Ain’t no Substitution for the Real Thing

A few months back, Darla and I found ourselves in a Bed and Breakfast in Tyler Texas. We were there to celebrate our daughters graduation and bring her back home to start life. Next to our bed was a little gadget that reproduced certain sounds to help us fall asleep and keep us from hearing the other guests and traffic noise. We had the tropical rain forest, we had something with crickets, and there was the ocean. If you listened closely it would repeat itself, the waves would crash the same way over and over and over again. Today as I was walking along the water I couldn’t help but think “There Ain’t No Substitution For The Real Thing.” I was caught up by the sound of the waves, and how there was no wave that sounded the same. It was therapeutic and real. The same is true of the New Coke vs. Old Coke, Equal vs Sugar, Miracle Whip vs Mayonnaise, substitutes just don’t cut it. I hate skiing on artificial snow and will never put up a fake Christmas Tree. I once used Quick Tan instead of waiting for the Sun to bake me brown, and instead turned myself a funny shade of orange. Their ain’t no substitution for the real thing. I could continue the list down many different paths, but you get the idea.

Yesterday, Darla and I were experiencing day two of our mini vacation. We have found that we often need two days to get through all of the catch up talk, before getting to the real conversation. Real conversation is conversation that takes place at a heart level. It has to do with what is really going on within. It is were there is real sharing. Sometimes it hurts to say what your saying, sometimes it hurts to hear what is being said, but it is where real communication takes place, and there ain’t no substitution. When it occurs you know it.

In yesterdays, real conversation, we were discussing our life. Twenty-six years of being together, thirty years of being in love, thirty-four years of being friends. We were talking about knowing ourselves and trying to be who we are, who we were meant to be. We touched on so many different things, our struggles to get life right, my people pleasing tendencies, and my feelings that I had let Darla down by not becoming who I thought she wanted me to become. To be fair to Darla, what I just wrote and want you to hear is, “who I thought she wanted me to become,” and not, what she had told me she wanted me to become. As I finished, she looked at me and said, “I fell in love with you as the High Schooler, trying to figure things out. The one who was trying things, experimenting, learning. Not this spiritual, have it all together, know what’s up with life guy.” In that moment, I was hit with a life altering,truth. Darla has always loved me for who I am, not who I am becoming. I don’t have to try and please her, or be something I think she wants me to be. She already loves me. What an incredibly freeing truth. When I drink, she loves me. When I act stupid, she loves me. When I trip over the stuff of life, she still loves me. She may not always like me, but she loves me. What more could I ask for.

I am not sure how many of you will see this as something profound. If you know me and understand all that I struggle with in my life, you will know this is huge. I don't have to hide things, and can just be me. That is who I was when Darla fell in love with me. I can go on continuing to find out who I am, not trying to be who I’m not.

For Darla and I a two day trip never works. Three is a minimum and four is better. There is no substitution for the Ocean, and none for real conversation. There is absolutely no substitution for Darla’s love in my life. May you experience the real thing

Time Away at Rockaway Beach

Time away at Rockaway

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It’s the middle of the week and back in Portland is a meeting that I am missing. Missing is actually the wrong word because that would imply that I wish I was there instead of where I am, and I much prefer where I currently am sitting. Out the window it is lightly raining making everything damp with the occasional dripping off the patio hand rail that surrounds the deck in front of our small bungalow. The beach grass is bending in the wind, and the sand has no one walking on it as far as you can see. Darla lies napping in the big chair, enjoying the need to do nothing but relax and slow down.

Stormy weather at the beach is good. It invites you to take it easy. No need to feel like you have to walk the beach or throw a stick for Surf the Wonder Dog. Storm waves don’t call me to put on a wet suit and pull out the board, nor did I even bring them along on this trip. My purpose over the next few days is to do what I want to do, when I want to do it. I will sleep and nap, not because the clock, or light outside says its time, but because my body is desiring it. I will eat when I feel a bit hungry, not because it is lunch time. I will walk on the beach as I feel like enjoying the cool wind in my face and listening to the sound of the waves. I have turned off my phones ability to get email (although, I can still get calls if the world must find me), and am resisting the urge to check. I am on vacation and I’ll be damned if anyone is going to rob me of this time.

We are back at the same place we came at the beginning of the summer. The blue chairs are still sitting out at the edge of the small bluff, where you can overlook the sand, waves, and twin haystack rocks. But while the chairs have not moved from the summer, the scenery is very different. The sky is gray, not blue, the waves are stormy not sparkling in the sun, the sand is hard and crunchy, not the summer soft. While looking at the landscape I also find myself looking at me, and I realize that while I am the same person, coming back to the same place, I am somehow different as well. I am a little more mellow than I was six or seven months ago. I feel a bit more content. I am able to relax and enjoy where I am at in life, and the process I am in of understanding my self better. The beach, this beach, is a reminder that while places and people are the same, all things are constantly changing. me included. To fight against that is like fighting the ocean tide. You can’t do it. So for the next few days I will enjoy watching the birds, walking the dog, talking with Darla, and reflecting on my life. And, as a result, I will return home a little more aware of who I am and what I need. Where I am in life, and where I want to continue going. And, a whole lot better because of it.

