I am so full of stress. It’s crazy how invisible and hard to diagnose stress is. But it’s heavy, super heavy.  If a scale could measure stress as well as body mass, I’m sure my scale would be off the charts right now.  Perhaps my greatest cause of unrelieved stress is that I never talk about it.  I never pull the plug, and let it drain.  I guess I never think I have to – like I said, this is some invisible stuff.  But right now I feel awful, and it’s either a health issue – or its stress.

So what is so stressful…?  Well, maybe I should make a list:

1. We just moved to a new town
2. … right next door to my in-laws
3. … a new town in which I have no friends
4. … and I know nothing about.
5. I’m working from home (if you don’t work from home, you don’t know how stressful this can be)
6. I’m running my own business
7. I’m parenting when I am not working
8. I’m working on the house when I am not doing one of the two things I just mentioned
9. I have no local friends, no one to call to go see a movie, go get a drink, or to bitch to about how stressed I am
10. Robin is pregnant. And I’m trying to be helpful.
11. Add all of this up, and add on top of it the guilt of feeling stressed, the inability to say anything because I feel like I am complaining – even now I want to apologize for making this list and say I’m not trying to complain. Sheesh.

There you go.

I feel sick. Literally. But I don’t think it’s a disease.  I think it’s stress.

So what do I need?  God, that’s such a hard question.  I have no idea. Somebody help me out here… what do I need?

Our first session of marriage counseling, me and Robin’s counselor asked me: “Jim, what do you need?”

And do you know what I told him?

“I have no idea”.

Why is it so hard for me to admit to what I need? No. Not just admit, I can’t even think of what I need.

Ok, I think I know:

I need someone who cares about me. Is it bad to say, I need someone, who is not my family, and not my wife, to care about me.  You know… usually we call them: friends.  But not friendS – just

I had no idea what lie ahead.

I guess I mark that moment in my head as the last moment of my life before I had kids.  Amalea was born the next morning, on October 1st, 2007.  Maya came two years later, and now we have one more little girl on the way.

See the thing is, once you have kids – you always have kids.  There is no going back, ever.  See it’s different than having a friend or being married.  Because those relationship status’ end. But kids… it does not matter if they were to pass away, you can never rip that relationship away, no matter what.  They have your eyes. They have your personality.  They have your sense of humor and your temper.  They came from you and they are yours, forever.

And so you’re life changes, drastically, when your first child enters the world.  You do not realize it until some time later, but everything changes and there is no way to return to the you-before-kids.

The moment… at that light.  That was someone else.  I was someone else.

But this isn’t really what I wanted to write about tonight, though it does serve as a good introduction.  What I wanted to write about, is in fact this relationship – parent / child.

Having a child is unlike any other experience in life.  It is exhilarating and terrifying.  It is liberating and stifling.  It is magical and it is mundane.

Kids… no wait, not just any kids, YOUR kids – are magical. They are.  I say, YOUR kids, because people without kids hear the word “kids” and immediately think of something 1. small and cute and 2. semi-annoying.  Which is true and all, but there is so… soo….soooo much more. And you can’t see past 1 and 2 unless they are YOUR kids.

Anyway, back to “magical”.  They are. Think about it.  They pop out all bloody and attached to their mom, kicking and screaming.  They barf and crap everywhere and they suck the life out of you, literally.  They demand your attention for every waking hour (and let’s face it, you can’t stop thinking about them after they fall-asleep either).  But over the first two years, they develop into this little person.  This little walking and talking person who has feelings (as primitive as they might be) and has thoughts (like remembering a person or place and stating that they remember).  They play make believe with toys and live in this alternate universe sometimes.  They smile, and frown, and cry, and laugh.  They lash out when they are angry, and they passionately hug you when they are scared or hurt.  In their most precious moments, they tell you they love you (even if it is the young 2 year old who repeats it “I wov you”) and they throw their arms around you and they laugh and scream and run towards you when you have been away from them for a long time.  In some of their forgettable moments, they swing at you, bite you, and tell you “I don’t want to talk to you right now” or just “No. Nothing.”  And there is so much going on inside of them.  It’s such a mystery.

