Packed my bags, shut the door
Decided that just couldn't take it anymore
Maybe it's better to be apart
Leave this land and make a new start
Not really sure where I will go
But I'll be okay, this I know
Everywhere I see
Is just another bad memory
Stupid mistake
Or lousy fake
It was never my goal to belong
Yet I can't stay 'cause I know it'd be wrong
Boarded myself on a big bullet train
Going somewhere away from the rain
Sky after sky
Passes me by
Yet somehow I can't help but cry
I won't forget them, or what they've done
Now I can finally see the rising sun
Meaning(lessness)
My mom's dad
hasn't ever told her,
"I love you,"
to the best of
her recollection.
He was going
to be a pilot
but couldn't
due to color blindness,
so instead became
a Computer Science
PhD and inspired
Paul Allen.
His wife grew up
on a farm in
North Dakota,
one of 10 siblings.
She is as loving
and personable
as he is intellectual
and scientific.
My dad's dad suffers
from Alzheimer's.
I saw him several hours ago;
he's in a wheel chair
and cannot eat or speak
properly now.
Prior to 1996,
he and his wife
enjoyed a blessed life
together, retired and savoring
the miracle company
of grandchildren from
both their sons.
But then she died
of cancer in 1998,
and several years later,
his brain began deteriorating.
My mom has
the heart of a saint
and the soul of an artist.
After getting recommended
by Julia Child
for cooking school in Paris,
she dedicated nearly 25 years
thereafter to being
a world-class mom.
She maintains a
world-class blog
called A Year At The Table
for seasonal dinner recipes.
My dad has
the drive of a warrior
and the mind of an entrepreneur.
He worked for Bill Gates
in high school,
then quit to focus
on his own business,
which first manifested
as a restaurant he owned
and ran at the ripe age of 21
thereupon to sell
the most beer
of any venue
in Washington state.
He pivoted from being
a restaranteur
to being a landlord.
I have shared words
with President Clinton,
Ken Wilber,
and Deepak Chopra
and have worked
for myself
25 of the past 32
months since graduating college.
And yet none
of this means anything,
ultimately.
Even if karma is real,
and I deserve
all this fortune
and misfortune
throughout this soul's story,
none of it
is worthy of pride,
just humility.
Just appreciation.
Pure gratitude
from pure acknowledgement
of intangibility,
happening,
"luck."
And even the
fruits of such or any
luck
mean nothing,
in the grand scheme of things,
the realization
of which
induces an infinite
and ecstatic
sense of freedom
- release -
and subsequent love.
In the words of
Marcus Aurelius:
“Or is it your reputation
that's bothering you?
But look at how soon
we're all forgotten.
The abyss of endless time
that swallows it all.
The emptiness of
those applauding hands.
The people who praise us;
how capricious they are,
how arbitrary.
And the tiny region
it takes place.
The whole earth
a point in space -
and most of it
uninhabited.”
Ode to L.A.
L.A. trip, as I flip from the grip of the dark sky to the shine, warmth divine feel, drinking a pale ale with my meal, on a deck by the beach is for real. Reach to the teal sky as I stretch out my arms high, relaxed as I sigh and think about the life, I live away from L.A. My mainstay, would never trade it ok? But I will say, Californ-I-A is cool for this one winter day.