Tales from the Timline

This week, I'm going to dedicate this digital page to three moments in my past that spun me around.  Moments where I saw stars appear in the sky of my life.  The stepping stones that brought me further down the path.  Looking back, there were plenty of times, good and bad, that made me realize that my life was something special and unique.  Oh, the stories I could share...

(Here are 3 of them)

A Humbling Moment

When I was twelve years old, I was a smart-assed kid.  I was always smart and witty, but back then, I had this little tough guy attitude that came with it.  I had to.  It was survival.  Anyhow, every summer, my dad would take my sister and I to Barrett's Pond in Myles Standish State Forrest.  Those were the good old days.  And we'd meet up with our camping friends that we'd see every summer.  We'd meet up for mischief and adventure.  One afternoon, the clouds rolled in and our summer day turned dark.  We had planned on going swimming, but my dad warned us to stay out of the water.  "Ya right, old man", I thought to myself, as my friends and I walked down to the empty beach, in defiance.  It was raining lightly and everything was dark, damp, and grey.  I felt the need to show off a bit, so I jumped right in.  My other friends followed.  We were goofing and splashing around when it happened.  All I remember was feeling the jolt and my eyes closing - involuntarily.  And then the bang.  We all ran out of the pond screaming.  We'd just been tapped by lightning!  It was confusing.  I thought we might be dead.  The afterworld was this, but with no people.  There were no other campers in sight, and despite being wet in the rain, we weren't cold.  Not one bit.  We walked it off, eventually rejoining civilization.  But that day, I realized a few things about testing mother nature, and about being a little tough guy.

A Moment of Shock

The first death of someone that I knew was a serious blow to my reality.  My grandfather had passed before I was born, and my other, older relatives were all still alive.  As a kid, I never had to sit through a boring wake or a dusty funeral (not even my own - see story above).  But the lessons came in their own ways.  You see, In eighth grade I started seeing this girl, Stacy.  You know how it works in eighth grade.  You like a girl.  You send a friend over to her friends.  She might respond with a note.  You write back.  It's on.  All of a sudden your "going out".  The deal is sealed, and you're officially (and very publicly) "boyfriend and girlfriend".  The gossip bells ring out.  Stacy was a sweetheart; a simple, quiet girl.  Her family owned an apple orchard in town, and they had a huge corn field where she and I, and our two close friends, would run through and stain up our clothes.  I remember she and I kissed on my mom's couch that time.  We'd started planning to go the same high school.  But then, one day, as I was getting off the bus, a kid I didn't even know ran up to me.  "Stacy was hurt!", he said.  I shrugged it off, but got a bad vibe.  I started sprinting home.  When I got there, the house was filled with the parents of my friends: Stacy had been in a freak accident.  That afternoon, when she got off the school bus, as she stepped off, her coat string got caught in the door.  The driver didn't notice and started to pull away.  Stacy was swept under.  I didn't know how to react to this news.  As a Catholic boy, I felt so much guilt: somehow, it was my fault.  I struggled to make sense of it all. The world had changed.  Everything looked different - harder and colder.  I'm not sure what the lesson of this story is, but after Stacy's death, I felt like I needed to carry on and live life for her as well.  I wanted to do things for the both of us.  I wanted to honor her life by making mine extraordinary.  That's what she would have wanted, right?

A Moment of Awe

When I decided to move out to California, it was a big leap.  I had to give up many things.  I had to sell off old furniture, mementos, clothes, and books.  The possessions of my life were shrunk down to be able to fit into 2003 Subaru Forrester.  And that thing was packed to the brim.  My buddy and I hit the road.  Heading West.  Chasing the sun.  We left on New Year's Eve.  I wanted this trip to be a transition.  I wanted to leave certain things behind and move into the unknown, where I could forge a new time in my life, without the baggage.  I'd felt that my life in Massachusetts had gone stagnant.  I knew there was more for me to explore.  The trip across the US was filled with highway sights.  We had a timeline, so we pressed on each day.  But the one place I wanted to see the most was the Grand Canyon.  By the time we hit Flagstaff, on the fourth day, the sun had gone down.  Our GPS took us up this old, country road - obviously the road less taken.  It was pitch black outside.  The moon hadn't risen yet.  We pulled over to survey the land.  There was not a car in sight.  When we stepped out and looked around, I was amazed at the wide open sky.  Billions of starts faded in and out.  All of sudden, a white bird blasted by us.  It took me a second to realize, it wasn't a bird, it was a shooting star!  We got back in the car and headed north.  We knew the canyon was close.  After twenty more minutes of winding up the road, we saw some signs and pulled over at an "overlook".  We got out and fumbled over to the railing.  There she was, the Grand Canyon!  The best part was - we couldn't even see it.  It was pitch black.  But we could feel it.  I could feel the the air open up, hear the wind whipping around.  There was an immensity to the space that was before us.  There was a rush of endorphins.  One of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen - was invisible.  This story, now that I reflect on it, was very symbolic for my trip.  You see, I didn't know what was coming before me in California.  There was just this big, open space that presented itself to my life.  Even though I couldn't see the future before me, I could see the open space, and I could feel the excitement.  Life was still going to be an adventure yet to come.  There was still plenty of space to be explored.