Where did this little person come from?  Seriously, all I did was… well, most of you know what I did.  (-;

Life is so strange.

In the course of 4 years I feel like my life has, in one sense, ended, and in another sense, begun.  And this is how it is, I suppose.  For most of us that choose to procreate, we have kids and there in lies the death of our purposeful, self-important life, and the beginning of a time when we live for our kids.

I suppose it is not this way for some… or maybe most.  They have kids and it is more of a hurdle or a flat tire on their career path.  They struggle through the young years, keeping the kid alive, and then engross themselves again in their pursuit of glory and forget about their offspring.

But that’s not how it is for me (I hope).

I suppose I should be a little more self-indulging and care more about the effect I am having on the world and how I might contribute to bettering the world outside of my family.  But I can’t seem to rekindle my passions outside of my kids!  It’s crazy, I know.

And it’s a little depressing at times, I’ll admit it.  Sometimes I look at all of this and it feels like this big circle.  Like, there was a time when you were preparing for something.  You went to school and you prepared for the adult world.  You learned how to get a job and support yourself – and for what?  Well, to have kids and then to do the same for them.  Feels small and insignificant – but I’m finding it actually just might be what it is all about.

Life that is, what life is all about: kids. No, seriously. Ok, I know, you’re reading this and you don’t have kids – you think I’m one of those nutso parents who have completely lost it… maybe.  But I don’t think so (they all say that ^_^).

People make life out to be some grand adventure (and to some extent, it is) but what they really mean is they want to experience as much for THEM as they possibly can.  And that’s fine and all, go be the “world’s most interesting man” but at the end of your life, what do you have to show for your life and all that you’ve done?  Memories stuck in your head that only benefit you?

The ultimate fulfillment at the end of life, is knowing that you contributed in some small way to continuing life.  And not just continuing it – but creating loving memories that you share with a family.  Experiences that will be passed on long after you have died and are gone.  You raise your children and you leave your fingerprints all over them (and in turn, on their kids and their kids and so on).

And this is what it is all about. Family.

I may have missed out on the club scene and getting drunk and going to crazy parties.  I may never have lived in a fancy condo on the 30th floor of some exciting town, and have a big time job at some big time company.  I may never drive a sports car or drink mixed drinks.  I may never have sex with another woman for the rest of my life.  And I’m ok with that, with all these things I may never experience… because I know, that when I am dying and ready to say goodbye – or even now if I were to pass suddenly – I know that my legacy (if you can call it that) lives on in my children.  I know that I have created life and (hopefully) offered all of who I am to my children so that they may do the same for their children.

Having kids, it’s not the end. It is the beginning. The beginning of a meaningful life – a meaningful future for all my descendants. I am grateful for the opportunity to have kids and to be able to hold them, and love them, and nurture their curiosity.  I am trying to keep my head above the smog that is the day in and day out demanding routines of a 4 year old and a 2 year old, so that I can relish in the overwhelming satisfaction that comes from knowing that you have created life – and a future.

Kids are so great. MY kids, are so great.  And I would, in an instant, give up my life for theirs – because my life is theirs, and I hope someday they can pass their lives on to their kids.

So how are things going? How is this new chapter’s first few pages?

That’s what this post is all about.

Things are good. The family is healthy.  We are living next door to Robin’s parents which gives us lots of freedom, breaks, and financial relief.  Not to mention it’s just nice to have family near-by to go to dinner with, to come over and share a laugh or a memory with.  It’s healthy.  Robin is pregnant and we are having another girl, which, I am excited about.  The girls are growing up so fast, and they are really enjoying being here and playing in the sun.  We go to the park on a weekly basis (sometimes on a daily basis) and it is nice living so close to the beach.  I’ve had a few projects around the house, so I have been working on those which has kept me busy and active.  I joined a band. (-:

Life is good.

I’ve been working as much as I can, and work has been coming in steadily.  Robin has been working and we have been sharing the parenting responsibility like we did when I was a youth pastor.

I guess I should say, life is fairly easy; comfortable.

But good?

