A Wish for the World

Christmas Eve is here. Here is Ocho Rios, Jamaica. Instead of preparing my traditional fare of holiday aromas and deliciousness for the family, I'm sitting in a relaxing leather chair with dark wood armrests, atop the crow's nest of the M.S. Zuiderdam.

The room is filled with plenty of suntanned faces I've never seen before. With a joyful announcement from the bar at the other end of the room that two-for-one happy hour specials are now in effect, several faces look even happier than they had minutes ago. I, too, am happy.... and sober. My tall glass of iced water is sweating on the wet and wrinkled cocktail napkin beneath it. In six days, I'll be toasting my 7th anniversary of sobriety. I may even get fancy on that day by adding a lemon slice to my water glass.

From the looks of the room, as we leave the port and head in the direction of the sunset, tall sweating glasses of iced water are the only thing that don't quite qualify for the two-for-one festivity. Seems they're even void of the complementary bowl of mixed nuts. Still, with the singing laughter coming from the bar, I raise my glass with a festive cheer and a smile that is all mine.

Bon Voyage, Merry Christmas, and Peace for a world that could use more than its share of two-for-one servings of love as we close out this year and begin 2017. Do whatever you can to make a difference in someone's day, even if only to share an eye-to-eye smile with a stranger. Open your arms... the world could use a hug. Love to all.

Farewell Token With a Wink

Blackstar

Just as it does each morning, my alarm woke me at 5AM. Lying in bed on that Monday morning, just before my feet hit the cool floor, I laid in the dark while reading the message in my day's first email. In an emotional awe, I again read and reread the short email over and over, "Have you heard the news about the passing of an absolute genius and legend?"  I was stunned.  Just hours after I had spent most of the weekend listening to several albums from his classic library, David Bowie was dead.

David Bowie's Blackstar album arrived in the mail yesterday afternoon. This morning I carefully unwrapped the cellophane from the CD and paired it with a fresh cup of coffee for my 6AM commute. I was not disappointed. Blackstar is an album of incredible artistic integrity, beauty, voice, and pure creative experimentation. Plenty has been written following the news of Bowie’s passing about this being his planned farewell gift to his fans. In hindsight, Blackstar certainly plays out in that fashion, and it does so as only Bowie could deliver with genius vision and originality. Blackstar is a masterpiece.

My long commute was nearly the same length as the cd. As I was nearing the campus-parking garage, I noticed the car a good distance in front of me, wondering if what I thought I saw really was. With the red traffic light ahead, I closed the gap between that car and mine. Just as I was the week before, I found myself in awe once again before the sun had a chance to rise. It turns out that my distance vision hadn’t played tricks on me after all. Reading the license plate, I shook my head in disbelief, turned up the music just a bit more, and smiled.

Tokens are gifts. Thank you, Starman.

Ziggy

Reflecting on the Visual Storytellers

In preparation for writing this reflection, I took some time to reflect on what this course has meant to me as an instructor. In short and technically, the course was truly not much different than most other courses. It was as simple as: complete assignments to earn credit.

I saw the girl with the flag, and I knew I had to tell her story.

Since each of my students was asked to cover the same event, I requested one thing from each of them from the start of the semester… to just share their story. During those few weeks before the race, they were to explore numerous processes through several assignments that were meant to challenge them to step outside of their comfort zone. They were also encouraged to take a different look at those things commonly around them.

Upon the UCI Road World Championships arriving in Richmond, I encouraged them to take what they learned in the weeks prior and capture the international event through their individual vision and stories.

What most of them delivered was a collection of shared light, texture, motion, and spirit. They shared Richmond and VCU. They shared friends and strangers, days turning into night, and on occasion, nights into days. They shared emotions, and color, and life in the spotlight, but also the ever-important life of those behind the scenes and far, far away from the stage. They shared the quiet, the loud, and the heart of an urban environment. They shared the details of the beauty often hidden behind the grit. They shared the energy of the world, all taking place in a town that each of us calls home. These are just a sampling of the things that I have seen through the incredible and honest work of my students.

When I proposed the concept for this course last spring, it seemed like an interesting and fun idea. On paper, it was simple. Capture and document the event using a mobile device solely. Technically, that was the assignment. What they delivered, however, was far more than I could have ever imagined. The photographs and words they shared during the six-week course are a genuine and remarkable reflection of their passion for creating. It was also a reflection of themselves.

What gives them strength? Maybe a spiritual power, or maybe the thousands of hours they have put into their honing their skills and stamina. And as a result, the real race may just be another trial session for them.

There was a remarkable visual story shared with the world during this course, and each of my students was the storyteller.

I am grateful for such a rewarding opportunity to be involved in this project. Thank you to VCU, to VCU ALT Lab, to the VCU Robertson School of Media and Culture, and especially to my students. For me to say that I am proud of what was accomplished during this course would be an absolute understatement.

In the end, we each leave behind a story. Without it, how will we ever share where we've been? Keep your eyes open as you continue to capture and tell your own story.

Look for the good in your day.. Then share it.

