The Everyday Human

July: On Family

July 9

Expectations are dangerous things. 

Let’s let people be who they are, take the bad with the good, and love them for it—not for who you expect them to be.

• Reflection title: What Did You Expect?
• Creative inspiration:  Shel Silverstein,  "A Cat, A Kid, and a Mom"
• Reflection question: Do I love my family for who they are? Or am I holding them to unrealistic expectations in my mind?

July: On Family

July 8

The importance of conversing with or just listening (or crying) to someone older and wiser than you cannot be overstated. We as humans, at first glance, might seem quite different from each other, but scrape past the surface, even just a little bit—and you’ll see just how fundamentally similar we all really are. That’s a beautiful thing—to understand that we are the same, no matter what we look like or where we come from or what we believe. That our differences are largely manufactured or perpetuated and exacerbated by those in power to retain control. And also to understand that those who have come before us have already gone through everything we’re going through now and still found ways past the challenges, still found ways to survive against seemingly insurmountable odds, and still found ways to be happy and find love in a world that sometimes feels so full of hate and pain—in a world that can often feel like God is out of town and the universe cares nothing for our menial existence.

If you are fortunate enough to have a mother or father or similar figure—a grandparent or older friend—someone who’s been here a little while longer, someone who saw a little more than you, someone who is willing to share their knowledge and experience of their existence as a human on this planet—do yourself a favor, admit that you don’t know it all and get ready to learn—and someday, you’ll be that person for someone younger. 

• Reflection title: Listen, Learn, Teach
• Creative inspiration:  Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
• Reflection question: Do I have an older, wiser person I can speak to and learn from? Can I be that person for the younger generation?

July: On Family

July 7

For all the moments playing outside in the grass at a family get together—the sun glinting off each drop of water from the sprinkler, the high-pitched yells and laughs of children being children, those quiet moments sitting at a table, working on a puzzle with tea and hot chocolate, or reading a book in bed next to your partner, knowing in that moment you are safe and your only obligation is to exist—for all of these, there are moments of pain—either awaiting you or happening to someone else—loss, anger, grief. 

It’s foolish to believe you’ll be spared any of it. For joy to exist on one side of the coin, pain must exist on the other. What you get is just a matter of the toss.

So when you are with them, tell those you cherish that you love them, for soon . . . they, or you . . . will be gone.

• Reflection title: You’re Nobody’s Fool
• Creative inspiration:  Eastin DeVerna, Lux: From the Kingdom of Darkness
• Reflection Question: Have I ever laughed so hard I cried? Am I taking the bad with the good—understanding both are a part of life—and telling my family I love them every chance I get while I’m still here?

July: On Family

July 6

As you grow, as seeds of independent thought and choice sprout in your mind, and as you are able to shelter and feed yourself, things inevitably change. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. Again—neither good nor bad, just life. And as you meet people who show you different perspectives and teach you different ways of life, your heart opens up to the fact that should you desire to, or for your own health and well-being, should you need to—you have the ability to create a new family of your own. This can be through friends, partners, lingering artifacts from the family you were born into—it can be a beautiful collage of existing relationships or it can be a painting on a blank canvas that you sat down to paint without even knowing how to hold a brush.

And this family, whether you were born into it or created it—should and must give you hope.

Though you were brought here helpless and at the whims of fate, just remember there comes a time when you will have the power to push fate aside and take the reins.

• Reflection title: Who’s Driving This Thing?
• Creative inspiration:  Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin
• Reflection Question: Am I helpless and at the whims of fate when it comes to my family? Or am I in control of my own life?

July: On Family

July 5

I’ve been fortunate enough to travel the world. I’ve been to around 15-20 different countries (lost track). I’ve met fascinating people from four different continents, and I’ll always remember them and the people I traveled with. But without fail, every time I’m away, and as much as I’m busy appreciating the different people, landscapes, architecture, food, music, and cultures, I think of home. And a part of me longs to be back there with those who make it a home. I’m lucky for that, I know it.

Going on a journey does this to you. If you’re fortunate enough to have a safe and welcoming home and family, it reminds you of what you have—that there will always be people there waiting to welcome you back. If you don’t have that—the journey’s purpose is to help you find it (and if you are in search of one, I hope you do).

Travel if you can—it doesn’t have to be a trip around the world, but just get away from home for a little while. Get away from the routine and the day-to-day. Take a journey and let it change you in big or small ways.

Travel miles and miles and miles in search of what you need if you must, but then return home to find it.

• Reflection title: Search and Find
• Creative inspiration:  George Augustus Moore, The Brook Kerith
• Reflection Question: Am I searching for something outside of my home and family? What is it I need? And what do I have here, right in front of me that makes me whole or not whole?