I’m not sure.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, my girls are absolutely wonderful.  My wife is supportive, loving, and a really great mom.  I have no complaints or regrets when it comes to my family.  That part of life, is perfect. (and I am beyond thankful for that)

But good?  Like… if I died I would be satisfied good?  I’m not sure.

See, my entire belief system, my entire paradox has shifted the last few years – and is still shifting.  It’s unnerving.  It’s terrible.  It’s hard.  And I wouldn’t change anything.  I’m so glad that I have escaped the chains of the past; of conservative religion and dogmatic beliefs.  The part of me that kept me from me – kept me from others – and kept me from experiencing most of what life has to offer.  I am happy that I am not closed to different cultures and people.  I am happy that I am not working in a church, expected to tell people what to think and how to act.  But it’s not easy… it’s a long, dark, cold, lonely corridor. It feels like you’re a lone leaf blowing across the open sea with no land in sight, and wondering how long the wind will carry you, and unsure where it is headed.  You just hold on and enjoy the ride.  And if the ride ends in the middle of the open sea and there is nothing there to save me, so be it.

But, something is missing.

Charity is missing.  But charity will surface again.

See, before, I think I did charity to feel good about myself.  Which sounds crazy, because what I am essentially saying is that I am excited to get back into charity and giving to others so that I feel better – but it’s different now.  Now, I know it feels good to give back to others – but that is NOT the reason I will do it.  I will do it because I care about others.  It’s a subtle difference, and most people do not even begin to think about it… but the last 4 years have been about refocusing on the heart of others, and not on the feeling helping them brings to me.

It’s hard right now, because most (if not all) of my charity goes to my kids right now. They have my hands and feet and heart and soul.  They have my everything. I work – for them. I play – with them.  And in my free time, I try to take care of myself so I don’t lose it on them.  There feels like such little room for charity right now.  But that’s ok.  I think that’s ok. I’m living with the emptiness of not serving out there in the world – not building houses anymore, not feeding the hungry, not teaching kids to look past themselves – but it won’t always be this way.  There will be a day when I reemerge and I – with my family – server the world again. The big and the small worlds.

This year I turn 30. 30! I will have three daughters.  It’s a whole new world.  A world I hope lasts for a few more seasons.  I still have so much to learn and to experience.

It’s hard to let go of a place that you love, and so it has been hard to let go of my time in Portland, Oregon.  Probably one of the best places I can imagine living, anywhere in the world.  The Northwest is just a different type of place.  A slower pace of life, a more earth centric way of living, friendly down-to-earth people, and unbelievable food; just to mention a few things.  I really did love it there, but we moved to Santa Cruz to be closer to family – which was a VERY good decision.

But like I said, I’ve been thinking about this all wrong.  I think, deep down, I’ve been a little bitter about having to leave Portland – but it doesn’t have to be that way.  It just depends on how I look at it.

What I realized tonight, is that now begins a new chapter in my life.  Sure it’s cliche and all to say “thus begins a new chapter” – but it’s true.  Let’s see, I can summarize the last 10 – 15 years in chapters:

1. 1997-2001 High School
2. 2001-2003 The Dark ages (aka, Moorpark College, travelling, and the lung collapse)
3. 2003-2004 Azusa Pacific, transformation, Robin Dawn Harrold
4. 2005-2008 Youth Ministry years, married life, the beginning of Parenting
5. 2008-2011 Portland, Oregon, Web Design, more parenting

Not every Sunday night (I’m not that rich) but about once a month, I try and go out and catch a movie, alone. It’s a way for me to refuel, collect my thoughts, prepare for the coming week, and just relax. But it’s also a place for me to be inspired/influenced/taught.  Movies have always played that role in my life, even if my fault has always been being too gullible with Hollywood and allowing cinema to effect the way I see the world a little too much.  Movies serve a number of functions, but mainly: a source of entertainment (used to make money), propaganda (used to influence people and sell them on an idea/concept/belief), and as an open ended art form (used to inspire and stir the imagination).  There may be others, but these are the three categories I can think of now.

Some examples:

• Entertainment: The Hangover
• Propaganda: An Inconvenient Truth
• Art: Koyaanisqatsi

Again, there may be more or these may be bad examples, but this is what I can think of right now.

