Some moments are perfect.
Lie: Not A Widower
I wore Mary’s “Happy Happy Happy” t-shirt to yoga today. I got a couple compliments. I didn’t say, “Yeah, it was my wife’s.” I smiled, the words came to my lips, and I stopped. I would have been happy to share the guilty pleasure of watching Duck Dynasty with Mary and the boys and how she got all four of us Happy Happy Happy shirts. But these folks don’t know my story, or at least they don’t let on.
I don’t want to be a widower everywhere I go, or maybe not every damn day. But I am. I don’t always know how to communicate that. I’m not always ready to darken the mood and possibly ambush myself with memories.
I’ve met so many people and gone to so many new places this year that one would think I could have developed some kind of script. But it feels different each time. It gets me rambling (verbally or mentally) about the strange feelings of today set against the strange feelings of yesterday.
I don’t know if I have to get better at having secrets or more comfortable with sharing my story.
God bless and thank you for reading,
Jason
Love Is All You Need?
I’ve boiled my home education philosophy down to something like this. It wasn’t long ago that I consciously separated Love and Academics in my mind and life. Subconsciously, I always loved learning, yet didn’t recognize Love as a primary motivation for learning. The things I’ve become most skilled at have been due to love or the indirect/direct pursuit of love. As I discover more love for myself, I find it to be an infinite well from which I can deepen my motivation to learn.
Sharing this with my children is my central concern as a learning lifestyle facilitator.
God bless and thank you for reading,
Jason
#Repost from @onefitwidow:
I’m the first to tell you to live a fit life.
I’m the first to urge you to workout and eat well.
I’m also the first to tell you to LOVE yourself completely as you are NOW while you work on improving yourself.
It is possible to enjoy this life, your current place in it AND work on making improvements.
Don’t wait for some far off day to start loving life. Do it now.
Don’t wait.
You are so worth it.
Good morning world,
Michelle ❤️
Raising Rebels
One of the scariest thoughts as a parent is to guide your children to be suspicious of authority and confident enough to defy it when appropriate. Well, that doesn’t get scary until they figure out you’ve been the primary authoritarian in their lives.
They’re natural rebels. They exert their individuality before they can speak. We spend much of their early years bringing them under our control. There are a lot of good, loving reasons to do that. It takes a braver love to make room for their wings to form.
My sons are quickly becoming men. Not hardened by tragedy, but strengthened by it. They’re troublemakers and I love it, at least I try to.
Today Isaac found the Rage Against the Machine shirt I gave Mary years ago when we saw them at Lollapalooza.
Bombs. I was the bombastic one and Mary focused that energy in constructive directions. She listened to my wild ravings and ideas, honestly heard me like no one had before. Together we fashioned a life neither of us had envisioned, one based on love and support for each other and our children. A life that stopped asking for approval from the “norm.” We started rejecting the conventional concepts we had absorbed and taken for granted, thereby deschooling ourselves. It’s a continuing process. It’s fundamental to my self-improvement journey, rejecting assumptions and reevaluating what is helpful in my life and what is hurtful.
The journey feeds the rebel within me as I feed my little rebels.
God bless and thank you for reading,
Jason
p.s. – Twenty-six years on this still reads fresh:
“Bullet in the Head”
This time the bullet cold rocked ya
A yellow ribbon instead of a swastika
Nothin’ proper about ya propaganda
Fools follow rules when the set commands ya
Said it was blue
When ya blood was red
That’s how ya got a bullet blasted through ya head
Blasted through ya head
Blasted through ya head
I give a shout out to the living dead
Who stood and watched as the feds cold centralized
So serene on the screen
You were mesmerised
Cellular phones soundin’ a death tone
Corporations cold
Turn ya to stone before ya realise
They load the clip in omnicolour
Said they pack the 9, they fire it at prime time
Sleeping gas, every home was like Alcatraz
And mutha fuckas lost their minds
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say jump, you say how high
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say jump, you say how high
Run it!
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say jump, you say how high
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say jump, you say how high
Checka, checka, check it out
They load the clip in omnicolour
Said they pack the 9, they fire it at prime time
Sleeping gas, every home was like Alcatraz
And mutha fuckas lost their minds
No escape from the mass mind rape
Play it again jack and then rewind the tape
And then play it again and again and again
Until ya mind is locked in
Believin’ all the lies that they’re tellin’ ya
Buyin’ all the products that they’re sellin’ ya
They say jump and ya say how high
Ya brain-dead
Ya gotta fuckin’ bullet in ya head
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say jump, you say how high
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say jump, you say how high
Uggh! Yeah! Yea!
