Moment #7: Golden Boy

Maddox gave me another moment yesterday.

We were in the garden picking weeds...I was picking weeds and he was trying his hardest to do the same when I grabbed my phone in the hopes of capturing a moment.

The Loin Fruit does not stay still for very long and the minute you pull out any sort of image capturing device he instantaneously takes it as his cue to move.

But yesterday he gave me a few minutes.

And wasn't too happy about it from the look on his face.

As you know, my garden gives me immense pleasure.

But this sprout gives me even more.

So here's to sunny cool Florida days with the Loin Fruit in my most favorite of places.

Happy Gardening.  

My brain hurts...

I decided to try and encapsulate a few moments of my thought life.  Perhaps I have too much unused time on my hands.  Or, perhaps, I am trying to articulate my fog. 

In mere moments I went from trying to decide if one of my tomato plants is dying to revising a short story I wrote several years ago to contemplating deleting all of my social media accounts to living on a farm and being a farmer to wishing the weather would stay cool to wondering how I am going to stake my green bean plants to deciding, for the umpteenth time, that I am NOT going to take a nap today.

This took up about 2 minutes of my day today.  The thing is that this viscous 2 minute cycle occurs 30 times in any given hour.  I am reeling in my head most of my waking moments.

My brain is tired.

I sat down and tried to draw how I feel most of the time.  I am a terrible artist.  The above picture is not of my doing but it is the closest thing I could find to what came out of my hands and onto the page:

A big fat cloud of crazy swirling around outside of me.

I have so many ideas.  I have so many thoughts.  I long for simplicity and a unification of my thoughts and ideas.  I have to believe they all meet somewhere out there and that, hopefully, that meeting is where I find myself.  Not yet, however.

Moment #6: My New Obession

It is official...I am obsessed with the Trail Runner Nation podcast.  

I am new to the whole podcast phenomenon and have grown increasingly weary of my music as I run.

Looking for something new to help keep me motivated on my runs a couple of weeks ago I found TrailRunner Nation.  

Holy Crap.

I am in no way as hardcore as the people these folks talk with. 

 I want to be...However

 I enjoy an intact femur and have no desire to run anywhere near 50 miles let alone 100.  I don't want to run through a stress fracture in the middle of the woods in search of the closest aid station. 

But I admire the dedication it takes to accomplish something like this.  

And I figure if these folks can run a 3 mile look 99 times I can run a measly 8 miles even if I don't mentally feel like it.

I have trouble allocating my time effectively as it is.  I cannot imagine training for something requires such an allotment.  I like the idea of it though.  I like the structure.  I like the focus.  I like the sacrifice it requires to do so.  That does appeal to me.  The mental strength it takes to do something like this is a skill I need to develop.  

I enjoy setting a physical goal and then accomplishing it; this breaks down after a certain point because I do not know how to effectively cross-train and feed myself to continue the training.  That is part of the reason I love this podcast so much.  Yes they interview ultra-runners but the also talk with folks about safe training methodology, nutrition, mental focus, and the science of running.  

I'm a sucker for science.

So, if you are tired of your music and want some motivation check out 

http://trailrunnernation.com/podcasts/ 

You won't be sorry.

Moment #5

Moment #5: Stiches

March 7th, a day that will forever more live in infamy.  Yep...the Loin Fruit had his first trip to the ER this past Thursday.  In all honesty I am surprised it took that long.  The Loin Fruit is a madman.  Madman I tell you.  He is not, however, destructive.  For his size and speed and the voraciousness with which he attacks all things he is very gentle.  The Fruit has never seen a piece of trash that did not need to be lovingly carried home to its eternal resting place in the trash can.  He caresses our dog with loving finesse.  

But he runs with abandon.

Loves with his entire being.

And does nothing halfway.

Which is why we ended up in the emergency room.

I make stitches look good!

He handled the whole thing like a champ.  In fact, you wouldn't have known he was hurt if you weren't  looking at him.  While waiting for the doctor, he played and laughed and decided that the bed pans (sterile and never used) hiding in plain site in our room were meant to be played with (because who doesn't think kidney bean shaped objects aren't fun?).  He pushed buttons on the bed and opened and closed the door and laughed.  We read books and snuggled and played with sunglasses and drank water and ate animal crackers.  It was almost like we were home.  Except we weren't.

I will spare you all the details of the procedure itself.  Standard stuff I expect.  I can tell you that I have never hurt like that though.  I held his head and said his name just so he would know he wasn't alone.  I  felt my eyes burn with tears but didn't cry because I did not want to scare him.  But it hurt.  

Love hurts.  

The love I feel for the Fruit is so complex that it simultaneously fills me with a joy unlike anything I have ever experienced and a pain that is tangible.  

I would have gladly taken his fear and pain in that moment.  But I could not.  What I could do was let him know he was not alone.  So I did.

...still taking pictures?

The Loin Fruit is doing just fine.  I am quite certain he forgot about the whole thing by the time we were in the parking lot.  

Moment #4

Moment #4:  Stories

There can be no doubt that I was created to be a part of stories.  Stories that people see and experience. Yes, I know we all have stories of our own to tell and experience.  I know I do.  But I know that part of my personal story includes sharing the stories of others whom I have never actually known.

I have done a lot of theatre.  I will spare you the resume.  I hate listing the things I have been a part of.  It isn't that I am not proud of my work.  I am.  I just don't think people really want to know all that.  January, February and a smidgen of March of this year included roles in "The Laramie Project:  Ten Years Later."

A Visual for You

This show is like nothing I have never done before.  All the "characters" are not really characters at all but real people speaking their own words.  Nothing embellished.  Nothing fictional.  Just the truth from their perspectives and honest responses to probing questions.

It was magical.

And terrifying.

I have portrayed actual people on stage before, fictionalized accounts of historical figures.   There is nothing fictional about this show.  It is achingly painful misted with hope and a dash of despair.   Pain because of what was done to Matthew.  Pain because of the thorns that entangled the truth of the matter over the years.  Pain that a person can do something so terrible to another.

And pain because I know I am not so different.

Hope because out of anguish comes growth and change.  Hope because there can be beauty from ashes.  Hope because there is still goodness in humanity.  

And hope because I can do my small part to be the change I long for.

I recognize that I am being vague in my descriptions.  I suppose that is because I do not have the ability to articulate my reactions to being a part of something like this.  

My script

denial

recognition

swept under the rug

change

ignore

stories

A couple of weeks after the closing of this show I can tell you that what I have taken away from this is my own ability to configure my past to a story of my liking.  That I am so capable of twisting the truth was shocking to me but in order to live in truth I have to admit my shortcomings.  I want my mistakes to be dismissed.  I want my failings to be beautiful.  I do not want to acknowledge my own brutality...but that does not mean they are not there nor does it mean they did not happen.  

So what to do with that?

I come to the same word that has plagued me this past year:  Honesty

Own it.  Admit it.  Change it.  Be honest.

There is so much more to say but this post has become increasingly discombobulated so I will spare you the rest of my ramblings.   

Matthew Shepard