The movie I saw on this particular Sunday night, was “The Ides of March” (with George Clooney and Ryan Gosling, among others).  Of course every movie is going to have some percentage of those categories I listed above, but I would mainly categorize this movie under Propaganda.  That’s not to say it wasn’t entertaining or art. But mainly, I think it was propaganda.

I won’t get into the movie, I don’t want to ruin it for anyone, but I do want to say this about propaganda: It’s not all bad unless you are completely unaware that it is, in fact, propaganda.

Personally, when I think of propaganda, I think of something like Nazi Germany – and the way they used art and ads and songs and film to convince people that Jews should be hated, even killed.  Definitely not the birth place of propaganda, but it stands out as a horrifying way propaganda was used for bad in the modern era the Nazi’s utilized modern mediums such as film and poster art.

But I suppose not all propaganda is bad.  I mean, advertising is, in fact, propaganda.  It is trying to convince you of something.

You NEED this car.
You will be happy IF you buy this TV.
Boys will date you IF you use this face cream.
Girls in short dresses will talk to you if you drink Bud Light.

Maybe I should not have given those examples after stating that not all propaganda is bad.  But, I suppose it will suffice to make my point.  Propaganda is only bad when you are unaware of the fact that it is (whatever IT is) in fact, propaganda – a message that is being communicated to deliberately get you to change your mind, or change your perspective on something, some person, some product, or even yourself.

When people are unaware of this fact, they may mindlessly buy into the  propaganda, which is usually aimed at their emotions, and thus results in horrible consequences, such as genocide. (that would be an extreme, and I won’t say that genocide is caused ONLY by propaganda, but you get the idea).

And what pisses me off is that propaganda is ALL AROUND us and most people are so UNAWARE of it, and in fact model their entire lives around the messages they receive from propaganda.

But here is the fascinating thing about propaganda: why does it work?  How could some commercial of a hand holding a pretty little iPhone, make me desperately want to buy one and feel worthless if I don’t have one?  How could a commercial cause me to buy something I absolutely do not need (not need, in the survival sense)?  Why are we so manipulative… or not manipulative (though that is a valid question too) but, you know, so easily manipulated?  We are like little lemmings (forgive the example if you have no idea what I’m talking about) who walk off the cliff because the person in front of us did.

I saw this video of this old Candid Camera episode (from like the 60′s or something) and they had a camera on an elevator door.  Three or four actors would walk in with one unsuspecting person.  The actors would all then immediately face the rear of the elevator – and all of these non-actors would walk in, look around, and then face the rear – not questioning it at all.

In fact, they had this one poor kid, probably in his early 20′s, come in and look around, totally confused, but wanting to not be the odd one out, so he faces the rear.  Then the actors turn, before the door closes, to the left – and the kid does too!  Then the doors open again and everyone is facing the rear again, even the kid!

I’ve seen other experiments like this too, where people do not want to be… I don’t know, wrong?  The only one NOT doing something?  Left out?

But why are we like this?

This is some people’s ENTIRE existence… to attain whatever it is they are told by whoever is doing the selling that they need to attain.

Seems so… controlling. NOT-free. Like a prison.

On the flip side, and I’ll end here, you have to at least listen to the propaganda, because like I said – it’s not all bad.  Sometimes the message is something you need to hear, or be taught.  To claim that you are an individual, in no need of instruction and teaching, is to be just as dangerous as the fool who listens and obeys, without questioning or at least contemplating what he or she has been shown or taught.

29 years.  Gone.

What has it all meant?  Where has it all gone?  Have I left my fingerprints on anything? And if so, in a good way – that brings life and growth and beauty?  Or in a detrimental way that brings destruction, confusion, fear and ugliness?

How can you really know…?

Maybe that is this fleeting feeling inside.  How do you measure life?  I mean, what reliable figure or statistic can you look at to insure the hours and days have not been wasted?  What awards or accolades can you show that mean anything at all except vain conceit?

Truly, I used to think that the only measure of success was the lives of others, unfolding in beautiful, meaningful ways… but then, you begin to wonder – what in them would measure success?  Money? Power? Prestige?  Influence?  Saving 100 lives?  1,000 lives?  1 life?

