My Song

A bird does not sing because it has an answer... it sings because it has a song.

That's just the way he is, and that's all he is.

So, what am I? Even though I have an answer, no matter the question, can I shut up and sing instead? What is my song?

I am unrivalled in technical matters, but am lousy at and a co-dependent in romantic relationships, and am working on it. My goals are to accept the past and to avoid worry and regret for today.

My song is a litany of success in technical contributions and tutelage. I'm kind and helpful to others. I motivate, tutor, mentor, teach and otherwise educate others to stand on their own two feet, grow and contribute... whether at home, work, college, societies, church, gym, bike, trail, or store. I do sometimes have trouble recognizing that I can't teach a pig to sing, but it eventually dawns on me. I'm sold on doing acts of kindness because I have received them myself, but expect nothing in return other than my own enjoyment.

I like my song, and I'm a happy man. I have an awful lot to sing about: the great career with work I enjoy, living in a terrific part of the country that permits hiking and biking to the max, control over my life, and great friends and family.

[The reader (me!) should remember that I continue to sort out how I feel from different perspectives, and thus the apparent repetition. I'm going to get it right, yet. This is, after all, my therapy.]

- text © 2008 by Willy

P.S., "I gotta be me!" -Sammy Davis Jr.

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Soul Or The Machine

The Navaho Indians believe that when a craftsman makes a basket or sand painting, his spirit actually enters the object, and he becomes part of it.

Not called craftsmanship, but when a parent raises his children, he puts a lot of blood, sweat and tears into that kid, and he becomes part of them... and them of him. This is after considerably more hours than the Navaho craftsman took.

A garaged Street Rod, lovingly built or restored through years of toil and many trips to the junkyard. A home-built airplane from a kit. Gorgeous oiled-oak kitchen cabinets from lumber. A new prototype missile. A modern relationship.

All of these are the same element in common: all are lovingly built by a craftsman who puts his heart and soul into the project, as well as untold years of work. And the differences are that hearts and souls can only be broken by relationships, not by baskets or machines.

By dismissing the object, you dismiss the man and by breaking the relationship you break his heart. On the other hand, their mother did not value our children and gave them up a long, long time ago. Similarly, but more recently, the Ex did not value our relationship and gave it up long ago too. No craftsmen, neither one cared... the Philistines.

I understand now. He who cares not, hurts not, whether it's an object or a person.

- © 2008 by Willy
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Hurt

Today, I'm having a bad day. I'm hurting to the point that I wonder what my tombstone should say. What's different about today? How did I get this way... what triggered it? What am I doing about it? What is my solution? Did I suffer a relapse? Am I still waffling in and out of the edges of depression? When am I going to get out of this mess? It shouldn't take this long!

Is there ever a real solution to a broken heart? Probably not... I can't forget what happened, but then how do I learn to live with it? Geeeeze, this is a tough subject to address, much less to solve. I know that it's all about finding that ONE thing that will truly put my heart at rest.

I suspect that the problem is that there is no logic to it. It's an emotional problem and it seems to require an emotional solution. I know in my head that I have to let myself off the hook; to be kind to myself; to lower my self-expectations; to control my thoughts; to allow my poor heart to break a little; and, specially, to give it time. But it's all easier to say than do, and none of these seem to be emotional solutions.

I have my good days and my bad days. By training, I look for and try out different solutions, and that's what I do. Tomorrow will be a better day.

- © 2008 by Willy
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Miracles

A tiny little seed in the right environment of soil and sun turns into a beautiful, enormous, complex tree.

A sperm and egg come together and produce a beautiful, caring, loving, intelligent grown daughter.

The miracle is that neither got trampled in the process.

Life is tough and trying. Specially in the early growth process. Even though we are always growing, it happens more so and it's more traumatic in the beginning.

Both seedling and baby have tremendous potential but they also are tremendously sensitive or needy of the world around them. That is, some potential is genetic and some is environmental. Without the right soil, water and sun, neither would make it.

I've found that we all need caring individuals around us, not those vexing to our spirit. We can only help those people that are open to our help, however, if I'm going to surrender the moment to listen or do a kindness, it'd better be useful, take root and grow.

I often wonder if I'm accomplishing my mission or understanding my purpose, but there are some things that feel right, and others that don't. The trick is to think, decide and act.

Never lose the wonder.

- © 2008 by Willy
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Enjoying The Outdoors

It was 35 degrees and overcast when I got up this Sunday morning, and thus I did what I always do on the typical gloomy winter Sunday morning: Go to McDonald's and take time to read the paper. While eating my Bacon-Egg-And-Cheese biscuit, the sun came out in rare form, the temps rose to the mid-40's, and I gulped my second cup to go home to put my boots on. Yes, yes, I was tempted to grab the bike instead, but yesterday was windy and... well... it was the trail today.

I enjoy both solo riding and solo hiking, but given cold wind, I'll take the trail instead. It's more enjoyable than the gym and better than getting sick and having to take time off my workouts.

Even though it was a gorgeous sunny day, I only passed 3 people in the 2-hour, 4-mile, steep thousand-foot climb trail. I thought about doing more, but it's off-season and I'm used to 2-hour early mall hikes or indoor machines lately.

The birds sang, unknown critters rustled and for most of the 2 hours I fought to control my thoughts. I realized that I wasn't quite through with grieving and my thinking was not yet entirely rational, at least today. Time is my ally but I need more. I smiled, took strong full breaths and pushed forward like the human machine that I am.

- © 2008 by Willy
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Using The Weapons

Teddy Roosevelt had common sense when he said "Speak softly but carry a big stick." Got to have the weapons, but also the common sense to know which one and whether to use them.

John Kennedy averted war in the 1961 Cuban missile crisis.

This a world full of bullies. Nobody respects a defenseless person or a weaponless country. In the Central L.A. riots a few years ago, only those who brandished iron stayed whole. Thus, as a nation, by keeping both tactical and strategic weapons, logically, we should be able to avoid strife. Politically, that didn’t happen… we screwed up in the second Persian Gulf war.

The problem is subjective judgment.

When do you shoot?

So, then, the other side of the issue is a need for common sense and for using our hearts and minds, not initiating nor escalating but maintaining a good defensive posture. A balancing act. Can’t design common sense into a weapon. Can hardly find any common sense among our population!

And thus we need a mix of weapons AND the right individuals with the common sense to use them properly. And that is The Big Deal in politics… who has common sense? Where's the next Statesman? It's just the world at stake! This is an election year! Yikes! It's scary!

- © 2008 by Willy
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