Threads of Love and Patches

He and Patches

Well-loved

I've spent a good portion of today picking up remnants throughout the house.

Patches is a part of our family and one of Zero's favorite playmates. Patches is truly living up to his name these days. He is missing several toes on one paw. Another paw is missing altogether and his stubby tail is split in numerous places. He has a busted nose, several missing whiskers, a limp leg, and lots of facial scars. It's real important that you speak up and very clearly when you talk to Patches because he's also missing an entire ear. Gone. What was at one time his lasso or a fancy adornment of some kind that he held with his right paw, now displays like some sort of major artery ribbon flowing out from his wrist. Yep, this is the arm that is totally missing a paw. Once again... gone.

A plus for Patches is that his squeaker still holds a great tune. Zero tests it often when he frequently and triumphantly runs throughout the house tooting continually his favorite song du jour like some master blues harmonica player. Zero's grand performance generally concludes with his big chest raised high while he tosses Patches from side to side with his climactic one-two, one-two high step big march finale. Epic pretty much sums it up.

Zero greeted me this morning as I toweled off from my shower. Just as quickly as he darted in to check on me, he hurriedly turned around and left. Before I was able to finish drying off and hang the towel, he raced back into the bathroom with his friend. Laying Patches at my feet, Zero then sat patiently with his big eyes staring straight at mine. With a quick toss of Patches to the next room, a flash of high-energy adrenaline and excitement followed the path of the airborne Patches.

Waiting Patches

I've picked up plenty of red threads today. This tells me that Patches' days may be numbered. We've had a who's who cast of lovable likes to Patches over the years. Some have had longer stays than others, but they have all been dearly loved. Once their stuffing makes an appearance though, Zero and I together say farewell as I tuck them deep into the trash can to avoid any miraculous escapes.

There's a far greater tale here than one of a pup and his worn out, thread shedding toy. The truer picture is what all of those single threads represent. Threads are like single strands of love that help to create the fabric. This pup loves happiness. He loves each day ....every day... and the entire day. He loves the simplest of moments, he loves smiles and laughter and pleasing others, he loves being loved AND more importantly than anything else... Zero loves, loves, loves to love back.

Perhaps we can all learn a little something from a few tattered threads. Peace, and goodness, and a life of days filled with loose threads and worn out Patches.

Threads of love

A Fifty Cents Blessing

Winter Light

Stepping away from my truck, I was approached by a man today. He was life-worn, middle-aged, and layered with clothing. Plenty of it, sheltering himself the best he could from the day’s wind chill of 0 degrees. “Sir,” he asked. “Could I bother you for 50 cents?” Carrying no money on me, my reply was honest. “Thank you anyway,” the man replied as he turned and walked away. A frigid wind gust blew as I pulled my scarf tighter around my body. Watching as the man moved further away from me, I yelled out, “Sir!” as I jogged toward him. “I don’t have any cash, but I’d be happy to buy you a sandwich.” He paused a moment before replying that that would be nice. “Maybe tuna fish would be good. I’d like that.” I invited him to follow me.

The two of us walked into the nearby restaurant. He was quiet and seemed a little uncomfortable as the two of us stood at the counter. “How about a large cup of coffee?” I asked. “And how about a hot bowl of soup to go with your sandwich?” He slightly smiled, accepted my offer, and told me he was homeless. “Yes sir” I replied as I patted him on the shoulder. He used the word “blessing” several times as we waited for his hot meal.

Our short time together came to an end as I handed him the large brown paper bag filled with a tuna salad sandwich, a large hot bowl of noodle and chicken soup, a bag of potato chips, and a large coffee. Both sides of our parting conversation included that blessing word again. He shared a casual life worn smile with me as he thanked me. “You’re certainly welcome,” I told him. “You take care of yourself.” Holding his bag firmly, he slowly walked out the door.

There was no overthinking the event of today. I just followed my heart. With the day now behind me, I remember my father helping families numerous times even when Dad himself was disabled and unable to work. My father’s ails or lack of extra funds didn’t matter. Helping someone in need solely for the sake of making his or her day a little better was the only thing that ever mattered. Lesson learned.

Perhaps not having two quarters in my pocket today was also a blessing.

Growth and Child Games

Opportunities present themselves and provide growth. Growth is knowledge, experience, self-discovery, and eye, heart, and mind opening. Occasionally, that opportunity thing requires a late night or two, maybe even three… and often those extended evenings begin as a morning start before the sunrise. Moving in a forward direction is a powerful motivator.

Franklin Terrace

Six years ago today, I began my career at Virginia Commonwealth University. It was an opportunity for me to welcome and explore all of those things above and more. Since that day in 2008, I’ve expanded my skills, my list of influential life-changing people, my patience, my love for common everyday moments, and my passion to continually absorb knowledge while graduating with two Master’s degrees from VCU.

Opportunity often reminds me of the children’s game hide and seek. Rare is it that it comes looking for you. It does, however, love and invite you to take the initiative to search for it.

Tag... you’re it.