This Week's Poem:

This week, I wrote a rap about the one of the hardest, worst jobs I've ever had - as part time postal worker.



Mailman Blues (a hip-hop verse)


inner city mailman
trying to make it better
got a bag full of mags
and fist full of letters

city summer streets
so hot and so heated
sweat all down my back
while my knuckles bleeded

up and down blocks
every number / every street
while the weight of the world
pressed bones through my feet

I'm riding shotgun (bam!)
in a one seated jeep

I'm having showdowns (damn!)
with every dog I meet

(hey, yo)
I took the job back then
in the footsteps of my father
on my feet all day
pounding bottles of water

you see the lesson I learned
about my mailman blues
is that you're free to do your thing
but there ain't no bath-room

The Powers That Be

My power has shone through most when I've faced the biggest challenges in my life.  Whether they've been emotional challenges or everyday feats of mental strength, I've been able to pull through and come out stronger (eventually) each time.

A Story of Power

The other day I was thinking about how I perform when I'm "on the job".  I have been blessed with several opportunities to perform in the past few years.  It wasn't always that way (see story below).

I very clearly remember my first day teaching at Bunker Hill.  I was hired on a whim to teach a history class.  I met the department chair on a Tuesday afternoon for the job interview.  We hit it off right away, and she offered me the job with one catch: class started the very next day.

I was excited to get the job (teaching college has been one of my life goals), but I had less than twenty four hours to pull it all together.  What pressure!   I compiled some notes, wrote on scraps, but nothing came together.  The next day, I got up and got dressed.  My hands trembled as I tied my shoes.  I took the T in from Quincy.  I searched around and found the right classroom.  I took a short breath and walked right in.  The students looked at me, skeptically, as I fumbled around with my papers, sweat beading on my brow.  I didn't know what to say.  I din't know how to start, and I didn't know where it would go.  The lights in the room seemed to get brighter.  I wasn't sure how I could win them over.

Then, I just started speaking.  I don't remember how I broke the ice, but within the first few minutes, I found my voice.  A rush of energy filled me as I started getting into it.  I went from a blank mind to a symphony of information within seconds.  We talked about civilization.  We talked about history.  We talked about philosophy.  It was like I was channeling the knowledge from somewhere - my mind was flashing multiple lightning strikes of information and ideas.  I was thrilled.

Before I knew it, the class time was over!  I looked at the board.  It was covered with topics, ideas, bad drawings, diagrams, and squiggly lines connecting things.  I wasn't sure if it made any sense, but several students seemed just as electrified.  I could see their excitement, too.  As I scrambled to hand out the syllabus, before they ran out the door, I realized that we all had just experienced something different.  Something profoundly fun.  It was going to be a great semester.

Each day, before class, I was still carried a little anxiety.  But as soon as we started talking about history, life, and ideas, I got right into the groove.  My passion led me.  I'd found my power.


A Story about Losing Power

Before I was offered the job at Bunker Hill, I had gone through one of the most difficult trials of my life: being unemployed.  Being unemployed, for me, was a full time job.  I'd get up every morning at 7am, put on a pot of coffee, and hit the Craig's List ads like a madman.  I'd scour the jobs sections and make a list of jobs to apply for that day.

This was just before the 2008 recession hit:  The "Great Recession".  Unexpectedly, I was laid off from a research job that I'd been enjoying.  Being a recent graduate (with a Master's in International Relations), I didn't fret.  I thought I was the man.  I'd left grad school with a bit of arrogance and prestige in my character.  I thought that it would be easy to find something.  I was wrong.

