It's Christmastime

That time of the year is here again. And with it, I look forward to seeing those I love in the next week. I'm counting on those days being filled with plenty of soul-filling goodness: puppy kisses and wagging tails, teary-eyed laughter, reading, studying, loads of fab music backed by a tad more groovy tunes, and a dinner and movie date (heck, maybe even two). It's Christmastime.

As another year passes, another one of promise and dreams will begin just behind it. Seems I'm still the same kid that would loudly sing along to his favorite song as it played through the single mono speaker on that lime green portable AM radio.... the one with the matching lime green wrist strap and the retractable chrome antenna. I still dream. I still laugh to myself ...and frequently laugh at myself. I'm still curious about life and sometimes wonder what if? ...what happened? ...where are they? …and often just a simple why? Why?

Through it all, it seems that I'm still defining me. Why would I ever stop? Each day is a gift, a lesson, an opportunity to smile at someone; not that plastic smile.... but the real eye-to-eye contact kind of smile. Those are the ones that count and the ones that really make a difference. I don't want to search or define reasons to create something new.... I just want to create with the hope of maybe leaving something of value, purpose, and good behind. It doesn't need to be extravagant or epic or life-changing either. Just make it real. That promises to make all the difference.

Looking back, I love the simple dirt under my fingernails, blue-collar, work-hard-every-day upbringing that I came from. It was genuine and provided me with the perfect starting point for my unusual, let's take this turn, roundabout, where the hell are you headed path that has brought me to where I am today. Five years ago, along that very path, I gifted myself with sobriety. It was the most humbling and honest soul-searching I have ever experienced. I awake blessed, thankful, and alive each morning. I dig this place.

I really loved that spark and spirited, song singing, love everyone, always smiling, creative kid that I used to be. I hope he's still the same and never loses that.

Love and stuff... It's Christmastime.

Good Stuff Through Curiousness

I shared a classroom with more than 100 creatives this semester. We debated, laughed, conversed, and more than a few times confronted our personal comfort zones. They were challenged, inventive, and at times hesitant to share their authentic voice. But when they did, it made the difference.

With the fall semester coming to a close this week, I’ve been reviewing and grading student blogs over the past few days. Stellar stuff, relief, and joy seem to be a constant running sentiment for most of their exit posts. My takeaway is that I am beyond thrilled that we made such a difference in turning the creative light on, or at least engaging it a bit further for so many of our students. Their work is imaginative, inspiring, daring, and personal.

Project 54

While writing each of their final critiques, I'm making an effort to take the time to share the love, the celebrations, and the happy dance congratulations for their commitment to developing their own unique and creative voice. They not only developed that voice, but each of them also shared it with their individual flair and creativity with the world.

This semester has been an incredibly motivating ride. What else would you expect from a course titled Curiousness? I easily took as much away from the past four months as they did. Surround yourself with inspiring people. In the end, it matters.

Congratulations to each of my students. You rocked the good stuff… and good stuff is simply that.

Casual Ordinary

The morning

Time never pauses.

Moments become years and then quickly pass with only a blink. Recently, I attended the memorial service for someone who walked through my life and left a mark. It was a good mark, one of love, one of goodness, one of spirit, and one that was always full of human originality. This was the third service I'd attended in a little less than two years.

These celebratory, we'll miss you kind of services seem far more frequent than I'd prefer. As more and more yesterdays hurriedly pass me by, I suppose that's to be expected. Each service is always for someone I'd spent far more casual, ordinary days with than monumental, memorable moments. In the end, it's those regular days that seem to matter the most anyway.

Even for those that I lost touch with for a few years... some even more than that, recounting all of those shared days of laughter is always the greatest of reunions. Memories like those are the most genuine, honest, and in their own unique way, oddly tangible. Regardless if you can see them or not, just hold and keep them safe.

Time never pauses.