It’s not me, it’s me, but in the end it’s all about you.
What is this “pseudo- Sussian” madness? A spiral, a decent building upon itself in layers of cacophony… general sound and fury, signifying… well… Everything.
There is a subtle madness to this method we call life. It’s more than just a journey we take… sometimes loud, sometimes at volumes nearly imperceptible to even ourselves. It all depends on who’s listening. This taken journey leads us around bends and down highways stretching for miles (sometimes in the wrong direction) leading us in logic circular (yet, strangely perpendicular) to our own interpretations. The spiral begins to take shape.
It can’t be defined, because in the end, Uncertainty is the only thing that is certain.
There exists in everyone an appetite that is never satisfied. An unquenchable thirst that finds its way to the banquet table of possibilities and aspirations, and fights for the seat closest to the front, or the exit depending on the flavor of the day. The main course, a hearty slice of minced meat, or a succulent appetizer of carelessly chosen minced words. Both are food for the soul… devoured at the moment, for the moment — some call it mood…
I Call it Motive.
People, circumstances… they drive us to the conclusions we reach for in ourselves. We hope we extend high enough to see the sun. A father’s arms are ever reaching. I know that my father would always try to reach high enough to see his son.
Something that always struck me about my father was his ability to remind me that you can never truly lie to yourself. Never lie to the man in the mirror. “At the end of the day, this is who you need to be real with… an image of integrity and honesty poured out over reflection. In reflection, I see the words he said mirrored in my own life… leading me to my own conclusions. The ever expanding spiral reaches onward. The question asks, no… Begs to be told…
Who I do see when I look in the mirror staring back at me? Is this the man I want to be?
The questions continued. As growing up, I would follow him around as he would show me all the work he had accomplished. A hard working man, a smart man, who knew how to always put a smile on the face of anyone within his reach. His reach had the ability to touch lives. He was both a coach to a women’s volleyball team, a principal, and an incredible athlete. Even known as a famous fast-pitch softball player, just ask his room full of trophies and the gold medals… not for fame and fortune, mind you, but by recognition from an appreciative source that saw the value in what he could bring to his team. Even now, I am reminded to strive every day to bring that level of value to my team, even when (often) they don’t acknowledge or appreciate it in me. The sweetest merits of the reward are found in the journey… the spiral continues.
Some of the best times I could remember with my dad were when he would drive me to the ball games. Alabama playing “Dixieland Delight” on the stereo of his baby blue 500SEC Mercedes, and me just riding happily along, all content in my own head, for the ride, simply enjoying the spiral.
There was a particular spot we would drive thru on the way that offered the best Philly cheese steaks in town… made even better with the company I was keeping. When we arrived to the stadium, seats would already be filling up and I would always find myself beaming with anticipation. I took my spot in the dugout, was greeted by the players, and waited for the show to begin. The crowd would settle, we would all rise for the National Anthem, and the familiar echo would reverberate throughout the stadium, “Play Ball!” I just loved the way that would sound. As the players took their place around the field, my father would make his way to the pitcher’s mound. My father was an amazing pitcher. To see him in action was quite a sight, even his wind-up was impressive. He had a way of delivering the ball, by rotating his arm in a clockwise motion just so, and then stepping ever so slightly to the side, then sending the ball rocketing toward home plate at speeds of over 88 miles per hr. (Yes, it was timed and documented to be so). He even demonstrated his abilities before a crowd of thousands at a vast arena before a pro basketball game with such speed and agility — In my mind, the spiral personified.
It was my job to be the batboy, a monicker I wore with pride. Looking back, with so many eyes on me, at the time, you would have thought, I would be nervous… but I wasn’t. During breaks of batboy rotation, I would walk around, always trying to catch the eye of some pretty girl in the crowd, and relish the moment of her smile, after all, I was the batboy!
