Stand up for what's right

The events of 2020 thus far have left no life untouched. Regardless of your political ideology, age, location or demographic, you have been impacted. Many have died or lost loved ones to Covid19. Then came George Floyd's murder at the hands of four Minneapolis police officers while he and others around him begged for his life for over eight minutes. The unjustified killings of minorities in their communities is not new. It's been happening to minorities in this country from the very beginning of colonization over 500 years ago. First the native Americans, then African slaves and it continues for both as well as Latino citizens to this day. What has changed is the advent of internet connected smartphone cameras in everyone's hands. They are allowing the privileged who don't live in those neighborhoods to see the ugly face of racism in graphic and unflinching detail. I have a front seat to some of this living on the streets and working with marginalized communities like I do. I see their initial fear and distrust of me and give them all the time and space they need to make up their minds about me.  I am not saying that I have a clue what it is like to live under the oppression and fear of systemic racism that permeates the fabric of our country. But, I sincerely endeavor to understand it more as I recognize the incredible privilege my skin color affords me in our society. And that privilege makes me sick to my soul.

Imagine if we could all respond to the disease of racism the way we have to the Covid19 pandemic! With rare exception, we all recognized the lethality of the threat and quickly adapted to mitigate it. Governments stepped up and marshalled the resources to battle it, though they could have acted more quickly. The US has been historically slow to respond to a crisis unless it impacts corporate profits and interests. In any case, when the evidence was undeniable, we shut down everything in order to deal with it. Every level of our society recognized the danger and responded. Racism is so much more destructive and lethal than any coronavirus! We need that same level of sincere urgency in all levels of government to address systemic racism. I have faith 2020 is a huge turning point in the battle for racial equality and justice in the US. I believe the vast majority of whites are good people who simply haven't educated themselves regarding racism and it's constant impact on the minority citizens of this country. It's my hope that the cries of the protestors and the videos of police brutality that are surfacing will finally awaken the sleeping good souls. That they will listen and begin educating themselves. Because as always, education is the key to effecting real and lasting change.

I have many friends who are law enforcement officers. I even considered becoming a cop myself about 20 years ago. I went through a citizen's police academy and did a lot of ride alongs to get a feel for police work. They have an incredibly challenging job! Their lives are on the line every day and things can go completely sideways in a heartbeat on the simplest of calls. They have to make split second assessments and decisions under incredibly stressful circumstances. But, no matter what resistance to arrest is encountered, there is no justification for the kind of treatment that killed George Floyd after being cuffed and subdued. Those officers are straight up murderers. I do not believe any of the officers I know would ever treat a suspect like that. Another recent example is the NYPD squad that pushed a 75 year old protestor back so hard that he stumbled and fell flat on his back on the concrete. One of their squad tried to stop and aid the man laying there motionless with blood pooling around his head and he was grabbed by the arm and forced forward. It made me ill to see that officer deny his humanity and comply with command, leaving the old man dying on the ground. For the rest of his life that officer will regret not tending to that man whom his squad had critically injured. There is definitely a cancer of presumed immunity from accountability and a tolerance for violence within some of our police departments and the only people that can purge the system is the officers themselves. No police brotherhood or department should ever tolerate an officer that has lost their humanity or will to challenge command in the case of injustice unfolding before them. Such officers need to be forever ejected from law enforcement, not just passed on to another police force in a different city.

2020 is giving us unbelievable opportunities for evolutionary cultural change in so many ways! Let's put the cancer of racism at the top of our agenda. I am seizing this opportunity with all my heart to educate myself and be part of the solution. I hope you will too.

Perfection does not exist

We are all flawed. On your best day, if you look closely, you will see something you could have done better. I used to live full time in that place of only seeing where I fucked up. It didn't matter if the mistake was miniscule and without consequence. It loomed as large in my view as Godzilla coming ashore in Tokyo. The entirety of the excellence I had created fell away in the shadow of seeing a single flaw in my efforts. That's what it is to live in a state of shame. You feel relentlessly inadequate in your work, hobbies, and especially your relationships.