So then I began to think, perhaps this life is not about attaining some goal or success, but instead it is about enjoying the minutes as they pass.  Being fully present in each passing second, savoring it and making the most of it – for it all soon will pass away.  Then, life becomes about those around you – about my family right now.  About seeing Robin smile, making the girls laugh, and finding beauty in the world around me.  This way, it does not matter how many friends I have… or what I have done with business… or how much money I have made.  Life is simply about enjoying and experiencing those you love – giving love and receiving love.

But daily, I feel the temptation of meaning and significance.  To do something spectacular with my life – to be special, to have people envy me.  These were the temptations of Jesus, were they not?  To be important.  And yet, in those stories (the temptations in the desert), as unfolded by one of my favorite mystics, Henry Nouwen (in his book, In the Name of Jesus), Jesus resisted these temptations to be some important religious fool (when asked to turn rocks into bread), to be some vain, conceited, powerful ruler (when offered the kingdoms of the world), and to be some sideshow celebrity that everyone marvels at (when tempted to throw himself off the temple and have angels rescue him).  Instead, he entered his thirties by calling around him the rejects of society, to have them follow him from town to town, loving those around them: touching the untouchables… healing the sick…eating with outcasts… and unveiling what life is truly about.  Love.

Love. The kind of love that seeks not for itself, but truly yearns and desires for the happiness in another’s heart.  Love that wants nothing but to see a smile on the faces around them, from a need met, even if it means you don’t get the best seat in the house, or you miss out on the concert you’ve been dying to go to so you can spend time with someone in their suffering.  Love that looks beneath the surface, below the costumes and masks we wear, beneath the tattoos and peircings – to the child within.  The child that is still seeking attention, meaning, and significance.  And if we’re lucky, love finds us, and holds us, and doesn’t let go.  It leads us out of the desert of temptations, and into a simple life full of meaning and significance found only in those you love, and those who love you.

I don’t know what I believe about God.  There must be something out there.

I don’t know what I believe about Jesus being God.  I don’t know what I believe about Christian theology… but I do know this: Jesus, at his core, the guy who gives up power, celebrity, and comfort – for life in the dirt of the country side with his closest friends and family, loving all those he meets, healing and accepting them:  that is the best example of unconditional love I have ever experienced or heard of.  And it is what I am basing my life around.  To let “the spirit” lead me day in and day out, through these temptations of meaning and significance, and into a simple life where Love is the only thing that matters, and everything else grows out of love.

What does that mean? And what does that look like?

It means that I will not ignore my children.  I will work when I need to work, to provide so that we can live healthily and happily – but I will never let my work become my source of meaning and significance.  It is a means to an end.  And the end, is love – family – friends – and ultimately, everyone.

It means I will work at my marriage.  I will submit to my wife when she needs me to, and I will stand up for her and respect her.  I will pursue her and always try and make her feel special, beautiful, loved, and important.  I will do what I can to put a smile on her face and laughter on her lips.  I will work when I need to work, and watch the kids when I need to watch the kids.  I will provide a safe space for her to be herself, to complain, to cry, to laugh, to cuss, to create in her own special Robin-way. ^_^

It means I will take care of myself, because the ability to love unconditionally without becoming impatient, or angry – begins with my body.  If I am tired, I get grumpy.  If I am hungry, I easily get frustrated and angry at little things.  If I have not exercised, I have little energy to play with my girls when they are asking me to play chase or tag.  If I do not eat right, I get sick and then can not serve my family the way they need me to serve them.

So what are my hopes and dreams for the future?

The day I die, I want to look back on my life and say without a shadow of a doubt that I never wasted my time.  That I did not give into the temptations of pleasure and comfort, celebrity and popularity, power and meaning and significance.  I want to feel that people smiled because of me, and not because I was making fun of other people, but because I cared about them.  I want to see how my sweat and toil created opportunity for others to succeed and find peace in their lives.  I want to die knowing that my life was not wasted being selfish and vain – finding meaning in my intelligence or my accomplishments – finding pleasure in my toys and technology – finding pleasure in putting down others and placing myself on top.

