I Want To See It

I want to see the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

I want to walk around it’s white marble and leaning arches and pretend like I’m holding it up with one hand. 

I want to see the Eiffel Tower.

I want to ride the elevator up and up and up into the sky while watching the City Of Light become smaller as I rise.

I want to see the Roman Colosseum. 

I want to walk where people once gathered to watch the spectacle of combat and imagine the Naumachiawhere the Colosseum would be flooded and naval battles held. 

I want to swim in the cerulean waters of Santorini

I want to feel the cool waters all around me and watch the white and blue and pink palette of colors on the buildings bob onshore. 

I want to see the world. 

Hear its natural sounds in the jungles and mountains. Hear the sound of a toucan call, an elephant in the distance, the crack of a glacier. 

I want to eat in cafés. 

I want to look at a menu and not know what any of it means. Then order something and enjoy the new flavors and aromas and leave not knowing what I even ate. 

I want to meet new people. 

I want to walk down a new street looking for, nothing. Then meet a local who can point me in the right direction. 

I want to learn new words. 

Food words. Swear words. Words that I can use. Some I probably shouldn’t. Words to describe the sunset. Words to say Hello/Goodbye/Thank you for letting me visit. 

I want to do all of these and more. 

But what I want to see the most, right now, is for all of us to remember to take care of each other.

To Stay Home.

             Wash our hands.

                  Wear a mask.

                     Stay 6 feet apart.

Until this, all of this, gets better. So we can see it all together. 



In These Times

It’s been difficult. Right? These times.

It’s been difficult to figure out what to do, what to feel, what to think when we watch tv or read the stories on the internet feeds of our friends and “those you may know” telling us who is doing what and why this person is an asinine capital A-hole and to just try to relax, wear your mask and hope this will all go away.

It’s been difficult to wake up, even though our eyes open and our bodies tell us activity must be done.

The laundry piles up in the basket, in the corner, on the bed and another day goes by when we start to wonder if we’re coughing because we got La Rona or if because the funk of a few weeks of quarantine days gone by have finally reached unsanitary levels.

These times, these unprecedented time of empty shelves and empty cupboards where First World abundance overflowed.

These times, where the true leaders are the ones everyone ignored or tipped poorly because their food didn’t come out fast enough, or hot enough, or their refuse wasn’t picked up on the right day.

These times, when the Front Lines are protected and held by those who fight un/under-equipped, but with the power of their spirits and hearts and will to do “all in my power to maintain and elevate the standard of my profession”. They, who are there Every. Time.

These times, though difficult, will pass to “remember when?”.

But this time, remember gratitude, remember love, remember the sun will rise and the laundry will get done, eventually. Remember it’s okay to feel scared, stressed, frustrated and to watch that next series or movie or complete that next puzzle. Let your feelings come during these times. It’s time to feel them.





A Toast, To Write

Ernest Hemingway once wrote,

Write drunk, edit sober.” 

Problem is, according to several sources, including his daughter Mariel, he never said that. He didn’t even practice it, according to the same sources.

Jack Kerouac was said to have written one of the greatest American novels ever, one that is loved and read, reread and regarded as inspiration to countless writers, On The Road in a three week nonstop Benzadrine, alcohol and caffeine infused jam-session of words and furious spontaneous bop-prose atop an Underwood. Letting the inspiration flow through him like divine elightenment from Buddha’s blessed touch and onto a single, 120 foot long scroll.

In just 20 days.

20 days.

The only thing is,  Kerouac was said to be a supreme craftsman. Taking time to think about, journal, write and rewrite his works over time.

So which way is the right way to write?

Drink a little, or a lot, or none at all?

The answer is not what most folks who want to be Writers like to hear.

“If you want to be a Writer, just write. There’s no magic to it.” – Albert Brooks 



Right Now, I’m Breathing In

I took a yoga class yesterday.

It was the fourth yoga class in my lifetime and fourth in the last year.

My bride encouraged me to go. Actually, she’s the one who took me to my first yoga class.

The first was hard. I don’t know how people can make fun of people who do yoga. It’s no joke. I shook involuntarily, I sweat buckets, I ached and almost cried. Then Shavasana came. I did it. And she was proud of me.

The second class she took me to, was a hot yoga class. The third was also.

Hot yoga class is an unnatural pain I have never experienced, nor want to ever experience again. I couldn’t breathe, I was sweating buckets, again, as soon as I walked in the door. My skin felt like it was on fire. Luckily, the deluge of sweat pouring from my skin seemed to put out the flames. I’m pretty sure I died. Then Shavasan came. And she was proud of me.

The fourth class was a Restore class. This one I went to alone. By myself. My bride wasn’t with me. I wasn’t going to go. But she encouraged me to do it. She believes in me.

This class was different. Cooler, calmer, softer. The room was filled with flute music and a soft blue light that reminded me of photos of the inside of glaciers. We were guided through many poses, but stayed in them longer. There was no pain, no aches, maybe a single drop of sweat. This was good.

And through it all, the teacher offered us this mantra, “Right now, I’m breathing in. Right now, I’m breathing out.”

In the craziness that is work, life, love, parenting, driving in traffic and planning meals, I was given the gift of presence.

“Right now, I’m breathing in. Right now, I’m breathing out.”

The teacher gave me the gift of a mantra. My bride, who encouraged me to go to the class, gave me the gift of belief. She believes in me.

And now, as I write this, I breathe in, I breathe out.

Breathe with me and receive the gift

I’m Writing This Because

This is how I want to end 2019.

Typing away on my keyboard and letting thoughts flow out of me like, what I wish was water from a broken dam, but in reality is like sap from a tree in the dead of Winter.

But the words come out and flow and drip and play with my cursor and keep going because that’s how I want to end this year. Writing. Typing. Flowing and moving and earning them ‘writing gains, bro!’.

I’m writing now because I didn’t yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that. But I did my journal, and my One Question A Day journal and I typed word on this computer but for someone else, not me.

These words are for me now. Because this is how I want to end 2019 and start 2020.


So I type and try not to think about the words that are on the page and worry about what the meaning is or how they’ll be interpreted and taken and thought about. I type and let my fingers flow onto the little black keys with the little white symbols that, when struck, will turn in to some meaning and some words or paragraphs or stuff.

Because I want to write. This is why I’m doing this today.

2019 was a year of successes and failures. Hard ones. Both of those. So now it’s coming to an end, but the forward movement won’t. Because I’m writing this. Today. Right now. At the end of 2019 and in to the beginning of 2020.

Writing my New Year into manifestation, existence, purpose, being, doing, happening. Adelante!

So with a tip of my hat, if I was wearing one, and a nod of my head I lift my Christmas gifted Glencairn glass of Hibiki Japanese Harmony whisky and say,

‘Thanks 2019. For all the love and pain and Art and laughter and lessons. Thank you for pointing out to me the things I still need to work on in me, my Art, my heart and mind. Thank you for the time.’

And this is why I’m writing this. To say ‘Goodbye’ to 2019 and ‘Hello’ to 2020. But I’m putting it in writing. With my fingers and keys and cursor flying across the white plains of the pixeled paper.

Writing it. Doing it. Because it’s time. Time to write these words and many more to come. Because 2020 is almost here and there is no better time to write than now.