Watch your step. Don't take it seriously. Read my technical posts here.
Last night, I decided to finally pull the trigger and begin tearing down an old blog of mine and begin writing here as I feel the need. The reasons are varied, but when it comes down to it, I’m mostly tired of the amount of pretending required to keep it all up.
[note: this was originally written over at Styled Bits, but since I’m moving personal stuff away, I am republishing here.]
Dear Ava Grace and Ella Cole,
You were both born on September 30th, 2009, a day that I won’t forget. I am writing this short post to the two of you to both remind me as to how important that day was to me, and to maybe even serve as a small springboard of hope for you as you grow older. Please remember that your father often fumbles for his words, and those that I will use below will be inadequate but hopefully good enough.
Upon your birth, I was given the opportunity to immediately meet you while the doctors tended to your mother. As I walked over to the tables where you tasted our atmosphere for the first time, and looked upon you, something changed. For a brief moment, I saw, in the two of you, the very essence of all that ever was, is, or will be. I didn’t see the two of you as two separate newborns, or as belonging to me, but as an expression of existence itself. Through the two of you I caught a glimpse of the transcendent, a game of hide and seek that I’ve been playing for my whole life.
The implications, for me, are profound. I will never again be the same, and have you to thank for that. I can only hope that, through fatherhood, I can show you how important that you all are.
[note: this was originally published on Styled Bits, but has been moved to here since I am no longer hosting my more personal writings there.]
Brooke and I celebrate our fourth wedding anniversary today [originally posted on September 24th, 2009], making it worthy of a little reflection.
Throughout this year, I have thought more and more about how much the ideas of love and marriage have varied from what I originally thought of them. When I was younger (and without a lot of experience) love was binary – you were either in love or you weren’t. I thought that marriage was sort of a way of saying that the switch has been on for long enough for both of us, proving that we’re a good fit, and that we’d therefore be great candidates for marriage.
But it’s far different from that. The best analogy I can come up with is that of the adytum or a temple; it is something that you actively build together. It’s multi-dimensional and living. It expands and contracts. I wish I had grasped that earlier, as it would have probably have made things easier for both of us. But I think I’m starting to see it now.
If I consider our love as a temple, with each and every action like a sacrament, something more appropriate and adult emerges. The foundations must be constantly tended to, repairing the weaker or broken parts if need be, before the Spirit can ever dwell within. Every act is Holy.
I look forward to our fifth and each one that follows.