Through all of my existential wanderings, it’s time to nail things down to tangible things that I can practice day in and day out.  No more arguing about small details that do not matter.  As cheesy as it is, and it is (thanks to DC Talk): Love is a verb.  It’s time to start love-ING.

I will be peace, not violence.

I will be safe, not angry.

I will be patient, not volatile.

I will give, and take only when given.

I will fail, but continue to write and refine.

(And I will always listen to Sigur Ros when writing, as it opens up treasure troves I never knew existed within me)

Being a web designer / developer makes it really hard to completely abandon technology.  Hell, being me makes it hard to abandon technology.  I began my life being obsessed with video games to the point where I wanted to make them when I grew up.  Then I got a computer and became emerged in the world of 1′s and 0′s.  The internet especially interested me and I became a master of the inter-webs.  I always had the latest gadgets and the most powerful computer systems, and have always spent a good deal of my life staring at this brilliant light behind this glass screen.  And now it is my job to create web sites for people, which keeps me immersed in social networking and all things web related.

It’s hard to imagine life without literally everything at my fingertips.

Hungry?  Order pizza online.

Need to find that long lost friend?  Facebook.

Need to listen to that one song, what’s the name?  The word “brilliant” is in it.  Google.  Spotify.  iTunes. Found it. Bought it. Listening now.

Who are the Mayans?  Wikipedia. Oh. Now I know.

What’s an Oscillator?  Google. Oh.

It brings me back to Jesus’ words,

“What good is it to gain the whole world but forfeit your soul?”

I mean… that is what we gain through technology, right?  The world at our fingertips?  But at what cost?

When the power goes off, or my cell phone or computer battery die, and I have a moment to myself… I begin to miss life without technology.  I begin to make myself promises that consist of long walks through forests… learning a new language… reading more books… exercising more… designing a Japanese Garden and constructing it… writing music… etc.  I get so excited to make something of my life and do great things, and then I’m sucked into the time wasting powers of the computer… the cell phone… and video games.

But it’s time to seriously reevaluate this.  I don’t want to be a slave to these machines.  I don’t want to forfeit my soul.

So what is the first step?  And in which direction?

How much technology do I need to give up in order to find my soul again?  Is this even a problem or am I making more out of it than I should?  Can you have the world and your soul too?  Can I live in the “dark ages” without Google and be ok?

What if this is actually my calling and it would be silly to give it up?  I mean… I am actually very good with technology and designing / developing web sites – so why run away from it?  Perhaps I can have my soul and help others find theirs with these skills…?  Yeah. Maybe.  But I don’t think so.

The older I get, the older I get.  I begin to realize how important it is to find peace within… to slow down and to breath.  How important it is to build an environment around you that you can recharge in and find peace in so that you aren’t constantly walking on pins and needles ready to lose it at any moment.

Plus, the older I get – the more I feel a slave to things.  Caffeine.  The Internet.  Sugar.  Music Consumption.  Video Games.

I’ve always wanted to be free – to live free.  It’s time to break free from technology and live on the dark side of the moon.

I remember being scared as a kid.  Scared of a lot of things.  Today I either blame that on my heightened imagination or all the freaky movies I watched at probably too young of an age.  Now that Amalea (my oldest daughter) is taking swim lessons, I can remember – to a pretty late age (maybe 6th grade) – always being afraid that there were sharks in the pool… in the deep end where it was dark and cloudy.  Of course there are no sharks in pools – it is silly to even think there is.  A shark would die in a pool full of chlorine, and someone would have to A) catch the shark and B) put it in the pool.  Yes, this I now know.  But when I was a kid I was CONVINCED beyond a shadow of a doubt that there in fact MUST be sharks in pools; in the shadows that you can not see.

I remember being afraid of dinosaurs.  I had a REALLY vivid dream of a T-Rex basically ripping my house apart and my family and friends with it (and maybe me too).  It was a very hellish dream (like everything was red like there were fires burning or something) and I can remember being terrified at Disneyland going on the train that went around the park because it would go through this one exhibit where there were dinosaurs… and again… I was CONVINCED that they were going to eat me. No question about it.