A lot of folks confuse shame with guilt. Guilt is an emotional reaction to doing something that goes against your conscience or moral code. Shame in it's toxic form is thinking you yourself are intrinsically bad as a person, which is why your action happened in the first place. It's the difference between thinking, 'I did a hurtful thing', and 'I am a hurtful thing'. A toxic shame state is one in which you see yourself as hopelessly inadequate and you can't separate your mistakes from who you are. You identify with the shame you feel for your failures instead of being motivated in a healthy way to grow and do better. You are entirely unable to forgive yourself and let anything go. The result is a constant state of feeling unworthy and a relentless pursuit of perfection. The sense being that if you could just get it right, the pressure would be off and you could be happy with yourself. You could actually relax for a moment and feel that ever elusive sense of being good enough.

The more deeply one identifies with shame, the less one feels their needs are worthy of attention. You feel that if you aren't getting what you need from a relationship, it's simply because you haven't earned it. You haven't given enough of yourself to earn the honor of their affection or tenderness. You slowly give up on yourself and just serve, eventually becoming dark and uninspired. The shame state poisons every relationship and aspect of your life.

It took a singularly severe life event to break me enough for me to be willing to confront the truth of what I had become. I was 48 when I began the painful work of learning how to shed the shame and live in a state of worthiness. If you are reading this and it resonates with you, I would encourage you to research a support group called Adult Children of Alcoholics and Dysfunctional Families. That is the program and work that changed my life. It's completely free unless you want to kick in a buck or two for the coffee/pop fund per meeting. You will find yourself seated at the table with kindred spirits in all phases of their own recovery who know exactly what you are going through. It's not an easy path, but it is an effective one. One that identifies the sources of toxicity in your life, helps you learn how to forgive yourself and others, and realize the beauty and worthiness of your true self.

Note- I could not find the artist's name to give credit for the illustration.

Embracing storms

I'm currently in the beautiful little fishing town of Westport, Washington. Some dramatic weather rolled in off the Pacific yesterday evening. It was swift and glorious. Weather like that reminds me so much of life! There is no stopping it and the only thing we have control of is how we react to it.

The Covid19 pandemic has been a storm for everyone in some form or another. I am blessed that my loved ones are all safe thus far. The shutdown has given my children a unique and unforseen opportunity to reset their lives and priorities. Being forced to suspend portrait creation in shelters for the last two months has given me much needed time with my sister as we grieve mom's passing in early March. It has also provided me the headspace for some fresh self-examination.

As many of you know, it's easy to cruise along on autopilot in life. We all do it at times and there is nothing wrong with it so long as our course is authentic. The challenging thing about charting a true course is that it calls for a fair amount of awareness and personal sacrifice. I'm steadily coming to the conclusion that the more inspired one's life is, the more challenging it becomes. Inspiration and challenge seem inextricably linked and scaled in proportion to one's willingness to follow their instincts. It is especially challenging for a recovering people-pleaser such as myself to not feel selfish about decisions I make if they hurt or disappoint someone I love or care about. The deception of that seemingly altruistic impulse to never disappoint is that it's actually about power and control, not love. It's a manifestation of the idea that I actually have power over another's happiness, which of course, nobody does. As adults we are all responsible for ourselves and I can no more make someone else happy and satisfied with their life than they can mine. As a matter of fact, it's when you give in to the illusion that you have that kind of power that you will make both yourself, and the ones you love, sick and dependent. It's an unsustainable and destructive dance of codependency. Love is never ever about power or control.

It takes courage to follow our heart's desire and trust the journey. It also takes faith in those we love and choose to share our lives with. Love calls for us to believe in them and their instincts. It inspires us to strengthen their wings any way that we can even if doing so appears to take them away from us. The truth is, anytime we love like that, it always brings our hearts closer.

Mom has flown...

On March 10th, mom's confusion and anxiety finally ceased. After nearly two years of suffering with the late stages of Alzheimers, she passed peacefully in her sleep. Her life was brave, beautiful, challenging and miraculous. Lots of it didn't go the way she wanted. But, what mattered most to her went just as she had always hoped. Family was everything to her. She had her children, grandchildren, siblings, her brothers and sister in-laws, her neices and nephews, and many dear friends. Mom basically created family wherever she went. Her life was love, plain and simple. I love her with all my heart and always will.

The journey that Alzheimers took her on was life changing for all who knew and loved her. In the case of my sister Nicole and I, it literally changed everything in our lives. We both left our homes in Central Washington in 2018 because she could no longer live independently. Mom became the central focus and responsibility of Nik's life for the last couple of years. I can't say enough about the love, care, and endurance she demonstrated. She could not have honored our mother more! I am so very grateful for her! I had my son in Seattle to continue guiding into independent adulthood as well as Jackdaw to build. So, I was only in Olympia to care for mom and give Nik a break about a quarter of the time.