After I'd lost my job, I applied for hundreds of jobs (literally).  I'd write letter after letter and send emails everyday.  I'd get no response.  I had a few job interviews that went well - but never got the offer.  The bills kept coming and I was hemorrhaging through years of savings.  The anxiety started welling.

I started to lose my confidence.  See, when I left grad school, I was full of ego.  I had a bit of a chip on my shoulder.  I automatically assumed that I was the best candidate for each job.  So when the weeks turned into months, I started to get real down on myself.  I started to get jealous.  I'd see people going to work, and I'd start to resent and judge them.  Then, I let myself be the victim.  Why me?  I don't deserve this!  I should be getting this job, not that dude!

And through the frustration, the ego-based thinking, the idea that I was better than others or that I deserved something over someone else - that's when I lost my power.  It wasn't the unemployment or the money.  It was my mindset that belittled me.  I wasn't strong, I was defensive.  I wasn't confident, that was just my ego lashing out.  I felt so sorry for myself.  It started to take a toll on my well-being.  It took a damaging toll on my relationships as well.  But it took me some time and reflection to see how unhealthy and self-defeating I'd become.  When I was in it, I was stuck in it.  I couldn't see the big picture.  I lost my money, I lost my girl, and I basically hit bottom.

In the end, I let a tough situation get to me.  But it was the way that I reacted that was the true loss of power.  It was all in my control the entire time - how I perceived these problems.

Eventually, I got my power back (see story above).  Big lessons were learned.


My Power Practice

The best way for me to harness my power is to stop and breathe.  After I'd lost my power and
confidence in myself, I hit an emotional bottom.  Then, I got help.  For me, that came in the form of yoga and Al-Anon meetings.  I started taking yoga classes at a little studio by my house, and it changed my life.  Yoga taught me to slow down, breathe, and process all the junk.  Al-Anon gave me a chance to connect with other people who had been affected by their friends and families that were alcoholics and addicts.  It was also very empowering to speak about my life in front of a room of strangers.  They shared their stories, too, and in that - I heard my story being told by others.  I identified a community and found mentors that brought out the bright side of me.

I still practice yoga everyday.  It keeps me fit, it calms my mind, and provides me with a moment of rejuvenation each day.  It lets me step back and see that big picture, so that the little annoyances and troubles of everyday life do not consume my mind.  It enables me to clear my head and choose the thoughts that I want to focus on.  Now, that's power.



This week's poem is about the origins of my power.



When I was a Limitless Child

When I was a limitless child
    I found myself
              wrapped up
          in green leaves
    in sea of
       trees
           making houses from
    the shapes and scraps

               we found
                     all around us

We had the biggest dreams
               of creating
                    tiny civilizations
            among the branches
     breeching
               - places we could go
                    to be something
                        of our own

When I was a limitless child
      birds filled the sky with words
         that I could read with ease
    but could not pronounce

      everything meant something
                                      wild/
                                   undeniable
                                   

       We'd chase ghosts
          from the darkest
            parts of the garage
     and come back
                grass stained
                        and stung
                by bees
                          teary eyed
                          and undefeated
                       

When I was a limitless child
      I knew I'd travel far
                          and wide
               to places I'd only seen
                     on the t.v.

            I wrote jokes
                 made tapes
                   and drew my own
                     comics
     

When I was a limitless child
       everyday was filled with
              toys and voices
                 
     with which to build stories

              of other planets
                   
              that emerged
                       
                 on star-filled blankets
           
         
       

Letter to My Mentor

(This letter is written to one of my ex-girlfriend's father, who became a bit of a father figure to me for a couple of years.)

Revised 1/26/17

Dear D,

I hope that this letter finds you well.  We haven't spoken in several years now, but I am sure that you are busy with your winter projects and the grandkids are surely keeping you on your toes.  I'll keep this short, so you can get back to the garage.  I'm writing this letter to express my gratitude for the time that we were able to spend together.  In many ways, you helped me make a shift, a great transition in my life.  Although it was a tumultuous time for me, I could tell that you saw my bigger picture.  You were able to see that I would come out stronger.  You always had that calm certainty - like the eye of a storm.  I often think of you guys and hope that you are all doing well.  I have to thank you for welcoming me into your family.  My relationship with E. was a wonderful thing.  I thought for sure that it'd work out for us and that I'd still be around right now.  But clearly, that wasn't my destiny, and I am grateful for how it all worked out.  It was great to see her this summer, with her new baby.  