Often times, I would take a ball with me, and circle the perimeter of the field, rolling the ball forward and the chasing after it, only to throw it again. A familiar and comforting ritual I had come to enjoy since childhood. Getting lost in the moment. The times now take me to moments of rolling the ball forward in my own life, and catching up to it, only to chase after it again. Hoping those moments come back, hoping for the spiral. I took it all in, and throughly enjoyed every moment I had to spend with my dad.
He owned a successful construction company… one that he built with his own 2 hands. Literally, when he started out, he would mix the stucco in a bucket with his own 2 hands. They were the same hands that built our 2 story house. The same hands that would correct me when I got out of line. The very same hands that would lift me up higher in the sky I ever thought possible, because at the time… because of my limited height, it was impossible… but the spiral took me higher.
He was a great salesman, a “pitch-man” in more ways than one! He would tell me that if there were 3 jobs out there, he was going to get one of them. And sure enough, through perseverance and a clever knack for business-savvy, he did. He would introduce me to everyone he came in contact with me and tell them how proud he was of me. I had a particular way of remembering lists, books of the Bible, “Fifty-nifty United States” (song I learned in Kindergarten, thank you Mrs. Fox for that one) quickly by memory. He never missed the opportunity to allow me to share that unique “talent” to the world we came in contact with… never missed the opportunity to offer praise to me. Note to self: Praise builds confidence in others.
We Speak in Different Voices When Fighting with One’s We LOVE
Maybe I took it for granted at the time, but there were distractions along the way. Depending on the angle from which you are looking, the spiral can reveal things in others you’d rather not see in yourself. The same hands that embraced me and lifted me up, were the same hands that I saw use a hammer one time in a fit of rage to destroy an uncooperative mailbox that refused to be covered in stucco. The same hands that threw a bucket of nails off a 3rd floor lift, and the same hands that ripped a screen door off the hinges of our front door. I watched as it soared through the air and land lifelessly in the middle of our street. Was he a destructive man? No, certainly not by nature. By nature, he was loving and supportive. But nature has a way of revealing parts of our human nature we’d rather not talk about. In all of us, the hidden parts surface… there could be an underlying propensity toward anger and his words could be destructive at times… but nothing love, time and patience couldn’t overcome.
Propensity to be “set-off by anger” is something I have fought hard to control in my own life. The tendency to allow fires to burn out of control. I’m reminded of the temporal nature of the ashes they leave behind, they blow away with the wind… Note to self: (love, time and patience)… These are stronger.
The spiral redeems.
Maybe it’s all in Interpretation
Looking forward, all eyes are on me now. You would think I would be nervous… I’m not. The spiral asks us to embrace. It’s an ever unfolding and folding back on itself religion. As the plate gets passed around, you put in your offering, the consequences, and sequences of events you feel should fall your way hoping the currency (time) you gave, the sacrifices (patience) you made, the strings you chased, and all the rabbits you pulled out of your hat of happenstance, were enough. There is something fulfilling, the giving, and the reward is immeasurably unpredictable.
There are so many experiences/memories/dreams/aspirations you have had. You want to share all of them with your children, like I do — some cloudy, some shine like polished crystal. Even if they don’t listen, share them anyway — they NEED to hear your heart.
When they come to you, and they will, don’t turn them away. Embrace them and tell them you want to listen fully, even if you are involved with something at the moment. The inopportune times will come, don’t see it as a distraction to your day, but rather a glorious opportunity to relish in the wonder of their creative mind. These are the monents that slip away. Truth is, you never know how long they have been practicing what they want to show you, over and over again, to get it just right, so their Daddy would be proud of them — THESE ARE THE MOMENTS you don’t want to miss. They slip away ever so soon, down the spiral.
Note to self: Listen to what is important to them.
Ask not what they can do for you, but rather just be. Be the best, most authentic version of yourself. Maybe, they will see the best in you. Suddenly, you become interested in their hobbies… watch you set for volleyball, sure… one more anime show together… absolutely. Both horizons get expanded simultaneously.
Don’t try to find meaning to the spiral, in the end it will find you.
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This post was previously published on A Parent Is Born and is republished here with permission from the author.
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Photo credit: Unsplash