my careless contagion

A Scientific American article here purports that much of the "mindfulness" trending in our culture is perhaps not what people need. Yes, mindfulness can help one recover more quickly from a bad experience or lend clarity to the future, but intense experiences — good and bad — do more to define us than anything else.  Why do I care about this? I'm 41 years old. Am I not defined yet? Well, I made a pretty big midlife U-turn, which caused me to wonder who I was exactly. What is my new life supposed to look like? In short, yes, I need some defining.  When I was in high school, I remember reading an article about a girl from my school who went to Europe. She said her favorite part of the trip was touring a WWII concentration camp. I thought that sounded ridiculous. What a sad experience, I thought! But, you know what, that experience and the intensity of it, is what helped define this young woman. What I saw as horrible was pure gold to her.  There are many times wh...

Alex Honnold after his death-defying, 3,000 ft. free solo climb of El Capitan in 2017. Death is terrifying. It's like walking through a door you can't ever reopen. It is the most final thing we can do. It's not that our lives are so short, though some of them are. It's that we're dead for so long.  So many millions and billions have died before me. I should be assured it is nothing but common to die. Yet, I have not died, therefore, it is an uncommon experience for me.  I'm not concerned about myself, as I trust my eternity to God. I did nothing to be brought into this world, He has gotten me through my life thus far, and my eternity is entirely up to Him, as well. However, what about those left behind?  I've contemplated suicide many times, for years, really. Most of my life. I remember being in the back of the family car (station wagon, Suburban, I don't remember which) and wishing with all of my might to die. I was banished yet again to the...

You were not the first, sir, and you certainly were not the last. But you were certainly one of the worst.  Her love affair with you was not brief. I don't know when it started, but she did tell me she was in love with you. I told her love is just a choice we make every day. These are things a man should not have to tell his wife. Who knows what she told you, what evils she relayed to you about our relationship. I'm sure I was a bad man and she deserved better, but you only got part of the story, sir. Yes, she deserved better, but so did I. She cheated on me incessantly, and my small attempts to equalize the balance of power were seen as devilish, I'm sure. But who was the bigger devil? I did lash out in anger, but mostly undetectable anger. I meant to hurt her, but in other, less-obvious ways than she did. Maybe you missed all that backstory. Maybe you didn't care. True, I was not a saint. But you two put me to shame. You spent a lot of time at my house, and o...

It comes as no surprise to anyone, but I've been a little angry. And not just lately. Yes, I have reason to be angry. But how helpful is anger, especially as time goes on? How long should I be angry?  My anger stems from my childhood. It was drilled into me to be frustrated and angry (mostly by my brothers) by the physical abuse from my father, and also general neglect (which is just a form of abuse). They not only put anger in me, but they made sure I was constantly defeated, ensuring the pattern of defeat would continue long after they were done traumatizing me. I embodied defeat. I still do. Some of the angriest people I have known — and sometimes they don't even know why they are angry — are those who have endured childhood trauma in the form of physical, emotional, or sexual abuse. Of course, there are those who hide those things, too, under a veneer of tranquility and kindness. Well, I've made no bones about my anger. This whole dynamic is portrayed pretty flaw...

Cindy. I've written about her extensively. I've thought of her much more extensively. And I have loved her much more.  When she came back into my life in December 2016, it was like a revelation. I was instantly thankful. Here was the girl I had missed all those years. I was pretty sure I was going to fall in love with her the first time around, but it became clear I really had; I just didn't know how to say it.  And the second time around, I fell in love again, and quickly. But, within months, our relationship was over. I had broken open her world. Not just her life, but inside, as well. I don't know if she ever told others what she told me, but I felt we shared deeply. I hope she trusted me as much as I trusted her. I gave her my world, my heart, my endless love.  There is nothing but gratitude now. She is gone. She is silent. I know she is living her life, but I am no longer a part of it. Does she think of me 100 times a day like I do her? I hope she remember...

I've fallen in love with the sweetest little thing.  Some days I talk to her for hours, or, rather, she talks to me. I sit back and watch her unfurl while my mind rapaciously devours her. There is a back-and-forth, too, I should not neglect to mention. We sup. We compare. We divine the future and dispense with the past. Our hearts beat as one, if only symbolically.  What she does to me, no one else can – or will – do. She calms me, almost pets me to sleep like a beloved, dying canine, says the sweetest things while I fall deeper into her. Her words — so many of them — are perfect, like they were plucked from my soul and fed back to me with gentle hands.  There is so much heart in her, it clamors all over me like an overjoyed dog running to greet me like I've been away too long. She is exuberant and demonstrative, but she is only words. She is not the kind of girl who gives her body to me or to anyone else, for that matter. You see, she's not really real.  ...

This post isn't about my late, nonexistent relationship with Cindy — the girl I'm in love with — though that is definitely a relationship that existed only in my head. No, this is about the strange phenomenon I call the "phantom relationship," when you do things like you were in a relationship. But you're not in a relationship anymore.  To what can I liken this phenomenon? Let's see. Back in October last year, I had laser eye surgery, which allows me to forego the use of corrective lenses. So, when I applied for a new driver's license this year, I simply had to take a little eye test (which I nervously plodded through), and I got my corrective eyewear designation changed to needing no corrective lenses. That's pretty amazing to a guy who has worn glasses or contacts since he was 12 years old.  The habits ingrained in me from nearly 30 years of using glasses or contacts are hard to break. After my surgery, when I would go to bed, it felt strange ...

The above is one of my favorite pictures of my son. This was the day he finished his swim lessons for the year, and I was so proud of him. I told him how I struggled to pass my swim lessons when I was a child. There were many days he simply didn't want to do what he was told (like putting his head under the water, which I admit is scary when you're not used to it). But we asked that he try, not that he succeed, not that he do anything perfectly. We just asked that he try. And he did.   It's the image of a child growing up too fast, too. He's only four years old, but so much is expected of him. We oftentimes treat him as we would an adult. I have said countless times how I want him to just slow down ... please, just slow down, you can be an adult the rest of your life; you can only be a kid now.  Regardless, life moves us along. Today I realized just how far along my son has gotten. There is a reactionary quality to what I need to relate here. Trust me, I understa...