Anyway, I want to write and let you know that you were a huge influence in my life.  I always looked up to you.  You always seemed to have it together, and you live at this calm, meditative pace.  I think of the dinners we'd have as a family, the coffee the the morning, the truck rides.  I'll always be proud that I built a road (with you) from scratch.  What's the name of that road, now?  Anyway, I see now that I needed your support in those years.  It's funny how it all happens.  I simply appreciate who you are and how you live your life.  Simply.  With dignity and honesty.  With compassion.  (And with that dry, Canadian humor.)

What really struck me most was your story, because I'd never heard a survivor story like that.  You were very open and honest about your alcoholism and your recovery.  Like I'd said, before I met you, I knew more people that had died from addiction than those who'd survived.  Growing up, I was surrounded by drugs, alcohol, and shame.  It was weird.  You were the first person that I knew to walk away from that and choose a better life for yourself and your family.  And at great cost.  Why is that so common in New Bedford?  Through your example, I saw there are great dads out there.  I saw that people are capable of great change.  You are living proof - that things do get better.

I think the most helpful advice you gave me was suggesting that attend some Al-Anon meetings so that I could express my frustrations with my family's drug and alcohol issues, I could process some of that anger, and I could meet other people with similar stories.  I found a supportive network of people that were all affected by other people's lies, habits, and hurt.  It was a very positive experience that pushed me through some prime emotional development, and it inspired me to take on a path of healing for the things that I was letting hold me back.   

When we first met, I was a bit naive about a lot of things.  I had a bit of chip on my shoulder.  I hadn't come yet to understand that I was carrying the weight of my past - and that I needed to let it go.  I was angry.  I was numb.  I learned that the hard times I'd endured in my youth had hardened me up.  They locked me up.  I was stuck in a mindset that was full of fear, jealousy, and shame.  And I couldn't admit it.  You taught me that I could be honest with myself about these things, and that I had to look deeper to be able to resolve the past.  I took your advice.  I started going to Al-Anon meetings, and met a lot of people that were very inspiring.  Their stories were my stories.  It was amazing to see.  Through your wisdom, kindness, and guidance, I was able to be honest with myself - and eventually be the self that had become buried under the stress.  I didn't have to take on the burdens of my family.  You were right.  And I must thank you.

I do hope to see you soon, possibly on my next return to the East Coast.  I still want to get that coffee, maybe go for a ride.


Sincerely,


Drew

This Week's Poem: A Rhyming Ode to a Mentor

(I wrote this ode to one of my dearest teachers and mentors, Flossie.)



Flossie


This one goes out to the one

who showed me
that I could let it go
and let the universe hold me

that I could BE
and that everyone would see

that I am love
and I am light
and that it's always flowing


Flossie,

You put the poses in me

And I opened

You gave to me this key -
setting off
my symphony

From the waves to the trees
to the birds and the bees

I'm surrounded

How you planted all those seeds
with a certain grace and ease

How your words turned into stones
and how you set them
just before me

I'm convinced

Thank you, Flossy
for seeing in me
all the things I didn't
see, and
all the things I've come
to be

there's a greatness

(and) I am humbled

And when I think of you
as I often do

I feel loved

I feel lifted

I feel seen

I feel gifted

A Little History (about me)

                            

I'm the little dude in blue on the left.

January 2017                                         

I grew up about an hour south of Boston in the tiny town of Acushnet, MA.  Acushnet is a native Wampanoag word that means, "swimming place".  It's also home to several apple and peach orchards.  It was a nice place to grow up.  New Bedford, the city nearby, has a large Portuguese population.  My family is Portuguese, and after living in that community, I developed a deep pride regarding my family heritage.  My sister and I were really close to my two cousins who also lived in town.  We were all raised together, as our moms are twins.  I went to Catholic school until seventh grade.  At that point, I made a request to my father, "Dad, I need to go to public school to meet more girls, dad."  He understood this logic and granted me my wish.  After a rough experience in middle school, I cleaned up my act and did very well in high school. The first teacher that I really connected with was Mr. Medeiros, my English teacher sophomore year.   We read The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway.  That book, and that experience changed my life.  I went to college in Newport, Rhode Island, mostly because the school was beautiful and not too far from home.  I was in my tortured soul-poet phase then.  I'd stay up all night, scribbling poems in little notebooks.  I numbered each one and typed the good ones up on an old antique typewriter that I'd bought at the Salvation Army.   Many interesting events shaped my personal development.  There was a lot of fun and a lot of painful moments that I had to learn from.  When I look back at my youth, I can see now how near-perfect everything was, as it set me on a path to a (continuously) extraordinary life.  