I was afraid of roller coasters (didn’t go on one until I was in 6th grade, when I forced myself, alone, to go on Thunder Mountain at Disneyland – the summer of 8th grade I would get a season pass to Six Flags Magic Mountain and ride Batman, Viper, and Superman over and over and over), I was afraid of going in the ocean, I was afraid snakes (ok, I still am), and I was afraid of the dark (I had glow in the dark stars, christmas lights, stereo lights, computer screens, anything to illuminate the shadows).  Even in high school, at the outdoor school where I was a counselor and had to take the 6th graders on a night hike – I was the one that was scared!  And when I was in Africa, in a little house out in the Masai Marra (where lions and leopards live) – there was no way in hell I was leaving the room I was sleeping in to use the OUTDOOR bathroom in the middle of the night!  I nearly wet my pants – I couldn’t even crack the door open and… you know… pee out the door because I was CONVINCED that there was a lion behind the door and if I even cracked it, I was a goner.

Pathetic right?

But I think what is even more pathetic than that… is the fact that sometimes I am annoyed when my 3 year old DAUGHTER is sometimes afraid.  And I might emphasize SOMETIMES. She’s actually very brave.  But somehow, I have forgotten what it was like to be CONVINCED (it didn’t matter what adults said… they were obviously wrong) that there was danger in the darkness, or dinosaurs in the country, or I was going to fly off the tracks of a roller coaster.

I need to be more patient with my daughter – more understanding and forgiving that her imagination is REAL, and INTENSE, and in a way – outside of her control.  I need to respect her fears if I am going to help her get over them.  Besides, a little bit of fear is not a bad thing… it keeps you from burning your hand on the fire – right?

So what am I scared of today?

Psychopaths. Crazy people. I mean, really crazy people – the type that would break into your house and rape your daughters and then slice your throats.  Sure, they are out there – like maybe 1 in a million – but still – keeps me up at night.  I’m not worried about myself anymore… maybe that is what becoming a parent does to you – it releases your own fears and replaces them with a whole other set of fears for your children.  I’m afraid my children will become addicted to drugs.  I’m afraid they will have an eating disorder – or run away – or be killed in an accident.  Or less grousome fears – like that my children might be depressed, or made fun of in school, or that any punk ass boy (like myself back in the day) will break their hearts one day.  These are my fears now… and I am CONVINCED – at times – they will come true.

I need to let go of these new fears.  Ride the roller coaster of life and face them.  Realize these fears DO happen – but that I can not let them handcuff me in life; terrorize me and keep me up at night.

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” – yeah, maybe. (-:

Not like between bases in baseball where the idea is to move from 1st to 2nd to 3rd to home and “between bases” is just a place on the way to one of those.

Not like between grades, again waiting to move to the next grade – this is what you are suppose to do, and will do whether you like it or not.

Not like between a bus and the center divider on a busy freeway in L.A. – that’s just not a good place to be, ever.

Not like between jobs, or relationships, or nannies.  That’s like looking for something to fill the gap…

I’m not sure what I mean… in-between… just, in-between.

More like in the center of a circle of chairs – any chair will do, and there are many chairs to be chosen, but which will you choose?  Or do you choose at all?  And what is outside of this circle of chairs?  Can you go there?  Is that somewhere?  Is this, center, this in-between; is this somewhere?

Because it feels like nowhere.

Right, in the center… of life.  Not a horrible place to be.

Why?

Because I need to write.  For me. Not for you, for me. Sure, this is a public blog and you might run across it by chance and read what I write (the chances of that happening are about 1 in 6,023,837,238 – or however many web sites there are in the world), but it’s more about me getting these thoughts out of my head and onto something.  Since I can’t write very much by hand any more (it is literally hard to write more than a page because I am so accustomed to typing) this is the best way for me to process what is in my head and what is going on in my life.

So begins SouthEast 60th Ave.  The street in Portland where I lived for two years – where my youngest daughter was born – where I rekindled my love for my wife – and where I began to ask the question: What am I doing with my life?

Again, this blog is more for me than you – but perhaps in our most honest, brutal, revealing states we speak best to each other.  So bookmark this page, come back often, and comment – share your thoughts.