries

The adage, “give someone an inch and they will take a mile” is self-explanatory. We’ve all heard the saying used to describe someone who freely takes advantage of others. But there’s more to it. Perhaps a closer look may yield insight for those of us sacrificing miles for mere inch offerings. 

 

I think we can all agree that some of us would rather give an inch than take a mile. Others would gladly take a mile when offered an inch. We look down upon people who take advantage of others. But, I’d like to offer a contrasting opinion. Consider this…

We all love a bargain. Who doesn’t light up with they get something valuable for pennies on the dollar. My thrift store addiction is a testament that I am a hopeless bargain bandit. So what separates a bargain from taking advantage of a situation? Surely, if I am in a thrift store and I see an original highly-sought-after painting for a fraction of its worth, I consider that a bargain. I swoop in, make the purchase, and feel elated all day.

Is it my problem that the store did not recognize the value of the painting? Is it my responsibility to educate the store owner so that he or she does not lose money? Do I routinely pass up such a deal for my laurels? I’d like to say that I do. Truth is, I grab the painting, quietly take it to the register, pay, and walk it to my car before anyone realizes the mistake. Does this make me a bad person? Maybe it does. I'd like to think this just makes me a bargain shopper.

Let’s entertain another scenario. Say I am a freelancer in a specific profession. To get work I offer services at a discounted rate, hoping that doing so yields professional growth. As the months pass my clients expect even more for less compensation. I realize that my discounted rates are not contributing to growth, but instead are sowing seeds of bitterness. They are getting a wonderful value. I, on the other hand, am getting tossed in the bargain bin.

Let’s say that I offer a friend a room to stay in while he or she gets on his or her feet. I offer the room for no rent because I want my friend to save for an apartment. However, the months pass and the tenant is happy living free while I pay the mortgage, the utilities, food, and all living expenses. My friend is in no hurry to move out and I am becoming more and more resentful with each passing month.

So where’s the line between seizing a bargain and taking a mile? There actually is a line. It is called a boundary. But the burden of action is not on the mile taker, it is on the inch-offerer.

When we have weak boundaries we allow others to go bargain shopping on our behalf. So, for all of us who often concede to mile takers, let us change our mindset. Let us recognize that we are both the problem and the solution. Let us realize our worth and set boundaries. We do not belong in a thrift store. We are not bargains for others to acquire. Stand tall. Price your talents and offerings accordingly and others will in turn respect you for it.