Ya standin’ in line
Believin’ the lies
Ya bowin’ down to the flag
Ya gotta bullet in ya head
Ya standin’ in line
Believin’ the lies
Ya bowin’ down to the flag
Ya gotta bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head!
A bullet in ya head!
A bullet in ya head!
A bullet in ya head!
A bullet in ya head!
A bullet in ya head!
A bullet in ya head!
Ya gotta bullet in ya fuckin’ head!
Yeah!
Yeah!
Bad Poop Happens, But Good Poop Happens Too
I’m not sure if I’d seen this picture before yesterday. I am sure I didn’t see Isaac’s arms wrapped as far around Michael Franti as he could manage. I didn’t see Franti’s hand pulling him in to soak up the love. Nor Franti’s smile as he reached out to share more love with our new friends.
My late wife, Mary, adored Franti. She was there in that moment. The hat was from her costume box and Isaac’s arms are full of her love. Now I see Franti’s bandana, a favorite Mary accessory on cleaning or camping days, in her favorite color.
Just a couple hours earlier I had channelled Mary’s bravada to sneak us into a VIP performance by Franti. We “owned it,” as she would say, and sat right in front of a small stage as credentials were checked and folks were ushered out. Franti talked about how his father had healed after years, likely generations, of trauma. We shared in the healing. These joyous, adventurous, wild moments always push up against our pain. It can feel like poison in a happy place, but I’ve learned that the dark colors spill into the bright ones to complete the spectrum, to make us more whole than before. The rainbow needs blue, indigo, and violet. It also needs all those unseen light waves, the ones that affect our world outside of our perception.
Mountain Jam was bigger than Mary, the circumstances, or our own exploits. God put innumerable pieces together for us and we bathed in blessings.
God bless and thank you for reading,
Jason
The I Don’t Know Project: How Do You Know Jess?
“Some of my best friends are widows,” sounds like a crass punchline, but it’s true. The things we share aren’t quite secrets, but they’re peculiar to those who have lost young spouses. Challenges, feelings, and strange wonderings that only single parents with grieving children can decode for one another. Rarified air indeed.
“So how do you know Jess?” casually asked at a social gathering. “I’ve got a dead wife and now I’m reminding you of her dead husband and yeah, sorry for killing the party.”
How do you get around that? You don’t. It’s there whether you want to be a “widower” tonight or not. Nope, can’t pretend to be normal, that would be a lie.
I’ve never been very good at “normal” anyway.
God bless and thank you for reading,
Jason
The I Don’t Know Project: How Are They Doing?
Westen is ten years old. He sat with me at our campsite this morning before anyone else got up. We talked generally about what “philosophy” was and I threw out some examples of big questions as I used a dictionary app to make sure I got my terms right.
He came to my bed this evening with his own big questions and big tears in his eyes. He wanted to know why humans were put on Earth. It wasn’t the only thing bothering him. We had an active weekend with some intense moments. He got to see the best and worst of my parenting. I’m sure he was wondering why some humans are taken away sooner than others too.
God bless and thank you for reading,
Jason
In This Moment
This is the wilderness part of the story.
I’m here with the sunrise. A thin fog charges, swirls, and glides over the surface of Nummy Lake. Constantly transforming, at times frantic and chaotic, at times unified and sweeping.
I thought I was waking for a show in the sky, but the air just over this water is right here with me. A symphony of silent movement. The wind picks up and tiny ripples catch the sunlight, thinning the fog as the morning warms.
I am right where I am supposed to be.
God bless and thank you for reading,
Jason
The I Don’t Know Project: Insecurity
How do I wrestle with the insecurities stirred up by dating mistakes and failures?
Grab my sons, and an extra boy or two, and head out for another Zerbey adventure. This weekend we’re camping, spending a day watching vintage beach racing, attending a fine craft festival, and firing new neurons while getting into just the right amount of trouble.
God bless and thank you for reading,
Jason
The I Don’t Know Project: Dating
I called it a dance yesterday. I didn’t even half-lament the circumstances that got me here. I was fully enjoying the absurdities and discoveries. And then I found myself being cruel. I didn’t exactly plan it, but I didn’t surprise myself either. I made a public show with an attractive female friend in front of an ex-lover. To what effect? Was I trying to hurt someone I love? It certainly didn’t come from a place of love or compassion. At best it was game-playing, an attitude I had denounced not 10 minutes previous.
I consciously chose to do the wrong thing. I don’t know how to make that right.
God bless and thank you for reading,
Jason