For those of you who are currently, (or have), provided 24/7 care for a loved one with Alzheimers, you know how heartbreaking and exhausting it is. Nothing else I have experienced in life even comes close. It stretches the bounds of your physical and mental endurance at the same time that it reveals the depth of your love. Mom was always there for us and there was never any question we would be there for her when she needed us. But, all the love and devotion in the world won't keep you from the emotional wear and tear of providing full time care for one you love afflicted with Alzheimers.

But now she is free. Free of the confusion and terror. Free of her physical pain. She lived a long and very blessed life with far more joy than sorrow. With her passing, not only is she free again, so are we. In occasional lucid moments in the last year she always expressed her frustration with the fact that her care had become the focus of our lives. It was very difficult to see her get upset and cry about that. I know I would feel the same if I were in that situation. As the weight of her care has lifted from our shoulders, I feel like I've reached the end of a year and a half hike up the face of a mountain and just set my pack down for the first time. It's an almost uncomfortable lightness at times. One I sometimes feel guilty for relishing, until I remind myself that this is what she wanted for me, for us. She wanted Nik and I to be free to pursue our lives with all our strength, focus and talent. She loved us enough to let us go. I don't expect the sadness of her passing to be out of my daily awareness for quite a while. But, it's not as bitter as I expected. I think that's because I know she's with me and is getting another of her wishes- To see her children free to fly as well. And so we shall. Your love rolls on Mom!

Leaps show us the way...

It's a stunning spring day here in Seattle! I threw open the back door to let the sun and freshness pour in as I write this post.

In a little over four months, I will have lived in Hella for two years. Some things have gone as I'd hoped while others have not. But, my faith and focus on my purpose remain unshaken. Even so, there are times when I lay in this bed in this little steel box awaiting sleep and I think to myself, 'What the fuck have I done?!' I'm 54, a professional photographer, and all I have in this world is this truck and the possessions that fit in it. Let me tell you, that's an interesting place to be at this age! At moments like that, I literally do laugh out loud!

I believe in what I'm doing and the sacrifices I have made to make it possible. The work I do is deeply meaningful and a blessing to all I create for. As satisfying as it is, I have been relearning some old lessons lately. One of them is that the successful manifestation of whatever you set out to build or do cannot make you any happier than you are without that thing. True serenity must come from within, not without. There's nothing you can do externally that will make you feel truly whole and valuable. No job, hobby or relationship can fill you up if you haven't connected with the wellspring of your own self worth. For me, staying connected to that source is a matter of following my heart even when doing so poses personal or emotional risk. My risk tolerance has increased as I have walked this path. It has been further heightened as I have helped care for my mother as she descended into the depths of Alzheimers. Witnessing her decline has left me with no illusions of having plenty of time to do what is on my heart.

One of the risks on my horizon is rolling south for the winter in November. Mom is now living in an exceptional memory care home and is no longer dependent on my sister and I for her 24/7 care. My son has come into his own and is becoming the independent adult that I knew he would. I'm doing all I can to gain more patrons to help cover the expense of taking this mission on the road south. But, I will go even if I don't have all the support I would like. I feel an urgency and desire that I can no longer deny. I'm looking forward to the adventure and serving new communities, but I'm also sad about the distance doing so will create between myself and the ones I love here in the PNW. Leaving them for the winter feels selfish and goes against my grain. I have always been the anchor, the one that everyone could count on to be in a fixed position, ready and able to help them in whatever way they need. Hoisting that anchor and setting sail will not be easy for me. It will require me to have faith not only in myself and my instincts, but also in my loved one's abilities to take care of themselves. That personal separation is definitely the hardest part of taking on this kind of life. I will once again have to become very familiar with finding serenity within myself, by myself.

There's that wide open vista again! The one that is equally exhilarating and terrifying. Journey on!

Hella mileage milestone!

See that number written in Sharpie above my speedo? 14265 is what the odometer read when Hella was dropped off a dead hulk in my driveway nearly four years ago. Writing that mileage on the dash was the first mark I made on the rig. I knew I had months of work ahead of me before she would even start, let alone run around the tiny town of Ellensburg. After a couple years of literal blood, sweat and tears, she was truly road worthy and I hit the road putting my faith in the work I had done. There's been lots of mechanical hurdles to overcome along the way, but we've tackled them all with ingenuity and determination and she's a truly solid daily driver now. I know she'll throw more curves at me, but I've proven to myself that I'm up to the task. It's a truly awesome feeling to know a vehicle's systems as thoroughly as I do this truck's now. It gives you confidence to really stretch your legs and take the path less traveled.

