After publishing my latest blog, I thought it fitting to acknowledge the shortcomings of the masculine thereby revealing the powerful perfection within humanities imperfections. The thought came to me about the roles we play within our identities as male and female and it occurred to me that perhaps the difficulties that women face embracing their masculine are the same for men embracing their feminine. We’re expected to fulfill our roles as they’ve been passed down from one generation to the next. It makes me think of my dad, how I don’t recall ever hearing him tell any of his son’s that he loved us. Nor do I remember him being one to praise our good behavior. I’m guessing his father wasn’t strong in that department either. My Dad was a ginormous hulk of a man; I remember others being intimidated by his shear physical strength and size alone. I also recall his confidence, optimism, simplistic thinking, humor and loyalty to friends and family, traits that made him not just well liked, but often admired and respected for these qualities. He often appeared to me as a gentle giant, especially when he was around my Mom or my sister Dee. I always felt safe in his presence both alone and when around others. So why was it so difficult for him to express his feelings with us? Collectively I believe we’d all come up with a similar answer. Because it is or has been considered as a sign of weakness. I bring attention to the “has been” because times are changing. Often I think the pendulum of our collective sensitivity has begun to swing too far to the opposite side of the spectrum. It appears that the nature of humanities evolution is in the extremes that we’re required to experience in order for us to change. The Memes Extremes!? Many issues have become too politically or racially sensitive to even breach in conversation for fear of a ruined career or relationship. I for one don’t see an increased awareness and acknowledgment of a man’s’ sensitivity as a sign of weakness, just the opposite in fact. It seems to just happen naturally for some as they age, it’s called wisdom. Others that refuse to embrace change seem to harden their egotistical shell with time, becoming more rigid and cynical. We men have always been expected to be the providers, a powerful source and force for protection, retaliation and justice. Since becoming a Father and now a Grandfather myself, I know my dad loved us boys. He expressed himself the only way he knew how, by doing his best, being a hard-working role model, a protector and provider and when needed, the heavy-handed disciplinarian that was, shall I say, literally heavily handed down, generation to generation, father to son. Believe me, we often deserved some form of discipline. The unspoken language we project is much more powerful than the spoken word. When we learn how to listen, not just with our ears, but with our heart and soul as well, the spoken and unspoken become one and that my friend, is Real Power! When authentic expression of feelings, voice and action come together in unison, it becomes your personal strength, your Ace in the Hole, your luck of the draw, your true power. A book Josie discovered that has helped us tremendously to help strengthen our relationship through better communications is called “The five Love languages” by Gary Chapman. In my early twenties I got bored with my life and chose to follow my dad’s footsteps and became a United States Airborne Paratrooper. I didn’t care what else I did in the Army, I just signed on the dotted line to follow his big footprints for thrill seeking, travel and adventure. My hope and desire had always been to make him proud of me. I used to ask myself that question often (is he proud of me?) because toward the end of his life, I felt we’d gradually drifted even farther apart, if that was possible, because I was experiencing things we didn’t or for whatever reason couldn’t talk about, an awareness of Spiritual transformation that I was experiencing. I don’t recall ever hearing the words of approval I desperately yearned to hear from him. However, in hindsight I clearly remember when he and Mom would visit us where ever I was stationed while in the Army and remember his smile, his puffed out chest. His stories of his time in the Army and the obvious pride he felt for my own success following his lead. He was clearly speaking his own unique Love language and deep down I felt it. I hear his approval all the time now, because I am he, and he is me. This lack of self-awareness seems to be the common thread that is often severed, separating us from our loved ones because of our lack of shared beliefs and inabilities to truly listen. I love ya Dad and miss you. I’m grateful to have had such an awesome Dad. I’ve been reading a journal of a Dad I wish I’d have met before making his transition from this world. A great man, a loving husband, a proud father, a son, a loyal friend, a hockey player, a youthful and uninhibited free-spirit who loved to dance and loved even more being a Grandparent. If I were to have personally known him, I would have many more adjectives to describe him and why he is so deeply loved and missed. I can however tell you he was/is a beautiful old Spiritual Soul whose voice can still be hear because I’ve heard it. And once I learned it was his voice, we’ve since had many conversations. Allow me to explain. Years ago, we attended the unification of a very special couple. The brides Father was unable to attend because cancer had robbed him of this special blessed occasion. The father’s son performed a sweat lodge ceremony to honor and to bless these two beautiful souls as they were to become wife and husband. After the sweat lodge, I spread my body across the lush green grass feeling it’s cool embrace, the smell of earth and loam, the Sun’s warm comforting touch on my back was welcomed and I was filled with gratitude. While stretched out on the lawn, I told myself I was going to take one last deep breath before going down to the river and cleanse not just my body unbeknownst to me with the Irish Spring soap that would be provided, but also my spirit in the cool rushing waters. In the exact moment of taking in my last deep intoxicating breath, an owl called out and goose bumps radiated from head to toe as I exhaled. Later that day, I sat down with the father’s son whom I’d just met that day for the first time, the one who poured water for the sweat lodge and shared with him my story. He told me the Owl is one of his father’s most power Spirit Totems and that he was acknowledging my Being Here Now, introducing himself, welcoming me to his home and blessing me. He went on to say that I remind him of his father. The greatest compliment I could ever dream of receiving for this young man, what a gift! It’s moments like these that make lasting impressions on the soul, the heart and the mind, moments that can be recalled and comforting when life gets really shitty. Since that moment, every time I hear the Owl speak or I observe its powerful silent flight, we acknowledge each other. I tell him what a wonderful family he raised, and that he’ll never be forgotten. For his memory and legacy of a joyful life filled with family, friends and Nature all of which encompassed the loving lasting relationships he so relished, lives on within his children, grandchildren and the infinite beautiful Universe. I’ll close with some of his loving thoughts and words. “Beautiful! I pour a cup of coffee and sit to watch the morning unfold. The sun keeps coming – then a great blue heron flies over the river, east to west. One would guess she isn’t worried about all she has to do – or what happened yesterday, or what will happen later – but even with the easy pace of her wings, she seems to make her way with purpose, from the shaded side of the river, through the golden light, into the day. Remember: I found a place by the river to live. I had a wife and three children – they were beautiful and good. My mother and father were with me in my life, and sisters and brothers and many friends. –Bobby x>
Nature's G.A.S. Station 