July: On Family

July 4

I blink. No way. Is that really my dad? Is that really what I think it is in his hand? The thing they’ve taught me never to do—the thing that just killed my grandma down in Florida? No fucking way.

But it’s true. There he is, right in front of my eyes, just laughing and sipping and puffing away. I run up to him, ask him what he’s doing—he says something, but I don’t know what he’s saying. Doesn’t really matter, and I ball my hands into fists and start hitting him in the legs before I run out the door into the dark night, looking for . . . what? I haven’t the slightest.

But the glass shatters. The veneer peels. The god falls.

I turn to see if he’s following me out the door—maybe I’m not looking for anything or anyone else, maybe I just want him to drop the bottle and the butt and follow after me, telling me it’s not what I think, that he was just holding it for a friend. But he doesn’t look back—eyes on the blonde lady, laughing, smoking, drinking.

And I begin to wonder what else he does when he thinks I’m not looking, or when I’m not around. This godlike figure who can do no wrong . . . apparently can.

Years later, I’ll know it was just a cigarette, but I’ll also know that horrible infections can start with a small scratch, and that one tiny nibble from the wrong bug can kill a great and tall tree.

And as I stand there in the dark, I may not realize it right away . . . but from that day on, I’ll never look at my father the same way again.

• Reflection title: The Gods Will Fall
• Creative inspiration: John Steinbeck, East of Eden
• Reflection Question: Knowing that neither I or my family are perfect—that we are all fallible humans—what will I do with that knowledge? Can I still forgive, even when the veneer has been stripped and the glass has been shattered and the god has fallen? 

July: On Family

July 3

Jobs, social status, privilege—all this too can change a person, and it often does. It can lead to an emotionally shallow family dynamic. It can make actions that once were filled with joy and intention become absurdly performative—like ticking off a box on a checklist.

Don’t save genuine feelings or forgiveness for a fancy meal, or trip, or holiday—try to remember the times when you relied on each other. When you loved each other. Before all that other stuff came in and got in the way. If it doesn’t work out—and it might not—that’s okay. That’s life, remember? But at the very least, you can say you tried.

• Reflection title: Remember Where You Came From
• Creative inspiration: Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance
• Reflection Question: Have I lost the thread of family? When was the last time I was genuine and true with my family?
  
  

July: On Family

July 2

I don’t know if it will ever happen. And whatever—I don’t care if it’s idealistic to hope for it. I’m a writer. Part of my job is to literally dream up better worlds (after putting my characters through hell, so it goes). But if we can begin to see ourselves as a family—doesn’t have to be a perfect one either, all families have their issues, but one bound together by something greater—then maybe the distance between us won’t seem so far and things will change for the better. And not in some heaven-like utopian way, but in the small, everyday moments where empathy replaces fear, and kindness and understanding replace anger and ignorance. 

Families offer hope . . . and since we’re all one big human family, well, here’s to hoping.

• Reflection title: Go Ahead, Get Idealistic
• Creative inspiration: Mary Oliver, "At the River Clarion"
• Reflection Question: How do I treat my extended human family? Do I see them as others? Or as brothers and sisters? 

July: On Family

July 1

The month of June, On Conflict and Courage is over. That brings us to July and the new topic of On Family.

It doesn’t matter who or what it is that you call family. The world is big, wide, and beautiful, but without family, it can be small, isolating, and crushing. 

What matters is that whoever they are, your family brings you light in the dark and keeps you warm in the cold. And that you do the same for them.

• Reflection title: What’s in a Family?
• Creative inspiration: André Maurois, The Art of Living
• Reflection Question: Who is my family? Who would do anything for me? And in turn, who would I do anything for?

June: On Conflict and Courage

GoFundMe for my wife's cancer fund:

https://gofund.me/3682c6720

June 30

 Do yourself a favor and learn this lesson while you can from those who came before and learned it for us. Death and pain and confrontation are inevitable. They’ll come for you no matter what. They’re coming for you right now whether you say what must be said or betray yourself with small silences. You’re better off getting the words out. Speak your truth, for others—those you wish to help and protect—and for yourself.

Start small if you must. Unlock that cage, let a few words out at a time. You’ll watch the silence wither and you’ll see speaking the words of your heart will help put your fears in perspective. It will teach you more about others, the world, and yourself. 

It will give you a great strength. 

• Reflection title: Silence Is a Paper Shield
• Creative inspiration: Audrey Lorde, "The Transformation of Silence into Language and Action"
• Reflection Question: What truth have I been afraid to speak? And what or who am I so afraid of that I would lock the words of my soul away?