Last night on the way to Ballard from an evening with my son in Lynnwood, she turned over mile 28530. In less than four years I have doubled the miles she put on in her 20+ years of military and steel mill service before being rolled into a barn to sleep for over 30 years. This big beautiful doll is officially more mine than she's ever been anyone else's and that's a big deal to me! I am one of those humans that gets extremely attached to my ride. I've had two different rigs for over 13 years each. I modified them heavily, but nothing even remotely on par with Hella. This rig is truly a dream manifest for me. I feel so very blessed to be her caretaker. We take excellent care of each other.

My partnership with this truck is likely to be the longest of my life as far as vehicles go. I plan on running her to the very end and then she will be my kid's. Whether they keep her or not, (she's a serious handful in lots of ways), will be up to them. But, no matter what happens, I know she'll go on being loved and bringing smiles and thumbs up everywhere she rolls. That's a very cool part of my legacy, one that makes me happy to think of. It's not even close to the importance of the work I'm doing for families, but for a lifelong old-school gearhead like myself, it's deeply satisfying.

So, congrats Hella! Whaddya say we roll a few hundred thousand more?

(PS- Not one dollar of Jackdaw support has ever been spent on Hella's restoration and modification. I did it all with my personal savings and the sale of possessions I no longer needed.)

Memory is a precious gift

We rarely fully appreciate something until it is lost. No one gets through life without the experience many times and in many ways. On the fortunate occasions, we heal or grow without permanent damage or loss. But, not always.

As many of you know, my sister and I, (primarily my sister by a large margin), have been our mom's caregivers for the last two years as Alzheimers has steadily taken away her memory. It's been a horrifying and crushing thing to witness. I can't imagine a more devastating fate for a human to endure at the end of their days. I am one who steadfastly seeks the lesson or opportunity within terrible circumstances. But in the case of Alzheimers, I have yet to see the good.

Two and a half years ago, a fall I took at work badly tore up my left knee. I was on crutches for several months and in constant pain. After six months I was slowly and rigidly walking without crutches. Years later now and it's still not 100%. I don't know that it ever will be again, but I can walk. The thought early on that I may be done walking was terrifying. But, losing my mobility would be nothing compared to losing my life memories. I would give up any other sense or ability I possess in exchange to keep all that I have known, lived, loved and experienced in my life.

Think of those you love and who love you. The love and trust you give, build and share with them is the greatest force in your life. It binds us together and entwines our fates beyond this life. Now, imagine slowly, relentlessly, becoming a stranger to one you share that bond with.

Far worse, imagine what the other side must be like. Knowing the person before you is of significance to you, yet there is no memory to tell you why. As a matter of fact, you don't know anybody anymore, yet they are telling you what you must do. Assuring you that you can trust them. Oddly familiar strangers giving you medications, dressing you, helping you move about within limitations you do not understand. Not ever truly grasping your situation. Having thoughts that are so fragmented that you cannot articulate them in even the simplest of ways.

All because your memory banks are incrementally shutting down in a slow cascade of confusion.

The words, 'Remember me', written on the rail car in the above photo got me thinking about all this. We all want to be remembered by the ones we love in life. We all think about how we'll be remembered and hope it's positive and inspiring to those who's lives we have touched. Mom doesn't always remember who I am, but I will always remember her as the sweet and loving soul that had unyielding faith in her beliefs and her children. She's still there before me no matter what wretchedness this disease visits upon her. I'll be spending the next few days taking care of her so Nik can get a break. I'm anxious because I know I will be stepping into her life as a stranger again and that hurts. Funny how no matter what our age, being in a parent's presence gives rise to a desire for their recognition and approval. A flash back to childhood when mom or dad would scoop us up in a big, warm hug of pride and joy! I miss that more than I can say.

At this point in mom's journey, all those that love her are her memory now and we remember her. We see her for who she has been to us all her life. We know she loves and is proud of us. We know she trust us. The disease is not who she is. It presents confusion, desperation and anxiety. I will never allow the face of Alzheimers to reshape her.

I love you mom. You are remembered.