This last day of the year
Stripped life of the hassles of living
Leaving the fortune of culture
Lining our pockets
The cubists and surrealists
Battled for our attention
With Leger hogging the show
Jasper stole my attention
Pablo held court
And I was just amazed at their artistry
That captivated eight, ten, sixteen, and seventeen
Year old gawkers
Whose sprint up the cinematic steps
Worried my high brow
Parenting sensibilities.

After fire spiced Cajun eats
The day was capped with a
Peaceful gathering
Of patience, forgiveness, and possibility
Making this last day of the year
A perfect eve
For the next

These days of vacation
Leave blank spots on the brain
Where important dates
Should be remembered
On this sixteenth anniversary of your birth
I wonder how fast
Time has passed
And what will become of your future
After the past you have known
I think it bright
You’re growing up
Leaving those crazy middle school emotions behind
Realizing the drama of the world
Is either self created
Or easily corrected
Or both
Your goals are clear
Well at least as clear as adolescent goals are
But I’m not worried
About you finding your way
Since you’re on the path already
So on this day
Where you should be eating cake
I hope you are
A big slice
Full of happiness
Excitement
And readiness
For the next chapters
Coming at ya’

Happy Birthday
I love you, Chach

Designed with art in mind

Intersections of life bringing such energy

Curves so pleasant to view

The surface allowing age

To show its beauty

The texture an inspiration

An intoxication

Image

Age is a stickler
Unless maturity reigns in
The absolute ridiculousness of youth
Believing that getting old
Is thinking oneself
Into antiquity
Yet the reality is that
The process of getting older
Makes stuff from the bouncing and bounding days
Harder to recover from
A marathon game of basketball today
Would have been a morning session
Back in high school
Soreness from squats
Would have been nothing more
Than minor bumps
Instead of stair gait altering kinks

But my mind is not ready to succumb
To the realities of getting older
Maybe I should think smarter
Scaling the crazy stuff
Like basketball by playing more within myself
And less like I remember
Thirty years ago
Maybe I should embrace the patience
Improvement requires as life nears fifty

No settling
No giving up
No sitting down and reclining into old age
Just smarter choices
To promote the movement
I so love

On this vacation day
When I’ve worked
And worked out
I’ve learned about atrophy
From taking time off
Hips withered
On the rack that the couch is
Sending my legs into columnar positions
That dream of Dali surrealism
While living the rigidity of rebar

Best not let the creeping stiffness win
Movement oils the hinges
Keeping those fibers sliding
Allowing plenty of room
For the hips to turn
Another week to go
Another week to reacquaint the muscles
With laxity
Of course that will come
Without be lax
On all these remaining vacation days

Days of promise
Jacked with good intention
Have potential for greater good
When opportunity is seized
And disappointment ignored
The illumination of optimism
Casts light to doubt
Allowing one to see a path
Where growth replaces stagnation
Enlightenment overtakes complacency
It’s these days of promise
Where the risk resides
In living without taking a chance
Without seeking change
Without finding the openness of heart
That frees a soul from negativity
Allowing bad to be better
Allowing good to be better
Allowing your greatness to make me better
It’s theses days of promise
That make living alive
Stirring selves into action
Outside of comfort zones
Bringing duty to a higher place
Elevating our consciousness
With meaning and purpose

Days of promise…

Of what did this birth bring
Endless commercials, economics, tension in the Middle East
I choose not to believe all that

I choose to believe
In the lessons of suffering
Forgiveness
Redemption
Knowing that the holiday
Is about my imperfections
And an ability
Rise above them
Persevering
For what is right
Sacrificing my ego
While trying to support the great weights
We all shoulder

I’m not worthy right now
For I am alone in this quest
Needing a trio of others
To feel as I do by
Knowing there is no end
Until new beginnings are started
But my selfishness
Treads against my desire
To do right for others
Allowing anger and helplessness
To rustle happiness and peace
Leaving a hole
Where one does not need to be

I pray lessons learned
Can be remembered
Lest the hole always be there

A new Christmas Eve tradition
Just enjoying a quiet recovery
From workout
Running with the dog
Three beers at the pub
And hanging with my wife
Wondering what it means to go Christmas shopping
Since that was done long ago
Nope
We would rather spend this eve
Under the good graces of family