teefal

Once was a time I’d write *out* to the unknown sympathetic audience, to my journal and some future, to find sense to later share.

Now the audience is actually there, and immediate, and can *like* or retweet single sentences. MUCH scarier.

I keep having dreams of things I need to do
Of waking up and not following through
- Frank Turner

Six weeks of clench in my gut from playing “Beat the Clock” during billable programming hours, then afternoons of stress from mostly ignoring my five  long-term guilt trips, with the kind of fear that immobilizes, that has me watching Star Trek and playing Oblivion instead of doing what needs doing.  I’ve held it together for my billable gig, but after that, there’s been precious little left.

Today I woke with a fresh coat of hope, with a new realization that I need to feed my soul with unrestrained creative time, that without it I’m as likely to burn out as without rest.  I have a responsibility to the greater things, to the folds and twists and curves of the new.  It’s who I am, not what I do, I’m missing.

And so another post in this blog about what’s wrong and what next.  Perhaps a new beginning?

A summer of restful work, of catch-up, and now back to the passion play, to stuff that matters.

Haiti beckons with a chance to quadruple our earlier efforts. Nicaragua, DR, and Jamaica all look likely. Throughout is the returning worry that do-gooding is a distraction, that I oughtta be knuckling down soley with the good-paying meaningless stuff, that I oughtta do more than simply visit the land of the bottom line. For three years now I’ve focused mainly on children, largely ignoring better paying work.

“You know, it never has been easy, whether you do or you do not resign, whether you travel the breadth of extremities or stick to some straighter line.”

On one side you’ve got a smiling child and a ten dollar bill. On the other an impatient executive and a hundred dollar bill. Beyond these I imagine a life of promise for the child. For the executive, I imagine a year or two of effort replaced by yet another project, stripped of original vision, prompted by another’s ego. I also imagine financial stress versus material comfort.

Why not have both worlds? A heap of corporate with a helping of children? That’s the theory. In practice the reverse consistently happens. Whether a matter of discipline to police these proportions, or simply an impossibility . . . that’s the question.

Either way, I’m moving forward. Let’s see how well I do through autumn.

“You need more play-love.
The world needs a lot of love,
so you need love too.”

Weary as water, I’ve nearly made it through finances week, paying the bill for nine months of neglect. Media Lab rooftop with frosty reception and the week long wonder at why people blame.

“Forgive them Father for they know not what they do.”

How simple an idea, how deep in wisdom, how rare. We’re doing our best, so ease up everyone. Forgive immediately. What possible use is there in pointing fingers with clenched jaw? What hubris to believe your view is superior to those on the street.

“I will never give my life meaning by demeaning you.”

Comfortable in the believe that I’ve done everything I can do, at least with some, I’m still left with puzzlement and a bit of fear to continue in this climate … kudos, kontrol, and kash . . . the Kambridge way. I can do this. I’m built for it, at least on the outside. Underneath, I’m not sure it’s worth the cost.

The answer is always, “People are weak, especially when they’re strong.” And weakness is okay. It’s allowed. I was gifted with an example of this. Thirty years worth. Dad.

So that covers why, but does it help with whether to push through the unpleasantness to the goals and the dreams beyond? Of all talk of elephants and arrows, there’s still a reluctance, an understanding, an alternative. Is all this really worth it?

I guess it comes down to whether I’d like to prove something to Isabel or simply play with her.

They think they can tame you, name you and frame you
Aim you where you don’t belong
They know where you’ve been but not where you’re going
And that is the source of the songs
- john gorka

Back from Haiti and off to Maho, I’ve been blindsided by one group, wrongly accused by another, and praised by many that matter. Somewhere in the falling forward there’s a mess of emotions, which I hope to write about more. For now, here’s a kid who’ll be told he can’t:

Boston of another year, when we stayed in the surprisingly cramped hotel room near Copley, with nearby massively windowed Prudential mall, where we found the froggy scratcher, and my first Internet phone.

Today to the nearby Apple Store, three stories high, where I predicted, then instantly spotted the other StoryMill after buying earbuds again …. and walked.

Here I am in capitalist America, and I am as able at this jive as any, and yet not caring. Sitting on a winning lottery ticket, and not cashing it in.

The coffers are emptying, now six weeks down my pro bono Haitian tunnel of frustration and purpose.

With people waiting, and waiting, and all I get to feel is tired, and missed opportunity, and behind.

With a phone call, and another, and I’m off on what I should be doing, providing.

My history guides me with images and thoughts, of my mom in Haiti recovered, and Paula and me in the cramped hotel room.

No doubt now is another time I’ll miss, that will shape me and guide me.

In the subway, on my iPhone, with standing strangers around … I’m about through with this curious distaction of the last 33 months.

Seriously.

With Cambridge soon, and Bill on his way to help Haiti, it’s time for me to write again.

A week back from Washington DC now, I’m through my post-vacation work scramble for the most part. As usual, the week before and week after a trip completely nullify the rest benefits of the actual trip, which is why a real vacation needs three weeks: one to decompress and two to actually feel it.

The trip itself was a real marathon as well, though in the good “I choose this” way. Paula decided to take her spring break convention trip by herself, so Isabel and I decided to go to Washington to take in the sights. Paula was also there for the first three days of the seven. We took the bus & train down, which was pretty cool.

By marathon I mean “ten to five” solid walking & pushing. My calf muscles are still sore. We did the Aquarium the first day, the Natural History museum the second day, the Capitol the third, the Air/Space museum the fourth, a puppet show & the American History museum the fifth, the Mall & Tidal Basin & Washington Monument the sixth, and the Zoo & Lincoln Memorial the seventh. We stayed near the White House so several days we saw the front and back, along with the occasional helicopter and motorcade. Didn’t have security clearances so couldn’t get in.

Highlights for Isabel include the Spark Lab and Invention rooms in the American History museum. At one point I was trying to get her to leave and she started yelling, “I want to do science! I want to do science!”, which was quite effective. I let her stay. She also really like the video rollercoaster thing in the basement. Dinosaurs and rocket ships were of course a hit, as was the Zoo.

Most of all though, she loved the DOZENS of little kids she met and played with all week. She played tickle tag for an hour in the aquarium, she held hands with a Peruvian boy from the Jefferson Memorial to the Washington Monument, she held hands with another boy on the way to the zoo, etc, etc. Isabel’s got a real knack for bringing out the kid in kids. She can get a group having a good time in seconds, whether its on the subway or on the mall or in the Capitol cafeteria.