There will be more meetings to go to next week, next month, next year. There will be plenty of emails to read when I turn the phone back on, or log in on the computer. But for now, I will enjoy the moment that I am in, watching the waves, wind and rain, and being thankful for some time to slow

A Walk Down Memory Lane

October 29

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I remember when a walk down memory lane meant that Dad was pulling out the old Kodak Slide Projector. It was the one with those funny round trays full of the hundreds of slides taken over the years. Mom would make pop corn. while the kids would get the screen out of the closet We would all laugh and cringe as different pictures came up. Mom and Dad would apologize about the lost years, the ones in which the camera was broken, so there were no pictures about the life of one of us kids. It helped us remember where we had come from. When we would question if we ever liked each other, we would see pictures of hugging and laughing and parties, and, and, and. It was always good to remember.

Today I took a walk down memory lane in a different way, a new way. It wasn’t a long look back, only the last year or two. I went back to re-read my old bloggings. It is eye opening to take a look back at what you were struggling with, or working through in life. I use my blog much like I would guess many use a diary. I try to capture thoughts, feelings, emotions, I am experiencing. I usually use it after I have had some time to reflect on an issue or area of my life. There is something therapeutic about writing it down in such a way that others can ask me questions about it. So today I read back, and in many ways relived some great memories, some hard lessons, remembered some things I have been trying to forget. I thought about deleting the past blogs, but then realized there is a lot about me in them. How could I just remove my past from being. So the blog and all it reveals remains. Not many read it, but than it really isn’t about getting people to read it as much as it is about getting it out of my head and into the open. It is really about me and not you. However, you are welcome to read, and ask questions about. Maybe it can make both of us better in the long run.

So if you get a chance, take a new walk down memory lane, however you stored your memories, or thoughts, or ideas. It is a good trip to take from time to time.

Andy Loved Being Andy

I went to the funeral of a friend yesterday. A very Catholic funeral with all the sitting and standing, beautiful stained glass windows, lots of nice things being said. There was talk of Heaven and Hell, goodness and badness, and a chance to reflect on the kind of person he was, and you are. Towards the end of the time I was struck with something his brother said, “Andy loved being Andy.”

Out of all that was said in the service, what had the biggest impact on me were those four little words, “Andy loved being Andy.” I started me thinking, does “Rick like being Rick?” and do most people like being who they are, or do they wish to be someone or something different than simply what they are? If I truly loved being who I am, I would quit trying to be what I think everyone else wants me to be. I would be satisfied with what I have, what I do, my skills and abilities, my loves and dislikes, etc… I wouldn’t wish I was more like you, or had what you have, or could do what you do. Those four words speak of a deep down contentedness, a sense of peace with yourself. To be at that place, would be a starting point to truly enjoy all that is around you. To be able to live in the moment, completely. I truly want to “Love being Me.” To not feel like I have to give a reason for why I am the way I am, or to justify why I do what I do. To just be me, and to be ok with being me, sounds like a good place to be (is it bad English to but 3 be’s in the same phrase?}

Andy loved being Andy, I hope you “Love Being You,” for each of us are unique, special, one of a kind. Grab hold of that, and quit trying to be what your not. Enjoy the moment.

Looking Backwards, Looking Forwards

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Often times I forget I am 46 years old. Sure I look in the mirror every morning, but it doesn’t register that the guy looking back at me isn’t still 18. Yeah, I am a little more stiff when I get out of bed now, but I used to feel that way after football practice in high school. I realize at 24 hour fitness, when I push the weights, the setting is a lot lower than it was 28 years ago, and the scale is a lot higher, but that is just being out of shape, not being older, right?

Last week a picture floated through the Face Book community I am friends with. It was of a happy time, a fun time, a younger time. It was of a retreat we were all on in high school It caused me to go back and search through old photo’s of past events, great memories, and awesome friends. As I looked I went through a variety of emotions. I laughed as I remembered things like a birthday kidnapping, or parachute jumps from 3 inches high. I thought about friends I have long since lost touch with and realized I had failed to keep up relationships. I felt anger, that I had to move at such a great time in my life. And, I was shocked to see, realize, be confronted with, the fact that I am no longer 18.

Why would I think that? Three of my four kids are older than 18. I have a wife, kids, job, house, cars, and responsibility, that I didn’t have at 18. What keeps me holding on to that past vision of myself? Was it really a better time than now, or just a time in life that I remember in a slanted way?

The pictures, while of the past, brought me to reality, to this point and time, to a 46 year old, slightly overweight, man, with wisdom and experience that no 18 year old could ever have. They reminded me of the feelings I had at 18, the desire to experience the moment and enjoy every opportunity. I realize that by holding on to that desire, I can continue to feel and act 18, for each moment is new, and life continues to offer great enjoyment.

It is time to let go of wanting to still be 18, and realize that I am “still that 18 year old “ in a slightly used, but much better, me.

Thanks for great memories my friends.