part yogi

I currently live in Cardiff-by-the-Sea, CA (just north of San Diego). Cardiff is a little village on a hill that overlooks the Pacific.  It's great.  I can walk to all the things I need and it's a quiet surf community full of fairly nice people.  After spending a couple of years in Quincy, after college, I felt like I needed to shake things up.  I had some very good friends out here from college, so moving out here felt very natural.  I'm a bit of a West Coast soul with an East Coast mind.

When I first moved to California, I took part in a yoga teacher training.  Yoga has changed my life in many ways.  It has helped me to become, all around, more healthy and aware.  My asana (physical) practice keeps me in shape, and yoga philosophy has provided me with a deeper spiritual foundation.
I recently left a decent full-time job so that I can continue to teach, teach some yoga, and start learning new skills.  It was a tough transition, leaving the security of a full-time job, but I feel like I'm moving more towards the professional opportunities that I truly want - as opposed to feeling like I have to work a job just for the money.  I had a good run as a director of a program for young adults with Autism.  I met many wonderful people, felt challenged, and had fun finding creative solutions for these amazing young people.   But I have more goals to accomplish for myself.  Right now,  I teach at Bunker Hill part-time, am starting this counseling business, and also working at a high-end coffee shop.  I decided to work at this coffee shop so that I can learn the ropes from one of the best in the business.  Owning a coffee shop is my ultimate goal (and retirement plan) so I am getting my hands dirty, learning new skills, and honing the craft. 

Music has always been a huge part of my life.  About eight years ago, I started playing guitar and learning how to sing.  Playing helps me to fight my fear of artistically expressing myself in public.  I am also a big beach person, and I am lucky enough to walk to the ocean every day.  I recently moved to a great 70's pad that is a short walk to Swami's, one of the best surf breaks in San Diego.  I like to get up around sunrise and get out there.  Surfing in the morning is the best way to start any day.  

...and left-handed

I am a pretty laid back, fun, and very honest person.  I'm trying not to take life so seriously, but I have job to do.  According to my coworkers, I have a strong work ethic and am very dedicated and passionate about my professional mission.  I am a bit of a comedian, and I've always been a decent writer.  I am trying to work on not working so much, but I feel like I'm in a groove with my power and my purpose right now.  Having been unemployed after college (for about a year), I usually take as much work as I can get.  (And California is not known to be a cheap place to live.)  My friends would say that I am very loyal, very positive, and someone they can rely on.  I'm always offering to pick them up at the airport.  I am also very honest with my friends and like to have good, encouraging conversations.  Overall, I am a very busy, funny, fit, and humble person.  By nature, I'm an introvert and try not to take anything in my life for granted.  Yoga has taught me to focus on the good and be grateful for the things I do have.   

Poem of the week:  

This week, we're using positive affirmations - see the document in this week's module - to give us some guidelines as we begin to tap into our poetic talents.  These poems are examples of what you can/should do for this week.  Try to match the effort and energy.  

Acrostic poems use the first letter of each word - from your affirmation - vertically so that you have the first letter to each line already chosen for you.  Have fun with this challenge.  Express yourself freely.

Ps... your poem does not have to make perfect sense.  Let the sounds lead you.  Let your reader figure it out for themselves.

Pss... please write your affirmation as the title of your poem.



Affirmation #46:

I am doing work that I enjoy and find fulfilling.  

It took
a long time for
me to figure it out for myself
deciding
on what
I wanted to be
not really knowing, but
going.  Felt like I was
waiting all the time, but
over time, I
realized
kindly
that I was on this track
halfway between
all my dreams, somewhere, suspended.
The hard times were just the final exams that
I passed.
Eventually.
Never not learning along the way, I
just kept listening and
opening.  Saying
yes
and no more, instead of
nothing.
Deciding my
future, instead of
it being decided for me.
No longer
drifting
forward or backward
under bridges.
Life is meant to be
fulfilling
in its purpose
like a gift you'll never forget.
Love is the fuel that
ignites us.

Now, let's get out there and
grow together